#tammyblackday

[tammyblackday]

Routines.

I despise routines.

They're boring and repetitive. I do not believe we were intended to live out the exact same day of our lives every day. This it what routines feel like to me. It's kind of like the opening to Dexter; same thing every time with the shaving, getting dressed, and making breakfast; same foods. It's so boring.

I need routines.

I do. I hate to admit it but I do so well when I have routines. It requires less of my brain power to have routines, which gives me more thinking time for writing and schooling and teaching. Routines help me stay healthy and grounded. I thrive whenever I stick to my routines. It's so healing.

Still.

I don't think we're supposed to live each day, our whole lives, doing the same exact things. In fact, I know we're not. Otherwise, we would still be swaddled in diapers, relying on others to change and feed us. Doing things differently helps us to learn and grow. It helps us experience new things to learn about ourselves; what we like and don't like.

Diversity in action is the process of being alive!

It's like how in the movie Groundhog's Day (watch it!) when our main character realizes he's waking up in the same day; doing the same things. Spoiler alert- he starts to get depressed until he realizes the opportunities in each day to learn new things, expand his mind, help others. And, not to make everyone else happy or like him. He does these things for the joy of learning and growing; he becomes a better version of himself by doing things differently each day. Here's the catch....

Routines ground us.

In the movie, he still creates routines such as saving a boy falling from a tree; however, he makes time throughout his day in these routines to explore his interests and enjoy the process of learning. The movie is a profound example of how routines and spontaneity coexist in a beautiful dynamic, allowing us to unfold our great potential. For the past three weeks, I've been doing a routine each morning where I wake up between 4:30am-5am, sit in my dark office with only the glow of my Himalayan salt lamp, journal for 15 minutes with a small cup of coffee, say two prayers (adapted version of Mother Theresa's morning prayer and the actual translation of the lord's prayer) and five pages of belief code affirmations to embrace new thought processes in my life, walk 1/2 mile to our local recreation center, do water aerobics for 30-40 minutes, walk 1/2 mile home, visit with my husband for 15 minutes, do 20-30 minutes of yoga, shower and get ready for my day, start my day by 9am, fast until noon, eat lunch and dinner, start fasting at 6pm, go to bed by 8am, and then I fall asleep by 9pm. On the days I don't do water aerobics, I often write in my blog or do extra walking or longer yoga sessions. I rest on Sundays.

Here's the thing about this routine, although I despise routines, I feel better, I've lost 10 lbs, I'm not having as many sensory meltdowns, and I manage all the other things in life so much better with a clear mind and calm disposition. I know these routines are helping me become a better version of myself. I'm learning how to move my body differently. I have more energy to do house work and keep up with my 18 mos. old grandson.

I'm happier.

I simply have to remind myself every single day that I choose these routines centered around my personal wellness and growth because it helps me be who I want to be; a calm and joyful person able to help others and create healthy boundaries with family, friends, school and work. Typically, by week three, I'm starting to think about all the ways in which I'm going to break the routines once my 30 Challenge is over. However, this time, I'm thinking about extending my challenge to a lifestyle change, and I've been considering all the ways in which I can uphold these routines to be the foundation that helps me create and manifest greater things in my life; to fully and audaciously live my life out loud!

[tammyblackday]

Experts.

Most of my life has been spent looking to the experts for information, rules, and advice on how best to "human," since I lacked many of the basic skill sets to navigate life, relationships, emotional regulation, conversations, etc. The biggest issue I faced was that I'd been told my whole life that I was stupid, which to me meant that everyone else in my life was an expert except for me. This includes when it came to my own body.

I remember in ballet at the age of five when my teacher smacked my tummy and told me to "suck in that fat belly," as she made certain everyone else knew that I was what "fat" looked like. I didn't go to ballet anymore because fat girls couldn't become ballerinas.

I remember when I told my childcare worker that I needed to go the bathroom really bad. She told me, "no, you don't," so I messed myself and got in trouble for not telling anyone I had to go. See, she lied and said I never asked to use the bathroom. After that, anytime someone told me that I didn't hear or see what I heard or saw, I convinced myself that I was making it up because they were smarter, older, or knew more.

