Scarred-Seeker

It is a trust thing

2012-01-17T08:41:00.000-08:00

It is a trust thing.

I can hear you saying, "No! Really? Wow...so what's new?" 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. And after you are done reading perhaps a bit rattling for you as well.

My son is studying jujitsu, it is a class for little guys to learn about being safe and it is about not being bullied or being a bully. It is about sticking up for not only yourself but others as well.

The children trust each other and you can see it when they practice and play together.They trust their sensei too. He shows them, he teaches them. Everyone is included. They understand the sublime message of truly learning this martial art - when you are in class you can trust your partners, your sensei, your training. By learning that trust there, where it is safe, you can use your skills with confidence outside of class.

That is not what shattered me though. That is just an observation to set the scene.

We arrived early yesterday to class and got to observe Sensei training with another practitioner. They were working on holds. Choke holds. Neck holds.

I overheard them talking and started to realize there were only two ways out of the holds if both people were equally skilled. One you pass out and the other person lets you go because they won. Two you tap them and they let you go.

The trust is in the tap. 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. Then the one doing the hold let go. He stopped immediately.

There I am, a Mama and survivor, and I'm shaking. My heart is racing. My hands are sweaty. I'm thinking I could never do this. I can't trust like that. There is a real trust there. Something that is fundamental to the art.

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 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 automatic self preservation mode explanation. But after seeing J and M working on the holds together I started to understand. It is the trust I need to work on.

Trust people inside my zone. Trust people to put their hands on me to teach me. Not to hurt me. To teach me. 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. Not in the past where I learned to break free and stay free of holds. Nor in the future when I might need to do so again. I need to be present, there fully, and be able to trust and learn.

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...

Olive, the other reindeer

2011-12-23T14:05:00.000-08:00

Christmas can be such a season of contrasts.

Blessings and stress. Freedom and feelings of being trapped.

Loved ones around you or you being alone.

Choosing boundaries. Making hard choices.

Seeing doors open you thought would stay closed.

Being free or trapped by holiday bullies of all kinds.

Thinking of the strange connections we can make to holiday songs.

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.

And poor ol' Frosty! He couldn't get anything right! But then his brains really were made of mush. What could you expect from a snowman after all?

At least no one asks why we don't have mall Santa photos of our little boy anymore. I guess they got tired of getting the look whenever they asked. Shudder...cringe...yeah...THAT LOOK!

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.

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!

It's Not You

2011-12-09T09:13:00.000-08:00

Haven't we all heard that line at least once in our lives? "It's not you, it's me." and didn't it fill you with a strange sort of dread. That no matter how hard you tried something that was you could not match what they wanted. When I hear that now, however, I find it rather freeing. Liberating. I'm using that line to clear up some misunderstandings about the choices I have made in my life.

It's not you 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.

It's not you whom these changes have been made for. Indeed, if I could make one change for you it would be that you could change. But you choose not to.

It's not you who has worried, cried and fretted countless nights away in worry, fear, despair and loneliness. You saw those tears as weakness, as being 'wimpy' and flawed.

It's not you who choose for the heart of a little child, instead of the material satisfaction of an adult.

It's not you, it's me who made the choices to have boundaries, to make things clear and defined.

It's not you, it's me who choose to change her life. For the better. Not the easier. Easier would have been, well easy, but not right. Not right for me. Not right for them.

It's not you, it's me 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 won't change becomes can't change and the shame/blame game continues.

It's not you, it's me who decided to stop the games, stop the tear-filled madness.

It's not you, it's me who choose to forgive and move forward. We're waiting. We're praying. Someday you may come, then again you may not.

I'm okay with this. It's okay for it to be me and not you.

Guest Post: Hold On?

2011-11-15T17:05:00.000-08:00

My friend Lisa is a poet and shared this wonderful poem with me. She also took the photo which inspired it. Enjoy!
S

Hold On?

When I first saw you, I admired your tenacity.
I could hear you whisper to me, “Hold on. No matter what, hold on!”
Maybe I heard that because I most needed to hear that, at least for a moment.
Your fellows, scattered beneath me, have all given up too soon. Only you hold on.

Then I walk among your fellows.
They crunch beneath my feet (wonderful sound!)
And I begin to see their wisdom, the trust they show
That death must happen before new life can begin.

“Death?!” I hear you shudder. “I don’t want to die!”
I know how you feel. It’s lonely there.
Holding on when everyone else has left; you feel alone
And frightened you will remain that way forever.

But I hear your fellows whisper too.
“Our tree needs to rest for Winter. We will grow again.
Young and healthy and beautiful. This is what comes next.
You cannot hold on to what no longer serves you.”

And I understand. I understand what I never have before.
I have been wanting another chance. Another chance to do it right.
So I hold on. To the person that hurts me, the habits that destroy me,
The relationship I think I ruined. I hold on because letting go means giving up.

But “no,” your fellows whisper. “No. Letting go is not giving up.
It is trusting in the wisdom of the universe. It is knowing when it is time
To embrace a new kind of life.” And I realize, death to the pain of this life
Means opening up to a chance for something better.

The longer I hold on, the longer I am unable to move forward
To whatever comes next. Whatever pain and joy is possible
Can only happen if I let go. When I hold on, my hands stay closed.
When I let go, they open up.

So what do you say? Will you take the chance with me?
Let’s let go. And fall together.

Truth and Triumph

2011-09-26T20:03:00.000-07:00

"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 Finding Your Voice of Truth.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

My Darkness

2011-09-07T19:17:00.000-07:00

Sometimes it is so hard to keep the darkness away.
It lurks at the edge of my vision, waiting, breathing.
I feel it under my skin, over my shoulder, in me.

Everyone sees the light in me, they see how it shines.
They don't see that it is brighter for the shadows.
Darkness makes light seem bright, and I feel fake.

My prayers and my faith hold me up, it pulls me.
Sideways and across, down and down again.
That darkness no one knows thirsts in me.

I thought if I rattled all the bones, burnt the wraps,
shredded the secrets and tossed the ashes to the sky
that it would leave me be, leave me alone, go away.

It doesn't. I don't fear it. We've been together too long.
I fear for the day it gets away. I pray my angel stays stronger.
Some are sheep, and stay that way. Some grow wolfish.

Redeemed, saved, blessed, loved and yet the darkness
rolls under my skin, in my veins, through my brain.
I cannot look when I feel her rise or I'll see it all.

That ancient darkness that protected the young,
hunted and fought wars to save that sweet life
it lives in me, thrives in me, and I know her.

You can't know her, even if you know me.
She's too deep, too secret, too far down.
God hasn't taken her away, we are one.

Don't ask me to fight her, I can't win.
We have an uneasy bloodless truce.
I don't tempt her, she doesn't escape.

2011 Copyright, Shanyn Silinski

Burnt Up

2011-09-06T13:56:00.000-07:00

Our son loves to go see the burnt farm truck. It amazes him that something that was once shiny and functioning is now a rusting, burnt up shell. He can see the transformation from running truck to burnt up wreck and it just amazes him. Glass strong enough to be part of a protection system melted and draped like a frozen waterfall. Tires, belted with steel, melted down to a tangle of wires. They once made travel possible and now they rest on useless rims in a muddy part of the field.

That truck does something else for me. I see it a bit differently. I see what it was. I see what it is. I imagine what it will become.

In winter there will be animals sheltering there, out of the wind and storms.

In spring the waters will rise and plants will grow. Things will cover and consume it. It will sink down into the ground. Eventually it will be more wild than man-made. More animal shelter than not.

Summer's heat will make it a great place for things to grow. Up through the frame and cab. Plants and animals will create a home. The roof will be invisible through the cat tails.

In fall seeds will be trapped, they will find new soil, and in spring will sprout and grow.

In time there won't be much left to see of that truck. However it will still be there! It will be able to snag a harrow or seeder. It will not totally disappear into the soil.

I find my healing journey is much like that old truck. We ran, we burned up and now we are becoming something new. The old frame is still there. Shards of glass and metal, wounds and scars, remain. But they are hidden under new growth, new life.

That's how it should be. We aren't meant to remain barren, bleeding and scarred forever! Healing doesn't take anything away but it does transform it. If we leave it alone, if we tend it and love it, then something amazing can come out of it.

I'm ready for amazing! Are you?

Go away!

