tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-61056343131648054612024-03-13T20:11:44.615-07:00Scarred-SeekerUnknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger58125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6105634313164805461.post-38167349712054146002020-08-18T08:49:00.006-07:002020-08-18T08:50:31.689-07:00Where were you?<p> <i>It's been a while, and that's okay. If you are still here - thanks for sticking around! If you are new I'll try to keep this little patch of poetic weeds watered with some salty tears and dark humor.</i></p><p><i>This is a long one, and before you get excited about arguing it or defending someone you think you see remember this: We all can be there, but that's a choice. Grief, losing someone isn't easy. It's not comfortable. It's not supposed to be. Neither is the work of being a present friend - don't wait for wise words or powerful actions, just show up. Be quiet, offer a hug and some coffee, a flower or a smile. Being there is the key - nothing else. And you won't be comfortable. You shouldn't be. </i></p><p><i>_____________________________________________________________________________________</i></p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><b><span lang="" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Where
were you?</span></b><span lang="" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Where were
you when the hearts were breaking?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">When the
tears were falling, and the fears loomed large?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Where were
you when the presence of a friend<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Would have
been a gift more valued than gold?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Where were
you when it was uncomfortable and messy?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Whose tears
did you brush away, who did you comfort?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Oh WAIT! I
know! You were anywhere BUT there.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">It was
uncomfortable. It was hard. It wasn’t something<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">You wanted
to do. Something YOU didn’t WANT to do.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Huh. Guess
what? NO ONE wanted to be THERE!<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">It wasn’t
comfortable for ANYONE! It shouldn’t be!<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Where were
you when your friends were broken hearted?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><i><span lang="" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Off and
away where it wasn’t messy or hard or uncomfortable.<o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Where were
you when we were cleaning wounds with tears?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Where were
you when we were speaking love to memories of the dead?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><i><span lang="" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Hiding
out in your comfortable away place.<o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><i><span lang="" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Hiding
out from those who needed you.<o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><i><span lang="" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">You were
busy. You were doing important things.<o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">So, we sat
with our pain, washed in our tears and held our own hands.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">We took
comfort in the few who were brave enough to be present.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">I know you
CARE. I think you think you TRIED. But did you?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Was your
BUSY so important? Was it something you can even remember?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">How was it
in our loss that instead of drawing near you too left us?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">We stood as
tall as we could, tears washing down, and missing comfort.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Comforting
others in their pain, being present in the messy. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">I’ve been
busy with the dying, the dead, the living and the grieving.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><i><span lang="" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">I need
to know…<o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">How did
your faith get represented in the pain of your friends?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><i><span lang="" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">But you
weren’t there.<o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Who heard
your testimony of presence in grief?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><i><span lang="" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">But you
didn’t say anything.<o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Was there a
lesson in being present in the lowest places?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><i><span lang="" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">But you
weren’t there.<o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Is your
silence ‘giving us space to heal’ or is it uncomfortable guilt?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><i><span lang="" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Where
were you, my brothers and sisters?<o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Or do you
feel justified in your distance? Righteous to be above it all?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><i><span lang="" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Are you
so holy and above us all that you truly can skip grief?<o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">And you,
you shepherd to the easy flock, what about you?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">You had no
comforting words, no prayers to speak over us.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Your
religion kept you where the money greased your palms<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">And the
right people sang the right verses to your favorite hymns.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">You only
asked one who spoke for everyone, and no one at all.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">For you
there is less than contempt, less than indifference. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">For you the
dust from my sandals is shaken and the path beckons.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Those who
were there in the ugly crying, the angry sobs bless us.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><i><span lang="" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Thank
you.<o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Those who
listened to the hurt and offered silent love bless us.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><i><span lang="" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Thank
you and you.<o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Those who
showed up, sat quietly and shared tears bless us.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><i><span lang="" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">And you,
you know how much you helped, don’t you?<o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Those who
stood by, near and far, in silent love bless us.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><i><span lang="" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Thank
you.<o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Those who
patiently rode the waves of sadness bless us.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><i><span lang="" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Thank
you.<o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Those who
heard the dark humor, the memories bless us.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><i><span lang="" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Thank
you. You got it. <o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Do one
thing, if you have come this far, just ONE THING.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Be present.
In the hurt. The mess. The pain. Be there.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Dance in
the storm, hold hands in the hurt, wipe the tears.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">BE THERE.
Don’t flinch. Don’t look for easy or comfortable.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Be brave
and present. Pray without words, with sighs.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">You can’t
heal this. I can’t either. But together, maybe…<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Just maybe
we can come through it like a stormy night.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Messed up,
banged up but better for it. Together. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">And maybe
together we can learn to forgive ourselves.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">And forgive
them too, for no one earns grace.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="" style="font-size: 9pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Copyright Shanyn Silinski 2020</span></p><i></i><p></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6105634313164805461.post-67763561328621877072013-01-07T14:07:00.001-08:002013-01-07T14:07:34.628-08:00You don't know me<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-DEs3RjloFsM/UOtFXRzJKyI/AAAAAAAACcg/tbNWf63GaIk/s1600/_DSC0013.NEF.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="256" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-DEs3RjloFsM/UOtFXRzJKyI/AAAAAAAACcg/tbNWf63GaIk/s320/_DSC0013.NEF.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
You don't know me.<br />
You thought you did.<br />
You don't.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
These scars I've earned.</div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
Those bridges I burned.</div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
The living and being alive.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
You don't know me.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
I don't know if you can.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Do I care?</div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
Storms ridden out.</div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
Cloud's lining silver found.</div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
I'm here still. Made it.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
You don't care to know.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
You didn't then, don't now.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Good by me.</div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
Laughing at a false face.</div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
Saw through you too!</div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
Don't waste my time.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
You don't judge me.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Not your right, then or now.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Don't waste my time.</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6105634313164805461.post-34398203523816018862012-06-01T04:07:00.002-07:002012-06-01T04:07:30.799-07:00Shake it off...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-u_ZvPCZOuKg/T8ifog2wMgI/AAAAAAAABl8/PGl57KoZ_HM/s1600/_DSC0006.NEF.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="242" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-u_ZvPCZOuKg/T8ifog2wMgI/AAAAAAAABl8/PGl57KoZ_HM/s320/_DSC0006.NEF.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
I keep diving in. Conversations. Wishes. Dreams.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Seeking your notice. Your approval. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Your interest. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
I can't help but wonder why I seek this?</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