I remember that anytime someone brushed my hair, it hurt so badly that I would cry and scream and wiggle away. I was told that it didn't hurt because they were barely touching me. That I was overreacting and being difficult. So, I learned to ignore pain because how would I know true pain if them brushing my hair felt like someone was pulling my skin off my body but I was being told that it doesn't hurt.

I remember a dentist telling me that I wasn't feeling the drill into my teeth. He said it wasn't possible, so he pushed my head back into the chair and continued to extract two more teeth as tears streamed down my face and I choked on my breath being blocked from the cloth in my mouth. When he was done, he told me that it wasn't that bad and I'd be fine. I didn't leave my house for six months after this.

I remember towards the end of that six months when my ex-mother in law insisted I go to a therapist, who often tried to blame me for my relationship issues and told me that I had to take a shower every single day and do hair and makeup (if that was typical for me) to ensure I didn't get depressed anymore. He told me it was the best way to take care of myself. To this day, I feel guilty if I miss taking a shower. That was over 20 years ago.

I can't remember how many times throughout my life time that I allowed men to do unmentionable things to my body because they told me it felt good, that it was normal, that I liked it, and they loved me. I would clench my teeth as they did whatever it was, or I would fake noises that I had been told were the right way to express pleasure. I obviously didn't know what pain felt like, then love was supposed to be the way they said it was.

I remember when I fractured the ball joint of my femur in my hip; split it in half I found out later. I told my chiropractor that nothing he was doing was helping. I told him that I had to lift my leg into bed every night and it felt like my leg was just falling out of its socket. For three months, I was told it was getting better and it couldn't hurt as bad as I was saying it did. Three months before an x-ray technician lowered the camera and found the misaligned, mostly healed fracture.

This was the moment I realized that I was the expert of my body, of my life. I started trusting myself. I started to stand firm in my knowingness of what was happening for me. I pushed back with dentists and doctors when they said nothing was wrong and I just needed to lose weight. I learned to trust my body to tell me when something wasn't quite right.

It's what led me to my autism and adhd diagnosis. I kept advocating for myself to my therapist and doctor about my challenges with food/impulse control. I kept explaining that I knew it was possible for me to not struggle because I hadn't always had an issue with food or weight. Plus, I was starting to fail at all the things I was good doing, such as writing, teaching, singing, etc. Something was off.

It's funny because just one month after my autism diagnosis, a new psychiatrist was hired. The first thing he did when I said I needed to change my medication was to tell me that he didn't think I had autism or adhd, but instead was bipolar. It took me twenty long minutes of insisting he was wrong and him asking for proof before he finally said, "Oh, I guess I didn't read your chart as closely as I thought. You were on bipolar meds 25 years ago and they didn't work because it says here you had ptsd."

I was so angry inside because it was one more so-called expert trying to tell me what was going on inside my body. However, I simply smiled and said, "When can I start the new adhd med?" He prescribed it the same day and I was feeling like myself again within three days. Go figure!

Look, my point is that you are your own expert. It doesn't matter how much education or knowledge or training someone else has, you know when something is different, or wrong. I'm not saying to avoid doctors or dentists; I'm simply saying that you know your body and mind better than anyone. I know this because: I wasn't fat, I was a little kid who rarely ate because I had food/texture issues.

I do have to use the bathroom, often urgently, at the last minute because I don't "feel" it until it's almost too late.

It DOES hurt my hair to have it brushed. It hurts so much that I rarely brush my hair. Instead, I use tons of conditioner and my fingers to gently detangle. I only use a brush once in a while after I've washed my hair and it has to be a soft bristle brush. It still hurts.

Taking a shower hurts! I hate it. I'd rather take a bath but our house doesn't have a bath, so I shower. It feels like prickly needles on my skin. It's the same reason it hurts to brush my hair; sensory issues.

Dental work sucks for me. Fortunately, there are many kind and courteous dentists in the world. I found one who talked me through every move she made. One time, she tried numbing my mouth as many times as was medically possible. When I told her I could still feel the needle, she stopped and waited several weeks before trying again. Turns out, I've high pain medication tolerance.

