Misery & Mania in Key West; how losing my dream home showed me my darkest shadow.

I'm conflicted on writing this article.

Throughout my 5+ years as a blogger, I've been violently open about my experiences, and perhaps embarrassed myself many times. I've no doubt had regrets about being as open as I have been in the past, all the while remembering to soothe myself for simply just processing things the best way I knew how at the time.

My life has been pretty f*cked up.

I've learned more and more how to process things behind the scenes, differentiating between when is a time to share and when not, and have actually withheld from being so personal more and more over the years (if you can believe that... I suppose I'm still probably much more open than other creators... ha.)

Oh well, today I feel called to write this out.

Let me tell you about my journey to Key West, Florida.

My place of home for about the past month now.

I recently had to surrender to the flow of life's unexpected events when my plan to finally settle down in Miami and buy my forever home didn't pan out, just days before I had to be out of my lease.

Moving is stressful enough as it is, but I've had a keen knowing year-after-year that for some reason, it especially affects me. Though somehow, I keep doing it.

I have moved 17 times since I was eighteen years old.

I'm 31 now.

That's 17 different times uprooted in a matter of just 13 years. Practically every year, sometimes twice a year, with the longest single stay at an apartment lasting 2 years.

Prior to this - I had never moved in my life.

My parents purchased the house I grew up in when I was a baby, and I knew nothing of moving until my parents divorced at 18, when I bounced then and left with my Dad. Before then I had always been used to home life, and (-despite the dysfunction-) some serious routine & stability.

I share with great grief the situation I currently find myself in, that I was finally seeing the light at the end of the tunnel - a home base of my own, no more moving. And I really believed it was a done deal. I am so sick of moving. So tired of not having consistency, home-life, etc. I am finally fully confident after having traveled and bounced around enough, that there is really just one city I have no doubt in committing to, and can happily call it my home:

Miami.

Whoosh. Just let out a few tears after writing that one.

I seriously cannot tell you what this city means to me. All of South Florida, really. It's incredible. I just know it. I feel it.

It's home!

The chaos, the colorful latin culture, the beaches, the cuban food, the diversity and ability to tap in and out from the party scene to business culture at any point you like.

Miami is a great place for someone like me.

This town has it all, and damn... not getting that house I was on track to get,

crushed me.

I came to Key West after practically being forced to promptly put all of my stuff in storage and find a new place to lay my head, again.

I didn't know why, but intuition told me to come down here. I had only been once, and it was the most awful experience of attempting to do a weekend getaway with my ex who, like a child, was perpetually dissatisfied and difficult to please. We didn't even make it through one night here before he found something to get triggered about and insisted we drive all the way up the keys back to Miami, in the middle of the night. And of course, like the puppy-dog I was, I surrendered to him blindly.

I never even got to see the sunrise, or visit the beaches.

That was my only memory of Key West, many years ago when I was still with my ex (we moved to Miami together in 2019, before ending our 4-year business & romantic relationship shortly after). And funny enough when I mentioned to a friend how I felt like Key West was where I needed to go, he says to me:

"Oh I only have one experience of Key West with my crazy ex, and it was not a good time."

Interesting...

Almost like a sign from God that's why I'm coming here.

To close the loop.

To finally process that relationship, and that business we owned together, that I've avoided fully facing the pain of for many years now.

As we finally tap into regular EMDR sessions down here, all around this topic of what happened with my ex / my first company, my therapist insightfully says to me in response to my frustration of why the heck I didn't process this sooner!?

"Shay, you've had a lot of distractions girl..."

Touché.

Or should I say,

Tou-shay.

I'm one hell of a creative survivor, I'll give myself that. And I've had no shortage of innovative ways to get myself by, seemingly checking all the boxes in life, living "to the fullest"... all in an attempt to avoid my unprocessed grief.

All the attention I was suddenly getting, right after the breakup.

The business. The blog. The LinkedIn virality & social media.

The additional relationships, boyfriends that followed.

The alcohol, the partying, the weed & Miami life.

The house I bought in Orlando. That move.

The many moves to apartments & lofts.

The travel, & speaking engagements.

The self-obsession and fitness.

I see it now, but damn...

I also see why.

Coming to terms with how much that relationship really did affect me, and how much the business trauma back then has been carried with me all along, seeping into my ability to fully commit as an entrepreneur today... burns like hell.

