Many people measure success in big things, things like graduating high school, finding a well paying job, going to college, getting married, and/or gaining other highly valued titles and goals. Success to me looks much different. Success to me comes through small things, things that to others seem so easy and achievable in a matter of minutes, days, or hours. Because my successes usually come at such small rates my hope diminishes rather quickly at times. It also makes it hard for others to appreciate the success because the success is often over-powered by the past and the pasts behaviors. One of the greatest successes I have had, thus far, has been quieting the voices and the girls. Ever since I can remember I have had both and though both have been helpful in my survival, they have also been very detrimental to my functioning ability and ability to connect to the world. The girls have fought and argued over control, who’s better, who’s liked the best, ect. and the voices have wreaked havoc on any and all attempts to connect with convincing threats of further abandonment and abuse. To have quieted and calmed them is both comforting and unsettling. But the road to quiet wasn’t easy, in fact, it was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do. It also wasn’t completely expected. When I brought Dr. Martin here to work with me I had the intentions of working through enough anger that I could more calmly process my past. I also planned to work on being able to sleep better. In order to fulfill both of these, and what was the most valuable towards quieting the voices and girls, was to face the realities of what had happened. Though, for months, Becca and Bailey told me over and over that I needed to face the reality that my mom was wretched and didn’t want me it took a stranger to make me see the truth, to face the cold hard facts, and accept that she is not and never will be ready to be a  mom. I wrote a post a few months ago about love and how my mom loved me, through men, the only way she knew how. Like many adopted/foster kids I struggle with the idea that my mom was messed up, couldn’t love, and didn’t want me. I conjured up a cover for her lack of love and motherly nature and excused her behavior as her way of displaying affection. It was too upsetting, and still is, to think that someone is so incapable of giving something that is of our nature, making me feel unvaluable and unwanted. That is what was holding me back: holding on to the idea that maybe one day she will come around and be that mother I never had. Dr Martin was quick to put any and all “pity” toward my mom to a halt and encourage, or rather force, me to admit that my mom didn’t love me, she didn’t want me, she hated me {and she did, she isn’t afraid to admit it}, that I was living in a cloud of hope that would only be crushed over and over causing me more anger and heartache. Facing these realities became more comforting than unsettling, more satisfying than disabling, and more encouraging than spiteful. Facing these realities made the girls, and the voices, realize that my mom isn’t in control and that just because she didn’t want me doesn’t mean that I’m not valuable, but working together I could be more valuable. Even so, it’s a hard reality to face knowing that I will never have that motherly bond, the mommy to lift me up when I fall, to braid my hair when I’m sleepy, to snuggle me when I’m down, but it’s so worth it knowing this because that false hope no longer exists and the chaos is now a mere concert crowd. The vast difference in what the girls and voices used to be compared to now compares to going from working in an overly crowded, under employed daycare center to a big business cubicle. It’s massive. It’s amazing. At times it’s a little unsettling. But it’s success. It’s the biggest success I have yet to achieve and I have never been more pleased.

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