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anitaParticipantI don’t disagree, Alessa, and I very much appreciate your thoughts and sentiment.. You do understand, and I appreciate you ❤️. I will write more tomorrow, or on Monday.
Anita
anitaParticipantHow are you, Tom?
Gregory, I was so delighted to see your post—it’s been almost a year since you last shared, and I’ve genuinely been thinking about you. How have you been? (If you feel like it, maybe you could reply in your own thread?) 😊
Anita 🤍
July 5, 2025 at 8:20 am in reply to: Should I Forget about him, or was he the one that got away? #447341anitaParticipantDear Emma:
I’ve been a bit busier than usual lately, though not quite as much as I expected with the Fourth of July weekend—so I’ve had a little more time in front of the computer, and you’ve been on my mind.
There’s something I wanted to share with you, in case it resonates. It’s a concept called shadow work. It’s about becoming aware of the parts of ourselves we’ve learned to hide—things like anger, shame, jealousy, or even the belief that we’re “too much” or “not enough.” These parts often form in childhood or past relationships, where we were made to feel that certain emotions or needs weren’t acceptable.
Shadow work is about gently noticing those parts, understanding where they came from, and learning to accept them instead of pushing them away.
You once mentioned being surprised that Philip liked you, and wondering if someone more secure or less emotional would have been a better match. That really stayed with me. Shadow work, in this case, might mean turning toward the part of you that feels unworthy—not to fix it, but to understand it and care for it. It can begin with something very simple.
Here’s one way to start:
Notice when the feeling shows up. Maybe it’s when you think, “I was too much,” or “He wouldn’t have left if I were better.” Just pause and gently say to yourself, “Ah, this is the part of me that feels unworthy.”
Ask where it came from. You might wonder, “When did I first feel this way?” or “Whose voice does this sound like?” Often, these feelings come from early experiences—times when we were made to feel like our emotions or needs were too much, or not welcome.
Speak to that part with kindness. Imagine it as a younger version of yourself—maybe a little girl who just wanted to be loved and accepted. You might say, “You didn’t do anything wrong. You were never too much. You were just trying to be seen.”
Let the feeling be there without judgment. You don’t have to make it go away. Just letting it exist, without pushing it down or trying to explain it away, is already healing.
Remind yourself of your worth. Not because of what you do or how well you handle things—but simply because you exist. You are worthy of love, care, and gentleness, even when you feel unsure or afraid.
This kind of work takes time, and it’s okay to move slowly. You’ve already shown so much courage by naming your feelings and sharing your story. That’s not weakness—it’s strength.
You don’t have to be perfect to be lovable. You already are.
Have you ever tried something like this before?
With warmth and care, Anita 🤍
anitaParticipantDear Lucidity:
I’ve watched several of your videos, and what really stands out to me is the unique and professional quality of the production. The person behind the camera did an excellent job—there’s a clear sense of care, skill, and intention in the way everything is filmed. It’s genuinely fascinating to watch you bake a carrot cake, sew clothes, or move through simple, everyday tasks. The high-quality visuals, paired with your quiet, soft voice, give these ordinary moments a sense of beauty and calm—something quietly extraordinary.
Your presence is also striking: unassuming, modest, and grounded. Your gentle voice and calm delivery create such a peaceful atmosphere—it’s easy to feel at ease while watching.
The messages you share are powerful and deeply meaningful. A few that stayed with me:
You are worthy of your dreams at any age.
The power to create the future you want lies within you.
One step at a time is the only way to work toward anything.
True ethical living requires practicing self-compassion and prioritizing our mental and emotional health as the foundation for genuine outward compassion.
And of course, Hippocrates’s timeless wisdom: “Let food be thy medicine and medicine be thy food.”
One difficulty I had, particularly with the videos on healing and grit, was understanding the spoken words. The pronunciation wasn’t always clear to me, and I found myself struggling to follow along. Eventually, I lost patience trying to decipher the message, which was frustrating—because I truly wanted to hear what you had to say.
Still, I deeply appreciate the heart and thought you put into your work. It’s clear that what you’re offering is meaningful, sincere, and created with care.
Anita 🤍
anitaParticipantContinued journaling (motivated by my post to Alessa, a short while ago): I have more empathy for my mother than I have for any other person in the whole wide world. I understand her why-s and her how-s.
She has been so terribly wounded, so very terribly traumatized. No judgment. I’d do anything to go back- back- back- in time and SAVE her.
.. Thing is- there’s nothing I can do for her.
And if I try once again-again-again-again to help, to connect- the only thing I will achieve is.. my own destruction.
