Wednesday, June 29, 2011

Distaste and Discomfort

Susan Kingsley-Smith said, "Those who express distaste and discomfort at the reality of others experiences exhibit their judgement of themselves and their need to maintain status quo for their own world to feel safe. Acknowledging the wounds of others requires compassion for oneself."

When I saw this quote on Susan's wall I knew I had to blog it because it perfectly fit where I am right now. Wonderfully, my friend Darlene at Emerging From Broken also has a post today that also fits so well with this. When you are done here please visit her and Susan either on Facebook or at their blogs!

Distaste and discomfort - those two words were almost guiding principals in the world I grew up. Woe to you for causing either to someone in our family or circle of rat you out in an instant friends. People would get that twisted mouth and narrow down their eyes and you'd be in for big trouble!

Compassion is for all, regardless of size
or how important we think we or they are.

And what was this big crime that was committed? Usually it was a simple as not doing or being what someone else wanted you to do or be. Be a good pre-teen cocktail waitress at this party. Be a quiet worker. Be someone's kicking, yelling or belittling target. But for goodness sake keep your mouth shut!. You could be on fire but don't you dare tell anyone that someone set that fire!

Flash forward to today...distaste and discomfort once again.  I'm doing it again!  I'm not shutting up!  I'm making people uncomfortable.  I'm even being 'unfriended' over telling my own truth!  I'm not putting up signs or billboards with photos.  I'm writing. I'm speaking up.  I'm telling my truth, in my voice for the first time in my life. 

But if someone telling their own truth causes someone such discomfort and distaste it begs the question - what un-looked at, un-examined things are lurking under their smooth surface?  If they don't want to see what is open in my life maybe it really is because they don't want to lose the magic of their denial.  How sad.  

You would silence me and stifle my healing because of your own lack of voice and lack of healing!  Things are so small in your world that you would rather walk away from my wounds,  feeling righteous before facing your own?  

When we can see our own wounding and understand it, then we can start healing.   With healing comes compassion and understanding, with that comes a special kind of courage that lets us reach through the veil of hurt to hold the hand, heart and words of another who is on their own healing path.  We can live through the scars of surviving.  We can burst through to happiness.

It is a choice!

You can choose to be gentle with yourself and let yourself heal.  But that means actually acknowledging the wounding.  You can choose to push it all down and away and in so doing you can crush your own ability to have compassion and caring because you won't grant it yourself, you cannot grant it to others.  

By choosing to deny the knife in your back you say you cannot help because your back hurts.  By choosing to be full of distaste and discomfort you deny your self the blessings of healing and grace.  

We have to face the good with the bad, they are a package deal.  I cannot figure out a way to have good memories without the bad ones coming along and destroying the party.  I remembered my prized possessions for a short time - pink satin pillow cases my grandma made.  I loved them.  I thought I loved them enough.  

But soon enough that memory is dragged away with the memory that comes after.  The one where I'm not worthy, not good enough, so bad that I don't deserve nice pillow cases.  And in my tears I write a note, childish scrawl, and attach it to the pillow cases as I give them back.  I'm not worthy.  I wrote it down. I admitted it.  I was sure they were right.

There was no compassion, no second chances.  No chance to try again.  In my world now, full of chaos and healing, I almost feel badly for them in their small world of status quo and pointing fingers at those people.  Us people.  Us healing people who won't shut up. Us healing people who won't whitewash, bury, rename or redress in new clothes the rotting collection of lies and snare line that trapped us for so long.

I want to be able to really touch someone and have them feel the compassion and the love.  I want to celebrate healing, I want to cheer on advocates, I want to be the cRaZy whoot whoot woman on the sidelines as we race once more just to feel the wind on our faces and the sun on our backs!  Never too much or too little - just right because we just are.

Monday, June 20, 2011

I wish you knew

There are things that you don't know.
Things you've never taken the time to hear.
There are things that I wish you knew.
You won't though,
 because they would require
 getting to know me again
and I'm different now.

So very different. 
I'm healing.
I'm more
than the old scars
and wounds.

I'm  putting the pieces together
and they are making
something really cool. 
They are making me!

Some days though
there are things
I wished you knew.