My body is aging and I do feel pain, a lot of pain sometimes. I know not to wait three months before getting the right kind of help. Although, I will admit my other hip has been hurting this past week but I've yet to get it checked out. (I will soon).

Love isn't supposed to hurt. "No" is a complete sentence. People who love you will respect you and do whatever it takes to protect you. Advocate for yourself! Be your own expert! You're totally worth it!

[tammyblackday]

Death.

I don't always know how to respond to death. I think that might have something to do with being autistic, maybe.

I remember so many deaths throughout my lifetime; my dad's dad who died fairly young at 65ish; my cousins who were 10 & 12 killed in a horrible way by a drunk driver while they were on a bike and wagon being pulled behind it; my uncle who was in a horrible motorcycle accident and remained in a coma for three years prior to dying; my friend Corey who was killed when a stop sign impaled his torso in a horrible car accident; or, my grandfather from California, whom I loved so deeply...

His death was the first one I cried over.

Until he died, I thought there was something horribly wrong with me that I never knew what to say or how to act when someone died. I would watch others cry and grieve; morn these horrible deaths in the most dramatic fashion.

I didn't.

I'd seen animals die throughout my life time; cats, dogs, chickens, pigs, fish, worms, etc. There were rarely, if ever, any tears shed over these deaths and to me it was all the same.

Simply death.

I still don't know what was different about my grandfather's death. Maybe because I spoke to him nearly every week, or because he'd made effort in his final year of life to come see me from California to Oregon and had ice cream with my children, or maybe it was simply that at that time I had known him the longest when he died and not having him around felt overwhelming because he seemed to be the one person who expressed the most love and wholesome affection to me throughout my lifetime.

I still miss him.

When my mom died nearly 13 years ago, it hit me different. I knew she was dying from lung cancer. We (my ex husband and kids) had visited with her just a couple of weeks beforehand. So, I said my goodbye... but she had "died" so many times before throughout my life and always she was revived. Not this time.

Still. I remember sending a message to my younger sister asking that no one contact me that weekend, even if she died, because I was slammed at work with a huge event and simply didn't have capacity. I checked in shortly after the event to learn that my mother was in her dying process. She died in the very moments I typed a prayer asking for her pain to be eased. It was surreal to experience this moment.

Shocking really.

A wave of exhaustion hit me. It wouldn't be until I arrived for the funeral a week later and wrapped myself in her quilt on her bed that I realized I would never again see my mom or hear her voice say hurtful words to me. I was relieved and felt ashamed of that relief all at once. I couldn't explain the tears that poured out of me because everyone assumed it was saddness but truly it was more a cleansing of the pain she had caused throughout my lifetime. It was releasing all the toxic phone calls of trauma and drama surrounding her mental illness.

Tears of healing poured out of me time and time again over those next few days. Traumatic triggers of horrible times were being washed away from my soul. That grief was for the mom I never had because she was stolen away from be by her mental illness. I didn't have a healthy relationship with her, nor did I ever try to understand what life was like for her. I simply let her go.

My aunt died two days ago.

I don't know how to feel about it because I don't really feel anything about her death. Well, other than deep empathy for my cousin who happens to be experiencing the same type of relief-grief that I did with my mom for many of the same reasons. As I talked it out with her, I realized I've grown so much since my mom died but that I never grieved her loss from my life.

Just the idea of her.

My heart goes out to my cousins, whose brother died by suicide just last year, and to my dad's family. He's now experienced the death of both his wives, both his parents, and four of his siblings; along with many friends and other family members throughout his life. It hurts my heart to know his heart is hurting. It seems as though his grief is never-ending, though he wishes for his own demise. I don't I'm closer with my dad than with anyone else in my family and I can't imagine this world without him in it. Yet, I do know it is inevitable.

Death simply sucks.

[tammyblackday]

Continuing.

It feels like a lifetime since I last wrote on here, even though it's only been about six weeks. So much has happened in that time frame!

Funny how I believed with all that I am I would be heading to Sedona in the weeks to come.

I'm not.

After Sedona, I traveled to Kansas City and I realized my time with Unity isn't complete. I'm walking a new path now. I'm staying in Salem. I know it's where I'm supposed to be. I saw it in a vision on el Camino de Santiago Compostela in Spain.

