My rock star…

Marty is not only a great business partner and husband, but he is also my best friend and knows me better than I know myself sometimes. 

I woke up this morning weepy. Honestly, you never know when something will trigger an old emotional trauma. I couldn’t shake experiencing a painful open wound again from my childhood this morning. My nine-year-old self, to be exact, the age my nephew turned yesterday. Then it all made sense. 

After working alone in silence and shedding some tears when I was washing dishes for over an hour, I shut off the music we were listening to…Elton John radio. It had nothing to do with Elton; the songs just kept bringing me back to that painful time period.

After the dishes were caught up for the moment, I joined Marty in the packing room. He asked why I turned off the music. I immediately started crying and told him what was going on. He listened and said it was good I was talking about it; he understood how I felt. 

After production was over and we were back inside the house, I realized I felt better. Talking to him helped me move forward and not get sucked into that dark place. Basically, he threw me a rope, and I climbed up it quickly. 

A lot of things happened to me emotionally after I turned 9. You know what? It made me the strong person I am today. Being strong and working through stuff alone made things worse for me as I grew up; I had to pay for it. But you know what? That was ok. I was supposed to be the victim of verbal and emotional abuse, but I didn’t play the victim on the outside; I never showed a thing. However, on the inside was a whole different thing. 

Growing up, I didn’t share what really went on through the years with my friends. They knew when I was upset over things, but not the constant shit that happened every day. I actually thought I was a terrible person, and that was why I was treated the way I was. I was embarrassed that all the turmoil might have really been my fault. My severe ulcerative colitis was definitely all my fault too, right? 

I found out about 10 years ago that it wasn’t my fault. Not any of it. It was the best gift my Aunt Claire ever gave me when out of the blue, she brought up my childhood on the phone one night. She suddenly apologized, saying, “no one ever did anything about it. Everyone knew what was happening, but no one acted.” It was a moment I will never forget. A moment I finally knew that it wasn’t me at all. 

She went on telling me I was a really good kid who just wanted to please everyone. Aunt Claire told me how strong I was, unlike everyone in our family was. I thanked her for telling me and bringing it up after 40 years. This information changed my life forever; it felt wonderful. She passed away after having complications from surgery not too long after that. 😭

After some therapy, a lot of energy work, and self-healing over the last 10 years, I am in a great place. The whole shitty situation growing up helped me be a better mother. It made me treat our sons with respect and dignity. It made me chose my words carefully. I never called them by anything other than their names. It made our family a family. For all of that, I am grateful. 

I am a strong person who still wants to please people, but now I can walk away and say fuck it if the person or the situation isn’t worth it.

Marty is my rock star and my support system. He knows how to get me back to my fun Julzie self again. How lucky is that? 🤩