It only hurts me. Even when I keep my</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Expectations so low that your being</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
conscious is a victory.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
I'm up to my neck in wanting you to care.</div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YpR1b1FIP6A/T8ifsuJD82I/AAAAAAAABmE/kf5e3OtINns/s1600/_DSC0007.NEF.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="234" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YpR1b1FIP6A/T8ifsuJD82I/AAAAAAAABmE/kf5e3OtINns/s320/_DSC0007.NEF.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
I think it is time to shake it off!</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
I think I am done actively trying.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Done with the wanting, the wishing.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
I'm done hoping too.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
It is time to shake it off. Shake you off.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Like water.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Like dust.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Like dried blood and dreams.</div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-WuGWqTfyvnY/T8if1OYAeVI/AAAAAAAABmM/vNyGqROK62c/s1600/_DSC0008.NEF.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="226" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-WuGWqTfyvnY/T8if1OYAeVI/AAAAAAAABmM/vNyGqROK62c/s320/_DSC0008.NEF.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Time to leave you with the echoes of my prayers.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
And your own selfish ways.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Your desire to be important</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
has robbed you of being</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
included in our lives.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
And you don't even notice.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
And you don't care.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Maybe someday.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Or maybe not.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
You choose</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
not me.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<i>Copyright 2012, Shanyn Silinski</i></div>
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6105634313164805461.post-19880470189751942012012-02-06T13:15:00.000-08:002012-02-07T12:24:13.301-08:00Let's keep talking<div class="MsoNormal"><b>Let’s Keep Talking About Bullying<o:p></o:p></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><br />
</b></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-kNSOunmwXrY/TzBCZZIKIdI/AAAAAAAABa4/cwjNe5WXzJw/s1600/BOOK+COVER-black-grey.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-kNSOunmwXrY/TzBCZZIKIdI/AAAAAAAABa4/cwjNe5WXzJw/s320/BOOK+COVER-black-grey.jpg" width="207" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><br />
</b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I am honored to be guest posting on Scarred Seeker, after finding the post about getting discussion going about bullying.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Yes! We must get discussion going, I so agree…and we must guide this process so that the discussion is not laden with “would’ve, could’ve and should’ve”, but rather with proactive language and plans. It’s not that hard!</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">We WILL…find out what bullying prevention plan are school is using, and how they are using it!</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">We WILL…support our schools by teaching positive social skills, friendship skills and communication skills to our children.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">We WILL…enrich our own lives and happiness by taking the things we are teaching our children and use them ourselves!</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">We WILL…understand that when another child uses a bully action on our loved one, both of the participants are children.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">We WILL…set boundaries with people in our life and show our children how to send the message that I must be treated with respect!</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">We WILL….TALK!<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><b><div style="text-align: center;"><b><i><span style="color: #990000;">"What is the one thing that YOU will do right away to help with the bullying issue?" </span></i></b></div></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #990000;"><b><i>Please feel free to share in comments and we'll get the conversation started right here!</i></b></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Please, sign up for our No Such Thing as a Bully newsletter at <a href="http://nosuchthingasabully.com/">http://nosuchthingasabully.com</a> to receive a link to the<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> <i>“ <span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; line-height: 12px; text-align: left; white-space: pre-wrap;">The Almost Book: </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; line-height: 12px; text-align: left; white-space: pre-wrap;">Almost 50 Things </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; line-height: 12px; text-align: left; white-space: pre-wrap;">That Almost Anyone Can Do </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; line-height: 12px; text-align: left; white-space: pre-wrap;">About Almost Any Kind Of Bullying"</span> </i></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">It’s not really about finding the “right” thing or the “best” thing to do. It’s just about doing something…and that includes talking.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-oW7xI_b4o-E/TzBCUqfjUCI/AAAAAAAABaw/tUD_Bwxn26g/s1600/kelly+pepsi+headshot+2010.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-oW7xI_b4o-E/TzBCUqfjUCI/AAAAAAAABaw/tUD_Bwxn26g/s1600/kelly+pepsi+headshot+2010.jpg" /></a><i>Kelly Karius is the co-author of “No Such Thing as a Bully”, a program intended to move away from the traditional labeling solutions that have been used in the past, to a full school, community and family solution. More information found at <a href="http://nosuchthingasabully.com/">http://nosuchthingasabully.com</a> </i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">You can also connect at Facebook here <a href="https://www.facebook.com/bully.stakeout">https://www.facebook.com/bully.stakeout</a> and here <a href="https://www.facebook.com/pages/No-Such-Thing-As-A-Bully/111359168901914">https://www.facebook.com/pages/No-Such-Thing-As-A-Bully/111359168901914</a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6105634313164805461.post-39778945216723837672012-02-02T14:55:00.000-08:002012-02-02T14:55:28.956-08:00Living with BulliesIt breaks my heart. So many people I know and care about are <i style="font-weight: bold;">living with bullies</i> in their lives. In their homes. Their church. Their families. <i style="font-weight: bold;">They think they have to accept that.</i> It makes me so sad. <br />
<br />
They don't know they don't have to accept bullies in their lives. They don't want to face that they have allowed bullies to continue to be in their lives. They fear to face the thought that those bullies are teaching a new generation of bullies and are wounding those who can't stand up to them. <i style="font-weight: bold;"> They live in fear. </i><br />
<i style="font-weight: bold;"><br />
</i><br />
We talk about bullies in school. We talk about bullies in the work place. <b><i>What about those in church? What about those on TV? What about those who sit at our table for breakfast?</i></b><br />
<b><i><br />
</i></b><br />
Who is talking about those bullies? (<i>hey...notice that resounding silence? Yeah I did too!)</i><br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
We are going to be! <i style="font-weight: bold;">Scarred Seeker is taking on the bullies!</i> We are going to talk about stopping the bullying. Speaking up and showing our kids that as adults we aren't going to be bullies and <b><i>we are not going to be bullied!</i></b><br />
<b><i><br />
</i></b><br />
Won't you join me?Unknownnoreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6105634313164805461.post-5283830083257944512012-01-17T08:41:00.000-08:002012-01-17T08:41:31.460-08:00It is a trust thingIt is a trust thing.<br />
<br />
<i style="font-weight: bold;">I can hear you saying, "No! Really? Wow...so what's new?"</i> and yes I'd normally agree that this isn't quite the earth shaking announcement it could be. But this really is shattering for me. <b><i>And after you are done reading perhaps a bit rattling for you as well.</i></b><br />
<b><i><br />
</i></b><br />
My son is studying jujitsu, <i style="font-weight: bold;">it is a class for little guys to learn about being safe</i> and it is about <i style="font-weight: bold;">not being bullied or being a bully.</i> It is about sticking up for not only yourself <i style="font-weight: bold;">but others as well.</i> <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-4J6aX_wsydA/TxWkRV-D-aI/AAAAAAAABX0/pMgo4fG9RRw/s1600/DSC_0193.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-4J6aX_wsydA/TxWkRV-D-aI/AAAAAAAABX0/pMgo4fG9RRw/s320/DSC_0193.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<br />
The children <i style="font-weight: bold;">trust each other</i> and you can see it when they practice and play together.They trust their sensei too. He shows them, he teaches them. <i style="font-weight: bold;">Everyone is included.</i> They understand the sublime message of truly learning this martial art - <i style="font-weight: bold;">when you are in class you can trust your partners, your sensei, your training.</i> By learning that trust there, where it is safe, you can use your skills with confidence outside of class.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><i style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="color: #990000;">That is not what shattered me though. That is just an observation to set the scene.</span></i> </div><br />
We arrived early yesterday to class and got to observe Sensei training with another practitioner. They were working on holds. <b><i>Choke holds. Neck holds.</i></b><br />
<b><i><br />
</i></b><br />
I overheard them talking and started to realize there were only two ways out of the holds if both people were equally skilled. <i style="font-weight: bold;">One you pass out and the other person lets you go because they won. Two you tap them and they let you go.</i><br />
<br />
The trust is in the tap. <i><b>They could feel the hold, they dissected it and they talked about it. I watched, they were putting it all into doing those holds right. You knew it was right when you saw the tap.</b></i> Then the one doing the hold let go. He stopped immediately.<br />
<br />
There I am, <i style="font-weight: bold;">a Mama and survivor</i>, and I'm shaking. My heart is racing. My hands are sweaty. I'm thinking <i style="font-weight: bold;">I could never do this. I can't trust like that.</i> There is a real trust there. Something that is fundamental to the art. <br />
<br />
<i style="font-weight: bold;">I want to take his women's self defense class next month. I want to try. For my friends who are coming. For the person I trust to teach my son. For myself. I don't know if I can do it.</i> <br />
<br />
I tried talking to my husband about how I feel. But I didn't really get to the trust part, I was still stuck back in the <i style="font-weight: bold;">automatic self preservation mode</i> explanation. But after seeing J and M working on the holds together I started to understand.<b><i> It is the trust I need to work on. </i></b><br />
<b><i><br />
</i></b><br />
<i style="font-weight: bold;">Trust people inside my zone. Trust people to put their hands on me to teach me. Not to hurt me. To teach me. </i>I need to trust them enough so I can let my guard down so I can learn. Letting the guard down means really being in the moment, being present there and now. <i style="font-weight: bold;">Not in the past where I learned to break free and stay free of holds.</i> Nor in the future when I might need to do so again. I need to be present, there fully, and be able to <b><i>trust and learn.</i></b><br />
