🗄️ The X-Files (Part 3): Letting Go

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I realized something today, actually—which you can read about in [ Andromeda’s Journal]—but the greatest anchors in our lives are the ones that we force ourselves to carry.

Worry. Fear. Anger. Sadness.

When is the last time you looked at something and LET yourself FEEL HAPPY?

That, combined with my real-life knowledge that happiness isn’t ACTUALLY a feeling the way the others are—it’s a choice. It’s acceptance. It’s living your best self, even if that person is crazy, weird, different, or a jerk. (Yeah, if that’s who they want to be, and that’s how THEY are happy... cool. I just find that sooo unbelievable.) But as a wise friend recently said to me:

“Not my Monkey, Not my Circus.”

I guess I could look at it all and stay sad that people disappointed me (as I have been for way too long now), or I can choose ME and just let that be my only care. Me, my kids of course, and others who I’m close to—you know, the ones who stood by me through trauma. I actually have a Discord Squad and well... really? Just so much LIFE around me.

That is what two days of writing this blog, building a safe place, and doing what I know is best for ME has done.

IN TWO DAYS.

I feel stupid for not doing this earlier, and BOY do I hate feeling stupid. I actually corrected myself today: I’m FUCKING STUBBORN.

🤯 The Irony of Closure

Want to hear some crazy irony that is going to blow your mind? What made me able to snap out of it and realize what I needed to do?

“X”.

He sent me a message full of answers to so many questions. Not in the ways you would think, but I HEARD what he was saying, and I know what he means, and I’m not questioning him, and I’m not angry. The message was… nice, helpful, and one I wish he would have sent sooner.

He’ll never understand the pain he could have saved me, but what does that matter? He got past it his way—leaving it “shattered”—while I was, at one point before he ‘discarded’ me, making video messages because I believed our miscommunication was because he was ‘reading my texts wrong.’

CLEARLY DESPERATE.

And I wasn’t ‘WRONG’ about that either. It’s amazing how the mind works. I was actually doing the same thing, so it was a recipe for disaster.

I would read phrases, and because of 25 years of being married, I would apply the ‘behavioral’ aspect that I knew to the words. But the behavior and where the words were coming from were from two entirely different people.

It’s WILD how both he and I did this. It was clear when one would get upset, clearly feeling misunderstood or attacked—or sometimes in his case, badly. When he felt badly he could get very emotional. It’s a big reason why I think I was always so drawn to him, why he was my best friend. Because deep down inside, there was this light and passion that was INCREDIBLE.

Unfortunately, he’s his own worst enemy. He doesn’t see himself that way, nor does he have the faith in himself to ever be able to achieve it. Also? He’s tired. He doesn’t even realize he’s in survival mode — and likely been there most of his life.

Yeah. Been there too......

What I know is that it can’t matter to me anymore, because I have to do what I do...

because I’m miserable.

💔 Accepting the "Shattered" Reality

In that recent message, he said: "I had to painfully accept we can’t co-exist."

He’s right. He had that quality about him—another thing that I always valued—he had an ability to just say real shit, sometimes, when he was at whatever ‘emotional distance’ made him comfortable I suppose.

My daddy issues always making me ‘hear’ males better? The way “X” would just ask me a few questions and straighten my head’s knots out, it was like a lightbulb went off and it would put me right back on track.

But not after what we did.

Everything was so emotional. It was ruined. All of it, no matter what, it’s ruined—and he said that too. And for the first time in my life, I realize he’s right in this TOO.

It’s SO BROKEN. It doesn’t HAVE to be, but where we are at?

No way.

It wouldn’t even matter if I were willing, because he’s not going to do what he needs to do in order to understand himself. Meanwhile, that’s all I’ve been doing for 3 years.

WHY? HOW? WTF. Those are the questions I asked myself repeatedly.

Bittersweet really, like something that should be added to the [ Anatomy of My Anger].

He’s only right because I don’t believe he’d be strong enough to actually heal himself—especially in his environment. He doesn’t want to hear it. He’s ‘FINE’ I’m sure, with exactly who he is. I mean, if he isn't, why wouldn’t someone change?

