Category: No Contact

• May 21st, 2026

  
  I had a realization today. These always seem to happen as I am pacing my house, talking aloud to myself. I was recognizing the fact that I am now working in a customer service role with other co-workers. I show up to work every day. I interact with people every day. I work with money every day. And I do my job well.
  Twenty years ago, that wasn’t even a possibility. I remember starting my first job in a retail setting. My first day was days after my aunt’s funeral. I pulled into the parking lot, one mile from my residence, and noticed that the face plate to my stereo was missing. I look in my center console and my driver’s license is gone, my prescription glasses and my cash is gone. That should have been my sign to quit and never look back. Instead, I went on to work there for four months. I had many days that I called in, due to my mental health. I even took five consecutive days off to try to fix my brain. A month later, I quit that job. My manger wanted me to stay; even offered me extra time off; he begged me to reconsider. I couldn’t stay. I was in a deep depression and suicidal.
  I was so confused as to why this person who barely knew me wanted me to stay an employee. I didn’t see myself as someone who held any value, let alone had a reason to even exist on this Earth.

  And that’s when I lost it. I stopped in the middle of my living room and just cried. I apologized to my 19-year-old self; told her how sorry I was that she ever felt that way. I wanted to hug her.
  And then it hit me. I felt that way as a nineteen-year-old young woman because Mother saw me as an inconvenience, as too much, as a waste of space, as an insignificant speck of dust in her eye.
  
  Every time that I opened up to Mother, was me trying to connect with her. It was me trying to have a close relationship with her. It was me trying to see if she could show me love, empathy and compassion. And every time I opened up to her, I was met with disappointment, disapproval and disgust.
  
  I have zero guilt about being a no contact daughter. I tried to have a real relationship with her. She shut me down every single time and made me feel smaller than the mud on her shoe.

  I matter. My feelings matter. I deserve love. I deserve to be treated with compassion. I deserved better than her.

  

  Listen to the new episode of my podcast titled: “Your feelings are valid & You Matter”
  Find me on Spotify & YouTube
  Healing From the Mess Podcast

  May 21, 2026

  family, life, love, mental-health, writing

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• May 17th, 2026

  I have had memories pop up for me recently.
  I remember being late to a band concert when I was in fifth grade. I had severe anxiety. Mother had taken me to the back door of the stage, demanded that I just go in and sit down. I remember staring at my band mates and the band teacher, terrified to move. I don’t remember if I ended up on that stage or not. I have a faint memory of being there, but not enough to reassure me that it happened.

  The next memory involved a choir concert. It was the end of the year. It was warm out. I don’t remember if it was seventh or eighth grade, but I do remember what I was wearing. It was a sleeveless button-down shirt. It was a pretty shade of blue. I also wore silky blue pants and white sandals. I was so proud of myself for matching. I was never good at that. I remember Mother being angry at Dad. She said that he shouldn’t have let me pick out my own outfit and that I looked ridiculous. She was embarrassed to be seen with me.

  The last memory evades me at the moment.
  
  I always seemed to block out the memories of her criticizing me. Some things are easy to remember, but those two memories, they stayed hidden. They came to the surface recently due to my youngest having his first band concert a few weeks ago. I could understand how he was feeling because, I too, had those same emotions when I was his age.
  I can’t imagine treating any of my children the way she treated me. It seems so cruel and unnecessary.

  I am still going strong with no contact. I didn’t reach out to her on Mother’s Day. It was the second Mother’s Day I didn’t speak to her. The first one was 2024. Last year, I saw her because my youngest wanted to and we were in the town she resides in.
  I wasn’t upset this year. It was just another day. I celebrated with my kids and celebrated my husband’s birthday. I felt no regret or longing. It was nice.

  

  Find me on Spotify & YouTube
  Healing From the Mess podcast

  May 17, 2026

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