Well… you’ll never hear me say life is easy. I’ve always fancied myself as someone who never quits, to see the silver lining, and just keep smiling. Enduring hardships seems to be my life story.

I’m not whining. That’s TRUTH.

While I’ve been slowly and steadily sharing my recent story in my Life Updates, I’ve got one more for you today.

As we embrace May as mental health awareness month, I know many of you are in a similar situation as I’m about to share. If you’d like to be brought up to speed about my dissolution/divorce, as well as my neurodiverse marriage, or the fact that at 45 years of age God helped me realize I was raised by a “Christian” covert narcissist, you can click on any of those highlighted texts to learn more.

And as I heal from my fractured thumb (which means no DIY and a whole lotta reflection) I’m trying to HEAL in more ways than one.

*If you suffer from similar emotional trauma, please consider that my stories may be triggering to you. 

WEEK BEGINNING

My week started with a sucker punch to the gut. While not knowing I had fractured my thumb for sure, I sat trying to keep up with life’s demands.

My narc parent continuously uses flying monkeys to get information on me, amongst other things, and I question about what was going on to a few folks.

While I am not sharing exact details as they can be used against me, just know that I learned, yet again, where I stand in the lives of those around me.

It HURTS.

But they are revealing their true selves to me as I am being denied being HEARD.

THEN, SUNDAY

On Sunday was what most celebrate as Mother’s Day. I do not celebrate it and honestly hate it. There are many reasons.

If you are new to my story, I started my blog 13 years ago on this “hallowed” day because I was tired of being unheard, ignored, and used. (read story HERE)

Also, it just so happens that this year, this same day fell on the 13th anniversary of my miscarrying my 7th baby at 11 weeks, only months after burying my stillborn daughter.

Without a doubt I am beyond blessed to be a mother to 6 children on this earth (I have 8 children in my heart). I ask my children to honor me in their heart every day and that is enough.

This child I lost is never remembered except by me. I do share remembrance with my children, but the loss that stands out for them is Gabriella, the sister they never met… YET.

Not only that, but the holiday has other painful memories as well.

I’m letting me be me and I CHOOSE to carry on as any other day.

MONDAY

Then, on Monday, a few things happened:

(1) I celebrate my 13-year blogiversary. No one ever remembers, no one feels the way I do when I tell them. But to me IT MEANS SO MUCH.

(2) I make a last-minute decision before attending my dental appointment in the same building to finish my root canal and crown (a result of grinding from high cortisol and stress) to have the doctor look at my hand.

For the record, as I mention before that I am conditioned to have high pain tolerance, as an abuse survivor I also have trouble NOT feeling like I don’t deserve care.

“I’ll be fine”, I tell myself.

But… my hand was telling me things were mightily off when I try desperately to finish the chest of drawers I promised to finish.

FEELING HEARD

While waiting after x-rays, I hear the nurse tell the doctor my story outside my patient room.

I hear “Wow” from him and a few other comments that made me embarrassed because I didn’t come in sooner.

I’ve had broken bones before and stoved fingers. I even researched what I should be looking for. However, past times when doctors have blown me off made me feel inadequate and stupid.

To hear I have a fracture is a relief that I am allowed to be in pain and that someone CARES to tell me so.

After my visit with for my hand, I had to go back to the waiting room to wait for my other medical encounter.

My body begins to shake uncontrollably again. I release the fear, angst, worry from my body that built up in even just trying to decide to have an evaluation for my injury.

I practice breathing techniques and try to prepare for my next appointment.

Those shakes are my life-long trauma abuse reactions and I’m learning to work with my body (C-PTSD) while enduring hardships.

WEEK ENDING

Instead of my typing out this story with painful thumb, I’m sharing in video form the next few days of this hard week.

Well… if anyone has a free vacay to send my way. I’m game!

Honestly, though, many keep saying thing to encourage me like, “This too shall pass” or “hang in there”. While loving intent is understood, I just want to SCREAM, “I don’t want to be strong! I’m tired and want to just live. This junk has been happening to me MY ENTIRE LIFE!”

Like I mention in my video, I know I will not be free from strife, pain, and tears until I enter my heavenly rest. And enduring hardships are a part of life.

At the same point, we need to know our limit and when to “call the police” and that we are valuable as a human and deserve respect.

How do you know when to endure and when to push back?

Let’s look at it from Scripture. Romans 5:3-4 (NIV) says, “Not only so, but we also glory in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance, perseverance, character, and character, hope.

I’ve lived that verse to the opposite end of the spectrum to where I lost myself in hopium.

Isn’t that a crazy word and yet so apropos?

HOPIUM. Hoping things will get better so you don’t have to live in the pain of truth. ¹, ²

REALITY CHECK

As a child I kept hoping that if I just did this (fill in the blank) or tried harder, I would receive love and attention. In my marriage, I kept hoping I would be loved and cherished. Then, that spills over into friendships and even motherhood.

There are certain realities I face:

• raised by narcissist parent – I can’t choose my parent or change their behavior
• toxic family of origin – I can’t change the past, only what I do with it
• previously marriage to a neurodivergent man – he is who he is and I can’t change him
• mother to neurodivergent children – they are who they are and I can’t change them

The responsibility of me being happy is up to ME.

No one gets to choose what brings me joy nor gets to affect me unless I let them.

Yes, I have HARSH realities of abuse that permeate me into my innate learning. I can manage the best I can so that enduring the punishments that come with hardships are of my choosing.

“But understand this, that in the last days there will come times of difficulty. For people will be lovers of self, lovers of money, proud, arrogant, abusive, disobedient to their parents, ungrateful, unholy, heartless, unappeasable, slanderous, without self-control, brutal, not loving good, treacherous, reckless, swollen with conceit, lovers of pleasure rather than lovers of God, having the appearance of godliness, but denying its power. Avoid such people.” 1 Timothy 3:1-5 ESV (emphasis added)

Let me end by saying that thanks to a God who does not want robots, we have the freedom to choose. We can choose who we let into our lives to affect us. And we can choose our eternity. Let those people show you who they really are and your hope in the ONE that will never fail you – the Lord Jesus.

PRAISE

If you listen carefully, you’ll hear me singing my heart out to this powerful song by Blanca.

As always, I invite you to share your own story of enduring hardships in comments below. However, keep in mind this is a public post, so if you want to share your story privately with me, please email. I HEAR YOU – all of you who have reached out and are on a similar path. Also, please pin and share to help others feel heard.

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1. Are You Addicted To Hopium? Naive Hope Verses Certain Hope
2. Living in the Truth When It’s Hard & Ugly

While you’re at it, here are more of my life stories like enduring hardships: