The Merriam-Webster dictionary defines growth as “the process of forming or developing something,” whereas I was always under the impression that growth meant heading to the store to grab larger pants (preferably with an elastic waistband) after a few too many Oreo cookies. First of all, who’s to tell me how many cookies are too many? And secondly, it turns out that growth means so much more than that. I think I was late to the party when it came to growth; it took a dark and personal trauma to truly learn my potential, and discover the power of the brain, to begin the process of becoming my best self. Am I there yet? No, not even close. But, I’ve broken down some serious barriers and recovered from the “victim mentality.”
I’m the solo parent to five kids. Yes, five. Cinq. 1-2-3-4-5. All full siblings at that! Don’t pretend like that question didn’t pass through your noggin. So, here I am, living the single mother dream with these exemplary brains who are constantly putting me to shame with their knowledge and understanding of the world around them. I work full-time; I’m a recent university graduate; I began (and honestly unsure if I will continue) in a real estate program at college, navigated my children’s virtual learning (and general well-being) through the insanity of the pandemic; AND I am my kiddos personal chauffeur for their endless extra-curricular activities. Phew. Like, this is the epitome of solo parenting, my friends. I often question if I’m on the right path with my career, and to be perfectly honest, I’m not sure, but the beauty is that I have the energy and determination to see everything through and to persevere. It wasn’t long ago that I was in a dark place and living on autopilot. I was left to raise these kids on my own (as in, I’m the sole custodial parent and don’t receive any form of support from their father), and many, and I repeat, many tears have been shed.
Victim Mentality and How I Got There
I think the cute little childhood jingles goes as follows:
First comes love;
Then comes marriage;
Then comes a baby in the baby carriage.
Well, childhood jingle, I decided to mix things up a little and write my own little ditty that goes like this:
First comes lust;
Then comes a baby;
Then comes a marriage full of wear-age and tear-age.
I mean, I may have made up a couple little words there, but my point here is that my life didn’t go in the direction my young self was conditioned to believe. Instead, my ex-husband dealt (and still deals) with terrible addiction, and although his story isn’t mine to share, it has contributed to my story in a significant manner, which I am ready to open up with. To say I’ve been through the ringer with him would be the understatement of the century, but here I am, in the flesh, able and ready to share my journey of growth. To me, that’s impressive.
The back story, you ask? Well, if I’m going to be a straight shooter, which I am, I’ll tell you that addiction sucks. There’s really no other way to put it. Drained bank accounts, suddenly living with a stranger, and not to mention the legitimate danger you are now living in. It’s a modern-day hell. It was challenging enough to watch his battle, what I thought was alcoholism in the early days, but as time went by, I began to realize how much more there was to his addiction and how the disease itself leads to scarier and darker places as it progresses. The drugs got harder and were used more frequently, and the constant state of fear I was living in turned into a full-time problem. I fought codependency, which is when someone stops putting themselves first and ultimately puts their partner’s addiction ahead of their own wants and needs and lives off their drama.
I truly ended up losing myself in the process and had to make the decision to cut him out of our lives, completely. This came after never-ending tears and numerous attempts to stand by him after various stints in rehab, because I stopped recognizing myself and knew I was in an extremely toxic situation. But if anyone has ever divorced an addict, you know how tricky it can be. Addicts receive a lot of support, rightfully, but I’ve noticed the lack of support for the family. It’s almost as if the addicted person is handed a silver platter with all the right tools and endless compassion, while the family member at home is just expected to carry on, seek counselling if needed, but generally pursue a normal life. And that’s where I was at. Yes, it was my choice to officially end the marriage and dissolve all contact, but this now meant I lost the other half that contributed to the household. The finances were in bad shape, as addiction has the power to dissolve every cent, and I had to declare bankruptcy because I simply couldn’t pay back his drug debt while raising five kids. But that wasn’t the worst part.
Claiming bankruptcy sucked but it was an easy decision to make. The not-so-easy part was the mental strain it had put on me. After living in survival mode for years, I began to actually see the severity of the situation and how dangerous an addict can be. The kids and I lived in a fair amount of fear, as his drugs of choice led to alarming, dangerous, and erratic behavior, and I felt like I was starting to drown. I moved the kids and I in with my parents, who have absolutely been my saving grace in all of this, so we had a safe place to live. I finally had the chance to turn off the “autopilot,” and begin to recover—but instead, I felt the intensity of it all and began to experience constant burnouts.
I had the chance to burn out, but in secret.
Aside from my parents, I couldn’t let anyone see me burn out. Society expected me to carry on as per usual, and get the kids to and from school; to and from their extracurricular activities; and basically do it all with a massive smile and that invisible superhero cape. You better believe that I tried!