It’s like a deer trying to help a mountain lion.. the deer is likely to get eaten.
Not that my 84-year-old mother is a predator. It’s just that, if you try to get close, she becomes a predator. She can’t help it.
She was so deeply-in-shame that any and every effort on my part to connect with her means more shame for her.
She was not/ is not a bad person (in regard to her intents), she’s just.. Sick with Shame.
And so, she imagined- when I was a child- that I was trying to shame her. She then lashed out, attacking, shaming the person she believed was shaming her (the child-me.. NOT)
She was too deeply entrenched in her own devastating shame.
Looking back, it’s about her severe mental illness. There was nothing I could have done to help her.. while she was- in effect- if not by intent- destroying me.
Fast forward, what can I possibly do with this 84-year-old woman who may be suffering from dementia (sounds like it, from the little I was told), stooped over, rheumatoid arthritis. What could I possibly say/ do that can make a difference?
Nothing.
It’s amazing how the mother I knew my whole life (I never lived in a world where she was not a part of)- the mother I had for so long, will be no more.
And when she’s gone.. I will truly be alone.
Tears in my eyes.
Strange, what I typed right above-
“I will truly be alone”- But I was so very alone while she was alive, all those years..!
“I will truly be alone”- this means that her image, in my mind, still carries a “togetherness” sense..?
It must be that little girl’s sense (me, in the first few months or years of life) of her as the SOURCE OF LIFE.
So, at 64, thinking of my 84-year-old mother- continents and oceans apart- still feels like she’s my source of life.
Amazing, isn’t it..? Mother is Everything.?
It’s an instinctual thing, not a rational thing.
(Loud fireworks, July-4-7:35 pm, Western U.S.)
So.. processing all this.. I am not demonizing my mother.. nothing but empathy for her, and yet, at the same time, there’s this knowing that there never was a way for me to bridge the distance.
Still.. I have this image of her in my mind: she is 40-years-old (40 years ago), looking at me (20-years-old), and..
The disconnect is COMPLETE back then, unbridgeable. An unbridgeable disconnect.
If there is anything I am sure about, it is this one thing: there has been no way for me to connect with my mother. Not a failure on my part, but a failure she has brought with her.
Something to grieve: this Impossibility of Connection (IoC).
Anita
anitaParticipantI wanted to add, Alessa: your very, very unfortunate experience with your bio mother feels so similar to my own experience with my mother: things you shared about today, and things you shared about in deleted threads.
You and I have so much in common in this regard, I feel.
The drowning trauma- I have this everyday tic, multiple times a day, where I am gasping for air, as if drowning.
It could be because she used to force feed me by blocking my nose with her fingers, so I had to open my mouth, and then.. she forced food into that opening (my mouth).
And her threat, “I will murder you!”- we have this in common as well.
Anything I can do, Alessa, to help or to just be present with you as you go through these struggles.. Please let me know.
Anita
anitaParticipantDear Alessa:
Thank you for sharing something so deeply personal and painful. I can only imagine how much strength it took to put those memories into words. What you went through as a child is heartbreaking—no child should ever have to live in fear like that. The fact that you survived it, and that you’re now raising your son with love and awareness, speaks volumes about your courage and your heart.
You are not your mother. The very fact that you worry about becoming like her—that you hold back your pain to protect your child, that you reflect so deeply on your feelings—proves that. You’re breaking the cycle, even when it hurts. Even when it’s exhausting. Even when her shadow still lingers.
It’s okay to miss the past, to feel overwhelmed, to want space to breathe. Those are human feelings, not signs of failure. And expressing them—safely, like you’re doing here—is not weakness. It’s healing.
You are not alone in this. And your son is lucky to have a mother who loves him enough to face the hardest parts of her past so he doesn’t have to carry them.
With care and deep respect, Anita 🤍
anitaParticipantPre Independent-Day-Parade Journaling. Because I can.
Giving emotions this space to Express.
Allowing them to shake off the dust of a lifetime of suppression.
Inviting them to be seen, heard, felt.It’s been mostly a life unlived.
A life so full of disquiet within.
Shame and Guilt.
Depression.And now there is a new youth within my aging body.
Gone is the depression, and the shame and guilt- almost gone.
I am standing tall, with a smile.
Each new day no longer disappears into the day before.I FEEL alive.
Life no longer stolen,
No longer sealed behind lock and key.Anita
anitaParticipantDear Gerald:
Thank you for your kind message. I really appreciated what you shared about your journaling—it’s clear how much thought and care you put into it. I especially liked the part about remembering people who’ve passed and being able to say something kind to their loved ones. That’s such a thoughtful way to stay connected.