2011-08-18T20:05:00.000-07:00

(small joke - see no one listens to me! I post a title that says go away 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!)

Go away! I want to scream it. I want to paint it on boards and then nail them to every fence post and then I want to chain my gate shut. Go away!

And yet I don't...I really can't, can I? It won't work. They would crawl under the wire and they would chew through the boards and then they would sit by my door all sad and pitiful. ARGH! I can't stand them. They freak me out. Really, they freak me out!

No idea what I'm talking about yet? Or maybe you have people and things in your life that you can totally relate to this?

Here's the thing. I really cannot handle major league drama when it is used for passive agressive and non-productive and detrimental to healing ways. When it is used to get sympathy and there is no incentive for change.

You've seen the movies and video games, the walking wounded. They seem so shell shocked and dazed they don't know they are wounded! Their guts are hanging out, their arms are torn off, their bodies a zombie like shambling wreck and they keep walking towards you.

Now picture this - they are fully aware of the drama! They know perfectly well they are playing the drama game and yet they don't understand how much it is hurting them. Telling them doesn't work, this is something they figure out banging into closed doors and brick walls.

My friend is like this. She is dreadfully unhappy unless there is some life altering crisis happening RIGHT NOW! She cannot function without drama. You cannot even have a conversation without her wanting to know, does this sound or feel authentic or how was it really like and can you tell me more? She needs the drama rush. She is as hooked on it as anyone can be on something that is an actual substance to abuse.

I have learned that there is a huge huge difference between helping someone heal and feeding their drama. Sometimes the boundaries need to be put up tall, strong and wide. I'm doing my own healing, I'm not strong enough to carry someone else, my weight is enough. I care for her, and the other drama junkies and I pray for them. But I cannot have them in my life, not daily or even weekly.

A visit the other day was like watching a slomo slasher flick because I could see her woundedness and hear the pain in her voice. It was so sad, there is so much hurt, and so little desire to heal from it because the attention gotten for being wounded is too seductive to leave. It'd be like being in a body cast, liking the attention, and staying in a body cast! That's no way to live. It's no way to expect others who care about you to live.

Tonight is my go away 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 storms alone but I've gotten used to it. It is easier for me. I feel surrounded lately by other people's drama storms and I guess that's why the two things collided and made this post! Sorry if it is rough or not polished. I've got to finish before the power goes out...or the hail hits...or something else wicked comes.

I think I know where there are some markers and paper maybe I'll make some signs, by flashlight beam, just in case I get brave enough to put them up!

Some Bridges Need Burning

2011-08-04T18:06:00.000-07:00

Recently on a blog, in the comments, we were talking about burning bridges and it came to me.

Some bridges need burning. Down to the pillars. Chopped from the banks.

Bridges can do two things - allow access across and back. That's it. Two way traffic. Or a one way invasion.

Relationship bridges are like that. Some need to be kept up, even if they get little traffic because who is across the river of distance, time, healing is worth keeping access to.

Some are old, forgotten even, and the places they used to go may not be there anymore. They are not really even in our minds.

Some are current and alive with traffic and we use them daily.

Among these are the bridges that are seemingly innocent but are used for invasions and attacks and those are the ones that need to be closely looked at. Sometimes, regardless of who is on the other side, the attacks that come are not worth keeping up the bridge!

If someone is sneaking across your bridge, smiling like a friend, and then attacking you this is not a good use of the bridge. Bridges give access to our lives and sometimes we need a toll bridge, sometimes we need a four-lane super highway and other times we need a rickety swinging bridge with missing planks and sometimes no matter what kind of bridge it is we need to burn it down.

You bet, you heard me right, burn it to the ground. Stop access. Stop contact. Make a personal boundary that is not easy to cross. When you are healing and choosing not to cross the bridge why should you allow them to cross to you if they are not supporting that healing?

There should be no automatic passes on our bridges. Everyone should have a good reason for being there. One that is safe and healthy for us. Sure, some may challenge us or give us a reason to think but they should not be attacking us or using their access to our lives to cause us harm.

Some examples? I am a person who cares deeply for others and sometimes that leaves me with very open access in parts of my life. Such as time. Emotional energy. And when someone comes across, dumps their garbage and then leaves it is a violation. It hurts. They don't clean up. They don't work on coming to be a part of my life. They are there to bitch, whine, dump and leave. Sorry, you may get my prayers and my love but no more access. And I'm not even really sorry about it either!

Another example? Family! They troop across the bridges with suitcases, motor homes and buckets of stuff to bring you. Is it your stuff? Or is it old garbage that belongs no where but the trash bin? If it feels like, sounds like or acts like guilt and blame, invalidation and control burn that bridge!

Some bridges are one ways, and should only be crossed going towards the healing, building the faith, towards life and going backwards shouldn't be an option. Keep going. Don't let anyone call you back to a dark place because they don't want you to move forward! It may sound like this, 'I liked you better when'.

It can be easy to decide when to burn a bridge, 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, what if I'm wrong and what if I want to go back or what if ____________...

When I look back upon my burned bridges and I don't miss what is on the other side and I don't miss the stuff that came across then I feel pretty confident that it was right to do!

I love watching movies where they blow up bridges because it reminds me that I can do that too! In my life, right now even, an interruption stopped me from finishing this blog. A bridge I had kept open for a few friends has now gotten a closed sign and a chain. I may be stacking kindling there tomorrow! Why? Because what came across with them, their need and drama was and is not healthy for me. There is nothing over there I need! So it is closed, and may be burned finally! Maybe I held on too long.

What is across the bridges in your life? Who comes across the bridges in your life? Is there some burning that needs to be done? You have to think about it, pray about it and consider what it means but if you come to the conclusion that this is right for you then light'er up! 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.

...and you'll like it...

2011-08-02T18:23:00.000-07:00

This post is, in part, inspired by the comments and post over at Emerging From Broken, and in part by the lessons that never stuck from when I was a kid...

I can remember, so very clearly, do this and like it. It didn't really matter if you actually liked, disliked, loathed or were indifferent. You had to like it. You were obligated as a member of the family to like it. Paste on the smile, pour out the right words, clutch, cling and freaking make everyone around you happy because you were being obedient. This isn't a polite, Thanks Nanny for the great sweater when it is a terrible crime against yarn. This is liking what they liked for you to like and you had no say. Less because you had no choice!

You are going to do what we say and like it. There was an expectation that their expectations were enough. My thoughts and feelings on liking something, being happy about something or enjoying something were irrelevant. They were useless, and unwanted.

They could even be embarrassing! Or worse, they could be unpopular with everyone else.

You'll like it because if you don't there will be hell to pay! You'll be happy and smile like a gargoyle on a church and like it.

It wasn't good enough to like something just because you liked it! You had to like something they did. Choices were not your own. You only got to own mistakes, never successes. You didn't get to love what you loved because you loved it. You couldn't really be happy just because.

How absurd! How devaluing and controlling! How hard is it to learn that when you are an adult? It is pretty challenging to figure out what you really like. To seek and find what really makes you happy. And not quiver in fear because it might not be what someone else wants!

Even now, after a few miles down the healing road, it is hard to say, "I'm doing this because it makes me happy!" or to share "I could be the only one here, but I like this!" Not asking permission for joy, for liking something or for disliking it is so freeing! So validating to make your own choice. Yeah that brand of cookies is super! or nope I just cannot stand that color of shirt!

The removal of obligation from my choices was not just having windows opened! It was more like having a chainsaw and being able to cut your own windows! I could pick my windows, pick my spot, cut my holes and breathe! Breathe!

Like what you like! Be happy with what makes you happy! Seek joy. Share laughter. Tell that child inside that it is okay to come out and play! 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.

Try it, this time I promise if you give it a chance you'll find you like it!

Betrayal and Trust

2011-07-29T20:35:00.000-07:00

I"m guest posting over at Emerging From Broken about Betrayal and Trust.

Won't you come over and join us?

Surrounded Alone

2011-07-21T19:34:00.000-07:00

Surrounded by people - yet alone.
Their chatter
a cloud of noise
around me.

Surrounded by people - yet alone.
Seeing wolves,
seeing sheep
seeing them.

Surrounded by people - still.
Their words
gossip
bitching.

Surrounded by people - eyes moving.
Seeing so much.
Them - standing too close.
Her - leaning away.
There a harsh whisper, a flinch.
There a rolling eye, scorning.
Here a pinch, there a wink.

