Disengaged

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September 22, 2025 By Jennifer Lambert 5 Comments

It took twenty years to “reach” my husband.

It’s complicated.

It’s hard growing and changing and evolving alone.

He thought I would leave him when I received access to my inheritance six months ago, so in desperation and fear, he said all the things he thought I wanted to hear, but it was just lip service and everything very quickly went back to the way it’s always been and the kids are old enough now that they notice and they’re not as forgiving as I have always been.

It’s too easy for him to be complacent and thoughtless and invisible. I was too busy to deal with it except periodically – the same argument for decades.

The transition to retirement after twenty years of working outside the home is hard for him. He has no place here in the house. He never wanted to make decisions. He left it all up to me and now he’s hurt and confused and constantly in the way. He yearns to feel needed, but we have spent all these years on our own.

The “Nice Guy” Dilemma: A passive, over-accommodating, validation-seeking man with unclear boundaries who avoids conflict at all costs.

He is in denial that he ever experienced trauma. He has no friends, no hobbies, no interests. He bids constantly to his sisters and brother-in-law, and chats online with his college roommate and past coworkers. He craves affirmation and attention that is undeserved and unearned.

All the excuses, the ultimatums. He wasn’t raised; he wasn’t trained to be a husband whereas I was trained to be everything to everyone. I guess I expected more and that’s on me. There is no team or partnership if I do it all and am expected to think, plan, feel, and anticipate everything for everyone. I’m not even the curious anthropologist trying to figure him out anymore. Curiosity is met with anger.

I gave up my career for this?

Our entire society sets up men and really all people for failure in relationships – failure to recognize self and how be a healthy individual.

All the jokes, memes, complaints online about men won’t go to therapy…so many hurting people who don’t even recognize their trauma or are in absolute denial they ever experienced any abuse or neglect.

We are taught to look to others for completion and happiness. We are not taught how to be emotionally healthy or how to communicate nonviolently.

Men “have a hard time expressing their emotions. (This is so common there’s even a technical term for it: “normative male alexithymia.”)

Article: She Divorced Me Because I Left Dishes by the Sink

Many of us and especially men have no friends, no one outside their families. They may have acquaintances at work and they may “socialize” but it is shallow unmeaningful activity.

Men rely on their moms, sisters, girlfriend or wife – for everything.

Now that I will be fifty next year, I just don’t care anymore. I refuse to bear the burden when no one rescues or cares for me. I will protect myself and plan for a future alone. I don’t have to waste away while I still have dreams and goals.

Article: Men have no friends and women bear the burden.

“The older women get, the less willing they seem to be a man’s everything—not only because we become more confident, wise, and, well, tired with age, but because our responsibilities pile up with each passing year.”

I refused the mental labor of handling my husband’s sisters and their kids. I refused to play the trophy military wife. I refused to sacrifice myself and my kids on the altar of the American church. I refused to allow my kids to witness the assimilation of myself into an entity only known as Mrs. I watched my parents in an awful marriage and spent the last six months trying to keep them safe.

I refuse to compromise myself.

I did then what I knew how to do. Now that I know better, I do better. ~Maya Angelou

I’ve grown as a person, as a parent, as a wife. I have never been, nor am I, perfect. But I am not who I was even a few years ago. I am a different and evolving and healing person while he remains stagnant. And that’s the sadness.

My parents and my husband and his family are disengaged, passive, uninterested, detached.

I refuse to accept low effort relationships. I don’t understand the shallow self-centered mediocrity, the surface-level small talk, the obliviousness of all the wonders of life. I’ve asked myself since I was eight years old, why? Why is everyone like this? Is it me?

I don’t understand the lack of interests. Even at my lowest points, my darkest depressions, I have always had music, movies, books, nature. I have done my shadow work and read all the books and watched the videos and gone to therapy (which didn’t help, but I tried), and worked on myself and studied my faults to improve.

I’ve asked him what legacy he plans to leave the kids? What memories will they have? Is he content with his lack of relationship with them? What if they all move away and never come back? I don’t know what catalyst there can be to initiate change at this point.

Everyone I have ever known is just going through the motions of living.

What to do when you don’t want or can’t divorce or live separately?

Change the mindset that the other can be fixed or even understands or desires change. There is no active abuse; there’s just distance and disconnect. I’m just tired of reaching out. I’m exhausted.

Ten signs of silent divorce:

1. You live like roommates, not partners.

There’s no teamwork, shared goals, or emotional connection – just coexisting.

2. Communication has stopped.

Conversations feel surface-level, limited to logistics like bills or schedules, with no deeper connection.

3. Physical intimacy is nonexistent.

There’s little to no affection, whether it’s holding hands, hugging, or spending quality time together.

4. You feel lonelier with them than when you’re alone.

Emotional distance can feel even heavier when you’re sharing space with someone.

5. There’s no conflict but also no connection.

Lack of arguments doesn’t mean things are fine; it can mean you’ve stopped engaging altogether.

6. You’re no longer a priority.

Your partner doesn’t invest time or energy in you or your relationship.

7. You avoid spending time together.

You find excuses to be busy or away from home, or even separate while at home.

8. You daydream about a different life.

You fantasize about being single or with someone else, or even just alone and at peace.

9. You feel stuck or resigned.

You’ve accepted unhappiness as your new normal.

10. You’ve lost respect for each other.

Small irritations have grown into contempt or disgust.

(List: Libby Finlayson)

Some of this list are just the way it always has been. It’s all we’ve ever witnessed in our parents, siblings, peers, church acquaintances, even in pop culture. It’s considered normal and accepted.

It’s like there’s something wrong with me for longing for more. I’m asking for too much. My expectations too high.

It is exhausting for wives to be everything to her husband.

I choose myself and my kids. I have created this empire.

Marriage is scam that only benefits men. I stopped auditioning for crumbs.

You might also like:

Resources:

The Seven Principles for Making Marriage Work: A Practical Guide from the Country’s Foremost Relationship Expert by John M. Gottman
The Relationship Cure: A 5 Step Guide to Strengthening Your Marriage, Family, and Friendships by John Gottman
Boundaries in Marriage: Understanding the Choices That Make or Break Loving Relationships by Henry Cloud and John Townsend
The Marriage You Want: Moving beyond Stereotypes for a Relationship Built on Scripture, New Data, and Emotional Health by Sheila Wray Gregoire and Dr. Keith Gregoire

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Real Self Care

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Please see my suggested resources.

September 16, 2024 By Jennifer Lambert 2 Comments

So, so many of us are stressed.

We are bombarded with articles and ads and memes and even admonitions from family and friends to practice more or better “self-care.”

Even the authorities in lives – parents and pastors – criticize us for not taking more time for ourselves, but without offering any real help.

Images of self-care are bubble baths with wine and candles or expensive spa days with facials and massages and pedicures.

Honestly, that’s not even what relaxes some of us, not to mention how many can’t afford it.

Consumerism often just adds to our problems.

Self-care shouldn’t contribute to your stress!

Is it betrayal or burnout?

Many of us don’t have any help.

Our society tells us we need to be supermoms. We should be able to do it all and look young and smooth and stylish and cheerful while succeeding.

This is not reality.

This is about our culture and the lack of public policy. We don’t have universal healthcare or affordable childcare or paid leave or even reliable income. Expenses rise and salaries stays the same.

Spouses don’t do enough for whatever reason. We have little support. Family might live far away or be inconsistent or even toxic. Few can afford to hire domestic labor to do the work we often have to put aside but feel guilty about all the time.

Expensive supplements or vitamins or even prescription meds are not the end-all, be-all solution. Therapy isn’t the answer to a broken sick and society. The immediacy of the Instagram self-care is seductive and we are told we can get quick gratification fixes, but that’s a lie. That’s the betrayal. Burnout isn’t fixed with a candle or pedicure.

It’s like we constantly have a check engine line flickering and we aren’t even sure what we need anymore.

There’s lots of discussion about boundaries. But boundaries are a privilege. That no has a cost. That cost is high for many who don’t have a luxury of saying no without consequences.

What happens if we say NO to a parent? To our child? To our spouse? To our boss or coworker? To a sister or friend? Often, there is pushback or negativity or toxic behavior. Seldom is there respect and understanding.