Like you, I’ve been journaling for a long time. I started writing in notebooks as a teenager—pages and pages of thoughts, feelings, and questions. Later, I moved to typing into Word documents and printing them out. I still have thick folders filled with those pages. And now, I journal here, in this public space on tiny buddha. There’s something meaningful for me about having others read what I write—it helps me feel less alone with it.
Thank you again for sharing your practice with me. It’s clear that your journaling isn’t just a habit—it’s a way of living with presence and care. I admire that.
Warmly, Anita 🤍
July 4, 2025 at 8:00 am in reply to: Should I Forget about him, or was he the one that got away? #447330anitaParticipantDear Emma:
Reading your message, I was struck by how deeply you’re feeling and reflecting—and also by how often you seem to question whether your emotions are valid. That reminded me of something important: emotional invalidation in childhood, and how it quietly shapes our lives long after we’ve grown.
When a child’s emotions are dismissed, criticized, or ignored—whether through silence, mockery, or overreaction—they learn that their feelings are not safe or trustworthy. Over time, this can lead to chronic self-doubt, difficulty setting boundaries, and a constant need for others to confirm what we feel.
I saw this so clearly in your words:
“I constantly doubt myself… if getting angry about something is justified – which causes me to ask any of my friends/family if they would be angry in that moment, so I know if I am allowed to be.”- This is such a clear example of emotional invalidation’s legacy—needing others to confirm your right to feel.
“I guess I felt like I may have had control over myself if I would have thought more clearly…”- That belief—that emotions are a failure of logic—is something many of us carry when our feelings were treated as problems rather than signals.
When we grow up without emotional validation, it’s like being a ship out at sea with no way to steer. Our emotions are supposed to help guide us—they tell us what feels right or wrong, what we need, and when we’ve been hurt. But if we’re taught to ignore our emotions, or think they’re wrong, we lose that guidance. We end up letting other people’s opinions, moods, or expectations decide things for us. We feel lost—not because we’re weak, but because no one ever showed us how to trust what we feel.
Emma, your feelings have always made sense. You didn’t do anything wrong by feeling deeply—you were just trying to survive in a world that didn’t know how to support you. And now, you’re doing something really strong: you’re learning to listen to yourself again, to trust your feelings, and to find your own way.
You don’t need permission to feel. You already have the right.
With care, Anita 🤍
anitaParticipantDear Alessa:
Thank you for your thoughtful message. So much of what you said really spoke to me—especially the part about how the brain treats emotional pain like physical pain. That explains a lot about why it can feel so overwhelming.
I also really connected with what you said about blaming yourself when there’s no clear cause. I’ve done that too—thinking, “It must be me.” But like you said, it’s not true.
Your words about accepting reality, even when it’s hard, felt calming. And the idea of shifting from fixing to simply coping and enduring—that’s something I want to hold onto.
Thank you again for sharing. It helped me feel less alone. ❤️
With warmth, Anita
anitaParticipantDear Alessa:
Thank you so much for your kind message. It really touched me. ❤️
You’re right—some people don’t mean harm, they just don’t understand the depth of what we’ve been through. That suggestion about reconnecting wasn’t cruel, but it did stir something in me. I think I needed to let those feelings out, even if they came out raw.
What you said about her being stuck in the prison of her own mind—that really hit me. It’s painful, but it helps me remember that her inability to love me wasn’t because of who I was. It was about her.
Thank you for reminding me that it’s okay to dream, even if the dream can’t come true. And thank you—truly—for saying I’m appreciated. That means more than I can say.
With warmth and gratitude, Anita 🤍
anitaParticipantJournaling this (what is it).. Thursday night, July 3.. big events tomorrow, downtown, July 4.
Still July 3, 2025-
Wine gets into my brain so fast! First glass.. and BOOM!
Told I am a “light weight”- it doesn’t take much alcohol..
So, where was I, where am I going with this..?
To answer better, I need more alcohol-
(Please don’t judge me- I am not driving, not risking others on the roads.. here, home)
Hold on- getting more red wine
Got it.
I still feel the tension in my left shoulder, twitching.
It’s the Fight-Flight response to trauma, captive in my body, day-in, day out, year-in, year out, sixty years. Running.. but nowhere safe to run to.
If my mother saw me as a person (a person, not a thing), a person on her side.. we (WE) could have built a team, working together, victoriously.
But she insisted- no team work. Instead, it was she OR me. If I win, she loses; if I lose, she wins.
Stupid, STUPID mother.
STUPID!!!