Surrounded by people - I smile.
Hollow, faking it well.
Nodding, "oh yes I see" said.
Inside I hear the stillness in me.
Inside I feel the watcher move.

Surrounded by people - can't breathe.
The noise, the smells
Their energy.
Unknowing and sucking.
Thirsting and seeking.

Surrounded by people - I slip away.
Within me, the wiring is wrong.
I'm there but so not there.
Not so simple as
wolves and sheep.
It is something complex.

Surrounded by people - unseen.
Learning to be invisible
long ago
serves me well today.

They always look shocked
when I suddenly speak
and appear there.
In their midst - who knew?
Witty, fun, confident,
not like them, exotic.
I shake my head, within me,
Then I slip away again.

Copyright 2011 Shanyn Silinski

Why I love poppies

2011-07-19T19:37:00.000-07:00

If I could come back as a flower it'd be a poppy or a sunflower. Probably though, as much as I adore sunflowers, I'm more of a poppy person.

Why? It is very hard to get rid of poppies once they are putting seeds in the ground. They are like us, survivors, and like us they learn to stay underground or come up to the light depending on the conditions around them. We know when there is a good place to grow because of the safety, nourishment and sunlight that we often lacked when we ourselves little seed pods.

I love poppies because they grow out of adversity of the most gruesome kind. Like battle fields, like blood soaked fields. We also grew out of adversity and not only survived but learned to thrive! Maybe it took us a few seasons to get our roots down and like a poppy field not every seed comes up. We don't always bloom right away nor do we find our place easily.

Poppies are fragile flowers there is no doubt about it. They don't have really firm blooms and their leaves are not woody or strong. Their power is in their seeds, in their legacy. No poppy ever truly dies if even one poppy lives to bloom again!

Have you ever collected poppy seeds? Put them in a little jar...and then accidentally dropped them? You can NEVER pick up all the seeds! They are too small, too round and designed to hide away!.

They remind me of the stolen, treasured moments which no one could or can take away from us. They are where our seeds are and when we can find them a place to grow we can see blooms, and seeds and so much come blossoming to light!

How encouraging to know that one seed this size (.) can be the freedom seed for thousands of flowers! Given a chance to grow, a poppy seizes it with an intensity that colors horizons, inspires poets and changes the world! What would Remembrance Day be without that poem by the doomed McCray and the poppies we all wear?

What if it is more than our moments but also our words that are like poppy seeds? What if we choose to be seeding a silent world with color and words? I can imagine it...can you?

Today my heart hurt. For a friend raped.. For a mama dog and her babies shot down. For friends with sick children, husbands gone to the Lord. For all of us.

I almost didn't write anything today but when I went out to water the flowers the sun shone behind my poppy and I couldn't NOT write! Even when you don't think you have something to say speak your heart. Speak your poppy seeds and as survivors let's plant the world with healing!

My story: limited access

2011-07-14T17:50:00.000-07:00

The inspiration for this post came from one by my good friend, fellow survivor and blogger, Patricia Singleton at Spiritual Journey of a Light Worker

In that post she talked about how hard it can be for survivors to heal past telling their stories. It really resonated with me because I have had some experiences with the telling of abuse stories that were disturbing and seemed counter to moving to healing.

If you have read my posts prior to this one you'll know I am not about the drama or the descriptions of my story but about the healing. For me it is about the healing, the stories are part of it, but they are not the bigger part. I lived through them once retelling them over and over seems almost pornographic.

Another kind of violation and it is one that when we say, I'm a survivor people can have an expectation that we not only are willing but eager to share the intimate details of with any stranger who asks. It isn't always helpful, can probably can be often the opposite, to feed that sort of need to be validated by reliving the woundings in our lives.

No one actually retells the story of breaking their arm by actually rebreaking the arm. We don't explain how our car crashed by actually going out and crashing again. There is post traumatic stress involved with any major stressor in our lives. Any major stressor and abuse is a real doozie!

There seems to be an expectation that we have to measure up for our story to be taken seriously that we have to meet a standard for being abused. Those who would expect us to tell our stories over and over again are feeding off our stories like emotional vampires. They are pulling us away from our healing. They are distracting us from doing the work of healing.

I had a woman introduce herself to me as a 'sister survivor' and wanted to share her story with me. She was offended when I didn't reciprocate in great detail. She told me she knew I was healing but how bad was it, really that you are still healing. She wanted to know how her own story measured up against others I had heard. It was shocking to me! She was so focused on the hurt that the healing was taking a back seat, permanently, because 'people want to hear my story of the abuse, not about the other stuff'

I remember watching Criminal Minds 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, "I'm sorry you have to know that. I'm sorry you were put through something that made you have to know that."

I'm sorry that any of us have to have these stories to tell. No one should have them. None of us. But we do. It isn't about the story, it's about the healing. Dwelling on the story, getting sucked in to the vampiric world of more and more drama, more and more telling sucks us dry of the will to move on in our healing.

I don't need to tell it I lived it. I remember it. If I focus, or am facing a trigger, 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 take the remembering and add it as fuel to the cleansing fire of my healing.

We are no less a voice for advocacy if we are not sharing the intimate details of our story. We are no less for not needing to feed that drama. We are who we are, survivors moving through to the healing. I don't want to get stuck in the horror story time, do you?

It is personal!

2011-07-13T15:16:00.000-07:00

Don't be so sensitive.

Don't take it personally.

I have avoided this topic for quite a while and last night a status update from a friend got me thinking about it again.

My stand on this is a bit, well, radical. Maybe even, well, dangerous. Let's back up a few steps though. When someone starts a conversation with don't take this personally I'm already on guard, senses alert and I'm ready to respond. They have warned me. What else should I do? I ask three questions.

Yep, three questions:

Are they talking to me about me?
Is this thing they are talking about directly to do with me?
Is it a judgement or comment upon myself and the things I think, say, or do?

If I answer yes! to any of these then by golly it is personal folks! No amount of excuses, spin doctoring or perspective shifting can change that.

When someone tells you that you are responding incorrectly always be sure to find out who is doing the measuring of correctness. It has been easier since I learned the trick phrases that many employ. Such as: now I don't want you getting all worked up or more classically don't freak out and take this personally.

I've learned to pause and wait for the impending answer to question number 2. (It almost always follows straight after the opening statement or warning against your response. Is the conversation, being one sided, encouraging, supportive and generally uplifting? Or is it you telling me how to be me? I know how I feel, these feelings live in my veins daily. I know how to hear what you are saying and when it is to me, about me, like I'm not really there then it is personal!

Question three deals with content and delivery - is the conversation about how much better they would be at being you? Is the admonition against being too sensitive and taking things too personally directed at what you say, think or do?

If it is about you, to you and there is an expectation of response by you then IT IS PERSONAL!

When the lights turn red suddenly -that is 99.9% not personal.

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.

When the courier loses your package - that is not personal.

If you see them dumping it in a trash container then it could be a personal issue. This is unlikely.

When someone says you should do things their way, and be happy they suggested it that is highly personal!

Good or bad (and have you noticed that you are never too sensitive or taking things too personally when it is good stuff, celebratory stuff, easy to handle stuff? Yeah I noticed that too!) things said to a person, about that person with an impression, indication or direction that they take said things as long awaited much valued information should be taken personally.

My healing journey is deeply personal and I choose to share it. I do reserve the right to be sensitive and to take things as personally as I need to. If you tell me my shoelace is undone, not personal, thanks for the information. 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 - now THAT is personal!

Healing is hard work but laughter makes the load lighter. I'm afraid that too many of us think life is all serious all the time. We were robbed of our joy, and it is our duty as survivors to seek, hunt down, put in a brightly colored bucket or cartoon pillow case every bit of giggle, joy, sunshine and dandelion fluff we can find! We should celebrate being alive, living and healing and I celebrate you!

Don't let anyone steal your joy, diminish you as a person or cause you to think of yourself as worthy of their campaign for change!

Targets, a poem

2011-07-07T08:15:00.001-07:00

Give them a target.

Give them someone to blame.

Someone to dream of lynching.

The smell of bloody revenge,

even in a proxy cyber world.

Give them soap box.

Give them someone to shout at.

Someone to judge and flay.

The intoxication of hindsight,

even if they have no clue.

Why isn't anyone shouting?

Why isnt anyone crying?