As women, especially as wives and mothers, many of us have been conditioned to believe that our needs come last. Some of us have even been trained to think we shouldn’t have any needs at all. The presumption is that our wellbeing doesn’t matter or the only way that it could ever matter is if it leads to more wellbeing for the kids.

Biologically, we want our children to have their needs met, even to our own detriment. Selflessness is our value. But even in emergencies, we are instructed to place the oxygen mask on ourselves before placing them on our children. We shouldn’t be martyrs.

If we cannot breathe, we cannot help another.

But what is real self-care?

There are lots of metaphors and people have different needs.

We really, truly do not have to compare ourselves to others – to past generations, to our neighbors or siblings or friends, and certainly NOT to anyone we see with picture perfect curated social media accounts.

We don’t have to do what they tell us.

“Eudemonic wellbeing is based on this theory of wellbeing means that your values, your internal values, and your life choices are aligned. It’s the opposite of hedonic wellbeing which means that wellbeing is the absence of suffering.” – Pooja Lakshmin

We each have choices to make. We must envision what life we desire. How do we want our weeknights, weekends, and holidays to look? Do we want family dinner every night or the sports practices and lessons with the kids every evening? There never seems to be a third option.

Self-care means self-awareness and self-acceptance. Sometimes, things just suck. Acknowledging that, figuring out what you might be able to change, and getting support can help. But the first step is to let yourself feel your feelings.

Let’s move away from performative ideas of self care that we see in commercials. We need to curate a life we don’t need a vacation from.

We need to fill up our tanks – our “energy reservoirs.” We can’t wait around and expect others to do that for us. We must learn how to be self-aware and seek out what we need. If we can keep even some of our reservoirs full, we will feel much more fulfilled and capable.

Our energy reservoirs are: physical, mental, emotional, spiritual, social.

We need to make sure all the tanks get frequently refilled. We can only neglect a tank for a little while before it feels overwhelming.

Physical

This physical reservoir relates to our physical health, our physical wellbeing.

This pertains to how we sleep, eat, exercise. There are also negatives that drain our tanks – such as drug or alcohol use, smoking or vaping, poor hygiene, sporadic diet, lack of sleep, being sedentary.

Many people focus on the physical tank to the detriment of other tanks. It’s easy to recognize when this tank needs filling. But remember, the body never lies.

Some issues with this tank when others are too long neglected are hyperfocusing on food or exercise to the point of addiction or disorder.

Mental

Our mental tanks are about our knowledge and wisdom and how we use that.

I need my mental tank much more stimulated and refilled more often than some other people I know. This sometimes makes it hard for me to replenish my mental tank and I often just need to retreat to be alone to read or research or meditate. It’s often difficult that I don’t have anyone to discuss current events or art or books with, so I just ferment in my grief.

Some love the history documentaries or reading or doing puzzles. There are seasons when this tank is used more or less. We should have a hobby we don’t have to monetize.

Emotional

Emotional batteries run on emotional intelligence.

We need to become aware of our emotions and how to regulate our reactions to the emotions of ourselves and others. Many of us need to work on self-awareness, self-regulation, motivation, empathy, and social skills. We weren’t taught these things and it creates a lot of conflict that could be avoided.

There are no bad emotions. Many of use can’t handle anger or any negativity. Anger is not a bad thing, but it can take over if it is not properly managed.

We can learn nonviolent communication and practice healthy conflict resolution.

Spiritual

Spirituality is not just about religion. It’s mostly about morals, kindness, self-compassion and relationships.

Some of us prefer to spend time in nature like forest bathing or volunteering to boost our spiritual cravings. Music and art can help us achieve our spiritual needs. Meditation and worship are very popular ways to boost this tank.

Social

Our social tank is refueled when we spend time with people we care about and who genuinely care about us.

Social connection is important and often overlooked. We live in a disconnected world. So many of us experience loneliness, even when surrounded by so many people.

I do not care for transactional relationships. I prefer quality over quantity. I also like and need to be alone, which is confusing and distressing to some people who thrive with more social interaction.

“Caring for myself is not self-indulgence. It is self-preservation, and that is an act of political warfare.” – Audre Lorde

The stressors are most likely not going to go away, but they can be prioritized.

Resources:

Real Self-Care by Pooja Lakshmin, MD
Nonviolent Communication by Marshall B. Rosenberg, PhD
The Body Never Lies by Alice Miller
Adult Children of Emotionally Immature Parents by Lindsay C. Gibson
Raising an Emotionally Intelligent Child by John Gottman, PhD
It Didn’t Start with You by Mark Wolynn
What Happened to You? by Bruce D. Perry

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Midlife Crisis

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Please see my suggested resources.

October 11, 2023 By Jennifer Lambert 4 Comments

There is no such thing as spiritual warfare the way the evangelicals want us to believe. I spent too many years thinking that everything wrong or bad that happened in my life was the result of demonic powers or a negative spirit world. It created a lot of stress, but also releases a lot of people from any responsibility for their actions or reactions.

Obviously, young people are prone to doing stupid things. They’re expected to make mistakes and their youth and inexperience justifies poor decisions. This is the reason why auto insurance is so high until we’re age 25. Our brains aren’t developed enough yet to make wise decisions.

But there comes a point when we should be older and wiser.

There are many who get older, but not wiser.

There are healthy decisions and unhealthy decisions. As we get older and more mature, we tend to want to remove the chaff from the wheat of our lives. We realize what is truly important and we begin to weed out the toxins and streamline what and where we want our focus.

If we had smoother beginnings, then that point may come sooner rather than later or take an easier transition.

My husband and his two sisters had an idyllic life growing up, oblivious to anything negative in their little bubbles on their midwest farm, with their parents both teachers, and grandparents nearby. I like to joke that they had perfect linear trajectories with few blips. But I don’t see a lot of growth in them, since they’ve never know any real adversity.

I am jealous that my trajectory was a big squiggle. I am furious that my kids don’t have any extended family, but here we are, now.

We all know the cliché of the midlife crisis – when men buy a sports car and seek a divorce from the mother of the children to pursue a younger, more exciting woman, desperately trying to hold on to their youth or some idealized versions of themselves from high school or college.

This is a shallow idea of what a midlife crisis could be.

Not everyone goes out and blows a lot of money on a sports car. Not everyone divorces and gets a newer younger model spouse. Not everyone changes careers or moves across the country or world to start anew. Sometimes, it’s quieter, more internal turmoil.

When we reach our midpoint in life – and that period is surely different for everyone – we begin to analyze everything. The results are vastly different from individual to individual.

Autumn Living

The word crisis comes from the Greek κρίνω krinō, which means “distinguish, choose, decide” or “to separate, to sift” or “to pass judgement, to keep only what is worth while.”

Many of us experience multiple coinciding midlife crises – several all at once – and it creates a lot of stress if we don’t know how to approach these changes.

In the USA, the word crisis may seem like a negative one. We may prefer to express this stage of our lives as autumnal. We have surely lived through the spring and summer years, and we are beginning to slow down and dig deeper into the meanings and connections we have made in ourselves.

Maybe growing older is about taking risks and not living in fear.

Women’s bodies are amazing and I think that perimenopause is a bossy invitation to midlife women to stop putting ourselves last and to tell the truth about what we truly want for the years we have left.
A Life in Progress

Physical

The metabolism slows down.

Weight appears out of nowhere and decides to stick around. My knees crackle and pop and my feet and ankles hurt much of the time.

I’m learning that some foods and drinks affect my body adversely, so they need to be limited or cut out entirely. And it’s sad that I used to be able to eat whatever I wanted!

I now have to be mindful of my diet and exercise more and differently to maintain health and reduce joint pain.

Spiritual

We should be maturing spiritually, but I’m sad to see so many people holding onto static beliefs and negative feelings when they should be embracing more expansion in love and tolerance.

We stopped attending church because no one was growing and it just continued to become frustrating and then dangerous to expose our family to such hateful ideology.

I read constantly and expose myself to dissenting views because I want to grow. I want to be challenged.

Financial

Ironically, many people are in the top of their career and income earning years, just as kids are becoming more independent and needing fewer material goods.

This is a great time to review investments and plan better for retirement, limit and reduce unsecured debt, and set up or continue college accounts and trust funds for children and grandchildren.