<b><i><br />
</i></b><br />
I'll keep you posted, see how this part of the journey goes. For the Scarred Seeker is still scarred and she is still seeking...Unknownnoreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6105634313164805461.post-6832209597666957682011-12-23T14:05:00.000-08:002011-12-23T14:05:02.566-08:00Olive, the other reindeerChristmas can be such a season of contrasts.<br />
<br />
Blessings and stress. Freedom and feelings of being trapped.<br />
<br />
Loved ones around you or you being alone.<br />
<br />
Choosing boundaries. Making hard choices.<br />
<br />
Seeing doors open you thought would stay closed.<br />
<br />
Being free or trapped by holiday bullies of all kinds.<br />
<br />
Thinking of the strange connections we can make to holiday songs.<br />
<br />
<b><i>As a kid I always wondered why there was that tenth bully reindeer Olive, and why none of the others ever stuck up for Rudolph. No one understood why that song and show made me sad. No one got it.</i></b><br />
<b><i><br />
</i></b><br />
And poor ol' <i style="font-weight: bold;">Frosty! He couldn't get anything right! But then his brains really were made of mush.</i> What could you expect from a snowman after all?<br />
<br />
At least no one asks why we don't have <i style="font-weight: bold;">mall Santa photos</i> of our little boy anymore. I guess they got tired of getting <i style="font-weight: bold;">the look</i> whenever they asked. Shudder...cringe...yeah...<b><i>THAT LOOK!</i></b><br />
<b><i><br />
</i></b><br />
<b><i>This Christmas I wish for you the best of the season, for you! What you need, who you need and when you need. If being alone is your choice, then I pray you won't be lonely. If risking that open door is your choice, then I pray that your risk pays off wonderfully! If you are hurt and hiding away, I pray that you are comforted and know you are loved.</i></b><br />
<b><i><br />
</i></b><br />
<b><i>Survivors can have a hard time at Christmas but we can make it our own. This year we are just three for Christmas. We are so excited! Find space and a place for you this season...it isn't meant to be a time of stress and pain. Really...and we can take it back!</i></b>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6105634313164805461.post-41084372978436318672011-12-09T09:13:00.000-08:002011-12-09T09:13:19.350-08:00It's Not YouHaven't we all heard that line at least once in our lives? <i style="font-weight: bold;">"It's not you, it's me."</i> and didn't it fill you with a <i style="font-weight: bold;">strange sort of dread.</i> That no matter how hard you tried something <i style="font-weight: bold;">that was you</i> could not match what <i style="font-weight: bold;">they wanted.</i> When I hear that now, <i style="font-weight: bold;">however</i>, I find it rather freeing. Liberating. I'm using that line to <i style="font-weight: bold;">clear up some misunderstandings</i> about the choices I have made in my life.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-3DV0o-SHpH0/TuJBhj9qHdI/AAAAAAAABPw/Iu_NzBBylVA/s1600/DSCN2628.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="281" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-3DV0o-SHpH0/TuJBhj9qHdI/AAAAAAAABPw/Iu_NzBBylVA/s320/DSCN2628.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<br />
<i style="font-weight: bold;">It's not you</i> who changed. You never do. You are solidly the same, even if it is in ways that are less than healthy for me. Years have come and gone and you stay the same.<br />
<br />
<i style="font-weight: bold;">It's not you</i> whom these changes have been made for. Indeed, if I could make one change for you it would be that you <i>could change</i>. But you choose not to.<br />
<br />
<i style="font-weight: bold;">It's not you</i> who has worried, cried and fretted countless nights away in worry, fear, despair and loneliness. You saw those tears as weakness, as being '<i>wimpy</i>' and flawed.<br />
<br />
<i style="font-weight: bold;">It's not you</i> who choose for the heart of a little child, instead of the material satisfaction of an adult. <br />
<br />
<i style="font-weight: bold;">It's not you, it's me</i> who made the choices to have boundaries, to make things clear and defined.<br />
<br />
<i style="font-weight: bold;">It's not you, it's me</i> who choose to change her life. For the better. Not the easier. Easier would have been, <i style="font-weight: bold;">well easy</i>, but not right. Not right for me. Not right for them.<br />
<br />
<i style="font-weight: bold;">It's not you, it's me</i> who realized nothing really changes unless you want it to. And when you don't nothing will change you because you become solid in your place, stuck even, and soon the <b style="font-style: italic;">won't change </b>becomes <i style="font-weight: bold;">can't change</i> and the shame/blame game continues.<br />
<br />
<i style="font-weight: bold;">It's not you, it's me</i> who decided to stop the games, stop the tear-filled madness.<br />
<br />
<i style="font-weight: bold;">It's not you, it's me</i> who choose to forgive and move forward. We're waiting. We're praying. Someday you may come, then again <b><i>you may not.</i></b><br />
<b><i><br />
</i></b><br />
I'm okay with this. It's okay for it to be me and not you.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6105634313164805461.post-61739657697848920482011-11-15T17:05:00.000-08:002011-11-15T17:05:53.635-08:00Guest Post: Hold On?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-mUa7G3rFj-I/TsMMSim8VXI/AAAAAAAABNQ/bmueOkjnw4k/s1600/yes+24.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-mUa7G3rFj-I/TsMMSim8VXI/AAAAAAAABNQ/bmueOkjnw4k/s320/yes+24.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><i>My friend Lisa is a poet and shared this wonderful poem with me. She also took the photo which inspired it. Enjoy!</i><br />
<i>S</i><br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
<br />
<br />
Hold On?<br />
<br />
When I first saw you, I admired your tenacity.<br />
I could hear you whisper to me, “Hold on. No matter what, hold on!”<br />
Maybe I heard that because I most needed to hear that, at least for a moment.<br />
Your fellows, scattered beneath me, have all given up too soon. Only you hold on.<br />
<br />
Then I walk among your fellows.<br />
They crunch beneath my feet (wonderful sound!)<br />
And I begin to see their wisdom, the trust they show<br />
That death must happen before new life can begin.<br />
<br />
“Death?!” I hear you shudder. “I don’t want to die!”<br />
I know how you feel. It’s lonely there.<br />
Holding on when everyone else has left; you feel alone<br />
And frightened you will remain that way forever.<br />
<br />
But I hear your fellows whisper too.<br />
“Our tree needs to rest for Winter. We will grow again.<br />
Young and healthy and beautiful. This is what comes next.<br />
You cannot hold on to what no longer serves you.”<br />
<br />
And I understand. I understand what I never have before.<br />
I have been wanting another chance. Another chance to do it right.<br />
So I hold on. To the person that hurts me, the habits that destroy me,<br />
The relationship I think I ruined. I hold on because letting go means giving up.<br />
<br />
But “no,” your fellows whisper. “No. Letting go is not giving up.<br />
It is trusting in the wisdom of the universe. It is knowing when it is time<br />
To embrace a new kind of life.” And I realize, death to the pain of this life<br />
Means opening up to a chance for something better.<br />
<br />
The longer I hold on, the longer I am unable to move forward<br />
To whatever comes next. Whatever pain and joy is possible<br />
Can only happen if I let go. When I hold on, my hands stay closed.<br />
When I let go, they open up.<br />
<br />
So what do you say? Will you take the chance with me?<br />
Let’s let go. And fall together.<div><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px; text-align: left;"><b><i>Poem & Photo Copyright 2011 Lisa M. Bogle</i></b></span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6105634313164805461.post-5833314075246157432011-09-26T20:03:00.000-07:002011-09-26T20:03:15.241-07:00Truth and Triumph"<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 14px;">This isn't a happy story but it is a story of truth and triumph because she is still alive and sane." Patricia Caldwell Singleton, commenting on <a href="http://findingyourvoiceoftruth.com/2011/09/24/when-i-was-a-kid"><i>Finding Your Voice of Truth</i>.</a></span><br />
<br />
I couldn't help but think, I'm much happier when I hear stories of truth and triumph than I am when I hear of stories whose only claim is 'happy'. Genuine stories of making it through the hurting, breaking through to healing. Triumph when the easy way would be to slide back into the despair, into the games and tricks. Truth when you look at you in the mirror and are okay with who you see, at least most days. Getting more of those days is triumph too.<br />
<br />
Practicing truth and triumph isn't easy, but it is worth it. You won't get that fluffy fuzzy fictional story 'happy story' feel but a deeper satisfaction. The kind that comes from building a boundary, creating a life and healing from the wounds. The kind that comes from knowing the scars mean you survived. You made it through.<br />
<br />
The third party message that says, "She cut off contact." and the knowing, that deep inside knowing, that you set a boundary and maintained it. Their response, their reaction belongs to them, not you. That triumph knowing that the little boy won't cry about their bad choices because they don't get to play with your life any more. The truth that you matter more than ego, agenda, motor homes, modular homes or dogs. More than golf even.<br />
<br />
It doesn't mean that there won't be hurt. The kid stories, the family fun memories, that stuff we missed never comes back. That doesn't mean we can't create our own now though! Making memories anytime we like is half the fun.<br />
<br />
Truth and triumph means being able to walk away, when it is best for you and how it is best. Truth and triumph means you can go back to places you left, if you should choose to. On your terms. Or not. As you choose.<br />
<br />
It sucks sometimes, feeling alone in a crowd. Knowing you'll never quite get it, that the scars will always sort of be in the way. That's the truth. There is no way to accept the 'happy' when it has no depth, no soul. When it is a candy coating it always leaves a bitter taste. It's not easy. The real stuff hardly ever is. But there is deep joy, powerful truth and knowing that we survived means we triumphed. We won.<br />
<br />
Finding our way to the truth and the triumph is worthy of the effort and so worth it too. You are worth it. I'm worth it.<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;"><div class="mvm uiStreamAttachments clearfix fbMainStreamAttachment" data-ft="{"type":10}" style="margin-bottom: 10px; margin-top: 10px; zoom: 1;"><div class="UIImageBlock clearfix" style="zoom: 1;"></div></div></span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6105634313164805461.post-38381486216226117622011-09-07T19:17:00.000-07:002011-09-07T19:17:36.924-07:00My DarknessSometimes it is so hard to keep the darkness away.<br />
It lurks at the edge of my vision, waiting, breathing.<br />
I feel it under my skin, over my shoulder, in me.<br />
<br />
Everyone sees the light in me, they see how it shines.<br />
They don't see that it is brighter for the shadows.<br />
Darkness makes light seem bright, and I feel fake.<br />
<br />
My prayers and my faith hold me up, it pulls me.<br />
Sideways and across, down and down again.<br />
That darkness no one knows thirsts in me.<br />
<br />
I thought if I rattled all the bones, burnt the wraps,<br />
shredded the secrets and tossed the ashes to the sky<br />
that it would leave me be, leave me alone, go away.<br />
<br />
It doesn't. I don't fear it. We've been together too long.<br />
I fear for the day it gets away. I pray my angel stays stronger.<br />