But, I was mad. I was looking at everyone around me, fuming on the inside, wondering why I wasn’t getting any sort of sympathy or help from them. How could anyone not see that my kids and I were mourning the absence and loss of their father? Where was the sympathy from the ENTIRE WORLD because of everything I had gone through? I’ve been pulling double duty for five years—how come nobody sees how tricky this is? I allowed myself to be weepy. I enabled my own crappy behavior and inability to move forward. I didn’t set any goals whatsoever, because I deserved to be taken care of! I was raising five kids alone—who wouldn’t want to support me and see me through?! I considered myself to be in one of those awful circumstances, and was looking for compassion and a sympathetic eye everywhere I turned. The problem was that I wasn’t giving myself the proper sympathy and compassion, so why would anyone else? I was eating terrible food to cover the misery, not sleeping at night, and would stare at myself in the mirror and repeat his words to myself about how worthless I was. I had zero self-worth, and it was taking its toll. As a previous optimist, pessimism was taking over. I was putting up massive barriers and sinking deeper into the “victim mentality” every day.
We went through a tedious and brutal court process that ended up taking years to settle, simply due to the fact he stopped responding to paperwork, and no longer showed up to meetings or court hearings. The supervised access he once had dwindled down to nothing, and child support came to a complete halt. I was raising these kids on my own and felt completely overwhelmed. There was a long period of time where I felt trapped and felt as though he purposely did this in an attempt to destroy me. I let that thought process consume me, and all it did was hinder my own growth, and distance me from my true being. Something had to change. I had to dig deep and figure out where my passions and interests were.
That’s when my mission became clear.
I had to figure out who my true self was in order to give the proper meaning to my life; and the first thing I had to do was drop the victim mentality.
Growth From The “Victim Mentality”
Sinking into the “victim mentality” is sort of like falling into a dark rabbit hole. It hindered and delayed the good things in my life because I allowed it to excuse me to sit around all day, doing nothing, feeling trapped. I’ve never been a stranger to therapy, and I knew I had to change my game up a little because as refreshed and refueled as I felt walking out of my sessions, it didn’t take long for me to crawl back into my little hole of self-sabotage and negativity. All it took was for me to look around and see a nuclear family, which triggered me to feel really bad about myself. I felt like a failure because I was comparing myself to the conformities of a family that society embedded into my brain as a child. No husband meant failure, so I treated myself as the biggest loser in the game of life.
But I’m a smart woman, and I knew I had to get a grip on my inner thoughts and emotions. I made a phone call and jumped on the waiting list for a therapist who specialized in domestic abuse, and to my surprise, a spot opened up a couple weeks later. It was in this therapist’s office where I realized I had to feel the pain, label it, and then put the pain away to move on with my life. I allowed myself to fall apart in her chair, but then compartmentalized these feelings to carry on when I left the office. Because here’s the thing: our brain is like a muscle, so if I wanted my mind to grow, I had to put the work in. I had to replace my negative thought processes with positive ones, and learn how to take away my barriers that were stopping me from hitting my goals, including thinking that the world owed me something.
My first goal was to get my butt back in university and chase my undergrad degree. I did it. It wasn’t easy, but it was a game changer for me in the sense that it made me realize that I truly was capable of turning my dreams into reality, and the only thing that has ever stopped me was—and is—my self-doubt. I’m capable of giving my kids a life that I can only dream of because I know I can put myself up against the harder tasks and come out with a positive result. I just needed to figure out what I wanted, and to shed the depression that came from one messy divorce. I even went above and beyond; I am now pursuing a postgraduate diploma, and just wrote and released my first children’s book!
A lesson I had to learn was that you can’t fix your problems, you have to fix your thinking.
I still struggle with this often, but I’ve torn my life apart and I wake up every morning reminding myself that I’m the luckiest mother in the world, and that I can also do hard things (thank you, Glennon Doyle).
I began to read again, but am conscious with what I read, and make sure that the material encourages and positively motivates me. I surround myself with people who are striving to be better and have goals to become their best and true self. I don’t surround myself with people who are self-destructive or create barriers in their lives that they refuse to jump over. I changed my diet and lifestyle, and I no longer fuel my body with things that don’t serve me because I AM worthy of nourishment and overall well-being.
Rather than thinking we had these horrible things happen to us, I have changed my thinking to say that they happened for us; otherwise I wouldn’t be this woman who is feverishly chasing her dreams, and constantly setting new goals. I didn’t know how to do this before because I thought the world owed me a free pass. The thought of starting over was overwhelmingly scary, but it was the best thing I ever could have done for my kids and I.
Do I have bad days? Of course. I feel overwhelmed often, and still haven’t figured out how to cut down the coffee consumption. The light at the end of the tunnel has been here a while, and the change in my mindset has brought me opportunities I never expected. My passion is stronger. I’m not scared of starting over anymore, and I’m learning to do everything to the best of my ability. I’m making a genuine effort to stop listening to what I like to call the “white noise” in life—which is ultimately other peoples’ opinions—and I’m listening more to my inner voice. I’m remembering who I am, and getting to know a side of me that has been buried for decades. I’ve opened myself up to a new relationship that is imperfectly perfect, but I’ve found my solace. I trust again, but most importantly, I am the fortunate mother of five healthy kids who deserve to have a mother who functions as her best self. The world owes me nothing, even after the personal hell I’ve been through, but I owe the world to myself for coming out on the other side.
Cincodemumyo 