Tumbled: A Memoir of Perseverance, Personal Growth & Magical Transformation

By Heather Wilde

A powerful collection of memories about codependency, budding sexuality, abuse, abandonment, introspection, and the need for a new identity. 

By the time Heather Wilde turned 37, the pieces of her life had crumbled. Relationships were shards of glass cutting from all angles. Her parents. Her friendships. Her ex-husband.

Leaving her abusive marriage was a necessary step, but feelings of unworthiness and codependency had her stuck living a miserable life.

Tossed and tumbled in her destructive cycle of relationships, body image issues, and feelings of being a victim kept catapulting her backward into the waves of unhappiness.

She took a long, hard look into the mirror and gazed at the common denominator: herself. She got trauma-therapy tattoos and shared a dance with her inner child. Then, it was time to start a new chapter.

Wilde uses her acquired fearlessness to share personal and unflinching stories about the moments that sent her tumbling and the self-awareness needed to break out of the bleak cycles. Tumbled powerfully captures the terrors, learnings, and joys of one young woman struggling to live a perfectly acceptable life.

 

• Language: English
• Publisher: REL Print Group
• Release date: Feb 13, 2023
• ISBN: 9798218149987

Heather Wilde

I decorate with tattoo ink and printer ink. What's your story? This book offers validation, hope, and encouragement if you have suffered from codependency, abuse, or abandonment. Maybe life has more downs than ups, or you keep hearing about a "mother wound," making you cringe. You can use real-life techniques to feel better - maybe even feel amazing! I invite you into my story. It isn't pretty, and I am fairly vulnerable, but writing and sharing it is the gift I offer. When we face our dragons and fight to move past them, real magic can take place. Heather Wilde is the author of her debut memoir, Tumbled. She is forever a teacher, writer, freelancer, speaker, and creative with easy access to the world’s largest freshwater lake with her three daughters and mini Goldendoodle. You can find her classes, coaching, tarot readings, and speaking opportunities online at www.WildeHouseOf.com or across the vast social media universe on Facebook, Instagram, or Pinterest, happily interacting with readers.

Book preview

TUMBLED

A Memoir of Perseverance,

Personal Growth & Magical

Transformation

Copyright © 2023 Heather Wilde Tumbled

First edition, February 2023

Duluth, MN 55804

Editorial Design & Artwork: Nooordic Creative Studio, www.nooordic.com

Photography: Jamie Fudally, www.fudallyphoto.com

Tumbled is copyright protection. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. Printed in the United States of America. All rights reserved.

ISBN: 979-8-218-14199-8

REL PRINT GROUP

Tumbled

Heather Wilde is a teacher, writer, freelancer, and creative who has easy access to the world’s largest freshwater lake with her three daughters and mini Goldendoodle, Arlo. You can find her classes, coaching, tarot readings, and speaking opportunities online at www.WildeHouseOf.com or across the vast social media universe on Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, or Pinterest, happily interacting with readers. Heather is the author of her debut memoir, Tumbled.

This book is a true account of the recollections and experiences of my life. I want to stress that this is my story and my story alone - no corroboration was done with the people who danced their way into this book because it isn’t their story. Also, the names and identifying characteristics of some people mentioned in this book have been changed to protect their privacy.

Content Warning: This book contains subject matter pertaining to emotional and sexual abuse.

Dultuh Minnesota

TUMBLED

A Memoir of Perseverance,

Personal Growth & Magical

Transformation

HEATHER WILDE

www.wildehouseof.com

Dedication

For my three daughters .

Independent Warrior Daughter, may you always lean into a life that brings you peace and joy. You walk this planet to lead with strength, yet always remember to soften into the divine young lady you are.

Musical Passion Spark Daughter, may your sprite-like playfulness become your Northern Star and leave behind the trail of tears and stresses. You are here to be a light and to remind others to hum their tune without reservation.

Fierce Little Angel. Oh, my little love. You needed a reference to help you understand the journey you have been a part of with glorious ignorance. You entered this life to be my Spirit Guide, and I watch you offer blessings to everyone that shares your sacred space.

XOXO Momma Bear

"There is no greater agony than

bearing an untold story inside you."

– Maya Angelo,

Why the Caged Bird Sings

Table of Contents

Prologue

A Narrated Childhood

Before 2000

Before 2012

Before 2018

Before 2020

Before 2021

Before May 2021

Epilogue

Acknowledgments

About The Author

Prologue

Ionce had a run-in with royalty.

During my Minnesota teaching years, I wove myself into the hearty, traditional fabric of the teachers’ union. As their influence diminished across the country, I took pride in representing my colleagues and the profession. Our neighboring state of Wisconsin had just removed the power of organized unions with Act 10 under the leadership of Scott Walker in 2015. Minnesota was passionate yet panicked to hold onto the unity and strength as long as possible. Often it felt like we were the underdog, as a career and bargaining unit, yearning for validation.