Some are sheep, and stay that way. Some grow wolfish.<br />
<br />
Redeemed, saved, blessed, loved and yet the darkness<br />
rolls under my skin, in my veins, through my brain.<br />
I cannot look when I feel her rise or I'll see it all.<br />
<br />
That ancient darkness that protected the young,<br />
hunted and fought wars to save that sweet life<br />
it lives in me, thrives in me, and I know her.<br />
<br />
You can't know her, even if you know me.<br />
She's too deep, too secret, too far down.<br />
God hasn't taken her away, we are one.<br />
<br />
Don't ask me to fight her, I can't win.<br />
We have an uneasy bloodless truce.<br />
I don't tempt her, she doesn't escape.<br />
<br />
2011 Copyright, Shanyn SilinskiUnknownnoreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6105634313164805461.post-6554376407666659052011-09-06T13:56:00.000-07:002011-09-06T14:12:36.257-07:00Burnt Up<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-43pJuHgGuZU/TmaLQX5crsI/AAAAAAAABC4/sD34BRuthCs/s1600/DSCN2866-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-43pJuHgGuZU/TmaLQX5crsI/AAAAAAAABC4/sD34BRuthCs/s320/DSCN2866-1.jpg" width="320" /></a>Our son loves to go see <i style="font-weight: bold;">the burnt farm truck</i>. It amazes him that something that was <i style="font-weight: bold;">once shiny and functioning</i> is now a <i style="font-weight: bold;">rusting, burnt up shell.</i> He can see the transformation from <i style="font-weight: bold;">running truck</i> to <i style="font-weight: bold;">burnt up wreck</i> and it just amazes him. Glass strong enough to <i style="font-weight: bold;">be part of a protection system</i> melted and draped like a frozen waterfall. <i style="font-weight: bold;">Tires, belted with steel</i>, melted down to a tangle of wires. They once made travel <i style="font-weight: bold;">possible</i> and now they rest on <i style="font-weight: bold;">useless rims</i> in a muddy part of the field.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
That truck does <i style="font-weight: bold;">something else for me</i>. I see it <i style="font-weight: bold;">a bit differently.</i> I see what it was. I see what it is. <i style="font-weight: bold;">I imagine what it will become.</i><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-KBQ_OllwOys/TmaLkxqkF3I/AAAAAAAABC8/jW8C2Ikcqv4/s1600/DSCN2845-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-KBQ_OllwOys/TmaLkxqkF3I/AAAAAAAABC8/jW8C2Ikcqv4/s320/DSCN2845-1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
In <i style="font-weight: bold;">winter</i> there will be animals sheltering there, <i style="font-weight: bold;">out of the wind and storms</i>. <br />
<br />
In <i style="font-weight: bold;">spring</i> the waters will rise and plants will grow. Things will cover and consume it. It will sink down into the ground. <i style="font-weight: bold;">Eventually it will be more wild than man-made</i>. More animal shelter than not.<br />
<br />
<i style="font-weight: bold;">Summer's heat</i> will make it a great place for things to grow. Up through the frame and cab. Plants and animals will create a home. The <i style="font-weight: bold;">roof will be invisible</i> through the cat tails.<br />
<br />
In <i style="font-weight: bold;">fall</i> seeds will be trapped, they will find new soil, and in spring will sprout and grow. <br />
<br />
In time there won't be much left to see of that truck. <b style="font-style: italic;">However it will still be there! </b>It will be able to snag a harrow or seeder. It will not totally <i style="font-weight: bold;">disappear</i> into the soil.<br />
<br />
I find my <i style="font-weight: bold;">healing journey</i> is much like that old truck. We ran, <i style="font-weight: bold;">we burned up</i> and now we are <i style="font-weight: bold;">becoming something new</i>. The old frame is still there. <i><b>Shards of glass and metal, wounds and scars, remain</b>.</i> But they are hidden under <i style="font-weight: bold;">new growth, new life</i>.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-LyJqkIZdzIE/TmaL1dlIEmI/AAAAAAAABDA/03bhJNXxeL8/s1600/DSCN2856.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-LyJqkIZdzIE/TmaL1dlIEmI/AAAAAAAABDA/03bhJNXxeL8/s400/DSCN2856.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>That's how it should be. We aren't meant to <i style="font-weight: bold;">remain barren, bleeding and scarred forever!</i> Healing doesn't <i style="font-weight: bold;">take anything away</i> but it does <i style="font-weight: bold;">transform it</i>. If we leave it alone, if we tend it and love it, then something <i style="font-weight: bold;">amazing can come out of it.</i><br />
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I'm ready for <b><i>amazing! Are you?</i></b>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6105634313164805461.post-18100425621569906612011-08-18T20:05:00.000-07:002011-08-18T20:05:52.848-07:00Go away!<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #674ea7;">(small joke - see no one listens to me! I post a title that says <i>go away</i> and yet here you all are! I love you for not listening to me! Thanks for coming here to another Scarred Seeker post. You honour me by showing up, you humble me when you comment and I'm floored when you share my words...thank you!)</span><br />
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<i style="font-weight: bold;">Go away!</i> I want to scream it. I want to<i style="font-weight: bold;"> paint it on boards</i> and then <i style="font-weight: bold;">nail them to every fence post</i> and then I want to <i style="font-weight: bold;">chain my gate shut</i>. Go away! <br />
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<i style="font-weight: bold;">And yet I don't...</i>I really can't, can I? It won't work. They would <i style="font-weight: bold;">crawl under the wire</i> and they would <i style="font-weight: bold;">chew through the boards</i> and then they would sit by my door <i style="font-weight: bold;">all sad and pitiful</i>. ARGH! I can't stand them. They freak me out. Really, <b><i>they freak me out!</i></b><br />
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No idea what I'm talking about yet? <i style="font-weight: bold;">Or maybe you have people and things in your life that you can totally relate to this?</i><br />
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Here's the thing. I really cannot <i style="font-weight: bold;">handle major league drama</i> when it is used for <i style="font-weight: bold;">passive agressive</i> and <i style="font-weight: bold;">non-productive</i> and <i style="font-weight: bold;">detrimental to healing</i> ways. When it is used to <i style="font-weight: bold;">get sympathy</i> and <i style="font-weight: bold;">there is no incentive for change</i>. <br />
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You've seen the movies and video games, the <i style="font-weight: bold;">walking wounded. </i>They <i style="font-weight: bold;">seem</i> so shell shocked and dazed they <i style="font-weight: bold;">don't know they are wounded!</i> Their guts are hanging out, their arms are torn off, their bodies a <i style="font-weight: bold;">zombie like shambling wreck</i> and they keep walking towards you. <br />
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Now picture this - <i style="font-weight: bold;">they are fully aware of the drama!</i> They <i style="font-weight: bold;">know perfectly well they are playing the drama game</i> and yet they don't understand how <i style="font-weight: bold;">much it is hurting them</i>. Telling them doesn't work, this is <i style="font-weight: bold;">something they figure out banging into closed doors and brick walls.</i> <br />
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My friend is like this. She is <i style="font-weight: bold;">dreadfully unhappy</i> unless there is some <i style="font-weight: bold;">life altering crisis</i> happening <i style="font-weight: bold;">RIGHT NOW!</i> She cannot function <i style="font-weight: bold;">without drama</i>. You cannot even have a conversation without her wanting to know, <i style="font-weight: bold;">does this sound or feel authentic</i> or <i style="font-weight: bold;">how was it really like</i> and <i style="font-weight: bold;">can you tell me more</i>? She needs the drama rush. She is as hooked on it as anyone can be on something that is an actual substance to abuse.<br />
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I have learned that there is a huge <i style="font-weight: bold;">huge</i> difference between <i style="font-weight: bold;">helping someone heal</i> and <i style="font-weight: bold;">feeding their drama</i>. Sometimes the boundaries need to be put up tall, strong and wide. I'm doing my own healing, <i style="font-weight: bold;">I'm not strong enough to carry someone else</i>, my weight is enough. I care for her, and the other <i style="font-weight: bold;">drama junkies</i> and I pray for them. But I cannot have them in my life,<b><i> not daily or even weekly.</i></b><br />
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A visit the other day was like <i style="font-weight: bold;">watching a slomo slasher flick</i> because I could see her <b style="font-style: italic;">woundedness and hear the pain in her voice.</b> It was so sad, there is so much hurt, <i style="font-weight: bold;">and so little desire to heal from it because the attention gotten for being wounded is too seductive to leave.</i> It'd be like being in a body cast, liking the attention, and <i style="font-weight: bold;">staying in a body cast!</i> That's no way to live. It's no way to expect others who care about you to live.<br />
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Tonight is my <i style="font-weight: bold;">go away</i> night. I am surrounded by storm clouds, thunder and lightning. I wonder will we get rain, which is much needed, or will we have damage instead. I hate facing these <i style="font-weight: bold;">storms alone</i> but I've gotten used to it. It is <i style="font-weight: bold;">easier for me.</i> I feel surrounded lately by <i style="font-weight: bold;">other people's drama storms</i> and I guess that's why the two things <i style="font-weight: bold;">collided and made this post!</i> Sorry if it is rough or not polished. I've got to finish before the power goes out...or the hail hits...or something <i style="font-weight: bold;">else wicked comes</i>. <br />
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I think I know where there are some <b style="font-style: italic;">markers and paper </b>maybe I'll make some signs, <i style="font-weight: bold;">by flashlight beam, </i>just in case I get brave enough to put them up!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6105634313164805461.post-82570431014583350572011-08-04T18:06:00.000-07:002011-08-04T18:06:49.748-07:00Some Bridges Need BurningRecently on a blog, in the comments, we were talking about <i style="font-weight: bold;">burning bridges </i>and <b><i>it came to me. </i></b><br />
<b><i><br />
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<b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #990000;">Some bridges need burning. </span> Down to the pillars. Chopped from the banks. </i></b><br />
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Bridges can do two things - allow access across and back. That's it. <i style="font-weight: bold;">Two way traffic.</i> Or a <i style="font-weight: bold;">one way invasion.</i> <br />
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Relationship bridges are like that. Some need to be kept up, even if they <i style="font-weight: bold;">get little traffic</i> because who is across the river of <i style="font-weight: bold;">distance, time, healing</i> is worth keeping <b><i>access to.</i></b><br />
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Some are old, <i style="font-weight: bold;">forgotten even</i>, and the places they used to go <i style="font-weight: bold;">may not be there anymore.</i> They are not really even in our minds. <br />
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Some are <i style="font-weight: bold;">current and alive with traffic</i> and we use them daily.<br />