I don’t agree at all with the people who want their kids to suffer because they suffered. I grew up in a lower income working class family. I have know educational and consumer debt. I struggled some months which bill to pay and which to gamble with until another month, even with late fees. I want my kids to be free of financial strain.

Retirement

It’s often a frightening time to approach retirement after decades of job security and the patterns of working regularly.

Many experience depression without the routine they’re used to having. They miss being needed.

When the schedule slows down, it becomes glaringly obvious that there isn’t enough wholesome or interesting activity to fill the time.

It’s a good time to renew hobbies or explore new interests.

Family

For many of us in our midlife years, we are simultaneously dealing with aging parents and fledgling adult children.

I am heartbroken that our families have chosen not to maintain a relationship with us. Out of sight, out of mind. My kids don’t know their grandparents or aunts.

Whereas my parents were and are very out of touch with me and popular culture, I strive to keep up with trends so I know what my kids are interested in and exposed to. I do refuse to get SnapChat or TikTok, but my kids send me the fun clips they know I like and I can see them posted on other forms of social media. I follow accounts and read articles and watch movies and shows that challenge me and keep me up to date. Urban Dictionary is my friend when I don’t understand a new slang term or concept!

Social-Emotional

We begin or continue to examine ourselves and our pasts to ensure a better future for ourselves and our families.

I read and commune with nature. I enjoy the arts. I grow.

I try to limit stress. I don’t like to be rushed. I am able to plan and be proactive.

We all have regrets.

We should desire to make amends.

We sometimes burn bridges.

We end generational trauma.

Two of my kids are in therapy. I have tried therapy many times for myself.

What I would prefer at this point is revolution.

At 47.5 years, I’m seeing myself quite alone in my journey and it sometimes saddens me.

Linking up: Randomosity, Silverado, Suburbia, Random Musings, Anita Ojeda, GraceFilled, Grammy’s Grid, Joanne Viola, Perfectly Imperfect, Jeanne Takenaka, Jenerally Informed, Life Tales, Esme Salon, RidgeHaven, InstaEncouragements, Mostly Blogging, Create with Joy, Ducks in a Row, Fluster Buster, LouLou Girls, Marsha in Middle, Two Chicks, Shelbee on the Edge, Answer is Choco, Katherine’s Corner, Momfessionals, POCO, Lisa Notes, Crazy Little Lovebirds, Pam’s Party, Pieced Pastimes, Eclectic Red Barn,

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Regret

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August 8, 2022 By Jennifer Lambert 14 Comments

What is your greatest regret?

Does it keep you awake at night?

Do you regret that romantic encounter?

Do you regret something you said?

Do you have regrets for others? Secondhand embarrassment is real and I suffer.

We usually regret something left undone, rarer the accomplished tasks.

What derailed your dreams?

Where did your intention go?

Who failed you?

Do you fear?

Are you angry?

Do you hear?

Listen.

Your walls are ever before me.
Isaiah 49:16

Walls are a protective shield. They’re not necessarily good or bad. They’re neutral.

I have built up more walls than I care to think about.

I build them up. I tear them down. I build them back up.

God tears them down. People knock and try to peer inside.

I build a wall of fear.

I build a wall of distrust.

I build a wall of doubt.

I build a wall of low self-esteem.

I build a wall of anger.

I build a wall of grief.

I’m tired of walls.

When I began blogging back in about 2005, it was more a scrapbook our homeschooling.

We have evolved and come full circle and continue to grow in our family and homeschooling journey.

When I began homeschooling, I had no idea the heartache and challenges and soul-swelling that I would undergo as I learned to step back and watch my kids explore in spite of me and my trauma.

I live in that liminal space between hope and despair, clarity and confusion, resolve and surrender.

Amazingly, I am able to recognize and catch glimpses of harmony in the hell that is military life and the thanklessness of being a housewife and parenting teens.

The zen view is something you glimpse in passing and that comes as a surprise—to wake you to the moment and a flash of hidden truth.
Rivvy Neshama

The last few years could have broken me had I not stepped back to see a bigger picture. I had to learn not to take things personally. I have had to re-parent myself. I have had to give myself timeouts and rest and relearn and shut my mouth. I had to be alone in my grief and work it out inside myself.

After years of survival mode, I suddenly felt lost and alone and almost at rest, so there was too much time to think, feel, wonder, regret.

I had to set hard boundaries with my parents and they stopped communicating with me altogether.

My eldest child and therapist asked me why I stay with my husband. It surely seems like an easy question from young, single, independent women. I have never been that.

I feel that I failed my eldest child all her life, and recently she moved out and quit college. What could I have done better, more, different – to set her up for success? What will her future hold now? She’s had COVID twice. She has so many financial worries that I didn’t want her to experience.

I’m twice divorced from abusive men. I escaped. I don’t know if I would have had the strength merely to save myself. I rescued my daughter. There were situations no one can understand but me.

This man is not abusive. He’s neglectful. He’s often thoughtless. I feel I change and evolve and grow while he is stagnant. There are way worse sins than being boring.

We have history. We have duty.

We share eighteen years of highs, lows, depths, cross-country moves, deployments, births, deaths, sickness, pain, joy.

Our society encourages everything and everyone to be disposable.

I’ll stay and wait and see what’s next.

I don’t like the alternatives.

She had always thought that exquisitely happy time at the beginning of her relationship…was the ultimate, the feeling they’d always be trying to replicate, to get back, but now she realized that was wrong. That was like comparing sparkling mineral water to French champagne. Early love is exciting and exhilarating. It’s light and bubbly. Anyone can love like that. But love after [four] children, after a separation and a near-divorce, after you’ve hurt each other and forgiven each other, bored each other and surprised each other, after you’ve seen the worst and the best—well, that sort of a love is ineffable. It deserves its own word…It was so good to find that their relationship could keep on changing, finding new edges.
Liane Moriarty

I know under certain circumstances I had so few good choices and I chose what I felt was best at the time. I might even choose the same again if I could go back with what I know now. Who knows?

This is who I am and those choices molded me into this person. Do I really want to be someone else?

I can’t continue to twist and turn and lie awake at night in anxiety of what I should have done, should have said. It’s over and done and there’s no going back. We have to keep moving forward. We have to seek the blessings and stand firm on hallowed ground.

One should hallow all that one does in one’s natural life. One eats in holiness, tastes the taste of food in holiness, and the table becomes an altar. One works in holiness, and raises up the sparks which hide themselves in all tools. One walks in holiness across the fields, and the soft songs of all herbs, which they voice to God, enter into the song of our soul.
Martin Buber

I count the summers, months, days that I have with my three kids still living at home. It’s not enough! I want to go back and be kinder, nicer, more loving, patient. I want to hug them more. I don’t want to say, “just a minute.” I don’t want to be tired. I don’t want to be distracted. What was more important? Nothing! Why did I think that would have enough time? Did I make enough good memories to push out the bad? Did I make them feel special? I imagine them as toddlers – trusting, seeking, demanding. I’m alone in my regret, bombarded by toxic positivity.

Now, the tables are turned and they’re often too busy for me and my heart is breaking.

My middle two kids begin college later this month and I lie awake strangling on my own doubts and fears and lack of control. Why doesn’t my husband, their father, have any worries? He’s already asleep, in oblivion. I want to shake him awake at 2 AM and pour out all my fears and regrets, but he never knows what to do with me, so I keep it all inside. I can’t protect them from the world, from abusive men, from arrogant professors, from false friends, from themselves. I make up scenarios in my head to warn them about. I feel I am running out of time. I’m late; I’m late; I’m late! What else can I teach them, impart from my own experiences? What script can I help them memorize for an unknown circumstance? What situation can we anticipate together?

I feel prickly with fear of the future.

I don’t want them to live in fear but to walk in wisdom.

(I need to remember this and stop wallowing in guilt and shame.)

I tell my kids often:

Almost everything can be fixed. The consequences may be unpleasant and people may get upset, but almost every mistake can be remedied.

