The Myth of Blood vs. The Chosen Tribe

TLDR: I’ve stopped trying to squeeze love out of stones. I’ve built a tribe of fierce women and non-toxic men who see me as I actually am, and unconditionally accept me.

“The blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb”

I used to believe family was a safety net by default.

Then, I came to realise that actually, family can be just a net – interwoven threads of hazards and tripwires, keeping you trapped and wriggling.

It’s in the blood of the covenant, the bonds we choose, where true safety lies.

While my biological family were busy offering goodbye coffee meet-ups with my abuser (as they casually informed me later**), the first surprise member of my real tribe was already in my garden handing me tea and tissues.

The Fierce

HOLLY: A former colleague who moved from acquaintance to frontline soldier the moment she heard that EH had left.

To outside eyes we’re probably an odd friendship.

We come from very different places in terms of exposure to education, therapy… things of the mind. I do not, at all, mean that in a derogatory way. It’s simply that my abusive parents were academics, and hers were not.

These differences have meant that we each bring something unique to the friendship. The openness between us means we can learn from each other and see different perspectives to our norms.

Holly is absolutely ferocious – the kind of person you’re very glad to have with you, and would very much not like to have against you.

Her fury towards EH in the early days was oddly soothing. At a time when I hadn’t yet accessed my own rage towards him, she sat in my garden for hours, refusing to let me hate myself. She verbalised, and thus demonstrated to me, exactly where that anger belonged.

I think my vulnerability in those weeks and months led Holly to know I would be a safe place for her to also open up, a little at a time.

While we always had each other’s backs, back when we worked night shifts together, over the last couple of years we’ve built a close, solid, supportive friendship. We’re not in each other’s pockets but our contact is a steady beat. And we each know we can call on the other, anytime, for any reason.

ISLA: My adult niece in Scotland.

Fiercely loyal. She blocked EH the moment he left. She didn’t want a “goodbye” or an explanation;, she just wanted him gone. And she wanted him gone for me – from my mind and my soul.

She was the one who first suggested I change EH’s name on my phone.

She also sent me excellent books to help me find a way through the turmoil, and recommendations for places and spaces where I could hear the voices of empowered women.

She listened, offered signposts, and never interfered.

She sent me little gifts at Christmas, even though I’d said I wasn’t going to participate in an exchange – a simple desire that I feel included, thought about and cared for. She bought them, she wrapped them, but she ensured that the names of my other adult niece and all of their children were also on the tags.

She’s never stopped letting me know that I’m part of her tribe too.

The Refraction

NICOLA: My son’s ex/my shadow daughter.

When I asked Kieran to leave, he tried to weaponise the children to hurt me.

When the light of a toxic relationship hits the prism of two women who choose truth, the direction changes.

Nicola was incredibly brave. Despite the years of abuse she suffered, she defied him to bring the Beanies back into my life.

We are building a standalone friendship – sharing Mother’s Day, Christmas, birthdays, and the day-to-day reality of surviving my son’s behaviour.

The Soulmate

ALLORO: My soulmate from the USA.

We met online within a peer support environment, not looking for friends but looking for kind hearts to hear us in our struggles.

It was a space for being honest and vulnerable, and for working through one’s own difficulties. Therefore, by the time we took the friendship outside of that space, into the 3D world, we had already bypassed those standard, awkward, getting-to-know-you bits.

We’ve realised that the idea your soulmate must be a romantic partner is absolute bullshit. She gets me on a cellular level. She absolutely, wholeheartedly, unconditionally accepts me.

Our attachment is so deep and strong that we’ve often joked that if one of us were to be behaving this way with a romantic partner (in our case, with a man), it would be red-flagging all over the place.

All jokes aside – it is a spectacularly healthy relationship.

We ‘body-double’ over video calls to get housework and paperwork done.

We send random, inspiring texts and voice messages to each other to keep each other going over stressful work days.

We sit with each other through pain, celebrations, drunkenness (occasionally) and just general nonsense.

We discuss and inspire each other in business ideas, creative endeavours and travel plans – many of which we plan to manifest into fruition together.