I walked 72 miles in six days.

I lost myself, my old self.

I found myself, my authentic self.

I came back to Oregon with a confidence in myself that I've not ever felt. I'm no longer afraid of anything life throws at me. I continue to survive 100% of my most difficult days.

Also, I'm in love with my life! I love who I am and all the uncertainty each new day brings.

And, so it is.

[tammyblackday]

Release.

I thought I was grieving the loss of my marriage.

I thought he and I were on the same page about being amicable and "family" (because friendship requires more effort than either of us had capacity to do).

I thought I would struggle to write our story because I believe in forgiveness and honoring a person's integrity and reputation by speaking kindly about them when they're not around.

I thought we could go for a hike, to lunch at our favorite restaurant, and have a nice day before I loaded up the very last of my things from his house.

I thought I'd have time to consider if there was anything more I needed from his house, just in case.

I thought we could still go to events together in the future.

I thought I could buy one of his properties from him under contract without issue because that's his other business, and I've watched him be so kind and helpful to others when it came to housing.

I thought he could be kind and helpful to me.

Damn.

I was wrong.

The moment I heard him making the joke he has always made about his ex-wife having "served over 20+ years in that prison," how it cost him a million dollars during his first divorce, but that he "got off easy" with this one because his sentencing was shorter at seven years and it was only going to cost him a "couple hundred thousand this time," reality came crashing down on me HARD.

If I except anything more from him, including things he'd already agreed to such as points for travel and custody of one piece of artwork "the parrot," then I would always be the butt-end of his jokes and there would be truth to it.

I immediately called off the house deal, I left everything behind at his house, and I told him, "I'm done with you," as I dropped him off at his house and drove back to my apartment crying most of the way home.

Since Saturday (it's now Monday), I've transferred all the points back and cancelled my trips, I've removed all of his social media from my access (except one that I can't seem to remove off insta), I've closed out all of my streaming services that I was paying for him to have access to over the past six months, I've cancelled all deliveries to the house that I paid for to "help" him out, I've ensured I've removed everything I manage and have been responsible for off my schedule (except a follow through on finishing the website over spring break), and I'm arranging to drop "the parrot" back to him.

I'm realigned with myself and my integrity.

Nothing I was given was worth the price I had to pay for it emotionally and mentally. Nothing. I did the calculations of what I saved him over the years in services I provided over the past seven and a half years: Private chef: $36K- $168K annually (depending on how much we ate out) including grocery shopping and cleaning. Daily maid services: $14K+ annually for standard daily cleaning including laundry services for bedding and towels. Live-in Personal Admin Assistant: $51K annually in Oregon Part-time Marketing Assistant: Approx. $25-35K annually Professional Listener: $40K+/- annually (A Professional Listener is someone who provides a safe, nonjudgmental space for others to talk and be heard. They actively listen, offer emotional support, and help people process their thoughts without giving advice or therapy.) Travel Companion: $37K +/- annually Travel Agent: $5-10K annually

It's not an exaggeration. These numbers are on the conservative side and none of it includes the additional pet care or handy-woman work I did without mention for him over the years, or the sweat-equity I put into both of his houses; and then some.

And, it's funny to me now, how much I resisted most of his requests for help but how slowly over the years I felt more obligated to do these things because I could never generate the kind of income he expected me to make- I just have a different view of money and didn't care in the same way he did. So, I started doing too much for him in order to feel worthy of his generosity and gifts. It was all my way of evening out the playing field. Unfortunately, I don't think he ever saw it that way.

I think he mostly thought I was using him.

I wasn't.

I was loving him.

I was giving all of myself to him.

The issue with that last statement is that one day I turned around and I was gone. Everything I liked about myself had been stripped away. I was sad and depressed. I was lonely and heartbroken with a man who didn't like me and certainly didn't love me (I know because he told me).

So, that's it.

I'm done with him.

And, now I start to truly grieve the loss.

[tammyblackday]

Time.

It's overwhelming how quickly time passes.

Funny how when I was younger it seemed as though it was moving at the pace of a slug; agonizingly slow. Then, suddenly time is racing by and half my life (if I'm fortunate enough to live until I'm 100+) is over!