There is a small body forgotten.

Broken and left alone.

Someone knew and stayed silent.

Someone could have spoken,

and did not say a word.

Why aren't we searching for the

next child to save?

Why aren't we doing more than

lighting porch lights?

A small life, trusting and fragile.

A life which we did nothing to save.

A life which we forget in the frenzy,

the 'injustice' and the knot tying.

The injustice is this,

we are always showing up

too late to the gunfight,

knife in hand and no clue.

People why aren't we showing

love, protection and caring

to these the smallest of the

'least of these'?

Instead of tying nooses

and building gallows,

shouldn't we be protecting,

sheltering, loving and saving?

It would have taken one voice,

just one, loud enough to be heard,

but it seems easier to be silent then,

and cry when it is too late.

More than porch lights

2011-07-05T19:29:00.000-07:00

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.

Wouldn't it be wonderful if porch lights could talk? Wouldn't it be wonderful if porch lights could tell what goes on behind their windows or those of their neighbors? It would be wonderful but it isn't their job!

It is our job! We all know that there is always someone who knows. 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 knew something bad was going to happen. or I am not surprised! Of course you knew! Of course you are not surprised. You knew!

So many of my friends are sharing about this lost child, and putting on their porch lights in her memory. How sad I am that I wish we didn't have to! Imperfect system that we have, even children in care are abused and many die. Many escape one horror only to be stuffed into another.

I worked in that world. I know a bit of how things happen. But I will never believe that they have to, that there isn't another way. I believe that children can have a childhood. I believe we can do this because if we care enough to light up the night for a lost one, if we can fire up with networks with our outrage, we can change the world with love.

What if someone had spoken up for you or what if someone had noticed your hurt? That would have changed your world.

Turn on your porch lights and please remember it's not just one we've lost, but one too many and there are more in danger right now! And someone knows. Someone is speaking and not being heard. Someone is choosing silence. What are you choosing?

We need more, we have the power of an enormous nation at our status updating, liking and sharing finger tips. We can do more because we are more!

Distaste and Discomfort

2011-06-29T17:43:00.000-07:00

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It is a choice!

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

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

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

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

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

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

I wish you knew

2011-06-20T14:18:00.000-07:00

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

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

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

Some days though
there are things
I wished you knew.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Leave It Alone

2011-06-15T15:32:00.000-07:00

Leave it Alone

Leave it well enough alone.

Don't talk about it.

Don't embarrass us.

Don't cry, or I'll give you

something to cry about.

Who do you think you are?

Stirring things up.

Trouble maker.

Don't look at me that way.

Don't talk, or you'll be

sorry you said anything.

No one will believe you.

It was a compliment.

It doesn't happen to good girls,

so why did it happen to you?

I told you so.

Don't look at me that way,

or I'll make you sorry.

Why can't you just get along?

Leave it well enough alone.

Don't stir things up.

Don't cause a fuss.

That's how it is,

nothing you can do about it.

It's in the past, long gone.

Let it go. Forget it.

You don't remember.

You got it wrong.

You are a liar.

We know what is best,

and you don't.

Echoes in my head.

Burning my ears.

Cheeks red from shame.

Eyes swollen from crying.

Stomach aches.

Arms twitch.

I pray. I cry. I am healing.

Learning to laugh.

Learning to play.

Learning it is okay to be wrong.

Learning it is okay to be.

Undoing the twisted mess.

Finding knots with no ends.

Finding truths in the lies.

Finding me in the mess.

Finding me.

Respect doesn't come

to a raised fist.

Love doesn't come

to an angry heart.

Trust doesn't come

to a betraying spirit.

Healing comes to wounds

when hearts come out of hiding.

Hearts come out when

they find a safe place.

Everyone needs a safe place.

Not everyone does.

Why?

Forgiving to freedom

2011-06-06T11:08:00.000-07:00

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That is all...

Missed Me

2011-05-16T08:45:00.000-07:00

In your hurry to layout your conditions and rules you missed me.

In your rush to forget what happened you missed me.

In your desire to be right and powerful you missed me.

You missed my healing and you missed my faith renewed.

You missed chances to laugh and chances to bind wounds together.

In your need to control the spin and the image you missed me.

In your urge to always be right you missed me.

In your quick to layout the list of wrongs you missed me.

You missed the words of love and you missed my longing for reconciliation.

You missed a chance to choose differently and you missed me.

In your wish to be seeing as right you missed me.

In declaring your status of being wronged you missed me.

In deciding to turn away and walk away you missed me.

You missed laugher and joy.

You missed flowers and bird song.

You missed finding who we could have been.

When you made it about you you missed me.

When you had to be setting the rules you missed me.

When you forgot that love is the greatest gift you missed me.

I'm not going to miss a moment of joy, laughter, sunshine, tears, fears or celebration because of that. I'm not missing my healing and redeemed life. I'm celebrating it!

Standing Still

2011-05-08T12:15:00.000-07:00

and watching you walk away. That is what it feels like. It feels like I've been watching you walk away for a long time. You look over your shoulder and say, "Do it my way and you can come..." and I stay standing there because the answer is No.

Watching you walk away,
Watching you leave me.
Standing there. Waiting.
Hands out. Heart open.

Watching you look at me.
Hearing you say, "Come and
do it my way"
Hearing me say, "I'd rather stay."
Hands down. Eyes clear.

Watching you walk away.
Knowing I couldn't go,
Knowing you couldn't stay.
Watching you go.
Hands open, in prayer.

I wrote to heal, you read blame. I wrote to be stronger, you read and responded in blame. I walk this healing path and wish for you to know all the hopeful, faith-filled, beauty and love words I've written.

You only see what you wanted. It's easy to put conditions on things when you've always had the power. But when someone else finds their strength and says, "No."

No. Said with love. Questions asked in love. No blame, only healing. No said with the weight of my heart getting lighter without fear and without blame. No said with forgiveness going both ways, all ways and always.

If you turn around you'll see my living my life through the open door you walked away from. I won't close it, but I won't chase you through it. You cannot put conditions on me for the sole purpose of your comfort and to protect your reputation.

And still I'm standing here watching you walk away and knowing that for you it was easier than staying. It was easier than trying. It was easier to make me dirty and bad than it was to clean the wounds and heal. It's easier to walk away from me, from you, from us than it is to start over. Start fresh. Start anew.

I know in my heart that you don't understand the words I say and I accept that. I accept that the story you tell will be your truth. I stand still watching you walk away and still I would welcome you back.

I hear the silence of family and friends and I know the spin has begun. I stand still watching you walk away. Standing here and knowing that to everyone else you see I'm to blame.

I love you. I truly do. I hold no malice, or blame. It's true.

You won't see those words, not today or tomorrow, but someday maybe you will. I pray you will. I don't miss what was, but I miss what could have been.

Die of shame?

2011-05-02T21:13:00.000-07:00

We all make mistakes. Things very frequently go wrong. People say, That's life! They say you cannot die of shame and yet when faced with the shame of a mistake I wish I could fade away to a shadow.

Embarrassment. Shame. Tears. Weakness. Needing someone. When you are taught the wrong messages about your emotions, about how you manage your life starting at a young age you can become confused and the need for control can lead to some very scary places.

You need to open up. How? How can I when the very act of wanting to reach out brings physical reactions of stress, fear and the deep mistrust comes roiling up like bile.

‎"Nobody can make you feel inferior without your consent."

~ Eleanor Roosevelt

I've been taught to give consent by surrendering to the emotions, to the messages which were designed to keep me in someone's fist. How do I stop that? I don't know. I wish I knew. I think knowing it is a big step. Seeing it happen and reaching out, in little ways which seem so large. Trying, risking, stretching those healing wings to see if I can fly.

So it begins...and I'm not sure where it will go...but will we go together?

Little Foxes

2011-04-27T20:14:00.000-07:00

It's in the Song of Solomon about the foxes ruining vineyards, but it wasn't until I read a devotional yesterday that I understood what those foxes really are and they are the little frustrations, the nasty little voices, the stuff that throws us off track.

Staying on course when we are healing is important. Understanding what makes me lose my control and risk my progress is really a huge step for me. I found myself all day yesterday and today saying "Little foxes, stay way. Little foxes." whenever I felt that rushing, burning, hair pulling frustration that seems to just knock me off my track.