How I don't really "hate" marketing - I hate having to feel all the triggers still tied to this work.

So much of my job and my daily tasks still mimic that of the first company, the one with him, and therefor what I really hated was the feelings tied to it all.

Being constantly re-triggered.

Over, and over...

again.

Now the gears are turning, the answers are clicking, and I'm putting it all together like a dusty puzzle left out in the garage. Old and abandoned, sitting there for years, just waiting and craving to finally be pieced together.

I learned video editing with the pressure of a narcissist breathing down my neck.

I learned business, sales, hiring and managing a team, all the while walking on egg shells in my relationship, constantly terrified he would drop me at any moment for the simplest mistake.

It was hell.

But what can I say,

I was anxious-attached. Deeply. I loved this man like nothing you could imagine. I looked up to him greatly. After all, he's how I got into business. He taught me video, marketing, we learned social media together and built our first company while glued at the hip. A company where I did learn so much! and for that...

I am grateful.

But I finally see the truth that the link between:

my business TODAY

&

HIS energy

...never got separated.

Bullseye. ??

This was the healing I've been looking for.

I haven't been able to distinguish the two, and suddenly it all makes sense why I get a pit in my stomach every time I have to review a video edit, or get on a client call.

It's not the work I don't like,

I actually love it.

It's that my body still views it all as a threat - as I was constantly scared back then I wasn't doing a good job. That God-forbid I didn't get an A+ as his little worker slave for that day, because there'd be hell to pay when we got home.

I am finally coming to terms with how much I didn't want to admit how f*cking deeply, deeply...

he got in my head.

F*ck.

He was a hell of a marketer, I'll give him that.

But he'd of been an even better cult leader.

No doubt.

Leaving that relationship and entering straight into the "spiritual" community down in Miami (if you wanna call it that) had compounding negative affects on my ability to realize and process all of this.

Rather than going to conventional therapy (like I am now) I went the woo-woo route, convinced that conventional therapy was a waste of time and had failed me, after 7 years+ of sitting on a couch talking did nothing to get me to the root of what I was actually dealing with (repressed memories of childhood sexual abuse) like a one-weekend ayahuasca ceremony, which blasted it all open. Finally giving me the context needed so I could begin to understand what attracted me to such a toxic, codependent relationship like this in first place.

That weekend changed my life, and I went all in on the spiritual / unconventional side of healing when I left.

Problem was, I actually needed to go back to conventional therapy at this time. But my trauma brain and its black/white thinking (and new found reverence for the "woo-woo") didn't consider that a good dose of serious clinical validation was what I needed to integrate.

I wrote it all off.

I especially should have gone back to western, conventional methods and therapy when just a few months after the ayahuasca ceremony, my ex cheated on me and left me for a woman in Miami he'd known for 10 days.

Ouch.

He saw the writing on the walls. That I was finally looking for answers. Seeking. Showing up for myself and determined to heal.

He didn't like that.

Of all the years being there for him, being his emotional support, his parent, his worker slave... when the tables turned suddenly I needed him,

he was gone.

& he kicked me real good on his way out the door.

I remember the pit in my stomach that lasted for weeks after as I saw for the first time, truly, the kind of man I had actually been with this whole time.

The spiritual community, (at least the one I was a match to at the time - to be clear I can't knock all woo-woo circles, and I myself still use many of these practices I picked up from there to this day...) - BUT-

the group I found myself in was disgustingly invalidating of my experiences.

Spiritual bypassing, I think is the term?

I didn't know it then - and since these people had more experience sitting with plant medicines, reading astrology charts, and being in this alternative "healing" world, I just took it at face value:

they knew more than me -

and I should listen to them.

But, I shut down my grief process then and there when I realized how shameful it was in this circle to blame, be angry, and position yourself as any kind of a victim.

I not only was told repeatedly to "just get over him", but that I should THANK HIM for the amazing guide he was in my life! How he was my mirror... a beautiful soul... my higher self wanted this experience and I chose the whole thing... blah blah blah.

I even got a dose of rejection from friends I had at this time about the sexual trauma.

"Why do you talk about it so much? Like, I was molested too. It's no big deal."

Wow.

(and yes that was a direct quote from my best friend back then).

Anyways - that hurt. But I had no other friends at the time and was new to Miami. My ex isolated us for years and I kid you not when I say by the time we broke up,

none of my old friends were left.