She’s a true anchor if I start to flounder, a voice of reason when it’s chaos, and always, always playing the drumbeat of “You can!“

She absolutely, without a shadow of a doubt, believes I can do anything at all that I put my mind to. Literally anything.

Nothing at all shocks her and she has endless curiosity about people – how they think and function.

She recently spent a fortnight at my house, during which time we laughed, we cried, and I had the honour of sitting with her during her first psilocybin trip.

We spent time with Nicola and the Beanies, and we travelled way up North to spend time with Isla and her tribe.

We learned more about each other and negotiated difficult moments – including me in a triggered state – and we’re stronger than ever. Not just as friends, but as individual people too.

She trusts me and I trust her.

The bonds are many and they run deep.

Now, we just need the political climate in the USA to calm the fuck down, and for me to get the money together, and then I’m off over there for adventures with Alloro’s tribe.

The Boss Ladies: A Powerhouse of Connection

I took a total punt and created a WhatsApp group for Nicola (my son’s ex), Isla (my niece), and Alloro (my soulmate).

I didn’t ask their permission beforehand, but gave them an easy ‘out’ if they wanted it.

None of them took it.

Instead, they’ve woven a safety net for each other. We rant, we rave, we validate, we support, we cheer, we take the piss. We share music, memes and life.

They are razor sharp witty, self deprecating, opinionated, whip smart.

And if you ever need help burying a body? My ladies have worked out some excellent plans. We gotcha!

There are days, particularly work ones, where I come to read the conversations going on and I’m wrapped in joy and love for what is there. And then there’s the times I just laugh aloud at their collective audacity.

Our Anthem: Woman by Diana Gordon. It’s the soundtrack to our collective strength.

The Fascinating

MEL: Another soul from the peer support world. Again she lives in the USA.

We spend hours on video calls covering everything from mental health to spiritual beliefs, arts and culture, to the terrifying political climate in the USA and across the world.

She feeds the intellectual appetite in me that was kept in starvation mode for 20 years.

She’s caring and kind, gentle and genuine.

We speak maybe once every couple of weeks, picking up the conversation immediately, following this thread then that, until hours have flown by and we’re wondering how we got from subject A to subject Z.

It’s a connection I’m enjoying nurturing and watching blossom.

The Non-Toxic Men

The North Star

ALTAN: We met in an online space – a goal setting site called 43Things, the closure of which I still mourn. Ostensibly a place to track progress towards goals like ‘Do the couch to 5K’, there was a core community group there who made it much, much more.

It was my first experience of positive online community, and from it came Altan, my shining example of non-toxic masculinity.

My constant for 18 years. The yang to my yin.

Before going any further, let’s just take a moment to consider that statement. I was in a marriage to a covert narcissist for 20 years, during which time I was stripped of so much I didn’t even know my own musical tastes at the end of it. And yet Altan and his friendship not only found a door into that closed off space, but once inside, stood firm. He could not be diminished by EH’s toxicity.

I somehow threw a protective ring around Altan’s friendship (not necessarily consciously, I should add), that prevented it being drawn too much into EH’s firing line.

I’d end calls quickly when EH got home so they didn’t impinge on his desire to use the space I was in, or delay me cooking his evening meal.

I wouldn’t talk with EH in in any detail about my conversations with Altan, but would drop in the occasional comment about his wife and child – you know, to highlight how non-threatening he was.

For his part, Altan quietly continued to hold my hand no matter what – his own protective ring securely around the two of us.

When I couldn’t communicate because the snarling black dog of depression had me backed into a corner, he continued to write me long letters, full of news and encouragement and love.

He’s the one who first told me: “I just want you to see yourself the way I see you.“

When EH left, Altan became a daily presence – his morning messages felt like the only solid, reliable part of my life at that time.

He would create artwork depicting me -sometimes as the fierce warrior woman he saw, other times as the broken version I felt like. He’d send them with messages perfectly pitched between deep empathy and a much-needed boot up the bum. He held me up when I couldn’t stand on my own.

But the most critical moment in our 18-year friendship happened when I finally found the courage to be ‘demanding.’

As his daily check-ins naturally dialled back due to his own life, I started to feel bereft. I felt like I was shouting into the void when messages went unread for days.