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Among these are the bridges <i style="font-weight: bold;">that are seemingly innocent</i> but are used for <i><b>invasions and attacks</b></i> and those are the ones that need to be <i style="font-weight: bold;">closely looked at</i>. Sometimes, regardless of <i style="font-weight: bold;">who</i> is on the other side, <b><i>the attacks that come are not worth keeping up the bridge!</i></b><br />
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If someone is sneaking across your bridge, <i style="font-weight: bold;">smiling like a friend</i>, and then attacking you this is not a good use of the bridge. Bridges <i style="font-weight: bold;">give access to our lives</i> and sometimes we need a toll bridge, sometimes we need a four-lane super highway and other times <i style="font-weight: bold;">we need a rickety swinging bridge with missing planks</i> and sometimes <i style="font-weight: bold;">no matter what kind of bridge it is</i> we need to burn it down.<br />
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You bet, <i style="font-weight: bold;">you heard me right</i>, burn it to the ground. Stop access. Stop contact. Make a <i style="font-weight: bold;">personal boundary</i> that is not easy to cross. When you are healing and choosing<i style="font-weight: bold;"> not to cross the bridge</i> why should you allow them to <i style="font-weight: bold;">cross to you if they are not supporting that healing?</i> <br />
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There should be no <i style="font-weight: bold;">automatic passes on our bridges</i>. Everyone should have a good reason for being there. One that is <i style="font-weight: bold;">safe and healthy</i> for us. Sure, some may <i style="font-weight: bold;">challenge us</i> or <i style="font-weight: bold;">give us a reason to think</i> but they should not be <i style="font-weight: bold;">attacking us or using their access to our lives</i> to cause us harm.<br />
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Some examples? I am a <i style="font-weight: bold;">person who cares deeply for others</i> and sometimes that leaves me with <i style="font-weight: bold;">very open access </i>in parts of my life. Such as time. Emotional energy. And when someone comes across, <i style="font-weight: bold;">dumps their garbage</i> and then leaves it is a violation. It hurts. They don't clean up. They don't work on <i style="font-weight: bold;">coming to be a part of my life.</i> They are there to bitch, whine, dump and leave. <i style="font-weight: bold;">Sorry, you may get my prayers and my love but no more access.</i> And I'm not even <b><i>really sorry about it either!</i></b><br />
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Another example? Family! They <b style="font-style: italic;">troop across the bridges </b>with suitcases, motor homes and buckets of <i style="font-weight: bold;">stuff</i> to bring you. Is it <i style="font-weight: bold;">your stuff</i>? Or is it old garbage that belongs no where but the trash bin? If it <i style="font-weight: bold;">feels like, sounds like or acts like </i>guilt and blame, invalidation and control <b><i>burn that bridge!</i></b><br />
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Some bridges are one ways, and should only be crossed going <i style="font-weight: bold;">towards the healing, building the faith, towards life</i> and going backwards shouldn't be an option. Keep going. Don't let anyone call you back to a <i style="font-weight: bold;">dark place because they don't want you to move forward! </i>It may sound like this, <i style="font-weight: bold;">'I liked you better when'.</i><br />
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It can be easy to decide when to <i style="font-weight: bold;">burn a bridge</i>, it can be natural as moving on in life. Not going back down an old road, or taking that path again. It can be hard too, <i style="font-weight: bold;">what if I'm wrong</i> and <i style="font-weight: bold;">what if I want to go back</i> or <i style="font-weight: bold;">what if ____________...</i> <br />
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When I look back upon my <i style="font-weight: bold;">burned bridges</i> and I don't <i style="font-weight: bold;">miss what is on the other side</i> and I don't <i style="font-weight: bold;">miss the stuff that came across</i> then I feel pretty <b><i>confident that it was right to do!</i></b><br />
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I love watching movies where <i style="font-weight: bold;">they blow up bridges</i> because it reminds me that I can do that too! In my life, <i style="font-weight: bold;">right now even, </i> an interruption stopped me from finishing this blog. A bridge I had kept open for a few friends has now gotten a <i style="font-weight: bold;">closed sign </i>and a chain. <i style="font-weight: bold;">I may be stacking kindling there tomorrow!</i> Why? Because what came across with them, their <i style="font-weight: bold;">need and drama</i> was and is not healthy for me. There is <i style="font-weight: bold;">nothing over there I need!</i> So it is closed, and may be burned <i style="font-weight: bold;">finally!</i> Maybe I held on <i style="font-weight: bold;">too long</i>.<br />
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What is across the bridges in your life? <i style="font-weight: bold;">Who comes across the bridges in your life?</i> Is there some burning that needs to be done? You have to think about it, pray about it and consider what it means but <i style="font-weight: bold;">if you come to the conclusion that this is right for you then light'er up!</i> There is a freedom in burning a bridge who needs burning, there is a peace in watching it fall into the waters and be washed away.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6105634313164805461.post-53801620320985234522011-08-02T18:23:00.000-07:002011-08-02T18:27:53.018-07:00...and you'll like it...<b><i>This post is, in part, inspired by the comments and post over at <a href="http://emergingfrombroken.com/if-happiness-is-a-decision-why-couldn%E2%80%99t-i-make-it/">Emerging From Broken</a>, and in part by the lessons that never stuck from when I was a kid...</i></b><br />
<div><b><i><br />
</i></b></div><div>I can remember, so very clearly, <i style="font-weight: bold;">do this and like it</i>. It didn't really matter if you <i style="font-weight: bold;">actually liked, disliked, loathed or were indifferent</i>. You had to like it. You were <i style="font-weight: bold;">obligated as a member of the family</i> to like it. Paste on the smile, pour out the right words, clutch, cling and <i style="font-weight: bold;">freaking make everyone around you happy</i> because you were being obedient. This isn't a polite, <i>Thanks Nanny for the great sweater</i> when it is <i style="font-weight: bold;">a terrible crime against yarn.</i> This is liking what <i style="font-weight: bold;">they liked for you to like</i> and you had no say. Less because you had <b><i>no choice!</i></b></div><div><b><i><br />
</i></b></div><div>You are going to<i style="font-weight: bold;"> do what we say and like it</i>. There was an expectation that <i style="font-weight: bold;">their expectations were enough</i>. My thoughts and feelings on <i style="font-weight: bold;">liking something, being happy about something or enjoying something</i> were irrelevant. They were useless, and unwanted. </div><div><br />
</div><div><i style="font-weight: bold;">They could even be embarrassing!</i> Or worse, they could be <i style="font-weight: bold;">unpopular with everyone else</i>. </div><div><br />
</div><div>You'll like it because <i style="font-weight: bold;">if you don't there will be hell to pay!</i> You'll be happy and smile <i style="font-weight: bold;">like a gargoyle on a church</i> and like it.<br />
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It wasn't <i style="font-weight: bold;">good enough</i> to like something just <i style="font-weight: bold;">because you liked it!</i> You had to like <b style="font-style: italic;">something they did. Choices were not your own.</b> You only got to own mistakes, never successes. You didn't get to <i style="font-weight: bold;">love what you loved because you loved it.</i> You couldn't really <i style="font-weight: bold;">be happy just because</i>.<br />
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How absurd! How devaluing and controlling! How hard is it to <i style="font-weight: bold;">learn that when you are an adult?</i> It is pretty challenging to <i style="font-weight: bold;">figure out what you really like.</i> To seek and find what <i style="font-weight: bold;">really makes you happy.</i> And not quiver in fear because <i style="font-weight: bold;">it might not be what someone else wants!</i><br />
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Even now, <i style="font-weight: bold;">after a few miles down the healing road</i>, it is hard to say, <i style="font-weight: bold;">"I'm doing this because it makes me happy!"</i> or to share <i style="font-weight: bold;">"I could be the only one here, but I like this!"</i> Not asking permission for joy, for liking something or for disliking it is so freeing! So validating to make your own choice. Yeah <i style="font-weight: bold;">that brand of cookies is super!</i> or <i style="font-weight: bold;">nope I just cannot stand that color of shirt!</i><br />
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The removal of obligation from my choices <i style="font-weight: bold;">was not just having windows opened! </i>It was more like having a chainsaw and <i style="font-weight: bold;">being able to cut your own windows!</i> I could pick my windows, pick my spot, cut my holes and <i style="font-weight: bold;">breathe! Breathe!</i><br />
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Like what you like! <i style="font-weight: bold;">Be happy with what makes you happy! Seek joy. Share laughter. Tell that child inside that it is okay to come out and play! </i>It is safe to eat peas from the garden, to run through the sprinkler, to not wear make up and to run around barefoot! It is okay to play with your pasta and just sit and watch a butterfly.<br />
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<b><i>Try it, this time I promise if you give it a chance you'll find you like it!</i></b></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6105634313164805461.post-33584513845413906972011-07-29T20:35:00.000-07:002011-07-29T20:35:22.531-07:00Betrayal and TrustI"m guest posting over at <b><a href="http://emergingfrombroken.com/betrayal-and-reflections-of-betrayal-by-shanyn-silinski/">Emerging From Broken</a></b> about Betrayal and Trust.<br />
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Won't you come over and join us?<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/--mvY3Lehl9E/TjN7zscjlxI/AAAAAAAABBE/Qk5cWg2NPec/s1600/DSCN1922.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/--mvY3Lehl9E/TjN7zscjlxI/AAAAAAAABBE/Qk5cWg2NPec/s320/DSCN1922.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6105634313164805461.post-61159214963827312022011-07-21T19:34:00.000-07:002011-07-21T19:34:07.128-07:00Surrounded AloneSurrounded by people - yet alone.<br />
Their chatter<br />
a cloud of noise<br />
around me.<br />
<br />
Surrounded by people - yet alone.<br />
Seeing wolves,<br />
seeing sheep<br />
seeing them.<br />
<br />
Surrounded by people - still.<br />
Their words<br />
gossip<br />
bitching.<br />
<br />
Surrounded by people - eyes moving.<br />
Seeing so much.<br />
Them - standing too close.<br />
Her - leaning away.<br />
There a harsh whisper, a flinch.<br />
There a rolling eye, scorning.<br />
Here a pinch, there a wink.<br />
<br />
Surrounded by people - I smile.<br />
Hollow, faking it well.<br />
Nodding, "oh yes I see" said.<br />
Inside I hear the stillness in me.<br />
Inside I feel the watcher move.<br />
<br />
Surrounded by people - can't breathe.<br />
The noise, the smells<br />
Their energy.<br />
Unknowing and sucking.<br />
Thirsting and seeking.<br />
<br />
Surrounded by people - I slip away.<br />
Within me, the wiring is wrong.<br />
I'm there but so not there.<br />
Not so simple as<br />
wolves and sheep.<br />
It is something complex.<br />
<br />
Surrounded by people - unseen.<br />