Who are your little foxes? What do they do or say? Knowing them is a good first step in dealing with them.

Mine are those actions that remind me of the times I was devalued and dismessed.

Mine are those words which seem to say, "ah if you mattered I'd care, but you don't so..."

Mine are those times when the littlest things make me boil inside.

Mine are those things like wet cloths in the sink, left open bread bags, dirty tubs, hole digging dogs...

Mine are those questions that are unheard and the answers dismissed.

Mine are all the times that that little demon whispers in my ear, "not worthy, not good enough, not smart enough, they were right about you all along since you were a kid, worthless, unlovable..."

And instead of, at least for the past couple of days, losing control I'm feeling at peace. I know their little pointy faces, I know their digging ways and I am staring them down. Little foxes, little foxes, go away! Go away! I feel like I am able to really see the roots of the lifelong struggle I've had and now I can start dealing with them. Little steps to deal with little foxes, leading to big leaps forward!

Shadow of the Hammer

2011-04-26T16:31:00.000-07:00

Hammer. An amazing tool. For certain jobs.  The problem with hammers is you are limited to what you do with them. Hammers, except in the strangely gifted hands of my husband, have a limited range of jobs. They do those jobs well, when used in the right hands. In the wrong hands or used in the wrong way they can be brutal, deadly, hurtful and terrible to see.

We all know people who use their words and their hands, their actions and intents like hammers. The problem with people hammers is that every situation is reduced to a limited set of actions, just like a real hammer.

What can a hammer really, basically do? Hammers pound in nails. Hammers pull out nails. Hammers bend over nails. Sometimes hammers can be used to break things, bend things and rarely open things.

People hammers are no different.  They use their words, their actions and their presence to hammer us, pull us or bend us to their will. They try to break us, bend us and sometimes tear us open.  They have only so many options because they only have one tool - a hammer.

Abusers and controllers may have other tools but the prefer their hammers. They like the power of it. They like the brutality of it. When I started to write, to heal, to finally feel unafraid there loomed over me the shadow of an emotional hammer. The memory, the shadow, the ache of those times when it was not the only tool but the preferred one.

No wonder I still flinch at a tone or pull back from a gesture. I'm reacting to that shadow. That hammer that is no longer really there. Some days I see hammers everywhere and mentally wish for everyone to have more multi tools! Some days the words hammer me and some days the actions hammer me and some days the silence pounds me and breaks me.  I'm bent over with the hurt and I'm torn open by words.

Those days are fewer between because I know, I understand the hammer. I know the shadow cannot hurt me.

Sadly, I struggle most with what I was taught about BEING a hammer, and as a Mom that is the last thing I want to be. As a wife it is not what I want to do. As a friend I would rather have empty hands.  I confess I can be a brutal hammer but I'm learning.

I'm learning to not reflexively grab the worst tool I have but to consider what the situation calls for. As my son says, "The right tool for the right job!" and that fits for actual physical work as it does for emotional and spiritual work. I'm learning not to lash out and swing wildly hitting whatever I can. I'm learning that my temper was given a hammer too young and was taught too well. Now to unlearn. To unwire, rewire and relearn.

To get out of the shadow of the hammer.

Storm Warning

2011-04-23T19:29:00.000-07:00

Why do you scream?

Why do you shout?

What is going on?

Loaded questions, loaded with emotion, history and hurt. Loaded and no where to shoot them!  Like me - loaded with words, feelings and thoughts. But how and where to share them, with whom...and can I do it in a way that doesn't cause more hurt?

I struggle with this, very much, and for someone who can be an excellent communicator it is a terrible thing to behold this loss of control, this banshee, this wildness.

It scares me, I cannot imagine how it scares people who are close enough to be caught in the vortex. I am learning, however, why and how this happens. And most importantly when!

Storm warnings! I need my own Doppler radar so I can issue storm warnings...or maybe I just need to recognize my own warning signs. I am learning to recognize some of them - the physical as well as emotional and mental.

Why do you scream? Why do you shout?

Because I don't feel heard! I don't feel like what I am saying, in a normal modulated voice is being heard. I have touched, I've made eye contact, I've asked the same questions a dozen different ways.  I'm not looking for a fight, I'm looking for information, confirmation you heard me. That I used my 'outloud voice' and wasn't just in my head the whole time.

I scream, sometimes, from the sheer physical strain of frustration of feeling mute, unheard and worthless. The shame of the past overwhelms me and I feel no matter how I pray, how I learn or how I transform I'm still the dumb, dirty girl who never quite got it right. Wasn't quite popular, wasn't quite clear enough to be heard, wasn't just quite enough of something I just cannot understand!

Frustration leads to anger, anger leads to outbursts, outbursts lead to tears, tears lead to self condemnation and self condemnation undoes so much healing work. Like the saying goes, "for the loss of a nail..." well I'm CONSTANTLY LOSING THAT DANGED NAIL!

Am I learning? Yes, I really am. Do I stumble fall and fail? Oh yeah...lots still but I'm human. Forgiven, but all too human, and so are the people I desperately want to communicate with. They don't know why some things are so hard for me and I don't understand why they cannot hear me.

The really scary thing is that I only scream and shout and lose it because I'm safe enough to feel my emotions top to bottom.  First time in my life I can own them. I can learn from them. I can try to make them take the bit and reins and be trained.

I'm able to trust a bit, and then when I cannot be heard I feel such a hurt and a loss. I don't want to be fixed, dismissed, ignored or pushed aside. I just want a nod, a I hear you or okay let's talk about that. Would that be too hard? I hope not, I'm trying to be able to give that back to those who need me to listen. I know it is not a one way street, and don't expect anything less than I would be willing to give - time and effort to actively listen and try to hear.

I've learned to be a pretty good listener and feel terrible when I am not. I'm learning to ask for what I need and am learning to understand when it cannot be given. It's a process, and I own up to my part in it. Now to find a way to have that message heard before I feel like I have to shout.

Crazy Makers

2011-04-20T19:34:00.000-07:00

You are not right in the head.

You should be put away.

You'd be easier to manage if you were on medication.

Do you know you are not normal?

These are all direct quotes from a variety of crazy makers who have come into my life at one time or another. They are those people who delight in twisting you up and making you feel so insane, so not right.

People who will on purpose and with intent say and do things to mess with your head, your emotions, your truth are crazy makers. They may not be primary abusers, for some of us they are the ambush artists but they are always waiting in the wings for their chance to add to the disarray of your mind.

When you know for certain about something, they are the ones who will spend all their time and efforts to make you sound like you made it up.  They know, you know and yet the tangled mess goes on and on.

Crazy makers. They are the ones, that so often, convince us to be quiet. They are the ones who try to deny that any truth but theirs has value. They are the ones who will say, Now there dear, you know you have no idea what you are talking about. I KNOW and you DO NOT. So hush.

And because, at least in my experience, they are so blessed hard to argue with that I've often (too often!) given up and gone away. Hurt. Alone. Thought of as wrong in the head and wrong in the heart. Just wrong.

They tell you loving things with hurtful intent.  They use knowledge for control and for power. They do not empower or encourage. They cut apart, they cut through, they deny the healing because they deny the wounding.

When do you know if you are with a crazy maker? For me it is easy - when (after talking to them for even a little while) you feel like you've been talking to an alien. A frustrating alien who speaks a language like yours but turns everything you say into something else.  And for me I know it by the smug look on their faces when frustrated I start to give up and turn away.

How have I dealt with my crazy makers? I ignore them. I refuse to play their games and I refuse to be a party to their sport of harming me. I know what I know, they have no right to come and undo that. Your crazy makers don't have the right to do it to you either. No amount of pseudo loving words will cover their glee and joy at your pain and confusion.

When we are healing we are seeking truth and that is the very last thing a crazy maker wants us to find. Protect your truth, it is the most important thing you have or they wouldn't be trying to rip it from you, along with your sanity, your joy and your healing.

(statement of author: in no way am I ever discounting a valid diagnosis by a professional, I'm talking directly about those people who would harm us at our most vulnerable and engage in a special kind of abuse that makes me crazy, hence their tag of crazy makers. This does, however, put the finger firmly in their faces for any of them who have made someone's mental illness worse by their cruelty. They know who they are.)