Just like that... 53+ years have gone by.

I want to finish my doctorate.

And, I'm tired of working so hard on a degree that seems to be evading me daily, as I struggle through all of life's surprises and grief. I struggle the most when the women I admire in the program walk away for lesser reasons than I'm struggling with in my own life. Their actions cause me to doubt my own abilities.

If they can't do it, how will I?

I question my intention, my worth, my wisdom, my ability. I mean, I haven't written towards my dissertation, I'm beyond credits, and I'm overwhelmed by the process of researching, verifying resources, and taking notes; which I haven't done in months because I overthink everything. Even updating statistics for a presentation last week took me hours, and ended up feeling irrelevant after the fact.

I want to write my book.

And, I'm tired of working so hard on healing and changing only to be left feeling lonely and judged by the very people for whom I was putting forth so much effort. I'm tired of being afraid that the story I have to share will hurt the very people who hurt me. I'm tired of caring so much about people who cared so little for me. I'm tired of feeling guilty for doing something I haven't even done yet.

Why do I care so much for others who care so little for me?

I question my intention, my worth, my wisdom, my ability. I've tried for years to focus my attention on those who demonstrate love and caring for me instead of chasing after those who don't. I nurtured relationships, only to eventually have THOSE people start to pull away. I ended up feeling like only I was putting forth the effort. It feels as though I have very few supports in my life right now.

These are the lies my brain produces.

I have lots of evidence to contradict all of my doubts. I've got straight As in my doctoral program. I'm able to balance my life and my choices to produce successful outcomes. I manage my time effectively most days. I'm able to write as much or as little as I want daily. I've made a plan to succeed and I know how to implement it. I have friends and family who check in on my fairly regularly. I have a therapist that I probably need to see more than once a month. I know several healers who support my growth. And, my children, siblings, and dad check in on me to the best of their abilities.

I'm blessed.

And, time moves so quickly. I hope I remember to enjoy each sweet moment!

[tammyblackday]

Quantum Leap.

Do you remember that show from the late 80's, Quantum Leap, where Dr. Beckett "jumps" through time into different people throughout different timelines? It's a cool show. I never truly understood the concepts of quantum physics until I saw the movie, "What the bleep do we know?" from 2004.

It completely blew my mind that we could have all the infinite possibilities of the entire Universal realm playing out simultaneously. That we only experience the exact one we focus our attention on, but that it could change at any moment depending on our choices and our focus, is phenomenal.

This is happening in my life right now.

I can actually tell you the exact moment of the "leap." It was right before I reserved my apartment. I remember telling my husband that I thought it was funny that they approved my application for the apartment the day after we decided I would stay in Newport and soundproof one of the rooms for me to work. All he heard me say was that the apartment was available. He looked at me with (too much) great joy, and exclaimed, "Great! When are you moving?!" I said that he knew I couldn't afford the rent on my current salary, and he told me that he would pay for it.

It was right then. In that moment, I knew whatever I decided would change the course of my life and my relationship. I felt something shift in me as I said, "I'll call them tomorrow to figure out when I can move in." Funny thing about those decisions is that for a while people hang on to everything they were told would come to be; that it's temporary, for the best, we'll figure it out, we'll go back and forth between the house and the apartment, we'll take turns spending the weekend. I hung on for dear life, until the peace of living alone started to shine brightly in my soul.

I leaped into a whole new, unexpected timeline.

It's the healing version of me, who knows how to have healthy relationships and set realistic boundaries about my own behaviors without telling others how they can and cannot behave.

It's the one where I can have courage to hold an abuser accountable, ask forgiveness for my part of staying silent and allowing others to be harmed, not care for the answer but instead block his access to me, and still walk away with peace in my heart and forgiveness for myself.

I leaped into peace and calm.

I know how to care for myself; physically, mentally, emotionally, spiritually, and financially. I'd been doing it all along but allowed myself to be convinced that I wasn't capable or allowed others to perceive that my now ex-husband was taking care of me when he wasn't and hasn't for years. I leaped into myself and the timeline filled with adventures and travels. Happiness and joy; filled with honoring my failed marriage for everything it taught me, as well as celebrating my ex-husband and maintaining the healthiest parts of our relationship as companions (from a distance), who will still travel together and be there for one another as we've been doing since the divorce was decided- mutually.