I tended to have a louder spirit and personality at union meetings. I came to provide laughs and lightheartedness, sometimes my voice taking center stage. I felt a leader needed to stand out with a presence; I wondered how much of this was the honest Heather and how much was an act. Regardless, I went so far as to wear fancy Kentucky Derby-style hats primarily for entertainment purposes.

A fellow educator and I were standing in the hallway at a union training session, joined by many teachers from the area. Gloria liked my hats, and she was pretty eccentric herself. We had been friends from a neighboring school district for a handful of years; we both taught high school English, and we always laughed through some of the intensity that came up during our union meetings.

Out of the blue, she asked me, Do you believe in life after death? Say what? When had our friendship catapulted into that realm of conversation? I awkwardly stumbled through a vague answer. I implied I was open to possibilities as a non-answer.

She smiled and added, I believe in a previous life you held great power. . .like a countess. I can see it.

Nobody had ever spoken to me about anything resembling a past life or a countess. What was she saying? While my mind reeled to process, my body spoke a different language. It responded without prompting.

Ah...look at your reaction. That tells your truth.

I was still speechless, and my tears ran wild. I was mildly embarrassed, very perplexed, and seriously uncomfortable.

Our conversation ended just as quickly as it had started, and she shared her morsel of truth, In a former life, I was the Princess and the Pea from the fairy tale.

I had lived a sheltered, stuffed-in-a-box life. Her admission about being THE Princess and the Pea gave me an easy out. Metaphorically, Gloria had lost me, and I could walk away convinced she was nuts. That way, I didn’t have to analyze my thoughts and ridiculous tears.

I poked fun at Gloria and this story a handful of times in the upcoming years, with it always drawing a resounding laugh from my audience. There was comfort in being a part of the norm and sharing a chuckle over such a ridiculous story, yet deep down, I felt like I was betraying someone who had offered me a gift.

A Narrated Childhood

Creative entitlement simply means believing that you are allowed to be here and that - merely by being here - you are allowed to have a voice and a vision of your own.

– Elizabeth Gilbert, Big Magic: Creative Living Beyond Fear

∙∙

I’m here to tell you a story about a small-town, curly-haired girl who landed on this planet and floundered for a while before eventually finding her place. Her childhood doesn’t hold any sensational stories, but there’s just something about her adult journey that’s a little different than many other humans walking the planet. It goes beyond her crazy hair and tattoos. You can be your own judge as you digest her story. However, I will say she is pretty freaking brave to pen and publish some of this stuff. As for me, I am just her lowly childhood narrator, trying to make a buck, buy some new shoes, and shed some light on the early parts of her story before she tells you the rest of it.

Heather’s childhood looks like Norman Rockwell and Mary Englebright shacked up in the backwoods of Minnesota and had a baby. As a child of the 70s and 80s, she appeared to be cared for, fed, and provided with the societal necessities of life, including those stylish colored corduroy pants sets and Kangaroo tennis shoes. She grew up lower-middle class and had experience with food stamps and powdered milk, but she didn’t know any better. Now as an adult, she still has a strong aversion to kidney bean goulash. Yuck!

Around the same time her younger sister, Ann, came into the world, economic hardship hit the country with the 1980 recession. Her dad was a real Grizzly Adams-type, so when he got laid off from the mine, he worked hard to pay their mortgage and bills. He sold his canoe, trapped beavers for their pelts, tied fish eggs for the local bait store, and cultivated wild rice from our northern waters with her uncle. What an outdoorsman! Little Heather sat beside him in their musty basement and got her fingers right into the bowl of salted fish eggs, scooping them into a tiny mesh cloth before tying it closed with bright-colored yarn. How much money do you think they got paid for selling fish eggs? It’s not like it was caviar.

Once Heather’s Mother got a full-time job at the local county building, finances got a little easier. But, oh, Mother was a tough cookie! That 5’2" German woman had a presence, although I wouldn’t say it was as a natural-born leader. Shirley hated working a full-time job and dragged her feet every single day. Her boss’s name was Rose, and Mother was never short of grievances after a day at work. Rose had high expectations that must have pressured Mother, so she made her boss sound like a born-again witch. I hate to laugh, but when Heather was around ten, Rose called to talk to Mother.

Heather bounced up to answer the phone, turned, and announced, Mom, that old hag, Rose, is on the phone for you.

Do you think Heather learned those manners in Sunday School class? Boy, did Mother send out the stink eye before grabbing the phone out of Heather’s hand. That poor little girl was announcing that her allegiances were with Mother, but Heather got a lecture about manners and phone etiquette. The real lesson coming her way was that she shouldn’t repeat the negativities spoken within the walls of her home. Unfortunately, that was a rule she had to stick to often in the upcoming years.