Learning to be invisible<br />
long ago<br />
serves me well today.<br />
<br />
They always look shocked<br />
when I suddenly speak<br />
and appear there.<br />
In their midst - who knew?<br />
Witty, fun, confident,<br />
not like them, exotic.<br />
I shake my head, within me,<br />
Then I slip away again.<br />
<br />
Copyright 2011 Shanyn SilinskiUnknownnoreply@blogger.com19tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6105634313164805461.post-52302899364817481762011-07-19T19:37:00.000-07:002011-07-19T19:37:23.427-07:00Why I love poppies<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-QJ-DQZG3KRw/TiY8ajVk1wI/AAAAAAAAA_k/PFLkyP92WGk/s1600/DSCN1852.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="273" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-QJ-DQZG3KRw/TiY8ajVk1wI/AAAAAAAAA_k/PFLkyP92WGk/s320/DSCN1852.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">If I could come back as a flower it'd be <i style="font-weight: bold;">a poppy</i> or a <i style="font-weight: bold;">sunflower.</i> Probably though, as much as I <i style="font-weight: bold;">adore sunflowers</i>, I'm more of a <i style="font-weight: bold;">poppy person</i>.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Why? It is very hard to <i style="font-weight: bold;">get rid of poppies</i> once they are putting <i style="font-weight: bold;">seeds in the ground</i>. They are like us, <i style="font-weight: bold;">survivors</i>, and like us they learn to <i style="font-weight: bold;">stay underground</i> or <i style="font-weight: bold;">come up to the light</i> depending on the conditions around them. We know when <i style="font-weight: bold;">there is a good place to grow</i> because of the safety, nourishment and sunlight <i style="font-weight: bold;">that we often lacked when we ourselves little seed pods</i>.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I love poppies because they grow <i style="font-weight: bold;">out of adversity of the most gruesome kind</i>. Like battle fields, like <i style="font-weight: bold;">blood soaked fields. </i>We also grew out of <i style="font-weight: bold;">adversity</i> and not only <i style="font-weight: bold;">survived but learned to thrive!</i> Maybe it took us a few <i style="font-weight: bold;">seasons to get our roots down</i> and like a poppy field not every seed comes up. We don't always <i style="font-weight: bold;">bloom right away</i> nor do we <i style="font-weight: bold;">find our place easily</i>. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><i style="font-weight: bold;">Poppies are fragile flowers</i> there is no doubt about it. They don't have <i style="font-weight: bold;">really firm blooms</i> and their leaves are not <i style="font-weight: bold;">woody or strong</i>. Their power is in their <i style="font-weight: bold;">seeds</i>, in their <i style="font-weight: bold;">legacy</i>. No poppy ever truly dies <i style="font-weight: bold;">if even one poppy lives to bloom again!</i> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Have you ever <i style="font-weight: bold;">collected poppy seeds</i>? Put them in a little jar...<i><b>and then accidentally dropped them?</b></i> You can NEVER pick up all the seeds! <i style="font-weight: bold;">They are too small, too round and designed to hide away!</i>. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">They remind me of the <i style="font-weight: bold;">stolen, treasured moments</i> which no one could or can take away from us. They are where <i style="font-weight: bold;">our seeds are</i> and when we can find them a place to grow <i style="font-weight: bold;">we can see blooms, and seeds and so much come blossoming to light!</i> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">How encouraging to know that one seed this size (<b>.</b>) can be the <i style="font-weight: bold;">freedom seed for thousands of flowers!</i> Given a chance to grow, a <i><b>poppy seizes it with an intensity that colors horizons, inspires poets and changes the world!</b></i> What would Remembrance Day be without that poem by the doomed McCray and the poppies we all wear?</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">What if it is more than our <i style="font-weight: bold;">moments but also our words</i> that are like poppy seeds? What if we <i style="font-weight: bold;">choose to be seeding a silent world with color and words? </i>I can imagine it...can you?</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Today my <i style="font-weight: bold;">heart hurt</i>. For a friend raped.. For a mama dog and her babies shot down. For friends with sick children, husbands gone to the Lord. For <i style="font-weight: bold;">all of us</i>. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I almost <i style="font-weight: bold;">didn't write anything today</i> but when I went out to <i style="font-weight: bold;">water the flowers</i> the sun shone behind my poppy and <i style="font-weight: bold;">I couldn't NOT write!</i> Even when you don't think <i style="font-weight: bold;">you have something to say</i> speak your heart. Speak your <i style="font-weight: bold;">poppy seeds</i> and as survivors let's plant the world <b><i>with healing!</i></b></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6105634313164805461.post-62670778778363059772011-07-14T17:50:00.000-07:002011-07-14T17:50:14.609-07:00My story: limited accessThe inspiration for this post came from one by my good friend, fellow survivor and blogger, Patricia Singleton at <a href="http://patriciasingleton.blogspot.com/2011/07/healing-from-abuse-means-doing-work-of.html?spref=fb">Spiritual Journey of a Light Worker</a><br />
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In that post she talked about how hard it can be for <i style="font-weight: bold;">survivors to heal past telling their stories</i>. It really resonated with me because I have had <i style="font-weight: bold;">some experiences with the telling of abuse stories</i> that were disturbing and seemed <b><i>counter to moving to healing</i></b>.<br />
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If you have read my posts prior to this one you'll know <i style="font-weight: bold;">I am not about the drama or the descriptions of my story but about the healing. </i>For me it is about the healing, the stories are part of it, but they are not the <i style="font-weight: bold;">bigger part</i>. I lived <i style="font-weight: bold;">through them once</i> retelling them over and over seems almost <i style="font-weight: bold;">pornographic</i>.<br />
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Another kind of <i style="font-weight: bold;">violation</i> and it is one that when we say, <i style="font-weight: bold;">I'm a survivor</i> people can have an expectation that we not only are <i style="font-weight: bold;">willing but eager</i> to share the intimate details of with <i style="font-weight: bold;">any stranger who asks. </i>It isn't always helpful, can probably can be often the opposite, to feed that sort of need to be validated by <b><i>reliving the woundings in our lives.</i></b><br />
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No one actually retells the story of <i style="font-weight: bold;">breaking their arm by actually rebreaking the arm.</i> We don't explain how our car crashed by actually <i style="font-weight: bold;">going out and crashing again</i>. There is post traumatic stress involved with any major stressor in our lives. <b><i>Any major stressor and abuse is a real doozie!</i></b><br />
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There seems to be an expectation that we have to <i style="font-weight: bold;">measure up for our story to be taken seriously</i> that we have to meet a standard for <i style="font-weight: bold;">being abused</i>. Those who would expect us to tell our stories <b style="font-style: italic;">over and over again </b> are feeding off our stories like emotional vampires. They are pulling us away from our healing<b>. <i>They are distracting us from doing the work of healing.</i></b><br />
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I had a woman introduce herself to me as a '<i style="font-weight: bold;">sister survivor</i>' and wanted to share her story with me. She was <i style="font-weight: bold;">offended when I didn't reciprocate in great detail</i>. She told me she <i style="font-weight: bold;">knew I was healing but how bad was it, really</i> that you are still healing. She wanted to know how <i style="font-weight: bold;">her own story measured up</i> against others I had heard. It was <i style="font-weight: bold;">shocking to me!</i> She was so focused on the hurt that the <i style="font-weight: bold;">healing was taking a back seat, permanently,</i> because '<i>people want to hear my story of the abuse, not about the other stuff</i>'<br />
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I remember watching <b>Criminal Minds</b><i> </i>it was the episode where the mother never gives up on believing her son is alive. For 8 years. She finally gets someone from the BAU to listen to her and she tells her everything she has learned, researched and found out. The character JJ says, "<b><i>I'm sorry you have to know that. I'm sorry you were put through something that made you have to know that."</i></b><br />
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I'm sorry that <i style="font-weight: bold;">any of us have to have these stories to tell</i>. No one should have them. None of us. <i style="font-weight: bold;">But we do. It isn't about the story, it's about the healing. </i>Dwelling on the story, getting sucked in to the vampiric world of <i style="font-weight: bold;">more and more drama, more and more telling</i> sucks us dry of the will to move on in our healing. <br />
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I <i style="font-weight: bold;">don't need to tell it </i> I lived it. I remember it. If I focus, or am facing a trigger, <i style="font-weight: bold;">I can remember things in grotesque detail that no one should ever want to hear. I don't want to remember but I do. </i> I take the remembering and add it as fuel to the cleansing fire of my healing.<br />
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We are no less <i style="font-weight: bold;">a voice for advocacy</i> if we are not sharing the intimate details of our story. We are no less <i style="font-weight: bold;">for not needing to feed that drama.</i> We are who we are, survivors moving through to the healing. I don't want to get stuck in <i style="font-weight: bold;">the horror story time</i>, do you?Unknownnoreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6105634313164805461.post-39124260561426034892011-07-13T15:16:00.000-07:002011-07-13T15:16:49.228-07:00It is personal!<b><i>Don't be so sensitive.</i></b><br />
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<b><i>Don't take it personally.</i></b><br />
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I have avoided this topic <i style="font-weight: bold;">for quite a while</i> and last night a status update from a friend got me thinking about it again. <br />
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My stand on this is a bit, well, <i style="font-weight: bold;">radical</i>. Maybe even, well, <i style="font-weight: bold;">dangerous. </i>Let's back up a few steps though. When someone starts a conversation with <i style="font-weight: bold;">don't take this personally</i> I'm already on guard, senses alert and I'm <i style="font-weight: bold;">ready to respond</i>. They have warned me. <i style="font-weight: bold;">What else should I do?</i> I ask three questions.<br />
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Yep, three questions:<br />
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<ol><li>Are they <i style="font-weight: bold;">talking to me about me</i>?</li>
<li>Is this thing they are <b><i>talking about directly to do with me?</i></b></li>
<li>Is it a <b><i>judgement or comment upon myself and the things I think, say, or do?</i></b></li>
</ol><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-wDNT8ezsvrs/Th4ZLCqWPRI/AAAAAAAAA-o/Uy2G2KA-RC4/s1600/DSCN0984.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-wDNT8ezsvrs/Th4ZLCqWPRI/AAAAAAAAA-o/Uy2G2KA-RC4/s320/DSCN0984.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><div><b><i><br />