* July’s 4th fireworks just started.
STUPID, STUPID mother- you COULDN’T SEE your greatest resource, ME?
Me, the person I am, is one who will do a whole lot for others, help, save.. in any, every way I can. This is who I am.
Let me know if you are in need of help, of what kind.. and I will help!
Back to Stupid Mother- what is WRONG WITH YOU? Why do you- did you- insist on DESTROYING the person who cared about you the most?
Why did you so doggedly go about destroying the one who LOVED you so very, very much?
This concrete wall you put between you and me, blocking me.
Isolating me.
I am 64. My mother is 84.. we could have been friends. Instead- by your own doing- we are strangers, never got to be anything but Strangers.
Someone suggested to me a day or two ago, that it is not too late to connect- someone who doesn’t know you, or me.
It got me thinking-feeling for just a moment- connecting with.. my mother- the woman, person who Will NOT connect-
Yet, still, an attractive concept.
She is still alive back there, on the other side of the world, continents and oceans away from me. Yet always far, just a wall in-between, less than a meter away.
A second of fantasy goes like this: me and she CONNECT, for the first- and the last time. FINALLY: Ima I love you.. and she says, unflinchingly: I love you too!
Like she says it in a way that’s believable.
And then she says: I didn’t mean to make you feel like a piece if sh**t”
So, I says. why did you.. ?
And she says, she says…
I want to hear her answer, ANSWER ME: why, WHY did you DESTROY me the best/ worst you could, WHY? TELL me.
And she says (more red wine, more fireworks in the background), she says: (I want to hear the truth, and I may, with a bit more alcohol, just a bit)..
(More red wine).. Why, mother. Why?
And she says (I know truth is coming and I don’t know what it’s going to be)-
She says (more red wine, July 4th fireworks in the background (11 PM, western us)
Why did you hurt me.. purposefully, why did you want to hurt me?
She says, she says.. YOU HAVE NO RIGHT! YOU ARE A NOBODY! YOU ARE A BIG ZERO!!!
But mother, that’s what you said, but you didn’t mean it, did you?
And she says: “Yes, I meant it: you are a NOBODY, you are q NOTHING- like I told you before!”
So she says, I remember.. her legacy in my life.
Anita
anitaParticipantDear Alessa:
Thank you for sharing so openly. Your words carry such quiet strength and honesty—I felt them.
What you said about getting lost in intense emotion really resonated with me. That feeling of being consumed, of not knowing where the emotion ends and where you begin… I know that space. And I also know how powerful it is to take that first step back—to begin building safety, even if it’s just a little at a time.
I loved what you said here: “Emotion, in itself, is not the problem. The thoughts, the feelings, the expectations attached to it.” That’s such a clear and compassionate truth. It reminds me that emotion isn’t the enemy—it’s the stories we attach to it that can make it feel unbearable.
And your reflection on expectations—how being hopeful and surprised by change can lead to self-blame—that touched me. There’s something so human in that. I think many of us carry that quiet ache of “I should have known” when really, we were just doing our best with the understanding we had.
The idea of living alongside the pain instead of trying to erase it—that feels like a kind of wisdom that only comes through experience. It’s not resignation—it’s grace.
Thank you again for your presence here. You didn’t ramble at all. You shared something real, and I’m grateful for it. ❤️
Warmly, Anita 🤍
July 3, 2025 at 8:36 pm in reply to: Should I Forget about him, or was he the one that got away? #447322anitaParticipantDear Emma:
Thank you for your thoughtful message—and for being so understanding about my energy this weekend. I really appreciate your openness and the way you’re reflecting on everything with such honesty.
What you said about feeling anxious and not being able to accept that Philip didn’t want contact anymore… I think many of us have been there in some way. It’s painful, especially when there’s still longing or confusion. But the fact that you can look at it now with clarity and care—that’s growth, Emma. Truly.
And yes, that story he told you about the man, the woman, and the baby… it is cold. It says a lot about how he views relationships and responsibility. I’m glad you noticed that and trusted your reaction. Sometimes we sense something is off long before we can explain why.
Thank you also for your kind words about my parents. No, there wasn’t a clear reason—they just weren’t emotionally available. They didn’t have a heart for me. Or for themselves 😔
And you’re right, Emma: a child can’t make sense of that. It leaves a kind of a loud-kind of silence that takes a long time to understand.
Wishing you a peaceful weekend too, Emma. I’m looking forward to continuing our conversation next week.
With care, Anita 🤍
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Though I run this site, it is not mine. It's ours. It's not about me. It's about us. Your stories and your wisdom are just as meaningful as mine.