Horror Movie

2011-04-19T17:36:00.001-07:00

Betrayal by a friend. By someone who could be family. It is a theme that is abundant at Easter time. Betrayal of Jesus. Betrayal of a people. Being chosen to be sold out. It's like a horror movie. Here, let me befriend you and then I'll sell you out in the end.

And the really nasty horror isn't the amount you are sold out for but that you were sold out by someone who you trusted. For me it has been a slow dawning realization that there are a few people who I thought were mostly unaware and unable who were both very aware and very able but choose not to be.

It's like looking at someone you felt was a foe and feeling pretty confident because you had someone backing you up. Someone behind you that you could trust. What happens when your supposed foe looks at you in horror and shock because they are seeing what you cannot...the one you trusted enough to have your back has been waiting to shank you. Choosing to bring you hurt. Selling you out. Leaving you out to dry. Using your words against you. Taking your trust and making it something shameful and ugly.

It's like knowing something isn't right but you don't have enough of the pieces to make the picture make sense and then you get that final piece and BANG it does. And it breaks your heart. It makes you ill. It makes so many things make sense. Not the least of which is how you almost always got left hanging out in the wind when you thought you had an advocate, a champion or at least a friend who you could trust.

I gotta tell you, this is a place that totally sucks. It requires a review and refocus on many things that have been assumed. Many things that were brushed aside are now sharply in focus and suddenly making a terrible amount of sense.

Maybe it was a friend or a family member or someone who counselled you. It could have been almost anyone that had a tiny bit of your trust. Just enough to have you let them stand behind you at your unprotected back. Yeah, THAT someone!

She wasn't unable to help she choose not to. Those times when the wrath came raining down upon you he was the rat. When your spirit screamed for a voice, they counselled silence. Not for you but for them!

The battles you thought you fought together on common ground were nothing of the sort. They were games to them. Those times you tried or succeeded in confiding you were being led into betrayal. That weirdness that didn't make sense in this new light really does. And in making sense you are peeling back layers you didn't even know.

In those layers are truth and in that truth is freedom and in that freedom is healing and in healing we can find our wings and fly! I'm learning this, and it really and truly has tried me and cause me many tears. It has also confirmed many things and most importantly revealed that the crazy maker wasn't me!

Yes, you heard me right...and I'll come back tomorrow with that post...after all shouldn't the crazy maker have his or her own post? They deserve it...they earned it!

I hate to tell you

2011-04-14T19:21:00.000-07:00

but I'm going to...

If there was ever a verbal warning that someone was going to punch you in the gut with their words that is it! So often it is couched in the false belief that all truth is a good truth. It also creates a false place where the lie we are forced to believe is an enforced truth.

I hate to tell you...but you have lettuce in your teeth.
Okay, that's cool. That's fair. Like telling someone they had toilet paper on their shoe or that their skirt was tucked into their hose. It doesn't cause hurt and it doesn't bring hurt through telling someone something they cannot do anything about.  It also doesn't cause hurt by creating a false place of truth in a lie such as: you asked for it. You are a dirty girl. Good girls don't have bad things happen. You are nothing without me. You are worthless.

When someone tells you hurtful things clothed in their version of truth often enough you'll start to believe their lies as truths because they hurt the same way.

The real cue here is the opening I hate to tell you should really say, "Not only do I know this will hurt you but it will also be your fault because any rational person would know better and it is my job to tell you because even a hurtful truth is still the truth."

Oh and they don't hate to tell you. They relish telling you. They look forward to the hurt in your face while they bask in their rightness.  There is no compassion. There is no love. There is only a a desire for maintaining control and delivering hurt.. It is about power and that power is not meant to belong to you or me.

Another one that sends waves of fear and stress through me are the openers: it's for your own good, or the truth hurts and honesty is the best policy.

Now to be clear when truth needs to be told it should be told but not with the intent to cause more hurt or harm. No one should have to be wounded more than necessary. If I need truth, if I need honesty then please don't cloak it in cruelty. Don't waste your breath telling me it's for my own good. I told the truth about things that happened to me and it wasn't with the intent to cause hurt or harm to anyone.

I needed to stop being silent from fear and I had to start healing. That wasn't going to happen if I had to be scared silent and afraid.

Too often I've heard abusers and manipulators and controllers use this weapon against those who don't know how to fight against it. There are few things that hurt more than seeing someone enjoy hurting you with something misnamed truth. How can something that is supposed to be benign and freeing be used for such deliberate hurting intent?

There are times that truth hurts but it is a healing hurt and it is one we need to be able to face, feel and work our way through. Those who deliver these truths, the bearers of these honesties are not doing their task lightly or with malice. They aren't telling me I asked for it or that I had it coming.  They are not enjoying the delivery of pain and that is the difference to me.

Feel that you need to tell me my pants are ripped on the back? Please do!
Feel the need to tell me that my pants make me look fat and frumpy? Please don't. You don't have the right to share that because there is hurt in your intentions.

What is the test for truth? For me it is simple: can you deliver it with compassion? Does knowing it, how you are telling it, help me? Are you enjoying delivering hurt? Are you felling superior or better for knowing it over me?  I would suggest that if you cannot say no to all then you should be quiet.

Walking a healing path is not easy. It is full of pitfalls, traps and places of hurt which surprise us. Doing this self work requires us to learn to be gentle with our selves. If those around us who are there to help cannot also be gentle they ought to consider their motives and desires.

Not everyone wants us to heal or to be happy. There are many who would like to say you don't have a great track record in dealing with ___________ and are happy to keep reminding you of your shortfalls, past and seem to delight in denying or poking at the wounds we carry.

Not everyone can accept our place on the journey, but it is our journey!

Don't let anyone take it away from you...

Faking it...

2011-04-12T14:23:00.000-07:00

"Even if you don't feel it, you should fake it 'until you make it'."

What? How? But the...I'm confused!

This, endorsed by a pastor, came up on a 'Question of the Day' for me in a group I belong to. It was something that resonated with me but not in a positive way and I'm afraid that my response wasn't either.

This does not, cannot, work for me. I cannot fake it anymore. That doesn't mean I'm going to be a socially unacceptable raving person but I'm not going to be nice just because it is expected and hope I'll feel nice sooner or later!

Maybe I'm taking this too deeply or even too literally but it seems to me that we should be honest with how we feel. That doesn't mean cruelly or in a hurtful way. Nothing it more harmful than a telling the truth in order to hurt. When someone does that they are taking away the power of the truth and instead inserting their desire for control and power. (But we'll save the "I hate to tell you but I'm gonna anyway" post for another time!)

This is directed at ourselves and how our desire to be that which we are not (yet, meant to be or ?) by pretending. That pretending, that falseness is what makes the lies of abuse and the silent assenter so hurtful and painful.

They wish to fake it until it is normal.

They want to fake it until it is right.

They want to fake it until it goes away.

They want to fake it until it is okay to be false!  They want a normal that isn't. Where they don't have to actually be responsible or acknowledge the hurt. They want you and I to quietly fake ourselves away.

I cannot fake it!  I won't. It would dishonour the healing.  It would take away from the value of healing and it would say it is okay for you to have been hurt.

When I cannot be nice because I don't feel nice - I stay away from people.

When my healing is awkward for you then you should stay away from me. Don't ask me to fake it until I make it because I don't know that the end of the journey is worth skipping over the stuff in between. In fact I'm fairly certain that missing the middle negates the experience at the end.

It feels false to put on a smile, serve tea or hug someone when inside I am screaming NO!  It isn't me needing to 'be nice for now' because of a social requirement. Sorry folks, I won't spit on you in public but I'm not going to be your fawning fan or best friend either.

If you think I don't like you perhaps it is what you stand for that I don't like. Maybe I'm not sure I want to be around someone who is so ready to deny their true feelings for such little truth. Maybe I don't really know you the person but understand what you stand for and support speaks volumes! Sometimes it even shouts from the rooftops!

Don't send me threats, and don't send me offers of once you've changed you can come around again or even when you are ready to abide by my rules you know where I'm at. I do know exactly where you are at and as long as you are there it is one place that I will not be!

I won't fake my feelings into something they are not and maybe won't ever be.

If I am hurt, I might cry.
If I am scared, I might hide away.
If I don't trust you, I won't put myself where I must trust you.
If I don't understand you, I will pray and I will try.
If I am worried, I fuss and I pray.
If I am cut, I will bleed. I will bear a scar.