</i></b></div><div>If I answer <i style="font-weight: bold;">yes!</i> to any of these then <i style="font-weight: bold;">by golly it is personal folks!</i> No amount of excuses, spin doctoring or perspective shifting can change that. </div><div><br />
</div><div>When someone tells you that you <i style="font-weight: bold;">are responding incorrectly</i> always be sure to find out who is doing the measuring of <i style="font-weight: bold;">correctness</i>. It has been easier since I learned the <i style="font-weight: bold;">trick phrases</i> that many employ. Such as: <i style="font-weight: bold;">now I don't want you getting all worked up</i> or more classically <i style="font-weight: bold;">don't freak out and take this personally</i>. </div><div><br />
</div><div>I've learned to pause and wait for the <i style="font-weight: bold;">impending answer to question number 2.</i> (It almost always follows straight after the opening statement or warning against your response. Is the conversation, <i style="font-weight: bold;">being one sided,</i> encouraging, supportive and generally uplifting? Or is it <i style="font-weight: bold;">you telling me how to be me?</i> I know how I feel, <i style="font-weight: bold;">these feelings live in my veins daily</i>. I know how to <i style="font-weight: bold;">hear what you are saying</i> and when it is <i style="font-weight: bold;">to me, about me</i>, like I'm not really there then <b><i>it is personal!</i></b></div><div><b><i><br />
</i></b></div><div>Question three deals with content and delivery - is the conversation <i style="font-weight: bold;">about how much better they would be at being you?</i> Is the admonition against being <i style="font-weight: bold;">too sensitive</i> and <i style="font-weight: bold;">taking things too personally</i> directed at what you say, think or do? </div><div><br />
</div><div><b><i>If it is about you, to you and there is an expectation of response by you then IT IS PERSONAL!</i></b></div><div><b><i><br />
</i></b></div><div>When the lights turn red suddenly -<b><i>that is 99.9% not personal.</i></b></div><div><b><i>If you see someone turning the switch at the light after waiting all day for you, probably that's the percentage that I left for wiggle room for it to be personal.</i></b></div><div><b><i><br />
</i></b></div><div>When the courier loses your package - <b><i>that is not personal.</i></b></div><div><b><i>If you see them dumping it in a trash container then it could be a personal issue. This is unlikely.</i></b></div><div><b><i><br />
</i></b></div><div>When someone says you should <i style="font-weight: bold;">do things their way, and be happy they suggested it</i> that is highly personal! </div><div><br />
</div><div>Good or bad (and have you noticed that you are never <i style="font-weight: bold;">too sensitive or taking things too personally</i> when it is good stuff, celebratory stuff, easy to handle stuff? <i style="font-weight: bold;">Yeah I noticed that too!</i>) things said to a person, about that person with an impression, indication or direction that they take said things as <i style="font-weight: bold;">long awaited much valued information</i> should be taken personally.</div><div><br />
</div><div>My healing journey is <i style="font-weight: bold;">deeply personal</i> and I choose to share it. I do reserve the right to <i style="font-weight: bold;">be sensitive </i>and to take things <i style="font-weight: bold;">as personally as I need to</i>. If you tell me my shoelace is undone, <i style="font-weight: bold;">not personal, thanks for the information.</i> If you tell me I'm wandering around again with untied shoelaces, and hasn't anyone ever taught me how to tie a bow for goodness sakes and you actually dress yourself daily - <b><i>now THAT is personal!</i></b></div><div><b><i><br />
</i></b></div><div>Healing is <i style="font-weight: bold;">hard work</i> but laughter makes the load lighter. I'm afraid that <i style="font-weight: bold;">too many of us think life is all serious all the time</i>. We were robbed of our joy, and it is our <i style="font-weight: bold;">duty as survivors</i> to seek, hunt down, put in a brightly colored bucket or cartoon pillow case <i style="font-weight: bold;">every bit of giggle, joy, sunshine and dandelion fluff</i> we can find! We should celebrate being alive, <i style="font-weight: bold;">living and healing</i> and <b><i>I celebrate you!</i></b></div><div><b><i><br />
</i></b></div><div>Don't let anyone steal your joy, <i style="font-weight: bold;">diminish you as a person</i> or <i style="font-weight: bold;">cause you to think of yourself as worthy of their campaign for change!</i></div><div><br />
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</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6105634313164805461.post-68907792773190374032011-07-07T08:15:00.001-07:002011-07-07T08:15:38.867-07:00Targets, a poem<div style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>Give them a target.</i></span></div><div style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>Give them someone to blame.</i></span></div><div style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>Someone to dream of lynching.</i></span></div><div style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>The smell of bloody revenge,</i></span></div><div style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>even in a proxy cyber world.</i></span></div><div style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>Give them soap box.</i></span></div><div style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>Give them someone to shout at.</i></span></div><div style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>Someone to judge and flay.</i></span></div><div style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>The intoxication of hindsight,</i></span></div><div style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>even if they have no clue.</i></span></div><div style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>Why isn't anyone shouting?</i></span></div><div style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>Why isnt anyone crying?</i></span></div><div style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>There is a small body forgotten.</i></span></div><div style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>Broken and left alone.</i></span></div><div style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>Someone knew and stayed silent.</i></span></div><div style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>Someone could have spoken,</i></span></div><div style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>and did not say a word.</i></span></div><div style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>Why aren't we searching for the</i></span></div><div style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>next child to save?</i></span></div><div style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>Why aren't we doing more than</i></span></div><div style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>lighting porch lights?</i></span></div><div style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>A small life, trusting and fragile.</i></span></div><div style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>A life which we did nothing to save.</i></span></div><div style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>A life which we forget in the frenzy,</i></span></div><div style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>the 'injustice' and the knot tying.</i></span></div><div style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>The injustice is this,</i></span></div><div style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>we are always showing up</i></span></div><div style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>too late to the gunfight,</i></span></div><div style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>knife in hand and no clue.</i></span></div><div style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>People why aren't we showing</i></span></div><div style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>love, protection and caring</i></span></div><div style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>to these the smallest of the </i></span></div><div style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>'least of these'?</i></span></div><div style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>Instead of tying nooses</i></span></div><div style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>and building gallows,</i></span></div><div style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>shouldn't we be protecting,</i></span></div><div style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>sheltering, loving and saving?</i></span></div><div style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>It would have taken one voice,</i></span></div><div style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>just one, loud enough to be heard,</i></span></div><div style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>but it seems easier to be silent then,</i></span></div><div style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>and cry when it is too late.</i></span></div><div style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Copyright Shanyn Silinski 2011</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6105634313164805461.post-53211488169558155352011-07-05T19:29:00.000-07:002011-07-05T19:29:39.978-07:00More than porch lights<b><i>This is not about Caylee alone, this is about all who are lost to abuse, all who are hiding in abuse and for all those who are struggling through to a healing path. It is for those on the healing path.</i></b><br />
<b><i><br />
</i></b><br />
Wouldn't it be wonderful if <i style="font-weight: bold;">porch lights </i>could talk? Wouldn't it be wonderful if <i style="font-weight: bold;">porch lights</i> could tell what goes on behind their windows or those of their neighbors? It would be wonderful <b><i>but it isn't their job! </i></b><br />
<b><i><br />
</i></b><br />
<i style="font-weight: bold;">It is our job!</i> We all know that <i style="font-weight: bold;">there is always someone who knows.</i> Someone is able to speak up. Someone is safely capable of speaking up. You know who they are, they are almost always on the news saying, <i style="font-weight: bold;">I knew something bad was going to happen. </i>or <i style="font-weight: bold;">I am not surprised!</i> Of course you knew! Of course you are not surprised. You knew!<br />
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So many of my friends are sharing about this lost child, and putting on their porch lights in her memory. <i style="font-weight: bold;">How sad I am that I wish we didn't have to! </i> Imperfect system that we have, even children in care are abused and many die. Many escape one horror only to be stuffed into another. <b> </b><br />
<i style="font-weight: bold;"><br />
</i><br />
<i style="font-weight: bold;">I worked in that world. I know a bit of how things happen</i>. But I will never believe that they have to, that there isn't another way. I believe that children can have <i style="font-weight: bold;">a childhood</i>. I believe we can do this because if we care enough to <i style="font-weight: bold;">light up the night</i> for a lost one, if we can <i style="font-weight: bold;">fire up with networks</i> with our outrage<b><i>, we can change the world with love.</i></b><br />
<b><i><br />
</i></b><br />
What if someone had <i style="font-weight: bold;">spoken up for you</i> or what if someone <i style="font-weight: bold;">had noticed your hurt? </i>That would have changed your world. <br />
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<i style="font-weight: bold;">Turn on your porch lights</i> and please remember it's not just one we've lost, but <i style="font-weight: bold;">one too many</i> and there are more in danger <i style="font-weight: bold;">right now! And someone knows. Someone is speaking and not being heard. Someone is choosing silence.</i> What are you choosing?<br />