🧠 Processing to Heal vs. Processing to Bury

That’s the importance of processing to heal vs. processing to compartmentalize and bury, I guess.

Having the strength to see yourself is the greatest courage I think anyone can show. It’s damn well the hardest thing that I have ever done. To want to heal—to want to be a better person—is a choice.

Happiness isn’t getting what you want. Happiness is being happy accepting what you have.

I can’t have people in my atmosphere after working through something this extreme over 3 years that don’t have goals aligned with my life.

So he’s right. And unlike so many people who have experiences like mine? I finally got my closure.

🚩 The Dismissive Avoidant Reality

At least for him. And that’s something I have learned: Dismissive Avoidants are actually incredibly selfish, but they don’t see it that way. They do ‘nice things’—and unlike the lovebombing of narcissists, Dismissive Avoidants are doing it because they care. Or you make them feel good, maybe. Or they are high on the dopamine of the beginning stages, before shit gets real.

But it’s not about YOU. It’s about how it makes them ‘FEEL’ to do it.

What they don’t understand is that most times, this kind of behavior is a sign of feeling ‘lacking’ in SOME area.

• I know he felt I deserved more of his time.

• I know he felt that I didn’t get ‘proper attention.’

But when the shit got real and emotions grew? I felt it IMMEDIATELY.

I actually told my kids: FUCK. I did it again. Because yeah, it’s not my first time at THIS rodeo actually. People experience intense waves of emotions in a very, emotionally vulnerable, close manner when interacting with me.

I’m a lovable person, I guess. Type Shit. I don’t know? 🤷🏻‍♀️

I blame my confidence and my belief in myself. I’m ‘easy on the eyes’ (or at least was in my prime). I’m smart and self-educated, and secure in who I am.

Or…. At least I was.

🗄️ The X-Files (Part 2): The Empathy Trap and The 18-Month Wait

Before I go on, I want to make something extremely clear. Making the choice to write this blog has been 18 months of thinking.

• 18 months of waiting to see if my belief that if people understand how their behaviors affect others, they will choose to act differently.

• 18 months of studying psychology, narcissistic abuse syndrome, dismissive avoidants, not to mention my own issues of CPTSD, Trauma, Trauma Bonding, Co-dependency, and emotional abuse.

• 18 months of waiting, praying, and hoping that a lightbulb would go off and click.

• 18 months of experiencing mixed signals, mixed boundaries, discards, deflections, blame-shifting, and gaslighting.

• 18 months of learning what TRUE ACCOUNTABILITY actually means.

• 18 months of hurtful personal attacks anytime I attempted to express myself and work through my shit. (Of course, I was doing it publicly on my podcast “Gulf Coast Healing”—but last year on my birthday, I was getting ‘responses’ to my podcasts. I actually even called the police because I was trying so hard to just process what I was going through, only to CLEARLY offend my ‘friend’.)

It was as though 20 years of friendship never even existed.

I learned the why. I understand all the actions now—by both parties. I didn’t actually WANT to write this blog because I worried constantly about how it would affect my friend.

📁 Why “The X-Files”?

Now would be a great time to explain why I call this blog the “X-Files.”

When my book series, Siren Stories, was being developed, originally the plan was to produce a graphic novel crossed with an autobiographical novel. I anticipated “Telling a Story,” and taking every precaution I could, I created a whole library for characters—including name changes. The names I picked were very specific for what they actually meant. In the case of my best friend? His name was changed using the derivative of “Charles Xavier”—so I had named him “Xavier.”

When the book switched to a memoir narrative, I decided I could easily just speak in terms of the relationship between myself and the other characters. He would always have been labeled as my “MBFF” because that’s what I had called him for years.

SO—"The X-Files” isn’t about the fact I consider him an “ex” anything. It is because this blog is going to be detailing all my processing of the abuse he didn’t understand his actions had caused me.

🛑 The Empathy Trap: Protecting Those Who Hurt Us

TO BE CLEAR: I don’t believe there is any malice. In fact, I still believe “X” is very much a victim. That has been the hardest thing.