The old me would have stayed silent, terrified of being needy, demanding or ‘too much’. The silence would have given space to the inner voices that tried to whisper, “It’s happening. He’s seen the ‘thing’ in you. Best start building the protective shell, ready to shut him out….“

But the True Jess I was nurturing, and putting in charge, knew that was a bullshit lie from the past – The Shitty Committee trying to get their feet back under the table.

On a video call, I nervously told him that while I understood his obligations, I was struggling with the silence. I asked if he could acknowledge me a little sooner.

I waited for the pushback.

Instead, he gave me five words that healed one of the most damaged parts of my soul: “You were right to ask.”

In that moment, he didn’t just listen, he validated my right to have needs. The first person in my 56 years of life to make it so clear and easy. He proved that a safe man doesn’t find your voice threatening – he finds it necessary.

I still repeat those five simple words to myself – the power in them is indescribable.

It was Altan who introduced the concept of microdosing psilocybin to me. Together (although separated by a literal ocean), we’ve researched, explored, experimented, exchanged information, been trip sitters and integration ‘therapists’ for each other.

Our experiences, and chosen dosages, frequencies etc. have differed, but that has only made it all the more fascinating and enlightening when we come together and compare notes.

He knows the deepest, darkest parts of me, yet sees the most glowing and beautiful version of me.

The trust between us is absolute.

The Guardian of Gumption

GIORGIO: A colleague who became a friend, and a man who proved that Altan isn’t the only safe male port in a storm.

Giorgio is one of those rare people who holds up a mirror and refuses to let you see anything other than your own strength.

When I was first grappling with the fear of making this blog public -worried about the shame of my honesty or the judgment of my past – it was Giorgio who cut through the noise. He told me:

“Fuck ’em all. It’s your story; you tell it how you want to.”

He’s the one who stood steady when I lost my shit in a triggered state. While the ghosts of my past would have used that outburst to label me crazy or unstable, Giorgio remained calm. When I freaked out that he’d turn away from me now he’d seen ‘the real me’, he reassured me that he knew the difference between pain talking, and the core of who I am.

In that one exchange, he helped heal fifty years of a very specific kind of hurt.

He’s instinctively known when to step in and fill the silence, and when to step back and let me just exist. He doesn’t want me to shrink; he roars me forward, championing my right to be authentic, messy, and honest. He’s solid ground.

The Professional Catalyst

FRED: I met Fred within the online peer support world.

Initially, he was a mentor and a guide during a time when I was just trying to keep my head above water.

He was the first person in a professional capacity to really listen to the way I communicate and tell me I had a natural gift for it.

With his encouragement, I moved from being someone who just attended these spaces to someone who actively helps facilitate them.

I’ve been volunteering in a support capacity for a year now, and it’s been a revelation.

It turns out that the ‘On’ mode I’ve used in retail for years – the ability to read a room, hold space, and connect with people – is exactly what’s needed in the mental health sector.

Fred has been the driving force behind my upcoming career change. He’s helped me realize that my 20 years of survival aren’t just ‘baggage’ – they are a professional qualification.

He’s been coaching me on my CV and pushing me to apply for Lived Experience roles, adamant that I have exactly what the field needs. After a lifetime of being told my insights were weird, or just plain wrong, having a professional say “You are made for this” has changed everything.

Short Version Summary

I don’t need a partner to be whole.

This tribe helped me to find my own completeness, and helps to keep that wholeness true.

I’m no longer just surviving or marking time. I’m moving forward with a tribe that doesn’t require me to shrink – quite the opposite, they encourage me to keep that Vow – to be more. And more and more and more…

** For the curious, both Lena and mother told me that they had independently texted EH after he left, expressing sorrow for losing him from their lives and asking if he would meet for ‘one last coffee and hug’. The only reason they eventually told me they’d done this was to express their hurt to me about the fact he hadn’t responded to them.

I mean. Really. What the actual fuck?!

As you can see above, my true tribe gathered around me as a protective fortress, turning their backs on him and turning towards me.

That’s real.

That’s my blood is thicker people.

MUSIC OF THE DAY:

JP