When most little kids were running around on the playground or throwing rocks, not our little Heather . That girl was boy-crazy coming out of the womb, I swear! It’s almost like she wanted a boy to ride up on a white horse and carry her off into the sunset. Sadly, she yearned for love and nurturing as early as kindergarten. Her heart was already craving something more at age six. I think she had a crush on a boy named Jason. Or was it, Scot? You have to feel bad for that little peanut. Children should feel carefree and full of wonder, not worried about finding a boy to fill the gaps in their hearts.

I must admit that there were many shoulds in Heather’s childhood. Mother had a lot of expectations and rules that took priority. She learned how to be conscientious about her toys and organization, cleanliness around the house, budgeting and money, and the importance of practicing organized religion, to name a few. Mother embraced life with caution: cover a public toilet seat with paper every time, don’t kiss on the lips, watch for changing weather patterns, and we obviously need to calculate menstrual cycles far in advance! Undoubtedly, Heather had life painted as one big, scary world waiting to turn against her. She had all sense of curiosity knocked straight out of her, and adventure was purely ludicrous.

Heather’s extended family was a significant part of her life growing up, and why wouldn’t they be when they could fill a small auditorium? She had both sets of grandparents, 14 aunt and uncle pairs, and around 45 first cousins (does it matter after 30?) within spitting distance, besides the ones that had moved away. Damn! That’s a lot of grandkids!

The two families definitely had distinctive vibes, but Heather loved the different family events because there was usually good food and playtime with cousins. She and Ann stayed at Grandma and Grandpa’s every summer for a week. Heather didn’t even know how lucky they were all those evenings when Grandpa loaded them in the car for moose runs down the backroads of Isabella, Minnesota. No wonder she still considers the moose one of her spirit animals; they are so darn majestic!

As Heather’s childhood years passed, Mother’s needs and demands became more recognizable. Are you kidding me? They were hard to miss! Her dad and Mother always seemed to be discussing the messy family dynamics within range of her ears, and Heather couldn’t understand why and how her dad’s family could make Mother feel so horribly!

Heather dreaded the mood swings, but mostly when those looks of unhappiness appeared on Mother’s face because of something she had (or hadn’t) done. Little Heather learned to sense Mother’s spirit at a young age by watching her body language or feeling the energy in the air. It became a habit for Heather to try to stay two steps ahead of any off-setting situation. Sadly, it was no secret that the actions of others played a huge impact on Mother’s overall peace, and Heather knew she didn’t want to be a part of the problem. Damn! No wonder Heather struggled with co-dependency most of her life; she grew up believing she was responsible for others’ feelings and happiness. She’d even mirror Mother’s energy because it was simply unavoidable. Heavy.

∙∙

The minute Heather became good at sensing the emotions of others around her, deep compassion bubbled up inside of her. She became sensitive, even intuitive, to people and events around her, which created a lot of noise in her head. She’s not paying me for my opinion, but I personally think that’s how she got lost. She didn’t have space to hear or worry about her own needs; she was so damn concerned with everyone else. She even tucked in her dolls and stuffed animals at night, ensuring each felt cared for and safe. She was a little nurturer; if only she could have directed some of that love inward! Then, only hours later in the night, she’d be rocked by nightmares. She’d be sitting in bed, frozen in fear, like she sensed beings swirling or some invisible pressure in the room. Poor little thing! She’d get so agitated trying to break free until she’d finally dart downstairs to her parents.

Go back to sleep. It was only a dream, they said.

It sure seemed more traumatic than just being a dream to me!

∙∙

Heather and her sister, Ann, had five years between them, but it sure seemed like a lot more. As only siblings, it is surprising that they weren’t closer. Sure, they played board games and built forts in the woods, but there always seemed to be a rift between them that prevented a deeper bond. Heather definitely got annoyed with her little sister and often used a holier-than-thou voice on Ann, but I could see something was still missing between them.

When they were younger, they often prayed before bed. Another should. But that stubborn little Heather resisted praying for her sister.

Reciting her prayer it often ended with, God bless mom and dad and our dog and cat...(pregnant pause), and I suppose Ann.

Damn, Girl! Where’s the love? What was so uncomfortable about loving on your little sister?

∙∙

Finally, a special best-friend bond came Heather’s way when a new Baptist preacher moved into town. His daughter got placed in her 4th-grade class and became fast buds. A whole new magical world of sleepovers, giggles, and independence opened up for her. Heather dove headfirst into church with her new Preacher’s Kid (PK) BFF, Jodi, which suited her just fine. She rekindled the religious movement within her immediate family, and everyone started being more purposeful about attending this Baptist church.