A lifetime of living to help others, learning how my actions and behaviors stemming from my childhood hurt others. A lifetime of recognizing how hard it is to heal, and wanting to be a better person who could help others find that inner strength.

I do not HATE “X.” Actually, the contrary.

To reach a point in healing where I recognize that processing my grief, trauma, and life events has ALWAYS constituted writing and publishing those feelings... I worry deeply about how writing this may affect him, despite taking every possible precaution to not hurt him (or provide others I believe may want to hurt him with information capable of that).

The point of healing is learning. As a people pleaser who has spent their whole life never making a choice SOLELY for my own benefit—like EVER—this blog is that. My acceptance that I haven’t moved past something that is 3 years old. The realization that most likely, the emotional damage combined with my “protection” in regards to “X” is actually doing more damage to ME and causing me to STAY STUCK.

BUT I AM—AS I SAID—SO ANGRY.

🔥 The Anatomy of My Anger

I am angry at the fact that I am a person who has an obsessive need to understand the ‘why’ of things. Like a four-year-old who says “Why - Why - Why.” I actually raised my kids to believe this is the best question one can ask, and would answer the string of ‘whys’ until I couldn’t—and if it warranted, we would then google the question.

I spent 3 years learning the psychology of myself, the psychology of his actions (because he gave me NO information, ghosted me basically, and wouldn’t answer any of my questions). I’m not a licensed psychologist, or licensed in any form of mental health profession. I am, however, extremely educated.

I have sought out “second opinions” to my perception of many interactions with “X,” and it is extremely important to note (at least it’s important to me) that he is a Dismissive Avoidant who married a Narcissist (more common than you’d think).

The biggest thing the extreme level of trauma taught me—the realization I suffered through because of the perfect storm life hit me with?

No one can save ANYONE. You can ONLY save YOURSELF.

So I am ANGRY.

• I’m ANGRY I can’t help him see.

• I’m ANGRY he doesn’t understand.

• I’m ANGRY he has such a low sense of self-worth when I see such a gentle, loving, deep-thinking soul worth so much more than he gives himself.

• I’m ANGRY that my own healing took me out of his atmosphere because I am strong enough to see the toxic behaviors—and couldn’t do what I had in my marriage (change my behavior, keep that in mind, and not take any of the behavior “X” exhibited personally).

• I’m ANGRY at all the loss around me—there is JUST SO MUCH.

• I’m ANGRY that he was capable of doing what he knows to do—as a dismissive avoidant—to make sure he is okay, but my world feels SHATTERED at times. Not just the relationship, but MY WHOLE WORLD.

• I am ANGRY that someone who could treat me the way he did actually doesn’t make me as angry as it likely would others. Rather, I’m angry that I can’t just accept it for the pain and devastation it has repeatedly caused me.

Most of all? I’m ANGRY that I absolutely know this story is imperative for me to tell so that I can move on, and become the person I am going to be after all this. Because in order to accomplish that, it feels like throwing someone I can’t even stay angry at, someone I don’t hate... but someone who, to be blunt? I’ve already sacrificed enough of myself for.

🗺️ The Roadmap Forward

In the coming publications, I’m going to break it all down, sharing my experiences in a manner that is raw—which is contrary to the narrative of telling the ‘story’ in my memoir.

I have to do it. It’s the only way to ensure no residual hurt and anger fuels the writing. I want to write my book series with the capability of seeing things from all sides and not allow my anger to fuel it. It can never be about ‘vengeance’ because that’s not the person I want to be. It’s a fine line to walk—especially with undealt-with anger—and the only way to be sure that I’m not doing that is to get it out.

I thought, why not just journal it and leave it private? Well, the thing is, publishing makes me feel like I have said it to SOMEONE. And I don’t have unlimited therapy sessions to have my mental health professionals understand something that is working out to be a 6-book series.

In fact, the mental health professionals really thought “X” was a narcissist. They told me I was suffering from Narcissistic Abuse Syndrome. Having a father with an official NPD diagnosis, I just couldn’t believe it. I brought ‘Dismissive Avoidant’ to the board after educating myself (like I do). Even though I was chasing a closure and validation that may not have been healthy, I was confident after the end of a 20-year friendship that I was right.