Faking it takes away from our journey.  Faking it can be dangerous and it can be deadly. It can be fun. But not for me. I've been burned by the fakes who finally stopped faking and it's just not worth it. It hurts too much when the false face falls away. It hurts too much when they realize that they cannot fake it anymore and the truth comes out. A truth that I've often suspected but never wanted to believe because the fake it face was so appealing.

Be honest, but don't be honest to hurt. Be honest to heal. Show love, scatter joy and share prayers. We are on this journey together, shouldn't we make it as genuine and special as possible?

Permission to Live

2011-03-18T13:08:00.000-07:00

What soap is to the body, laughter is to the soul. ~ Yiddish Proverb

Sometimes it seems like I forget how important laughing and playing are to us, regardless of our ages! Sometimes I need to be dragged out to mine for kronkites in the snow wearing a welding helmet, wielding plastic golf clubs and pretending to find treasures in the snow when the real treasures are the laughs that we have together.

The past couple of weeks have been stressful on many levels and it wasn't until today that I understood that I can give myself permission to enjoy things! How silly you may think that is. But I've learned that the first things we sacrifice when facing stressful situations is our laughter and our joy!

Surely we need to face stress with the appropriate seriousness. That is somewhat true. We do need to deal with things, but even in the midst of that we need to still live, love and laugh!

I've found myself hunkering down and pulling my psychic covers over my head while I wait for this season of stress to pass me by. I've forgotten, and had to be reminded by someone who is intimate with joy that I don't need permission to live.

I don't need permission for laughter.

I don't need permission for joy.

I don't need permission to have cereal for supper.

I don't need permission to enjoy silly songs.

But we think we do. We get caught in the trap that says, serious stuff needs serious people. Being a joyful person is not the same as being a thoughtless or frivolous person! Someone can experience deep joy and life boosting laughter and still be able to take things as seriously as required.

Some decorum is advised, of course. Not all of us are able to escape social mores and rules but still...why shouldn't we enjoy life even when it is showing us the rough spots?

No one should take our joy and we should not take theirs. It is a breath of life for our spirits. It is a breeze blowing the cobwebs away.

Are you giving yourself permission to live?

Are you letting your laughter bubble over and wash your soul with joy?

Are you enjoying the things that are silly, funny, absurd and strange?

Are you letting the 'grown up' world take your joie d'vie?

I'm writing myself a permission slip, and I'm going to put it on the fridge!

It will say,

Dear Life,

I am giving my SELF permission to enjoy, to laugh, to giggle and have fun. I am giving my SELF permission to live life fully. I am not allowing her to hide away and miss the joys she should be grateful for. My SELF has my permission to color outside the lines, paint with her fingers in soap and do science experiments in the sink. My SELF has my permission to splash in slushy puddles, to get her mittens dirty and cuddle muddy dogs.

Love,

Do you see what I see?

2011-03-10T09:39:00.000-08:00

I've written here for a few posts about my healing journey. It has not been easy but it has been worthwhile. One of the things I have not written about until now is how I am facing the challenges of being a survivor who is a parent. I see the world, as we all do, through the lenses of my experiences. That changes how I see things sometimes very dramatically.

Spending a good portion of your life being on guard for one reason or another tends to change how you approach things. You can be hyper aware or hyper diligent and in some ways either overly bold or overly cautious.

Sometimes I'm very sensitive to things and that makes it very hard to let things go past me. I don't think this is all bad though. If I know what I am doing and can understand the why as well this is also part of the healing.

Friends and I were talking one day about what we see when we go to the mall or on the parking lot, even driving home.  What do you see? Have you thought about what you are seeing?

Do you see someone watching a child a bit too long or somewhat more intently than maybe they should? Do you notice people who don't seem to fit in with what or where you are? I quizzed my beloved about this at the mall one day and it was shocking to me!  He didn't notice the people at all...even when he said he was people watching!  He saw clothes, he saw hair but he didn't see actions, body language, facial expressions or posture.

We were talking at a family member's home about someone who was abducted in a parking lot. The people who tried this were parked right next to her in a van. This is almost a cliche after all almost every TV show or movie has used this! Do you notice who is parked by you?  Not in a paranoid way, but in a realistic way.

Do you see the exits and the security guards? Do you listen to footsteps behind you? Have you any thoughts how as a parent you can protect your children without frightening them? Where is the balance point?

I don't know the answer, I wish I did!  All I know is that as I am healing I'm also learning how I see things differently and I'm accepting that different isn't bad. A friend was helping me work on some self defense strategies and trainings. It was very interesting to understand how some things might work and others may be disastrous in a training setting. This is becoming more aware of self and that is good.

Maybe that will be my biggest lesson for the little man is that if he is aware of himself and his surroundings he will be more prepared to respond the right way when something challenges him. I don't want him to live in fear but I don't want him to be dangerously fearless either.

How about you? What do you see that others do not? How are you using that knowledge as something positive in your life?

You Talking to Me?

2011-03-03T19:37:00.000-08:00

My son made this and I love it -

a gun toting, keyboard playing snowman with a classy lid and a perky nose.

This is my guy saying, "You talking to me?"

Recently I was accused of placing labels and blame on people. I hadn't really thought I was as I was focused on my healing journey, being responsible for my healing.  Is that so very strange a concept? How you feel about your own actions or inactions is entirely yours. Your response, your feelings, your stuff. Not mine, even if we were crossing paths, this is MY HEALING JOURNEY.

I'm willing to share the road and even break bread together or share. But what I will not do is stop healing.  I will not stop speaking out against abuse and against those who choose silence.

If you feel that I should be silent you need to understand that I cannot be silent anymore. I cannot carry blame or shame that is not mine.  I cannot be afraid of what I cannot be. I can only move forward, move through the hurt to the healing, and find my way.

Before you question my healing path, may I suggest you consider your own?  Where you are, right now, has to be the most important thing for you. Not for me, it is your path not mine.

Before you question my path maybe you should examine your own.

Poem: Dear Me

2011-02-16T16:45:00.000-08:00

Dear Me,

I think you should know,

it wasn't your fault.

You didn't do one thing wrong.

Wasn't asked for,

wasn't earned.

You were just a kid, you know?

No one listened, no one heard you.

Their silence said yes,

Your tears stained face cried NO.

Dear Me,

It's not easy being here now,

knowing what we know.

That they could have, should have

done something, anything...but

they chose nothing.

You aren't to blame, they lied.

Dear Me,

We are okay now, ya know?

They cannot hurt us,

they cannot blame us.

We know the road to freedom.

We have a voice to shout,

and we do.

Dear Me,

I love you, ya know?

Scars and rough spots.

Places that always seem sore,

that ache that doesn't fade.

I love it all because, you and me

we survived. We are alive.

Dear Me,

Want to meet me by the pond?

We'll skinny dip or dig in the sand.

want to meet me in the hammock?

We can read a book or have a nap.

It is our time now.

Let's go play like the kids

we

never

were.

to my child shadow who is finally free

Want me? Need me?

2011-01-28T14:15:00.000-08:00

I'm guest posting over at Emerging From Broken, come on over and see the post and the great comments that are being shared as well. Look for a fresh post here over the weekend!

"I was taught to take the abuse because I was obligated to they needed me for that role. When I STOPPED being available, when their NEED wasn’t met then my life, my wishes to be wanted were revealed to have no value. I was being taught a very wrong lesson about need and want."

Love isn't about Hurt

2011-01-10T18:40:00.000-08:00

This is the first time I'm going to be doing a two part post, one here and one on Strawberry Roan. I've been seriously drawn to do this, especially for our sisters and brothers who believe that desires of humans trump the will of God. This verse is the one that pushed me forward, and I hope you'll join me here and over there as well.

There is no fear in love;

but perfect love casteth out fear ...—1 John 4:18

When they said, I love you but I don't like you there was no love.

When they said, You better love them they are your ____ there was no love.

When the said, You have to love me on my terms there was no love.

When you said I'm afraid and they laughed and then punished you for not loving them right there was no love.

I've come to a huge, world shattering understanding in my life and that is I cannot truly love you if I fear you. I cannot live and breathe and be love if there is control, neglect, abuse, obligation and fear.

My second huge, world healing understanding has been when there is love the fear can be cast out. Fear, like a living thing, doesn't go easily but it cannot live where there is love. Fear must feed and to feed it needs tears, pain, hurt, mistrust, greed, and blood. When those things are absent, so is fear.

