Past Tense, Present Progressive

I'm an introvert and a bit of a homebody .  So during the early months of the pandemic, why did I frequently find myself pacing the perimeter of my home like an agitated and caged wild animal, feeling trapped and intensely desperate... as if I had suddenly been transported back into the severe social isolation of my teenaged years as a fundamentalist homeschooler ? As a mom of two high-maintenance kids with dramatically different needs from each other, I provide emotional support on a daily basis, for problems of all sizes... so why did my nervous system frequently react to their big emotions as if there were a true crisis, leaving me continuously drained with nothing left for myself? It turns out that these types of experiences are called emotional flashbacks, and they are a common symptom of Complex-PTSD.  Through some recent therapy, I found my way to a book that has been incredibly important to my childhood trauma healing process.  In fact, from my reading, I ended up with over

 As someone with a lifelong history of anxiety, also affected by the profound sleep loss that often accompanies new parenthood, it took years for me to realize that I was increasingly unwell and needed professional help.  I told myself: it's just that I have a very difficult baby who won't sleep (and who was diagnosed with autism years later).  That seamlessly transitioned to our second baby, two nighttime wakers, two in diapers, and two who needed constant supervision and exhausting emotional management.  Nothing on earth was more important to me than their well-being, and I was lucky to have a caring husband actively sharing that load with me.  But my sanity was cracking more and more, and I was stuck in a hyper-vigilant obsession, micromanaging the kids' environment, demanding the kind of impossible perfection from myself and my husband that doesn't just solve problems but somehow prevents them instead. Even then, an awareness in the back of my mind recognized that

There was always an expectation in my family that I would go to college.  Both of my parents had a college education and saw its value, and they didn't cave to the general attitude at our homeschooling cult church that higher education wasn't appropriate or necessary for girls.  Even though my parents' expectation was for me to attend an extremely fundamentalist Christian college simply to get a skill to "supplement my future husband's income, if necessary," that expectation was more than what many of my female peers at church had, and I'm grateful for it.  And, unlike many homeschooling families in our circles, my mom also put in the necessary work to make sure I wouldn't encounter any roadblocks on my way from homeschool high school to college--she made a very professional-looking and detailed high school transcript that included my GPA, she signed me up for the CHSPE (California High School Proficiency Exam) so that I could have a legal high school

As a former fundamentalist homeschooled kid, one of many aspects of life that I've had to do a lot of catch up in is fashion.  I grew up choosing clothing based solely on modesty , which in my circles meant that I was shopping in clothing sections meant for the elderly and basically wearing fabric sacks.  Often, I had to make things for myself when even the grandmotherly clothing options failed me.  Everything I wore was at least 4 sizes too big and several inches too short, and I had no idea about choosing colors that complemented my skin tone, no idea about hair, no idea about makeup, no idea about skin and nail care. There are many wonderful people in the world who spend their time/energy/money on more important and lasting concerns than on their appearance, and I have a lot of respect for them, but this wasn't a choice that I had made for myself.  I had no choice in the matter, because my family and the fundamentalist homeschooling culture around me told me that trying t

Many people find the beginning of parenthood marks the sudden decline of their friendships. Babies are constantly needy and deprive you of sleep, energy, and coherence.  Toddlers, when awake, need constant monitoring; and even their sleep must be prioritized in your schedule.  Preschoolers are fast and fearless and can disappear in an instant because of a whim.  And for all of them, their constant stream of needs and your constant stream of worries, day and night, can completely shut down your ability to think of any other topic. But somehow, although all of those things are true about my two kids, that does not describe my experience.  And I'm forever grateful for that, because increasing my already unbearable feelings of isolation  just might have killed me.   Somehow, in the haze of new parenthood, I actually connected to a group of other new moms.  Maybe it was because they were in a similar haze, and we were all in the trenches together.  Crying, worrying, laughing,

In my early 20s, I had my first experience living away from home. It was a Really Big Deal.  Me-- a weak, vulnerable, easily-decieved woman, according to the teachings of my family's pastor Reb Bradley --out on my own, flying to a faraway state.  I was going to spend a few months living and studying music at Bill Gothard's Indianapolis Training Center. ITC was a tall drab brick building surrounded by a parking lot, not much to look at.  But that didn't matter.  As I soon learned, the people staying there rarely ventured outside.  I personally only went outside about once a month during my few months there.  In order to leave, as a legal adult, I had to sign out, state my purpose for leaving, and verify that I was not leaving alone or with a male peer.  For a walk in a parking lot or a view of a run-down part of town, the hassle wasn't worth it. Inside the building was where all the excitement and drama played out.  For me, my time at ITC was a huge social ch