I wish you knew,
the choices you make
are your own but their price
was paid  by me.
Sometimes paid for years.

I wish you knew,
the times of waiting
for your approval
are long gone.

Life is for living,
Living is what we are doing.
Fully with every breath.
Following hearts,
Living in laughter.

I wish you knew,
I don't fear the phone calls
because I don't fear you.
I don't fear your rage.
I don't fear your games.

I wish you knew,
how much he wanted
to just know you and love you.
You gave that up.
Your choice. Again.

You gave up so much,
and you feel so full.
How can that be?
I'd rather be empty of stuff
and be full of loving and life.

I'm not sorry for speaking up.
I'm not sorry for speaking out.
I wasn't wrong then.
I'm not wrong now.
My choices I live with.
I think of their price, and
carry their weight.

I wish you knew, but
I don't think you care.
You demand respect.
I want it to be earned.
You want your white walls.
I'm tired of coverings.

I wish you knew me.
I wish you knew them.
I wish you knew us.
But you won't.
Your choice.
I can live with that.
I can. I am. I do.

Wednesday, June 15, 2011

Leave It Alone

Leave it Alone

Leave it well enough alone.
Don't talk about it.
Don't embarrass us.
Don't cry, or I'll give you
something to cry about.

Who do you think you are?
Stirring things up.
Trouble maker.
Don't look at me that way.
Don't talk, or you'll be
sorry you said anything.

No one will believe you.
It was a compliment.
It doesn't happen to good girls,
so why did it happen to you?
I told you so.
Don't look at me that way,
or I'll make you sorry.

Why can't you just get along?
Leave it well enough alone.
Don't stir things up.
Don't cause a fuss.
That's how it is,
nothing you can do about it.

It's in the past, long gone.
Let it go. Forget it.
You don't remember.
You got it wrong.
You are a liar. 
We know what is best,
and you don't.

Echoes in my head.
Burning my ears.
Cheeks red from shame.
Eyes swollen from crying.
Stomach aches.
Arms twitch.

I pray. I cry. I am healing.
Learning to laugh.
Learning to play.
Learning it is okay to be wrong.
Learning it is okay to be.

Undoing the twisted mess.
Finding knots with no ends.
Finding truths in the lies.
Finding me in the mess.
Finding me.

Respect doesn't come
to a raised fist.
Love doesn't come
to an angry heart.
Trust doesn't come
to a betraying spirit.

Healing comes to wounds
when hearts come out of hiding.
Hearts come out when
they find a safe place.
Everyone needs a safe place.
Not everyone does.

Monday, June 6, 2011

Forgiving to freedom

My response to a post on Emerging from Broken: "Forgiveness, for me, is the process of letting go of the people who choose to either abuse or remain silent or both. It is letting go of the hurt I’ve held on to because I thought it was mine. It is letting go of the implied and expressed obligations to them to answer calls, attend functions, to ‘follow their rules’. It is surrendering myself to God for the healing journey and getting rid of the stuff I don’t want to pack with me – namely them and their stuff! That is forgiveness to me. It is not excusing or explaining or making it go away, it is freeing up my voice, my life and letting me finally be as I was meant to be. Scars and all. If I say to them, “I forgive you.” I am also saying, “I don’t excuse you, I don’t want a relationship with you unless there is healing.” Forgiving is letting them go for God to deal with, and I have faith that He will."

I think I might expand upon that a bit here as well.  Or perhaps wax poetic.

Forgiveness is not for you.
It is a gift to me.
It gives me the freedom to heal.

Forgiveness is not about you.
It is about me.
It gives me the freedom to release you.

Forgiveness is not about you.
It is about me letting go of the hurt.
It gives me the freedom to let you carry your weight alone.

Forgiveness is not about you.
It is about me walking my own walk,
It gives me the freedom to carry my own load.

Forgiveness is not about you.
It is about me.
It gives me the freedom to leave you, your stuff, behind.

Forgiveness is not about you.
It is about me.
It is about me finding my way out from under you.

Forgiveness is not about you.
It is about me.
It is my gift to healing, my song to sing.

Forgiveness is not about you.
It is about me.
It is not an obligation, a requirement, a relationship.
It is forgiveness.

That is all...