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Linking up: Random Musings, April Harris, Ridge Haven, Create with Joy, Pam’s Party, Pinch of Joy, Mostly Blogging, LouLou Girls, OMHG, Jenerally Informed, Pieced Pastimes, God’s Growing Garden, InstaEncouragements, Suburbia, Eclectic Red Barn, Simply Coffee, Ducks in a Row, Fluster Buster, Ridge Haven Homestead, Soaring with Him, Silverado, Anchored Abode, Joanne Viola, Shelbee on the Edge, Lisa Notes, Momfessionals,

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Confidence

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August 9, 2021 By Jennifer Lambert 13 Comments

Years ago, I was searching and wondering if I was on the right path.

My kids were very young. I felt worthless, exhausted, and mostly a failure in all aspects of my life.

I went to university to become an English teacher. I sailed through a master’s in education, then got a job teaching high school English. I was able to teach two semesters of college writing as an adjunct and it was a dream that shattered when we had to move out of state. I never returned for that coveted Ph.D.

I left the world of academia to be a stay at home mom, homeschooling my four kids. To many, I was considered a failure.

I grew up in a time that mere mothers were ridiculed (and I think they still are). The Supermom had to do it all – career, marriage, family, extensive social engagements, church, charity.

It’s too much.

It seemed like so many women had it all together, seemed at peace with their place in life, had a successful life doing whatever they were called to do.

I struggle. I feel like I am fighting something or someone all the time.

It took me many years to figure out my priorities as a parent and homeschool mom. I still have moments, days, weeks, seasons of doubt.

When we first began homeschooling, I made so many mistakes. I didn’t know really how to begin. I looked to other homeschool moms who had perhaps been homeschooled themselves or who had older kids and had been homeschooling them for years.

I questioned everything. I questioned my abilities as a mother and teacher. Even though I had gone to college for education and earned an M.Ed., I didn’t feel confident teaching my own kids for a very long time.

Some wives and mothers I knew who did not homeschool felt the need to speak up about how they thought it should be done. And many homeschool parents criticized me for not doing it their way.

I was criticized for answering the phone during the day or running errands with or without kids in tow. I was told to just get a nanny for the babies so I could be social. Or that I should do more for the kids and less for myself, that I was selfish to want any time or self care.

I’ve been criticized for attending church, not attending church, reading the wrong books or watching the wrong media.

Eyebrows raised over what I did and didn’t let my kids do.

So I’ve been told my entire life that I am just wrong. After so long of being told all these things, I started to believe it. And it wore me down and I got depressed and anxious. Then they want to throw pills at me and tell me it’s all my fault anyway, something wrong with my brain chemistry.

I worried about fitting in with the moms who seemed to have it all together. They look like magazine models and their kids seem perfect and their husbands and parents are proud and doting. Theses moms have lots of friends and social engagements, but somehow seem never rushed or stressed. How did they do it? Why did they do it? It was like Stepford and did I really want to be like that?

Would I ever get to that point of confidence?

After a women’s conference years ago, I met up with a group having breakfast at the airport before flights. I asked a very well-known Christian homeschool mom, author, and speaker if we ever get to that point of…

And she cut me off with an emphatic “NO!”

I was shook at her attitude, her rudeness, her anxiety. This lady is supposed to be a mentor to other wives and moms? Her curated perfection on social media, in her speaking engagements, and in her books seem all lies compared to her real self shown to us in that airport.

Almost ten years later, I want to understand where she was coming from, but I’m not even sure what she meant. That we are always a work in progress? But her delivery overshadowed any lesson she was trying to impart.

Some of the most self-conscious, cynical people I’ve met are self-professed Christians.

Forget about your life situation for a while and pay attention to your life. Your life situation exists in time—your life is now.
Eckhart Tolle, The Power of Now

Confidence means many things to different people.

To me, confidence means becoming unashamedly more of myself.

I’ve been told that I appear confident. But they mean intimidating.

Why is it that confident women are considered brash, angry, hostile, arrogant, aggressive?

I am quiet. I am not shy. I am introverted. I do not have social anxiety. I think carefully before I speak. I observe.

I have felt a vast shift since I hit my 40s.

I am less concerned about what people think of me – my appearance, my parenting style, my kids’ dyed hair.

This summer, I bought new clothes that I never felt I could wear before: shorts, sleeveless tops. I am not ashamed of my thighs and arms. I spent most of my youth desperate for my body to change and when it never really did get curvy, I was so disappointed. I’ve never had a flat tummy or a big chest and that combo is unfortunate in our society and both women and men humiliated me for not looking like they thought I should. I’ve had so many ask if I’m pregnant because I’m thin all over but with this round soft tummy. I will never look like a magazine model and that’s ok.

I know that I am not stupid. I am not uneducated, but I still have so much to learn and I try to be humble and not insert myself where I am not wanted or needed. I trust my intuition more now. I made lots of mistakes with my kids and I am making amends now. I am ending generational trauma and healing my own self. I love seeing my kids become who they are meant to be – dyed hair, piercings, tattoos, unique clothing, whatever.

I wasn’t allowed to express myself and it’s good to see my kids live free.

I’m remembering who I am, who I was when I was a little girl, before I got stifled, and I feel more safety to express myself now.

I have long straight mousy blonde hair. I even have a few silver streaks. I’m tired of going to salons where they want to make me look like everyone else. I’d rather have dirty tomato-scented fingernails than have a manicure. I have stretch marks, forehead furrows, a vertical line between my brows, and an indention on the left corner of my mouth. I earned these marks. Why would I want to erase them with Botox?

My first three decades or so brought much anxiety with doubting myself and my circumstances with education debt, job security, marriage failures, pregnancy and motherhood.

I’m tired of the comparison trap. I don’t subscribe to shopping emails or newsletters. I loathe the social media ads. I don’t care about the blogger or influencer recommendations as much as I used to. I see the hot trends that everyone “has to have” and I just don’t really need any of it. I am more confident in myself and my style and personal needs. I actually really hate shopping.

When you do not know who you are, you push all enlightenment off into a possible future reward and punishment system, within which hardly anyone wins.
Richard Rohr, Falling Upward

I do long for more than this mediocre suburban life and maybe I will find it someday.

I do get depressed by events happening in the world and by mean people who only care about themselves.

I’ve streamlined and minimized our life. I am prioritizing rest.

We homeschool based on interests and annual rhythms. I refuse to rush or stress over things I can’t control.

I’m excited by what the next few decades may bring.

I don’t have all the answers and I usually don’t even know what the questions are.

And that’s ok.

As we move into the second half of life, however, we are very often at odds with our natural family and the “dominant consciousness” of our cultures.
Richard Rohr, Falling Upward

Resources:

Women Rowing North: Navigating Life’s Currents and Flourishing As We Age by Mary Piper
Crones Don’t Whine: Concentrated Wisdom for Juicy Women by Jean Shinoda Bolen
Rebellious Aging: A Self-help Guide for the Old Hippie at Heart by Margaret Nash
Falling Upward: A Spirituality for the Two Halves of Life by Richard Rohr
The Subtle Art of Not Giving a F*ck: A Counterintuitive Approach to Living a Good Life by Mark Manson
Disrupt Aging
A Life in Progress
The Life On Purpose Movement
Raising Yourself
Lisa Olivera
Revolution from Home
Rebranding Middle Age

What does confidence mean to you?

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Tired

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March 29, 2021 By Jennifer Lambert 6 Comments

My daughters were 7, 2, and newborn.

We had just completed a transcontinental move from Texas to Hawaii.

I was recovering from a Caesarean section.

We had one car.

We moved into our house on base to find out lots of broken and stolen items from the Texas packers.

My husband began his new job.

I was homeschooling my eldest child.

I couldn’t find any friends with whom I felt actually comfortable.

I was so tired ALL.THE.TIME.

Then the pastor’s wife at our new church came to visit me at our home.

I was grateful that it was naptime for my younger girls and I had my eldest read and play quietly in her room.

I had set out fresh baked sugar cookies and lemonade. Because I was raised always to serve food to guests.

After the pastor’s wife shoved our friendly cat off the sofa, shamed me for my daughter not having made the cookies from scratch, she proceeded to tell me that I was doing everything in my life wrong, wrong, wrong.

I’m not sure what I expected her to do or say, but that wasn’t it.

I was so stressed. I was anxious. I was depressed. I was cooped up in a house with three young children all day every day, homeschooling, nursing, making food, doing laundry, cleaning, barely surviving. Still in recovery from major surgery of a C-section, never resting.

Why couldn’t I lost weight and look like I did before the pregnancies?