Oh, I have to tell this Mother’s Day story. Dang, this had to be a difficult day in their household because it made my skin prickle. This Mother’s Day in 1987, they didn’t greet Mother with breakfast, flowers, or jewelry. Not even a card was ready that morning as they ate the warm blueberry muffins (made by Mother) and cereal at the table. And then they knew - they had forgotten Mother’s Day. Damn. It is safe to say that the breakfast was paused, although not too many words were spoken by anyone around the table. That’s the thing; the more upset Mother was, the fewer words came out. Her body language said enough. Now, in Heather’s defense, she wasn’t even old enough to have a job yet. Ann wasn’t old enough to even understand money. This year, their dad hadn’t made it a priority for whatever reason, and it simply slipped everyone’s mind...until it didn’t.

Heather didn’t just feel guilty for hurting Mother on this Mother’s Day; she truly felt toxic shame that she had failed. There is a big difference in how we carry that level of pain in our heart, soul, and body and whether or not we can release it and forgive ourselves. Heather held onto this shame well into adulthood, and this event simply stripped another layer of her self-worth and a craving to do better and try harder to receive love.

It’s easy to see how badly Heather needed an escape, so it is no surprise she started hiding her nose within the pages of books. You would often find her tucked into a corner or under covers with a flashlight, transporting herself into the magical worlds and relationships outside Two Harbors, MN. Heather spent her babysitting earnings on books and bookmarks. She feverishly digested The Bobbsey Twins, The Babysitters Club, Choose Your Own Adventures, and Little House on the Prairie before heading deeper waters with Go Ask Alice, Sweet Valley High, and the works of Judy Blume. Anywhere she went, she knew how to escape. I feel like applauding her right now!

∙∙

Growing into her pre-teen and teen years had the typical struggles, and most of Heather’s were about her body’s imperfections and continued efforts to keep everyone happy. Mother purchased this hideous posture straightener in 8th grade that forced her shoulders back. The thing looked like a dingy, old lady’s bra! That poor girl felt humiliated having to wear it and change in the gym locker rooms. I don’t blame her, and I wouldn’t have wanted to wear it, either! Heather acquired nervous habits, too, including chewing her cheeks and scratching her head habitually. The more Mother told her to smile prettier with those straight teeth, the harder it got to be natural. I think she was fairly self-conscious and had plenty of nerves. Who wouldn’t? Mother makes ME nervous.

Now we come to the juicy stuff when Heather starts making some dandy real-world choices, like boyfriends, jobs, and college. Quite honestly, this is when the real roller coaster ride begins, so I can’t blame her for being protective of the rest of her story. She took many left turns, set many dumpster fires, took one for the team, landed on her ass, climbed another mountain, and slayed a monstrous dragon - you get the picture. I commend this woman for being so vulnerable and transparent because she is about to share the pieces of her life, and not everyone is brave enough to do that. She has her reasons, and I am convinced that they are pure. So, I humbly bow out and pass the microphone over to her. I give you Ms. Heather Wilde.

Before 2000

Trust that your wounds are exactly as the universe planned. They were divinely placed in your life in the perfect order so that you could show up for them with love and remember the light within.

– Gabby Bernstein, The Universe Has Your Back: Transform Fear to Faith

∙∙

I was the girl that always got caught when I broke any rules. Either I sucked at lying, or I had one overly uptight guardian angel always turning me in to the authorities. I only skipped ONE HOUR of high school the entire four years - and I got caught. Mr. D was an advisor for the Science Team, and he wrote me a pass to leave the school grounds to practice my orienteering skills on the football field. I brought along one of my best friends, Sarah. Once we left the school, our plans changed, and we sidestepped to her boyfriend’s house. We met a bunch of other high schoolers there who skipped the whole day, hanging out in some sort of alternative universe where school was not a priority. After we visited for around 30 minutes, Sarah and I left and started walking back to school.

Sarah was my adventurous friend and danced in a completely alien world, filled with boys and parties and a lot less worry about rules. Showing up at her boyfriend’s house made me feel like an out-of-character badass, and I liked it. However, that rebel was quickly placed back in line within a few minutes when one of our teachers spotted us off campus.

Mr. N’s gym class also walked back to school from the baseball fields and saw us.

They chanted, Skippers! You’re in trouble!

Sarah and I had walked down one of the busiest roads in town, not thinking to hide, or maybe we just didn’t care. Or perhaps I sucked at breaking the rules. The Dean of Students met us in the hallway when we arrived. I was treading in unfamiliar waters and essentially crapping my pants, while Sarah didn’t seem ruffled at all. Mr. S brought us into his office and stated that we were in trouble and that he would call our parents. I had NEVER been in trouble, never had a phone call home, and completely forgot how to breathe. Mr. S dialed Sarah’s number first and discussed our insubordination with her mom. When it came to my turn, I lied and told him my mom was on lunch break, which she wasn’t, but I was