Your story is gutting, my friend, and also so rich with new life and growth. Some people bloom because they were tended to with great care, in fertile soil with plenty of light and love. Others, like you (like my own beautiful mother who grew up with great neglect) are sidewalk flowers. You have done the impossible: grown beautiful in the crack between lifeless, harsh concrete. And to you, I bow. For in your persistence you have not only grown, but polinated all over that barren landscape. Your writing breathes life. Keep going- if this is 80 percent, I'm going to be gobsmacked at what's next. ❤️🧡💛💚💙
Kendall, your words feel like sunlight finding its way into the cracks—thank you for seeing me and honoring the persistence it’s taken to grow here. The image of sidewalk flowers resonates so deeply. There’s a quiet power in those blooms, isn’t there? Resilient, uninvited, and yet undeniable. And as for what’s next—perhaps it’s time to widen those cracks just a little more and let more life push through. Thank you for this reflection—it’s a gift I’ll carry with me. ❤️
Kendall, your encouragement is a gift, and I appreciate the space you’ve created for this growth. The idea of widening those cracks resonates deeply, not as an effort, but as an invitation for more life to naturally flow through. Thank you for seeing me and offering such a meaningful reflection. Here's to letting life unfold, bit by bit. ❤️
Thank you, Jay. Bold and honest. I appreciate you so much, and relate to all you write about. Our parents were wounded people who then took their wounded hearts and parented us with no ability to provide safe space for us, they were our biggest perpetrators. I hear you, my friend. Sending love to you. xo
Thank you, Nan. Your words resonate deeply, and I appreciate your honesty here. It’s so true—our parents carried their own wounds, and in doing so, they often couldn’t provide the safety or care we needed. That’s a painful truth to hold, especially when they became both our protectors and our biggest perpetrators.
I also see how this pattern of avoidance and denial plays out on a larger scale. Just as individuals turn away from their own pain because it’s too uncomfortable to face, the majority of the population seems to do the same—ignoring what’s happening because it feels easier than reckoning with what it would demand of them.
Sending love back to you, my friend. It means a lot to be heard. x
Hi Jay, it took me a while to come to this essay due to my sickness. As I read your personal history of trauma and your mother's abuse, I felt that we must have been twins. My own experience was very similar, and my father and grandmother did not protect me from.my mom's rage and blames. I went into exile at 12 and never felt safe to share the real me with her.
That pattern of abuse repeated with my partners over the years. My narc partners were so controlling and isolated me, that i hardly had any friends during 2 decades.
I finally was able to connect with my wounded child and my authentic self two years ago, when my last relationship was breaking apart and I read the book "No Bad Parts."
I had a similar visceral trigger right after Trump was reelected. He is an abuser and uses DARVO techniques to dominate his victims, just like my narcissistic ex's and mom. I wrote about it after the election night.
I'm so glad you and I are on our healing journeys respectively.
Hey Lily, thank you for sharing so openly — it feels like finding a reflection across a deep canyon, one that says, I see you.
I'm deeply sorry that you had to carry so much alone, especially at such a young age. Exile, whether physical or emotional, leaves its own kind of scars — ones we spend a lifetime learning to tend with care.
I hear so much resilience in your words — and so much hard-won truth.
"No Bad Parts" has been a lifeline for me too, helping me meet the pieces of myself that had been cast into shadow for too long.
It means a lot to know we're both walking this path — not alone, but alongside one another in ways words sometimes can't fully capture.
Hi Jay, thank you for your warm words. I've been super alone in walking this journey. It seems none of my friends could fathom such a mother. But when I read your story, I understood you had gone through a very similar childhood as I had. (I wonder about your mom's political orientation 🤔. My mom worshipped Maos in her youth and has black and white thinking.)
It really helps that know that I have a buddy healing from the same kind of narcissistic trauma. I wrote quite a lot about my dysfunctional family dynamics and my own healing work. I invite you to check some out if you wish.