My house was spotless. Meals were on time. Chores were completed every day. Homeschool checklists were checked.

I ran a tight ship. I was very efficient.

The visit from the pastor’s wife was the equivalent of telling me just to “calm down and smile more.”

The pastor’s wife didn’t even quote any Bible verses at me.

Surely, I was the epitome of the Proverbs 31 woman?

The pastor’s wife’s visit only made me feel worse.

I felt like I was drowning.

I went to a medical doctor for a physical later that month.

He prescribed lots of mineral supplements, light exercise, and a Paleo diet – before that was even a thing.

Within a few weeks, I felt loads better physically.

But I was still exhausted mentally.

The mental load of a mother is tremendous.

Why is it so hard to make sure everyone in a family of six has good shoes that fit? Why must I remind everyone every day to brush their teeth? Why must I keep track of the family calendar? Why must I purchase all the presents for every single holiday? Why must I do all the research for every little thing?

Life was just hard with young children. I felt isolated with so many neighbors putting their kids in school so they could socialize with each other during the days. They made me feel outcast since I was homeschooling and keeping my kids close at home, with me. These moms made me question my values.

I reevaluated what I needed to do and wanted to do.

I had to focus and let some things slide.

Medication for anxiety and depression actually made me feel worse. I don’t allow myself to be a guinea pig and try lots of new meds or dosages. I just stopped the rx meds and managed my lifestyle and made lots of changes.

But even doing all the “right” things – exercise, getting fresh air and sunshine, eating well, meditating, reducing stress…the depression is still there. But if I don’t do those “right” things? The depression rears up like the monster it is.

Parenting with depression is really hard. There are some really bleak days.

But there are lovely days too.

We’ve moved so many times, starting over in new places, all hopeful – to have those hopes dashed for various reasons.

As my four kids are growing up and becoming more independent, many things become easier and other things become more difficult.

We’re now busy with sports and extracurriculars. I’m sad that most of these classes and practices are right in the middle of dinnertime.

I’m disappointed by so many people just assuming we are like average, mainstream white Americans.

We homeschool, but not like that. We don’t go to church, but we are spiritual. We don’t like guns. We are trying to be not consumerist. We are actively anti-racist. We seldom eat fast food – or out at all. I don’t work outside our home.

It’s really hard to fit in with families who all have known each other for generations.

I don’t have any family. And I’ve never had any friends.

While I happen to be alone, I constantly try to teach my kids how to have healthy relationships. I don’t want them to be friendless or awkward or anxious. I want them to recognize dysfunction and abuse. I want them to be open and friendly. I’m learning along with my kids how to have healthy emotions.

I feel dismissed when I meet new people. I say and do all the right things and I am begging to be liked but tryin not to fawn. I see in their eyes that I don’t have anything to offer them and they smile with only their lips and say, “Nice to meet you.” but turn away to talk to their friends.

It’s like high school all over again. They have no need to make room for me. They don’t make room for me.

I am more than a stereotype. And I’m sure many of these parents I see are too…but how would I know?

I’m still tired.

I’m still isolated.

I’m not unhealthy tired, physically.

My heart and soul are tired.

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Raised Better

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March 15, 2021 By Jennifer Lambert 7 Comments

I remember being spanked, backhanded, pushed, yelled at, belittled, called “stupid” and “worthless.” I was told to stop crying or I would be given something to cry about. Nothing I ever did was good enough.

I was not a bad kid. I got good grades. I seldom got in trouble at school. I did home chores, anything I was asked to do. I helped with cleaning and cooking and yard work.

All grown-ups were once children…but only few of them remember it.
Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, The Little Prince

My parents stole so many wonderful memories from me that I longed to happily share with them – moving out in a healthy way, graduating college and grad school, having my first baby.

I did my best to drag myself out of the pit I made. I struggled. I learned. I grew.

What if I had been raised better?

What if I had been protected, loved, cherished, validated?

I can reparent myself as I learn how to gently parent my four children. I can repair and heal myself as I learn better ways.

I’ve spent over twenty years stressed and anxious about my four kids.

I have running commentary inside my head all the time:

Am I doing this right? Am I doing enough? Should I back off? Should I do this? Should we stop that? What can I do differently? What is working or not?

And I have so many regrets about doing the wrong things when I was a younger and more inexperienced parent.

What are my expectations and are they about my ego or what’s best for my child?

We sometimes struggled to give our kids the life we didn’t have. We have no guidance or role models.

When children are little, parents do have to make (sometimes hard) decisions for the child. I try to include my kids and respect them, but sometimes I have to override their wishes to make the best choice for their well-being.

Children naturally trust parents and are attached to them as caregivers. They have little choice, so it’s very important that I do the best I can and treat them well and respectfully. I want my children to grow up healthy in mind, body, and spirit. Better than I was.

I made sure we enrolled the kids in recreational sports, dance, gymnastics, music, art – whatever was available and they expressed interest in. The kids often shared my enthusiasm and we were careful not to pressure them. If they expressed they wanted to move on or update their interests, we welcomed their input and made necessary changes.

As my kids grow into teens and young adults, they sometimes express themselves to me and their dad in ways that hurt. I try really hard not to be triggered or take it personally. I try to listen and understand. I cry alone, in secret. I don’t want my kids to feel guilty or wrong for telling me their thoughts, wishes, dreams, feelings. I want them to feel safe to tell me anything. I don’t want to put pressure on my children to rescue me.

I worry constantly if I’m saying or doing something like my parents did to me.

I have to update my expectations often as I continually remind myself and realize that my children are individuals with their own lives to lead. Parents surely have dreams for their children, but we can’t and shouldn’t impose that or try to live vicariously through our kids.

I have spent over twenty years meeting physical needs and trying my best to guide my children into being healthy adults – mentally, emotionally, psychologically.

If the consequences of my child’s action or inaction does not affect me, then I must force myself to back off.

My kids this spring are 11, 14, 15, and my eldest will be 21 this fall.

I have imparted my values to them. I guide them and answer questions. I try to be proactive. I tell them what my experiences were in similar situations.

I can only be as concerned as my child.

My child’s grades do not affect me.

My child’s hair, skin, makeup, clothing is their personal choice.

My child’s possessions are their responsibility and I cannot dictate how they treat their possessions.

It is not up to me how my child spends her money (whether money is earned or a gift).

My child’s choice to quit or postpone college is not about me.

My child’s car (after age 18) is her responsibility for maintenance, insurance, gas, repairs.

My child’s choice to move into an apartment is not my fault nor can I control anything about it.

My adult child’s food choices are not my concern unless they become disordered or extreme.

My child’s tax return is her responsibility to gather paperwork and to file.

It is not my job to say “should.”

It is not my job to offer unsolicited advice.

It is my concern to help my child manage her personal hygiene and keep her room relatively clean and neat for physical and mental health and to learn executive function.

My child’s health is my concern. No matter her age. I worry about physical, mental, and dental health. I worry that my adult child has to buy her own health insurance this fall. I worry about some of her personal choices that could pose problems later. I worry that I will want or have to rescue her from herself.

While I will, of course, rescue my child in an emergency (in most cases), it is not my duty to be anxious that she makes different choices than I did or would in her circumstances.

I do intervene when a child’s mistake, words, physical abuse, action, or inaction affects her siblings or others. It is often difficult to parent a child who doesn’t react to natural consequences or is constantly flippant, expecting the problems to just go away on their own. Lack of empathy and refusal to make amends is not ok.

It’s been hard having a child who laughs at consequences and no punishment matters.

Parents are still constantly learning.

I am so glad I am out of the baby, toddler, and young child stages. I love having older kids and teens. Conversations are lively and exciting. I love seeing my kids still act like kids and wanting to be together and show affection to each other.

Look at how much love and joy comes from just letting people be who they are.
Dan Levy

Linking up: Pam’s Party, Random Musings, Mostly Blogging, Anita Ojeda, April Harris, Marilyn’s Treats, Uncommon Suburbia, InstaEncouragements, LouLou Girls, Jeanne Takenaka, Grammy’s Grid, Our Three Peas, Grandma’s Ideas, Soaring with Him, Anchored Abode, Ridge Haven, Ginger Snap, Fluster Buster, Girlish Whims, Ducks in a Row, Katherine’s Corner, Penny’s Passion, Crystal Storms, Debbie Kitterman, Slices of Life, Answer is Choco, Momfessionals, Simply Sweet Home, Embracing Unexpected, OMHG, CWJ, Create with Joy,

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I am not insignificant

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February 22, 2021 By Jennifer Lambert 19 Comments

I’m in my mid-40s and I still fight my inner thoughts that tell me I am worthless, unimportant, insignificant.