Eventually, I got that validation, and it led to a lot of realizations.

I was protecting a friendship that didn’t even exist and sacrificing myself for someone that I believed in more than they could believe in themselves.

So, I’m going to break down the actions, my reactions, the feelings they caused within me, and how I imagine my behaviors affected him (based on psychology, because he’s never actually had in-depth conversations with me in this regard). Then I will share what I have learned from each interaction.

With every blog shared, the pain I carry will lessen. I know it will. I pray EVERY NIGHT that my content won’t cause anyone additional pain, but I’m sick of my state of mind, and it’s up to ME to change it.

🗄️ The X-Files (Part 1): I Am Just So Angry

I can’t help it—and that’s a problem too. I spent like 7 years of my life learning how to control my emotions and "regulate," because I had actually over-therapized myself. I learned too much about psychology. I was making excuses for behaviors by others, allowing for life experiences I was aware they had gone through (or were going through), and basically? I used CBT to train my brain to NOT GET MAD.

I saw mental health professionals REGULARLY. I haven’t missed a mental health check-in—minimum of every 90 days—for over 10 years now. YES. Even when trauma still struck me and blew my life up as I knew it in 2023.

Having a husband with Asperger’s, two sons also on the Autism Spectrum, and my third having ‘high anxiety’ (can’t imagine why…), I literally trained MYSELF to believe that the WHOLE WORLD is having a struggle—and that I didn’t want to be another thing that fed that. I always went out of my way to say something nice to someone who appeared to be having a bad day. I looked at people who did act toxically or angrily, and felt nothing but sadness for them. Their ugly behavior and attitude couldn’t touch me.

Then came 2023. Trauma hit the whole family.

My marriage completely disintegrated just shy of the 25-year mark. Both my ex-husband and I were reeling, behaving in incredibly toxic manners stemming from our individual trauma responses. It’s a long story (that’s why there will be a SERIES). The separation happened in what had to be one of the most triggering aspects for my husband to have to endure, but I couldn’t dance around his triggers. For the first time in my life—maybe the second—I chose ME. Just me. Without a care in the world how it affected anyone.

I was staying with my last best friend. My first best friend had suffered a psychological breakdown from trauma (we had been staying with her trying to support and help her)—and her breakdown led to my diagnosis of CPTSD and complex trauma. After 20 years of estrangement from my in-laws, with nowhere to go, we reached out for help. What we found? Nothing had changed in 20 years, and we had made the best decision in our lives estranging ourselves in the first place.

ALL that, I think I could have survived, but my husband refused to stay with us—and I refused to go anywhere but what I called home: Texas. That’s where I had built my life with my kids. I had always loved it there. We had moved to AL for my husband's work, I got therapy, I tried to help the only friend who we actually considered family—the only “Aunty” my kids ever knew, the only “cousins” my kids had. None of them had been blood family, but they were OUR FAMILY.

So we lost that. Then, in a vulnerable moment, the in-laws imploded and my kids and I slept one night in an abandoned field because of their actions. I still worry about Gunner, who needs a heartworm test—statistically, it would be a very unlikely ailment for him to escape after that night, and that’s what we lost our dog Sunnie to in 2024.

Unable to feed my kids, unable to function, I called the last friend I had—and honestly, the one I trusted probably more than ANYONE in my life.

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The Porch Confession

Somewhere around the time that I knew I was separating from my husband—who had been gone for like 3 months at that point and wasn’t doing well on his own in AL, leading to lower income. (Did I mention I was also one autistic child heavy? My nephew from the estranged in-laws? His mother just took off to another state upon the implosion of the in-laws, leaving him with no income and no idea how to ‘do life’—so I wasn’t leaving him behind).

ALL this was happening when, out on the porch, my best friend comes to me after I suggested we go out and he play wing-man for me at a bar. You know, I’m just dealing with CPTSD and Complex Trauma, and have been in therapy for my traumatic childhood issues nearly ALL my life, right? And he tells me he: “can’t give me what I need” but also “cares too much” to watch me at a bar.