I was in a new city, and there was no family support to go back to. My family was the abuse, so that wasn't an option. So, I settled for the first group of friends that I found. Thinking these spiritual junkies were a safe place to heal. But let me tell you -

the additional mental gymnastics that came after the narcissist became this long list of faulty ways of "healing" I am now unlearning from the spiritual community.

People that use spiritual lingo and teachings in a very clever way, to ultimately disguise additional manipulation and narcissistic behavior under the guise of "self empowerment" and "radical accountability."

To be clear - I am not saying these perspectives that run in personal development / self help circles around "take full ownership for everything in your life!" are not useful and valid.

I'm saying I was nowhere near a place to embody them yet.

I had to grieve. I had to blame.

I had to be angry, and there was simply no space for that. Not where I was hanging out. And more than anything during this time,

I just wanted friends.

I wanted to fit in, so I repressed everything. Especially about my ex, and ex business. Ashamed that sharing about my hatred for the ex, and the pain of my upbringing, would only result in getting me rejected from the herd.

(Again, conventional therapy and a clinically trained therapist would have been great for me during this time!)

Whoops.

After all, you wouldn't say to a rape victim, freshly abused, entering the ER to get a rape kit with blood between her legs... well,

"What were you wearing?"

Jeez.

This was not the time. And that's what I realize was happening, in hindsight, looking back on it all. Unrealistic expectations of my grieving process and no space for me to simply be human.

It made me feel weak. And so,

I faked it.

But that has had rippling negative effects, and only has come back to bite me years later as something I still need to unpack. Now,

here

in Key West.

In summary,

it took me far, far longer to get over my ex, to piece together my previous business trauma / separate it from my company now, and even process the things of my childhood BECAUSE OF THE PRESSURE to embody what is practically enlightenment, or the final phases of healing, when I was only ever entering phase 1.

Not getting the house I wanted in Miami and finding myself suddenly packing up my SUV with the few bags I didn't put into storage, and my cat, to come down to this little island has sparked all of this healing. Finally!

Like pieces to an old. dusty. puzzle.

So much long overdue processing. & now,

I am finally just putting it all together. Ironically, at a place in which the only memory I have is with that very same ex, the narcissist in my life, whose presence I am grateful is gone.

Now I'm here on my own accord and I'm happy to let you know...

I have finally gone to the beaches. :)

But more importantly,

I've accepted my past self and her grief. The grief I shoved down and avoided for so many years. I knew coming down here God was guiding me to transformation. To isolate again, removing me from city life and distractions. To pray, meditate, slow down (great spot for that), and go within as intuitively I knew I had work to do here.

However-

boy did I underestimate how much I actually had to unpack and how deep of a process Key West would become.

This was not just about grieving the loss of the house, that just triggered it all. And like dominoes, it's all. falling. down.

I have realized so much about myself here. Namely my addictive side, always looking for the next quick fix. Dopamine hit. Way to control my mood / distract me from being in the present. And this has been an ongoing battle.

Underneath it all is grief.

I have sat and I've cried alone many nights here. And in the woes of my sorrow, a profound realization came through, one I think has been trying to come into my awareness all along.

As I sit surrendered to the silence. No distractions. No phone. Just grief.

Pain.

Immersed in the feelings of things never processed...

I realized something.

Holy shit...

I'm miserable.

Whoa...

really?

Yup.

Say that again, Shay... admit it! Loud and f*cking clear.

What did you say?

I am a miserable person.

Double bullseye. ??

& so, it finally hit me.

That's why you're always distracting yourself Shay. That's why you're so narcissistic. That's why you need a million followers, money, a sexy body, a fancy car, to indulge in whatever you can possibly find to keep your brain on a dopamine high.

Wait, really?

I knew I struggled in the past with anxiety and depression, it comes and goes... but really? Am I... truly... underneath it all & at my core... just...

a miserable f*cking person?

Yup!

Damn.

And nothing will ever make you happy.

Period.

The day I realized this I took a trip to the grocery store and just allowed myself to be this miserable woman, to feel and embody her fully. To walk around unhappy. Simply because, I'm unhappy, and I am in this moment practicing acceptance that this is just the way I am, and I'm not going to try to change it.

Something interesting happened -

I actually found myself being kinder and more patient with others.