It doesn’t help that my parents still remind me, if not so much in the words they used to use during my childhood and youth, but in their action, inaction, criticism of myself and family, my parenting choices and lifestyle. They mostly just ignore me and my children. They’re uninterested in what we do. I don’t bother to share our triumphs with them. I rarely call them and when they call me, it’s only to list their medical appointments and complain about everything.

As an only child, I didn’t know anything different than my life with my dysfunctional parents. Since I wasn’t sexually molested or physically beaten, I didn’t realize I was being abused verbally, emotionally, and psychologically. I think many of us just wave away abuse and think others have it so much worse.

I often didn’t eat lunch at school. I remember sitting at the dinner table many nights, refusing to eat. I had frequent migraines for many years. I remember having painful digestive issues. I don’t have many memories of my mother comforting me or caring for me when I was sick or not feeling well. I remember my father with cold, wet washcloths and massaging my eyebrows.

I felt like a burden whenever I was sick, like I was inconveniencing my parents.

I struggled to make friends at school. I struggled with school, but I managed to make good enough grades and stay out of trouble for the most part.

I didn’t know other families were happy, loving, accepting while mine was demeaning, humiliating, intolerant.

Kids can’t be expected to recognize dismissal, emotional neglect, narcissism. I just learned to cope and avoid and cater to my parents’ sporadic moods. I woke up every single morning with a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach, worried what tantrums my parents might have that day and over what minor inconvenience or misspoken word by me.

I had a lot of freedom as a kid in the 1980s.

But it was mostly neglect.

I had no escape, no safe spaces.

We didn’t attend church. I mostly felt lost and alone at school. I was sent outside to play if I was home.

After school and during summers, I ran the neighborhood, often having lunch at a friend’s house and not coming home until the street lights came on.

My dad traveled a lot and it was more peaceful when he was gone. I wasn’t allowed to have friends over if he was home. I didn’t know this was unusual. I always accepted an invitation to a friend’s house to get away from my own home.

I avoided most of my friends’ parents while also silently begging for attention. They probably thought I was weird. I feared all adults, all authority.

My jack o’lantern was always smashed in the street on Halloween. The yard was often TP’ed and the house and mailbox egged. I didn’t know what this meant, but I realized much later that my dad was hated in the neighborhood for years for his outspoken intolerance and criticism. My parents didn’t have any friends.

My bedroom door didn’t close; the hinges were warped. I wasn’t allowed privacy. Closing the bathroom door never mattered; my parents would walk in without knocking.

I was encouraged to try many activities, but they never lasted long. I longed to do ballet and learn piano, but it never happened. Ballet lessons were “too expensive.” We had an old, out-of-tune organ and I got lessons for a few months when I was in fourth grade, but it was hard to practice. They wouldn’t pay to tune the organ or get me a piano keyboard. I didn’t know there were recreational sports, but I’m sure it was also too expensive.

I was a cheerleader in eighth grade and I can’t remember a single game where my parents attended to watch me cheer. They didn’t even pick me up from games. I had to bum rides from other parents to Pizza Hut and my parents would pick me up there. It was embarrassing to be the only kid without parents.

I tried basketball and tennis in school but I felt very out of place and didn’t know all the rules of the games.

I wasn’t allowed to take art in high school except for one semester as an elective. It was a tiny victory.

When I became a teenager and expected to do teenager things, my dad criticized me for wanting to hang out with friends or date. He acted jealous and irrational. I had no privacy. There was no trust. I’m surprised he got me a car – a 1974 VW Bug for $650. I’m surprised he let me have a part-time job and keep all my money. I had to lie and deceive just to go meet a friend at a store or restaurant or the library. He acted jealous I wanted to have other relationships.

I was never a bad kid. I was too scared to ever really do anything. I was always home on time, but I was yelled at if I was even one minute late. There was never any grace.

It hit me hard the other day that my parents told me I was unlovable and made me break up with my boyfriend when I was about eighteen. He was a lovely boy and his family were great. They loved me. They were kind and good to me.

Who knows where it could have gone if it had been allowed to progress naturally? Would we have grown apart during college? Would we have grown together? I will never know.

My parent’s selfishness and unwillingness to relinquish control broke both me and him. I never got to apologize to him. I found him on social media and he’s divorced with a couple kids and remarried. I won’t contact him to dredge up anything because why should I now, so many years later. It would be selfish of me. None of it was his fault.

My parents also gaslighted me after my suicide attempt when I was 21, that I was just being used by the man I was seeing. Again, they told me I was unlovable and stupid to put myself in this vulnerable position where they continued to control me.

My parents found therapists and doctors to tell them what great parents they were and how childish I was. I hadn’t reached individuation. I had no autonomy. I mean, really? I was 21, being treated like a 12-year-old.

A child that’s being abused by its parents doesn’t stop loving its parents, it stops loving itself.
Shahida Arabi, Becoming the Narcissist’s Nightmare: How to Devalue and Discard the Narcissist While Supplying Yourself

I was weak and hurt and fragile. I felt trapped.

This pushed me over the edge to run away and marry him.

I regret this, but it is what it is. What if I had been stronger? What if I’d had any support from anyone?

After I ran away, my parents found another therapist to tell them what a bad daughter I was – selfish and childish and ungrateful.

But I wasn’t a bad daughter. I was a desperate daughter, seeking connection.

My parents love to remind me all they did for me. They bought me clothes and kept the groceries stocked and paid for the house we lived in.

They provided for my basic needs.

They bought cars and paid for the insurance until I ran away. I never really asked for or wanted the cars that they traded in every couple years. It was like a weird game for them. They claimed newer cars were safer. Obviously I needed a way to get to school and work and I appreciated not having the bills.

They paid for my divorce. My parents co-signed for my apartment. Then my father co-signed on my home mortgage.

But, they never paid for my education. I did that with scholarships for my bachelor’s and a loan for my master’s. They maybe paid some tuition when I dual enrolled as a high school senior and paid for some books and admin fees.

Oh, how they love to remind me about every little thing.

Everything had strings attached.

They don’t value emotions or struggles or triumphs.

They refuse to discuss anything they don’t like.

Moving away was probably the best thing I ever did.

I had panic attacks the first two years. Then I spent a few years trying on personae to see who I liked. I didn’t know who I wanted to be. I couldn’t remember what I had ever liked.

It took many years to learn how to be myself. Sometimes I still forget.

Yes, I have been to various therapists. Yes, I have tried various medications for depression and anxiety. It’s been a long, hard road – to nowhere.

I am healing myself.

My parents have never expressed interest in maintaining contact with me or my children via snail mail, social media, or any communication technology. They just don’t want to. They sometimes complain that my emails go to their spam folder, but I don’t understand how that would happen.

My parents only visited us a few times times during all these sixteen years. They always stayed in hotels, which is a small blessing.

My parents drove out to San Antonio, Texas, twice, for the births of my middle girls. They were no help to us during that time. I had to entertain them and go out to dinner with them – all sooner than I should have left the house.

They flew to Hawaii for a vacation during December – the rainiest dreariest month. My father was sick almost the whole time and the plane ride for hard for him.

He couldn’t be bothered to come back out for the birth of my son a year later. My mother came alone and it was stressful. I had to rely on her for help. After all, wasn’t that why she was there? She was cruel to my daughters and I was unavailable and didn’t know until after she had flown home.

Then they visited me and the kids in Utah while my husband was deployed. My kids’ schedules were greatly disrupted and my parents wanted me to cater to their needs – to the detriment of my children. They got mad at me and left early, then sent me hate mail about what a bad mother I am and such a disrespectful daughter.

They never visited us while we lived in Germany.

We stayed with my parents before PCSing to Germany and when we PCSed back to The States. It was stressful. My dad had tantrums and left for an entire day, disappointing my son. Promises were not kept with my eldest. Everything was performance-based and we were all so confused.