At the time, I was pretty stupid about it. I didn’t hear how it probably landed in my head. AT ALL. He then basically told me that in all his marriage he had never felt the way he was feeling about another woman—and that woman being me.

I had not separated from my husband YET—it was just my plan. So there was no ‘need’ in the manner I think the comment was originally intended, but looking back? I’ve been gaslit so many times at this point that I still occasionally DO QUESTION how reliable my memories are. But they come back stronger EVERY DAY. I do know that my friend and I had a long conversation over days, maybe weeks. I agreed I’d maybe be willing to sleep with him if I felt I had done whatever I could to help him repair his marriage in the ways he had indicated it was feeling "off." And somehow, completely oblivious to how OBVIOUSLY NARCISSISTIC his wife was, that was one of my main stipulations.

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The 7-Page Contract

These people were a part of my life for nearly 20 years. There is history. When I initially met his wife, I absolutely HATED her. Then over the years, all my healing made me think I was a judgmental, non-empathetic asshole—and I wanted to be NOT THAT. So in those 20 years, I was ‘friends’ with her for 5 years around 2011, and that’s it.

Coming back to TX and watching how she treated her kids, how she was treating him, how she was USING HIM to THREATEN her kids almost to the point of tears (a regular occurrence I am not alone in witnessing)? I honestly didn’t care anymore if she got hurt.

My separation was done. My realization was that she is possibly the worst person I have ever known. Someone who I consider probably the second closest adult person to me in my entire life was hurting… so was I.

I agreed to sleep with my best friend—but only after presenting a 7-page ‘note’ contract of rules and boundaries I expected him to agree to. I had no idea how toxic the dynamic within his environment TRULY ran.

But let me tell you how fucked up I was. Parts of that contract stated things like this:

• If we lean on one another in this way right now, it’s just an act and our ‘significant’ others always take priority. They are both ‘ill’ and my separation does not sway my dedication to my (soon to be) ex-husband.

• Our children cannot be affected. No matter what happens, we stand by maintaining the kids’ relationships. (There were 8 kids at the time between the two of us, and my first two born and his first two born had basically known each other their entire life).

• I listed a hesitation—that I don’t think I could live with his children looking at me like a homewrecker. I implied that he ‘have my back’ in that regard should this go horribly wrong.

There was a lot more, but unfortunately, I gave him that contract the first time shit blew up.

HOW FUCKED UP AM I? JUST LOOK AT THOSE IDEAS. 

First of all, like any of that shit was going to be in either of our control. Now that I don’t have trauma? Let me tell you what I see here:

1. I am going out of my way to place safe-guards on things not in any control.

2. I justify an affair because I was separated. I wasn’t cheating. I let my friend manage his own life (completely absolving myself from the responsibility)—which not only is an ASS thing to do, it’s ridiculously stupid.

Let’s just say what it was: I was hurting and thought sex would make me feel better, and took part in making a choice to do just that—FEEL BETTER. I’d say like a ‘drug’—but it wasn’t that for me. I was sexually assaulted at the age of 4. I had always had sexual promiscuity problems, but never had CHEATED in my marriage. I valued that. It was important to me, but who cared what choices HE was making? I was totally setting up to validate taking zero accountability—which ironically, I never actually did.

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WHAT I DIDN’T KNOW:

She is a Narcissist. He is a ‘Dismissive Avoidant’.

And I had just stepped into the most toxic situation of my life which would lead to admitting myself to a psych ward after suffering my OWN mental breakdown, attempting to harm myself. In all my life—from childhood trauma, losing my mother at not even 13, escaping the abuse from my father who ‘got me’ after mom died, to emancipating myself at 15—NOTHING ever hit me in a manner that made me consider HURTING MYSELF (hello RED FLAGS).

But that’s not why I admitted myself to the psych ward. I did it because I felt my BRAIN BREAKING. I actually had an ‘out of body experience’ that had my psychiatrist watching me for Dissociative Identity Disorder.

EVEN AFTER THAT? I was over there magically turning every red flag into me waving a white one.