Almost like instead of outwardly projecting my misery, I was suddenly "happy" to be this miserable f*cking woman. Owning it fully. Knowing it is my misery. That it is not anyone's fault, and other people still deserve kindness, love, and most of all just to be happy.

But that just isn't me.

"Hi, I'm Shay and I'm miserable. But YOU - yes! Smiling and skipping down the isle. You do your thing woman! Seriously, I'm genuinely happy for you, and I'm not gonna try to bring you down."

Must be nice. Good for you, and I seriously mean it.

Funny how by allowing myself to embrace my ugly, my presence now made the world a better place.

Of course, before letting myself go off and get too dramatic, let me clarify: I am aware that this is merely a part of me that is miserable, and not the whole self. However, for the sake of properly illustrating the impact of this download, it's important you see how deeply rooted this part of me actually is. How my avoidance of seeing or accepting it for years kept me from accessing other parts, parts much lighter and needed in the world.

The miserable woman I met-

is my shadow.

I thought I'd done shadow work before,

not like this.

I met a nice woman my age at the pool where I'm staying, and we bonded over several shared interests such as healing, self-discovery, and fitness.

I told her about my coming to terms with my shadow side, and how underneath it all I see how I really am miserable. That I'm not sure anything will really ever make me happy.

She asked me why I thought that was?

Idk. The childhood. The lack of attunement. Being bullied. Being set up through my primary caregivers to have a malleable brain that can easily be subjected to predators and get manipulated over, and over again.

The ex.

Or maybe it's none of that, and my soul itself is simply just miserable, and was always bound to be this discontent from the start.

Who knows?

The point is, I don't have to know, I just have to feel it all now. I owe that to my little girl, and to my future idealized self, to become the full-embodied, and well rounded woman I know I can be.

So that I may act with more authenticity, and more trust in the universe.

So that my story and path becomes one lit for others.

So I may better lead, and inspire.

So I can live life, fully.

The realizations are deep, and I could go on writing many more sub articles about additional unpacked grief that is processing here. But I think, for now, this is a good place to bring the story full circle. ↓

him.

HIM!

Holy sh*t.

My ex. It's him.

As I said, much of the work I'm doing down here is learning how to separate the business trauma I had with my ex from my own, independent business I now run today...

and what do you know.

There he is -

Him.

My misery.

My unprocessed shadow.

I'm seeing it now. And I've said it many times, these exact words,

"My ex was the most miserable person I have ever met."

Anyone who knew him could tell you how difficult he was to be around.

Bitter, judgmental. Always looking to prove everyone wrong. Addicted, blaming. In layman's terms...

this guy was simply a dick.

With a serious stick up his ass.

But now I see, for the first time, in myself... I also possess all of these qualities. While his were expressed, mine were repressed. That is all. As it turns out, we were opposite sides of the same coin. Or as my handy-dandy friends in the spiritual community would have said...

he was simply my mirror.

Thanks guys. -_-

My ex was my shadow. I am him - and I do see that now.

Perhaps why it's taken me so long to get over him, and to disconnect his energy from the various areas of my life that still remind me of him... was simply because God was waiting for me to figure out this lesson, to get to the root of this shadow work, and to admit to myself, and the world, once and for all...

Shay Rowbottom is a miserable f*ck.

And the memories resurface of all the pain and frustration I felt, day in and day out, being with someone who just couldn't be happy.

Remembering how I hated him so much for that. But really, all along,

I was only just hanging out with my shadow.

Right in front of me, the whole time.

Thank you, Key West.

These islands. This isolated little place in the world, for stirring up and bringing to life this much needed truth about Shay.

I'm not sure what's left to come, but I feel my processing here is just getting started, and I'm grateful I have gotten myself to a place of independence and strength to face all of this now.

In the end I'm still an optimist. That is still who I am, too. I still believe I'm going to live a fabulous life. I still possess pride and gratitude for the progress I have made in my personal and professional life, and I don't discount the woman I've already become. But perhaps, the reason God pulled the rug out from closing on my dream home in Miami, and finally planting my feet in one place for awhile...

was because I had to learn to be at home in myself, first.

All parts of myself - good and bad.

If I can admit & integrate this,

I can land on all fours.

I can take any moment in life as it comes, and I can keep my little girl safe. Regardless of circumstances. Reminding her that no matter where we are in the world, we are whole, we are complete, and...

we actually already are...

home.

#Shayshine ??

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