They came up to Ohio for Christmas when my husband was deployed the second time. It was mostly ok. They stayed at a hotel and my kids are older and busier and less bothered by them.

They surprised my husband by driving up for his promotion ceremony in spring. They adore my husband.

Over the years, my relationship with my parents is superficial at best.

I reply to their emails every day or two. If I don’t email every day, I get criticized for not caring. They use Yahoo email like the rest of us use Messenger and they think my replies should be instant. My dad still has an ancient cell phone that only makes and receives calls. My mom got a newer Android phone but she doesn’t really know how to use it.

It’s been a lot. I’ve spent years trying to heal myself and this generational trauma.

I’ve struggled to make healthy relationships with others all my life. I worry my kids don’t know how to make and keep friends because they don’t see me or their father succeed in this. I feel alone and lost.

My parents have ignored me since January 6 and I really don’t know why this time.

They periodically do this and I always contacted them to apologize – for nothing, anything, just to make amends to whatever imagined ill they felt I inflicted.

Perhaps they’re mad that I voted differently and have different political views. My father emailed my husband, telling him he bought a gun and carry license.

I carry all this heaviness around with me all the time. My kids and husband don’t have these weights. They will never understand.

I am not insignificant.

Resources:

Mothers Who Can’t Love: A Healing Guide for Daughters by Susan Forward
Difficult Mothers, Adult Daughters: A Guide For Separation, Liberation & Inspiration by Karen C.L. Anderson
I Hate You – Don’t Leave Me: Understanding the Borderline Personality by Jerold J. Kreisman
Recovering from Narcissistic Mothers: A Daughter’s Guide by Brenda Stephens
Will I Ever Be Good Enough?: Healing the Daughters of Narcissistic Mothers by Karyl McBride
Becoming the Narcissist’s Nightmare: How to Devalue and Discard the Narcissist While Supplying Yourself by Shahida Araby
Recovering from Emotionally Immature Parents: Practical Tools to Establish Boundaries and Reclaim Your Emotional Autonomy by Lindsay C. Gibson
Adult Children of Emotionally Immature Parents: How to Heal from Distant, Rejecting, or Self-Involved Parents by Lindsay C. Gibson

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Red Flags

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June 1, 2020 By Jennifer Lambert Leave a Comment

It’s important for me to teach my kids about red flags in relationships.

I didn’t have anyone guide me in healthy relationships when I was a teen or young adult and I found myself in toxic patterns.

We seldom see the red flags while we’re walking past them or living with them.

We want to ignore the red flags. We’ve been taught to only see the best in people. We’ve been taught to be polite and compliant.

I realize there were so many red flags in my previous relationships that I should’ve seen, that maybe my parents and friends should’ve said, “Hey! This isn’t ok!” but they didn’t. Even when I knew I wasn’t healthy enough to protect myself and relied on them for help. They didn’t vet my relationships well. They didn’t see it either or didn’t care.

I was deceived about so many things. I had no power to discern the truth.

I was so naive. I was so gullible.

Big Red Flags

Communication

He made fun of me, belittling me, humiliating, shaming. I took it because he was “older and wiser” and I just thought I surely must really be dumb.

He was often distant. He monopolized conversation. It was always about him. He didn’t want to hear my stories. He didn’t want to know what I did at work that day. He only wanted to talk about himself.

As an introvert, I’m a great listener. This wasn’t a red flag at all for me. I loved learning about his past and hearing the stories that were important to him.

But I failed to realize that I wasn’t important to him.

Trust

I want to be trusting. I want to believe the best. I’m still devastated that people will lie and deceive.

Years later, I’m still realizing how he lied to me and about the stupidest things. Things that shouldn’t have really mattered.

He lied about dealing drugs. He lied about stopping the dealing. The gallon bag in the hall closet was not full of catnip.

He left me at a party with his friends. I wasn’t that comfortable with his friends. I didn’t know what to say or do around them. I had to wait hours to get a ride home.

After the separation and divorce, he lied about my daughter. I was a puddle of emotions every weekend she visited him. I wondered who she stayed with, what she ate, where she slept. I asked why she returned with infected bug bites all over her legs and the worst diaper rash anyone had ever seen in history of diaper rashes. He had no good answers. She stayed with his father, his niece, his girlfriend. He had to work and he wasn’t that involved or interested.

And I just recently found out (eighteen years later!) he plotted to start a custody battle. But he never paid the child support or the credit card that the court mandated.

His narrative to his family and friends about the divorce are vastly different than the truth.

Abuse

He was addicted to porn. He made fun of me. He didn’t like my lack of experience. He said no one had every criticized him in bed. He didn’t like the way I looked. He didn’t like where I had hair. He wanted me to look fake and plastic like the porn models.

So many red flags before he ever hit me.

Then I really believed I deserved that first time. I calmly patched the hole in the wall of our rental house and fixed the windowpane.

The second time he hit me, I left. I didn’t want my daughter witnessing that.

He was furious with me for being so hands off while our daughter toddled around, learning to walk. She stumbled and bumped her head on the coffee table and he lost it.

Earlier that day, he had been talking about wanting another baby. I was barely hanging on financially. We had just bought a house near his parents. I was commuting to work about an hour each way. He made about $10/hour, developing photo film.

His family is Pentecostal evangelical. This was the first taste of any real religion or church I had. It all but broke me. They didn’t like questions. They didn’t like women being intelligent or leaders. It was hard and I tried to conform to what they wanted. I thought it must be right and good. I never could live up to their standards. We got married because his church said it was sin to live together.

I don’t even remember what my wedding ring looked like. I do remember picking out one together at a shop, but he lapsed on the layaway, so I didn’t get that one. He wore a borrowed, too big suit to our small wedding in their warehouse church. The “reception” was at his parents’ house. I remember cubing cheese in the kitchen and there wasn’t enough food to go around. My father didn’t go at all. My mother attended the wedding and went home. There was only one night in a local hotel I was comped as a kickback from work. Nothing was idyllic. Nothing was looked back on as charming. It was sad and devastating and embarrassing.

I can’t remember him ever giving me gifts. I remember maxing out the Best Buy credit card for electronics for him. I remember explaining and then arguing that the bank card was attached to our joint account and if he blew money on cigarettes and soda, I didn’t have enough for gas to work or monthly bills.

I was criticized by his family for negotiating the purchase of vehicles from his cousin, who worked as a local Chevy salesman. I was encouraged to use that dealer because that’s where his whole family went. I also went to another dealer just to check pricing and loan info. I was able to get a better deal than from his cousin. They accused me of disloyalty to their family. I still find it ironic that they thought it was better to pay more for loyalty.

I should have seen and reacted to the red flags sooner. Hindsight is always 20/20.

It takes a long time, years…to heal from abuse. Trauma reactions continue with my current relationships. I try to recognize where my triggers occur and deal with that so I don’t confuse my husband and children. It’s never about them.

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Grieving Family Who Are Still Alive

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Please see my suggested resources.

April 6, 2020 By Jennifer Lambert Leave a Comment

We don’t have any family nearby or any relationship with any family really anyway.

When my daughter and I told our therapists about my parents and the in-laws, they were just like, “Well, that’s a clusterf*ck.”

I really needed the affirmation that it’s not me. I needed an outsider to tell me that I tried really hard to develop a relationship and was met at every turn with negativity, disdain, ridicule. I needed a third party to tell my my parents aren’t the nicest people and that I’m not a bad child.

I’ve always felt out of place – at home, at school, with my own aunts and uncles and cousins, with people whom I thought were my friends over the years and at various places where we’ve lived.

May all that is unforgiven in you Be released. May your fears yield Their deepest tranquillities. May all that is unlived in you Blossom into a future Graced with love.
John O’Donohue, To Bless the Space Between Us

It was nothing new to me to feel a little awkward around my new family. I just tried harder. and more.

I don’t have any good role models for healthy relationships. I am winging it and reparenting myself and doing my best to raise four healthy children without trauma.

We live in a generation that is highly skilled at allowing connections to fade away. Because of social media and cell phones, we think people are replaceable, and that’s silly. You cannot replace the energy of someone who is genuine especially if they’re putting the consistent effort out, to be in your life. Appreciate them, cherish them, those people are gold.
Sylvester Mcnutt

Grieving Family

My husband’s parents passed away the first year we married.