Oh Jay 💔 my heart breaks for you . And yet , you are able to write like an angel and inspire so many others . As Kendall so beautifully wrote , sidewalk flowers still manage to put their heads up above the concrete and find the sun . You are not alone ❤️🌸🌼🎈
Thank you, Pippa. Kendall’s image of sidewalk flowers pushing through the concrete mirrors my journey. Your words remind me that even in breaking cycles of oppression, there is a community of voices offering light and strength. I deeply appreciate your compassion. ❤️🌸
Your story is gutting, my friend, and also so rich with new life and growth. Some people bloom because they were tended to with great care, in fertile soil with plenty of light and love. Others, like you (like my own beautiful mother who grew up with great neglect) are sidewalk flowers. You have done the impossible: grown beautiful in the crack between lifeless, harsh concrete. And to you, I bow. For in your persistence you have not only grown, but polinated all over that barren landscape. Your writing breathes life. Keep going- if this is 80 percent, I'm going to be gobsmacked at what's next. ❤️🧡💛💚💙
Kendall, your words feel like sunlight finding its way into the cracks—thank you for seeing me and honoring the persistence it’s taken to grow here. The image of sidewalk flowers resonates so deeply. There’s a quiet power in those blooms, isn’t there? Resilient, uninvited, and yet undeniable. And as for what’s next—perhaps it’s time to widen those cracks just a little more and let more life push through. Thank you for this reflection—it’s a gift I’ll carry with me. ❤️
Yes! Widen those cracks! I meant every word ❤️
Kendall, your encouragement is a gift, and I appreciate the space you’ve created for this growth. The idea of widening those cracks resonates deeply, not as an effort, but as an invitation for more life to naturally flow through. Thank you for seeing me and offering such a meaningful reflection. Here's to letting life unfold, bit by bit. ❤️
Thank you, Jay. Bold and honest. I appreciate you so much, and relate to all you write about. Our parents were wounded people who then took their wounded hearts and parented us with no ability to provide safe space for us, they were our biggest perpetrators. I hear you, my friend. Sending love to you. xo
Thank you, Nan. Your words resonate deeply, and I appreciate your honesty here. It’s so true—our parents carried their own wounds, and in doing so, they often couldn’t provide the safety or care we needed. That’s a painful truth to hold, especially when they became both our protectors and our biggest perpetrators.
I also see how this pattern of avoidance and denial plays out on a larger scale. Just as individuals turn away from their own pain because it’s too uncomfortable to face, the majority of the population seems to do the same—ignoring what’s happening because it feels easier than reckoning with what it would demand of them.
Sending love back to you, my friend. It means a lot to be heard. x
xoxo
Hi Jay, it took me a while to come to this essay due to my sickness. As I read your personal history of trauma and your mother's abuse, I felt that we must have been twins. My own experience was very similar, and my father and grandmother did not protect me from.my mom's rage and blames. I went into exile at 12 and never felt safe to share the real me with her.
That pattern of abuse repeated with my partners over the years. My narc partners were so controlling and isolated me, that i hardly had any friends during 2 decades.
I finally was able to connect with my wounded child and my authentic self two years ago, when my last relationship was breaking apart and I read the book "No Bad Parts."
I had a similar visceral trigger right after Trump was reelected. He is an abuser and uses DARVO techniques to dominate his victims, just like my narcissistic ex's and mom. I wrote about it after the election night.
I'm so glad you and I are on our healing journeys respectively.
Hey Lily, thank you for sharing so openly — it feels like finding a reflection across a deep canyon, one that says, I see you.
I'm deeply sorry that you had to carry so much alone, especially at such a young age. Exile, whether physical or emotional, leaves its own kind of scars — ones we spend a lifetime learning to tend with care.
I hear so much resilience in your words — and so much hard-won truth.
"No Bad Parts" has been a lifeline for me too, helping me meet the pieces of myself that had been cast into shadow for too long.
It means a lot to know we're both walking this path — not alone, but alongside one another in ways words sometimes can't fully capture.
I'm grateful our journeys crossed here.
xoxo Jay
Hi Jay, thank you for your warm words. I've been super alone in walking this journey. It seems none of my friends could fathom such a mother. But when I read your story, I understood you had gone through a very similar childhood as I had. (I wonder about your mom's political orientation 🤔. My mom worshipped Maos in her youth and has black and white thinking.)
It really helps that know that I have a buddy healing from the same kind of narcissistic trauma. I wrote quite a lot about my dysfunctional family dynamics and my own healing work. I invite you to check some out if you wish.
And a big YES to Richard Schartz's book! 🙌🫶
Oh Jay 💔 my heart breaks for you . And yet , you are able to write like an angel and inspire so many others . As Kendall so beautifully wrote , sidewalk flowers still manage to put their heads up above the concrete and find the sun . You are not alone ❤️🌸🌼🎈
Thank you, Pippa. Kendall’s image of sidewalk flowers pushing through the concrete mirrors my journey. Your words remind me that even in breaking cycles of oppression, there is a community of voices offering light and strength. I deeply appreciate your compassion. ❤️🌸