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We need more, we have the power of <i style="font-weight: bold;">an enormous nation</i> at our status updating, liking and sharing finger tips. We can <i style="font-weight: bold;">do more</i> because <i style="font-weight: bold;">we are more!</i> Unknownnoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6105634313164805461.post-87716248935321030832011-06-29T17:43:00.000-07:002011-06-29T17:43:16.752-07:00Distaste and Discomfort<a href="http://www.facebook.com/susankingsleysmith">Susan Kingsley-Smith</a> said, <b><i>"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."</i></b><br />
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When I saw this quote on Susan's wall I knew<b><i> I had to blog it</i></b> because it perfectly fit where I am right now. Wonderfully, my friend Darlene at<b> <a href="http://emergingfrombroken.com/take-the-good-with-the-bad-or-the-bad-with-the-good/">Emerging From Broken</a></b> 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!<br />
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<b><i>Distaste</i></b> and <b><i>discomfort</i></b> - 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<b><i> circle of rat you out in an instant</i></b> friends. People would get that <b><i>twisted mouth</i></b> and <b><i>narrow down their eyes</i></b> and you'd be in for <b><i>big trouble</i></b>! <br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YeIKFqNqRIM/TgvGN8vllRI/AAAAAAAAA8g/zlNZRUySa_g/s1600/May+2+052.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="296" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YeIKFqNqRIM/TgvGN8vllRI/AAAAAAAAA8g/zlNZRUySa_g/s320/May+2+052.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;">Compassion is for all, regardless of size <br />
or how important we think we or they are.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><div><br />
And what was this <b><i>big crime</i></b> that was committed? Usually it was a simple as<b><i> not doing or being what someone else wanted you to do or be</i></b>. 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 <b><i>keep your mouth shut</i></b>!. You could be on fire but don't you dare tell anyone that someone set that fire!<br />
<br />
<br />
Flash forward to today...<b><i>distaste</i></b> and <b><i>discomfort</i></b> once again. I'm doing <i style="font-weight: bold;">it again!</i> I'm not <i style="font-weight: bold;">shutting up!</i> I'm <i style="font-weight: bold;">making people uncomfortable</i>. I'm even being 'unfriended' over telling <i style="font-weight: bold;">my own truth!</i> I'm not putting up signs or <i style="font-weight: bold;">billboards with photos</i>. I'm writing. I'm speaking up. <i style="font-weight: bold;">I'm telling my truth, in my voice for the first time in my life.</i> <div><br />
</div><div>But if someone telling <b style="font-style: italic;">their own truth </b>causes someone such discomfort and distaste it <i style="font-weight: bold;">begs the question</i> - what un-looked at, un-examined things are <i style="font-weight: bold;">lurking under their smooth surface</i>? If they don't want to see<b> </b><i style="font-weight: bold;">what is open in my life</i> maybe it really is because they don't want to <i style="font-weight: bold;">lose the magic of their denial</i>. How sad. </div><div><br />
</div><div>You would <b style="font-style: italic;">silence me </b>and <i style="font-weight: bold;">stifle my healing </i>because of your own lack of <i style="font-weight: bold;">voice and lack of healing! </i>Things are so <b style="font-style: italic;">small in your world </b>that you would rather walk away from my wounds, <i style="font-weight: bold;">feeling righteous</i> before facing your own? </div><div><br />
</div><div>When we can <b style="font-style: italic;">see our own wounding </b>and understand it, then we can start <i style="font-weight: bold;">healing. </i> With healing comes compassion and understanding, with that <b style="font-style: italic;">comes a special kind of courage </b>that lets us reach through the <i style="font-weight: bold;">veil of hurt</i> to hold the hand, heart and words of another <i style="font-weight: bold;">who is on their own healing path.</i> We can <i style="font-weight: bold;">live through the scars of survivin</i>g<i style="font-weight: bold;">.</i> We can burst through to happiness.</div><div><br />
</div><div>It is a <i style="font-weight: bold;">choice!</i></div><div><i style="font-weight: bold;"><br />
</i></div><div>You can choose to be <i style="font-weight: bold;">gentle with yourself and let yourself heal</i>. But that means actually <i style="font-weight: bold;">acknowledging the wounding</i>. You can choose to <i style="font-weight: bold;">push it all down and away </i>and in so doing you can crush your own ability to have <i style="font-weight: bold;">compassion and caring</i> because you won't grant it yourself, you cannot grant it to others. </div><div><br />
</div><div>By choosing to <i style="font-weight: bold;">deny the knife in your back</i> you say you cannot help <i style="font-weight: bold;">because your back hurts</i>. By choosing to be <i style="font-weight: bold;">full of distaste and discomfort</i> you deny your self the blessings of healing and grace. </div><div><br />
</div><div>We have to face the good with the bad, they are a package deal. I cannot <i style="font-weight: bold;">figure out a way</i> to have good memories without <i style="font-weight: bold;">the bad ones coming along</i> and destroying the party. I remembered my prized possessions for a short time - pink satin pillow cases my grandma made. I loved them. <i style="font-weight: bold;">I thought I loved them enough. </i></div><div><br />
</div><div>But soon enough that memory is <i style="font-weight: bold;">dragged away with the memory that comes after</i>. The one where I'm <i style="font-weight: bold;">not worthy, not good enough, so bad that I don't deserve nice pillow cases</i>. And in my tears I write a note, <i style="font-weight: bold;">childish scrawl</i>, and attach it to the pillow cases as I give them back. I'm not worthy. I wrote it down. I admitted it. <i style="font-weight: bold;">I was sure they were right</i>.</div><div><br />
</div><div>There was no compassion, no second chances. No chance to try again. In my world now, <i style="font-weight: bold;">full of chaos and healing</i>, I almost feel badly for them in their small world of <i style="font-weight: bold;">status quo</i> and pointing fingers at <i style="font-weight: bold;">those people</i>. 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 <i style="font-weight: bold;">lies and snare line</i> that trapped us for so long.</div><div><br />
</div><div>I want to be able to <i style="font-weight: bold;">really touch someone</i> and have them feel the <i style="font-weight: bold;">compassion and the love</i>. I want to celebrate healing, I want to cheer on advocates, I want to be the cRaZy <i style="font-weight: bold;">whoot whoot</i> woman on the sidelines as we race once more just <i style="font-weight: bold;">to feel the wind on our faces and the sun on our backs!</i> Never too much or too little - just right because <b><i>we</i></b> <b><i>just are.</i></b></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6105634313164805461.post-70192048391318383542011-06-20T14:18:00.000-07:002011-06-20T14:18:05.875-07:00I wish you knewThere are things that you don't know. <br />
Things you've <i style="font-weight: bold;">never taken the time to hear</i>. <br />
There are things <i style="font-weight: bold;">that I wish you knew</i>. <br />
You won't though,<br />
because they would require<br />
<i style="font-weight: bold;">getting to know me again</i><br />
and I'm different now. <br />
<br />
So very <i style="font-weight: bold;">different.</i> <br />
I'm healing. <br />
I'm more<br />
than the old scars<br />
and wounds. <br />
<br />
I'm <b style="font-style: italic;"> putting the pieces together</b><br />
<b style="font-style: italic;"></b>and they are making<br />
something <i style="font-weight: bold;">really cool.</i> <br />
They are making <b><i>me!</i></b><br />
<b><i><br />
</i></b><br />
<i style="font-weight: bold;">Some days though</i><br />
there are things<br />
<i style="font-weight: bold;">I wished you knew</i>.<br />
<br />
I wish you knew,<br />
the choices you make<br />
<i style="font-weight: bold;">are your own</i> but their price<br />
was paid by me.<br />
Sometimes paid for years.<br />
<br />
I wish you knew,<br />
the times of waiting<br />
<i style="font-weight: bold;">for your approval</i><br />
are long gone.<br />
<br />
Life is for living,<br />
Living is what we are doing.<br />
Fully with every breath.<br />
Following hearts,<br />
Living in laughter.<br />
<br />
I wish you knew,<br />
<b><i>I don't fear the phone calls</i></b><br />
because I don't fear you.<br />
I don't fear your rage.<br />
I don't fear your games.<br />
<br />
I wish you knew,<br />
<b><i>how much he wanted</i></b><br />
to just know you and love you.<br />
You gave that up.<br />
Your choice. Again.<br />
<br />
You gave up so much,<br />
and you feel so full.<br />
How can that be?<br />
I'd rather be empty of <b><i>stuff</i></b><br />
and be full of <i style="font-weight: bold;">loving and life</i>.<br />
<br />
I'm not sorry for speaking up.<br />
I'm not sorry for speaking out.<br />
<b><i>I wasn't wrong then.</i></b><br />
<b><i>I'm not wrong now.</i></b><br />
My choices I live with.<br />
I think of their price, and<br />
carry their weight.<br />
<br />
I wish you knew, but<br />
I don't think you care.<br />
You demand <i><b>respect.</b></i><br />
I want it to be <i style="font-weight: bold;">earned</i>.<br />
You want your white walls.<br />
I'm tired of <b><i>coverings.</i></b><br />
<b><i><br />
</i></b><br />
I wish you knew me.<br />
I wish you knew them.<br />
I wish you knew us.<br />
But you won't.<br />
Your choice.<br />
I can live with that.<br />
I can. I am. I do.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6105634313164805461.post-78342767415574212092011-06-15T15:32:00.000-07:002011-06-15T15:32:29.760-07:00Leave It Alone<b><i>Leave it Alone</i></b><div><b><i><br />
</i></b></div><div>Leave it well enough alone.</div><div>Don't talk about it.</div><div>Don't embarrass us.</div><div>Don't cry, or I'll give you</div><div>something to cry about.</div><div><br />
</div><div>Who do you think you are?</div><div>Stirring things up.</div><div>Trouble maker.</div><div>Don't look at me that way.</div><div>Don't talk, or you'll be</div><div>sorry you said anything.</div><div><br />
</div><div>No one will believe you.</div><div>It was a compliment.</div><div>It doesn't happen to good girls,</div><div>so why did it happen to you?</div><div>I told you so.</div><div>Don't look at me that way,</div><div>or I'll make you sorry.</div><div><br />
</div><div>Why can't you just get along?</div><div>Leave it well enough alone.</div><div>Don't stir things up.</div><div>Don't cause a fuss.</div><div>That's how it is,</div><div>nothing you can do about it.</div><div><br />
</div><div>It's in the past, long gone.</div><div>Let it go. Forget it.</div><div>You don't remember.</div><div>You got it wrong.</div><div>You are a liar. </div><div>We know what is best,</div><div>and you don't.</div><div><br />
</div><div>Echoes in my head.</div><div>Burning my ears.</div><div>Cheeks red from shame.</div><div>Eyes swollen from crying.</div><div>Stomach aches.</div><div>Arms twitch.</div><div><br />
</div><div>I pray. I cry. I am healing.</div><div>Learning to laugh.</div><div>Learning to play.</div><div>Learning it is okay to be wrong.</div><div>Learning it is okay to be.</div><div><br />
</div><div>Undoing the twisted mess.</div><div>Finding knots with no ends.</div><div>Finding truths in the lies.</div><div>Finding me in the mess.</div><div>Finding me.</div><div><br />
</div><div>Respect doesn't come</div><div>to a raised fist.</div><div>Love doesn't come</div><div>to an angry heart.</div><div>Trust doesn't come</div><div>to a betraying spirit.</div><div><br />
</div><div>Healing comes to wounds</div><div>when hearts come out of hiding.</div><div>Hearts come out when</div><div>they find a safe place.</div><div>Everyone needs a safe place.</div><div>Not everyone does.</div><div>Why?</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com5