I know it’s really hard for him even still, probably forever. I never had time to build a relationship at all.

While most newlyweds stress over which holidays to spend with which inlaws, I never got to have that delight. We’ve never had the ability to travel over the holidays to visit my parents in Georgia or Aaron’s two sisters in Illinois after his mom passed.

Neither my husband nor I really know our cousins or extended family.

I am the youngest grandchild and many of my aunts, uncles, and older cousins have been passing away frequently the last few years.

We moved to Texas our second year of marriage and I tried really hard to develop a relationship with his paternal uncle living there – which was my husband’s entire reason for wanting to move there. A relationship just never developed after two years. We had dinner a couple times and that was about the extent of it. We were just never accepted. It doesn’t help that he raves about the two sisters and their kids online and travels annually to Illinois to visit them and extending family. He just completely ignores us.

Grieving Sisters

I tried and tried and tried to develop a relationship with my husband’s two sisters but it has always been a failure.

They don’t want me.

As an only child, I am equally devastated and indifferent.

I didn’t see them from our second year of marriage at his mom’s funeral until about four years later.

I flew from Utah to Chicago for his youngest sister’s outdoor July wedding with four children, alone, while my husband was deployed. At the time I felt honored my middle girls were requested to be flower girls. My son was barely a year old and spent too much time with babysitters who were strangers to us. My eldest daughter (from a previous relationship) was asked to be an usher until I pitched a minor fit for her to be a junior bridesmaid like the other sister’s daughter. The uncle was even rude to me at the wedding and reception, seriously?

I was picked up from the airport by the middle sister and put my son in a filthy borrowed carseat. She took us to her house and fed my kids eggs and ramen. I was stressed and exhausted and I felt like a burden the entire week as I tried to compensate by cooking every meal for 9 people, cleaning, doing laundry, buying presents. I even disposed of a rodent family in her basement and cleaned up cat pee when the cat freaked out with all the air mattresses my kids were using in her territory.

That might have been the beginning of the end for me.

They drove down to visit us our last summer in Utah before we even knew we were moving to Europe. It was stressful. I felt like an entertainer, cook, tour director. We were constantly on the move since it was their vacation. Nothing I did seemed good enough and I was exhausted.

They haven’t visited us since we moved to Ohio. They couldn’t fit us in their schedule between sports tournaments that they traveled to/from on the road right near us.

I had to stop following my husband’s sisters, brothers-in-law, cousins, and uncle because their entire social media is softball, baseball, sports, kitschy crafts, home remodeling, and how great their friends and family are – except me and my children.

They’ve told my husband to tell me to quit writing and posting online about homeschooling since they feel it’s a kick in the teeth to them, as public school teachers. As if I didn’t teach in various school environments for ten years before committing to homeschooling. I’ve examined my posts and my heart and I’ve tried to be kind, welcoming, open, forgiving over and over again. I realize many families have vast differences and I want to accept and learn from those differences. I have a voice and I will use it.

For a long time, I just told myself it’s because we didn’t get a lot of time to get to know one another before I married Aaron and we move frequently with the military. I want to understand they’re closer to each other than they can ever be to me and my kids. But it’s becoming obvious that I’m not wanted nor welcomed.

I stressed for ten or so years to send the perfect thoughtful presents of equal value to my husband’s middle sister’s three kids at Christmas and birthdays while receiving handmedowns that I wouldn’t even donate to thrift stores and dollar spot junk in return. When I asked to exchange gift cards instead since we moved overseas, it was met with exasperation and online gift lists. I asked to just stop exchanging gifts or gift cards and I know that didn’t go over well.

We offered to meet any or all of them for dinner when we visited Chicago, which is about an hour away from where they live. We drove 7ish hours for an event that got canceled last minute. They couldn’t fit us into their schedule.

His youngest sister and husband fostered and recently adopted a little girl and I didn’t even know. I found out on social media.

I just always wanted to be a part of a big family and have my kids be loved by a big family and it just hurts me that we’re not wanted nor welcome.

Grieving my Parents

My parents adore my husband. They adore my son.

They don’t care for me or my daughters and they aren’t even trying to hide it. We even often get lesser gifts at holidays.

My parents claim they’re on “a fixed income” which is a great reality for many elderly people, but they own a 3500 sq. ft. house, 3 vehicles, no bills, and a mortgage of $850/month as they sit back and receive several retirement checks and social security that total more than my husband makes.

I try not to be bitter and I seldom ask for anything.

When my parents casually ask any of us what we want for a birthday or Christmas, we never know what the right answer is because we’ve been told so many times to choose something else, that they won’t be able to get that.

I received hate mail after my parents visited me during my husband’s deployment – in May, but not the week of my youngest daughter’s birthday or over Mother’s Day. They refused to stay at my house and instead opted for a nearby hotel. They sauntered over midday, about lunchtime and then naptime for my son. It disrupted our whole schedule and they kept telling my girls to go away and play outside or in the basement. I was super stressed and confused. My mom made my middle daughter cry about something irrelevant. They didn’t want to go anywhere or do anything except sit on my sofa and they were upset my TV was in the basement. Then, they got mad and left early and I later received an actual letter in the mail, outlining everything that’s wrong about me, my children, and my lack of good mothering skills. Also, that I should hit my children to make them never cry and behave perfectly.

I just always envisioned my kids having loving generous grandparents and it hurts me so bad that they don’t.

I never know what to say to my mother. She is disinterested in what the kids or I are ever doing. She doesn’t pay attention when I do tell her anything.

At least once a month, I realize I’ve really messed up again because my father quits communicating with me until I apologize and make amends for asking him to please stop sending me racist emails or he told me what an awful mother I am again and how worthless my almost twenty-year-old daughter is.

After 44 years of hearing how stupid and worthless I am, I wonder if I should just believe it.

I know I am an awful daughter.

They know what they’ve done.

I grieve the loss of relationships that never happened. I grieve my husband’s parents whom I never knew and only met a couple times. I grieve the uncle who doesn’t want us. I grieve the sisters I longed for my entire life who don’t want me. I grieve the cousins my children don’t know.

Just like mourning a physical death, my grief is real too. My grief comes in waves, at various times – suddenly and unexpected. I have never chosen to sever ties with anyone. I try and I try and I try again and again and again. I suffer the loss of something I never even had. There will probably never be closure. It’s never easy.

You own everything that happened to you. Tell your stories. If people wanted you to write warmly about them, they should have behaved better.
Anne Lamott, Bird by Bird: Some Instructions on Writing and Life

Resources:

Mothers Who Can’t Love: A Healing Guide for Daughters by Susan Forward
Difficult Mothers, Adult Daughters: A Guide For Separation, Liberation & Inspiration by Karen C.L. Anderson
I Hate You – Don’t Leave Me: Understanding the Borderline Personality by Jerold J. Kreisman
Recovering from Narcissistic Mothers: A Daughter’s Guide by Brenda Stephens
Will I Ever Be Good Enough?: Healing the Daughters of Narcissistic Mothers by Karyl McBride
Becoming the Narcissist’s Nightmare: How to Devalue and Discard the Narcissist While Supplying Yourself by Shahida Araby
Recovering from Emotionally Immature Parents: Practical Tools to Establish Boundaries and Reclaim Your Emotional Autonomy by Lindsay C. Gibson
Adult Children of Emotionally Immature Parents: How to Heal from Distant, Rejecting, or Self-Involved Parents by Lindsay C. Gibson
When Things Fall Apart: Heart Advice for Difficult Times by Pema Chodron
Parenting Forward: How to Raise Children with Justice, Mercy, and Kindness by Cindy Wang Brandt
The Empath’s Survival Guide: Life Strategies for Sensitive People by Judith Orloff
The Highly Sensitive Person: How to Thrive When the World Overwhelms You by Elaine N. Aron
The Highly Sensitive Child: Helping Our Children Thrive When The World Overwhelms Them by Elaine N. Aron
The Dance of Anger: A Woman’s Guide to Changing the Patterns of Intimate Relationships by Harriet Lerner
The Dance of Connection: How to Talk to Someone When You’re Mad, Hurt, Scared, Frustrated, Insulted, Betrayed, or Desperate by Harriet Lerner

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