My quantum leap out of victimhood and self-gaslighting into confidence and independence is remarkable to experience. Since January 1st, the day of the divorce decision, I've booked eight trips (utilizing resources, accepting generous gifts, and navigating point systems), set myself up to become debt free, reconnected with people I admire, set boundaries with others, allowed flow into my life; I've been accepted into Jesuit Honor Society, been accepted to speak at a leadership symposium, been promoted at one of the colleges where I teach, and been accepted into a Gonzaga leadership course in the summer to hike the Santiago portion of de Camino in Spain!

Simultaneously, I'm witnessing the disconnection of my dearest friends, with whom I thought I would be able to celebrate all these things, and allowing those relationships to shift. Instead, they're simply living their own lives, and I no longer fit into it. In fact, as I reflect on my life these past two transitionary years living at the coast, I realized they had disconnected long ago but still picked up the phone for my next inevitable crisis. Six months ago, I started only calling when things were good and tried my best to focus on them. I just think my efforts were too late for the damage I'd caused by my inability to regulate myself. It's with great awareness that I grieve the loss of all things I thought would be in this new paradigm. I know that each loss is the Universe creating a void for the next evolution of my life. I've known it all along.

Still.

There are moments when I experience much grief and longing for those who aren't with me. I miss my youngest daughter. It's been four years since she went no contact. I miss my niece. It's been seven years since she went no contact. I miss my sister. It's been nearly five years since she went no contact, and two years since she stopped in person contact but will reply to my messages. I miss my mom, who died nearly 14 years ago. I miss my grandma, who died just a few months ago. I miss family. I miss the people who loved me all those years ago but couldn't stay by my side through my transformations because they were busy with their own.

And, it's okay.

Sometimes, though, the grief pulls at me hard, and I cry until there's no more energy to feel the pain that courses through my soul. It's only in those moments I remember that I absolutely know my purpose is to heal and be a light to other women to heal. So, I feel my pain and get back to the hard stuff; work, learning, living.

I'm so grateful to be alive and to still be in awe and wonder.

Believe in magical things! Believe in miracles! Believe in quantum leaps! Believe in yourself!

Faith is simply knowing it gets better without knowing how, and honoring that it's all temporary for now. Shine on,

Tammy

[tammyblackday]

Grief.

The other day, I learned of a dear friend's death.

He was one of my best friends for many years, until we had a falling out that started with me overreacting to him and my husband's response to my behavior in public. In hindsight, I wish I'd been a bit more mature with my response. Instead, I turned to social media. I didn't vent, just wrote that I'd been "shushed" in public. I wasn't concerned about any fallout from it because my friend no longer had a social media account. However, a family member shared it with my friend, as the person had also become friends with him over time.

Drama.

It all felt so dramatic and unnecessary. I had apologized for my behavior and did all I could to repair. Needless to say, he took sides and expelled me from his life. Over the past couple of years, I've worked hard to reconcile my past and accept accountability for causing others pain. I tried to reconnect but wasn't able to do so, though the family member did. I'll admit, I felt betrayed by both of them.

Last year, a mutual friend reached out to let me know that my friend was not well and he was moving in with his aunt to go on hospice. I guess I just assumed someone would reach back out to tell me if/when he died. They did not. Instead, the family member reached out the other day and asked if I'd heard from him because it had been quite sometime since they'd received a response. I reached out to the mutual friend and was told he died last year.

Hearbroken.

That word doesn't even begin to describe the mixed grief, pain, anger, sadness, and sorrow washing over me. I'm feeling lost and confused about the entire situation. And, selfish. I don't care right now how my grief and processes for managing it affect others. This SUCKS! I always thought he and I would one day repair our relationship and I could give him all the gifts I'd bought for him over the past few years during our travels. Now, I keep staring at his coaster that reads, "Shut Your Wh*re Mouth" in a cross-stitch pattern, sitting on my desk. I can hear his voice saying it to me.

All I can do is cry and laugh simultaneously.

Grief is so hard.

I've been missing my friend for years and now I'll miss him for all the rest of my days.