I was taught fear and I was taught obligatory love but what I wasn't taught was this: neither of these things are love.

I yearned towards God and God's love. I wanted so badly to share in that but even the church became a place of fear and a supposed 'man of God' delivered that fear. The threats of wrath and the who would believe someone like YOU kept me thinking that there was something wrong but no one could tell me what that was. More on this over at Strawberry Roan...

Fear had an icy hand on my life for so long...and looking back I realize that fear isn't a hand.

Fear is a glove that abusers wear.

Fear is a hammer that controllers wield.

Fear is a threat that bullies wave around.

Fear can be healthy don't think it can't. It was fear that made me run away from an abusive family and ex husband. It was fear that drove me to consider seriously the impact of certain people in my life.

Fear can keep us alive. Fear can also keep us from living.

Fear is not love. Love is not fear.

Love isn't about hurting someone.

Love isn't about using fear to control someone.

Love is imperfect, human and all to wonderful but with all the things that it is fear is not one of them.

I refused to stay living in fear, and that meant setting some boundaries and establishing some distance. Strangely, I should have feared doing that, but instead I was set free! Isn't that something?

What fears have held you away from love?

Stronger In Broken Places

2011-01-03T16:08:00.000-08:00

“The world breaks everyone, and afterward,

some are strong at the broken places.”

Ernest Hemingway

Broken places. When I think about broken places I think of hurt, confusion, surprise and mostly healing. Not all broken places are the same, there are as many ways to break as there are kinds of people.

Some people are broken by circumstances which are entirely beyond their control. Others are broken by those they should have been able to trust but in the end were not.

Accidental or intentional Hemingway was right we all are broken. Some breaks are small, bruises on the bone. They may pass with only a lingering ache to remind you of the hurt. Other breaks are larger but with quick care they heal straight and strong. They also ache but they are not crippling.

There is a sympathy, an empathy with these breaks. They are socially and visually acceptable as injuries. You didn't do anything to deserve them and there is no crippling after effects to make people uncomfortable. No one ever deserves abuse I just want to be clear, but for most people they like that things have a simple reason which is easy to accept.  Abuse is neither and so for so many the after affects make them uncomfortable. They would rather see something accidental than to face something intentional.

Sometimes, though, there are breaks which are not set straight, they never get a chance to properly heal and they leave us with limps and twists. They can cause us to stumble and fall. They are, to others and sometimes ourselves, both embarrassing and hard to ignore.

They make us, the survivors, very aware of our breaks. They make us, the survivors, very aware of both our weak spots and the strong ones.

Those broken places that didn't heal are covered in scars, calcified bones and even bone chips. The skin shows the bumps and scars. The bones of our bodies, minds and spirits were broken but no one took the time to help them heal. There was no caring hands there was no brace or splint. We survived, some of us thrive, but we all limp, drag or twist.

Underneath though, in the strong places, we are stronger for surviving. Whether it be from war, abuse, neglect or other horrors. We are stronger because we survived.

We may not be pretty but there is a beauty in the broken places and in the scars. The beauty is that of a spring emerging from a dreadful winter, the flowers blooming in the barrenness of a landslide, the first green that comes out of the scorched, fire burnt earth.

There is a beauty in our broken places which doesn't get enough recognition because the message of healing crooked is missed in our beauty obsessed world. We are obsessed with 'cut flowers' trimmed, dyed and propped up in sugar water. They appear lovely and in truth they are dying. They are already dead because they have no strength and no roots.  The enduring beauty of something that isn't perfect is in the imperfection.

Broken places that heal stronger have a strong message for us all: they mean we survived what broke us!  We lived through it. We passed through it. We are on the other side. A bit twisted and sometimes stumbling but stronger. We get stronger, we learn to walk with that limp and instead of hiding it we are confident. They failed to keep us broken!

Why is it that those who had control or abused us wish for us to stay broken? Because it means we cannot heal and if we cannot heal there is no way we can be free! That means they win. But when we are stronger in the broken places that means they failed.  We did heal and we did get strong and we did survive!

Broken places aren't pretty but surviving and healing are beautiful! They are strong! They are us!

Let Them Fall

2010-12-30T12:21:00.000-08:00

"I have so been struggling with the ‘things’ that I felt gave me ‘value’ and when I’m not able to (for various reasons) use those talents I’ve felt quite useless and without value. When I purposefully pulled back from places where I used to be, and there wasn’t any response I was feeling like a stick being pulled out of water. I left nothing behind but a fading ripple and a small dent in the mud below. I’ve been blocked and haven’t written for weeks as I struggle with the value of BEING and the value of DOING. I’ve got value, I’m valuable for WHO I am, not for what I DO. Sole value of a person shouldn’t be whether they are impressed by another person, or whether they can do something – it should be based on who they are and how far they have come to be there.

Where is my value? Where am I if doing the things I love or thought were of value to others are not there or not used? I fear sometimes, even through my prayers, that I’ll be foot prints in the snow – filled in and forgotten in the cold wind. I don’t WANT that, but finding my way through the reasons that I learned it from my childhood forward has been very difficult. My whole life was based on a few key, foundational lies, and now that I am dismantling them some of my former foundation stones are crumbling…do I shore up the wobbly parts or let them fall?"

My comments on Darlene's post at Emerging From Broken.

How do you make it balance or even make sense when your whole being seems to either hold or lose value depending on someone else's valuation of you? When you look in the mirror and you don't see what is supposed to matter but rather you see your failure?

Growing up I understood a few things, things I thought were truths, but have in actuality turned out to be foundational lies. Perhaps, to be fair, they were not intentional to start with but when they are still hounding, haunting and torturing me it is time for them to be brought out, examined and, hold on to your shorts, dismissed?

"You look just like your Mom." (But I'm NOT my Mom! We are two different people!)

"You act like your Father." (But I'm NOT my Dad! I don't act THAT much like him.)

"If you were a calf I'd have smashed your head in, you are useless."

"Shut up. You'll embarrass us."

"If it wasn't for us you'd be nothing."

"Everything you are is because of US, not YOU."

"Live your life the way we say or leave this family."

"You don't exactly have a great track record with ______"

There is a terrible expectation that burdens a child when they are taught their identity is not their own and that all the successes and all the failures of their family, the adults, are solely their responsibility. If you fail to act the way you are told, if you fail to think the way you are taught, if you rebel to find yourself, if your greatest crime is to reach out when you were lonely then you learn very soon that YOU have FAILED. You ARE failure.

When we are taught our value as persons is actually a value counted on compliance we lose the opportunity to really explore who we are as people. When that compliance is tied to actions, then our success or failure is directly tied to external things. When that measuring is in the hands of others, who use their power to control, then you, the child, becomes property, a novelty like a trained animal.

I've been blessed with the ability to be outgoing and appear confident even when I'm not. This often leads people to misunderstand me. Not so deep down I'm a woman who is facing some life long fears and quite honestly they cause me to quake and tremble. I'm going to be 40 years old this summer, shouldn't I have a better sense of self? I've been working on it.

Starting from the outside and working my way inward I've build boundaries. I've created structure and in turn I've found some scary places. Places inside of me where fears live, where old dreams live, where there is a frustration machine and a garden full of poisonous angry plants which grow into choking vines. I've been burning, chopping, digging and finally at the stones which are my foundation I'm learning which ones to leave standing and which ones to let fall.

(this post doesn't flow, it is painful to write and yet it is bellowing to be written - forgive me for this roughness)

What if I let them fall? Will I then be a true failure? Can it be okay to let the ruins crash down? If I let them fall, or stand, on their own without me what happens then? I'm looking at the foundation lies of obligation disguised as love, of being valued for what I can do rather than for who I am and tangled up in those two I find fear. A deep chilling fear.

Why fear? I think it is because of the two lies: that love is an obligation and that what we DO is vastly more important than WHO we are. Fear is the control factor in both. Past experience has taught me this. My fear is real although it is deeply rooted in a childhood response because really they won't come to hurt me now, will they?

What happens to those carefully maintained facades if I walk away? Do I have the courage to walk or will I cower around the corner? What if I suck in a deep breath and walk up to the door of that relationship and firmly close it? What if I don't stop there? What if I brick it shut? What if I move with no forwarding address? What if I just let them fall?

The achievements I have in my life mean nothing to me without the love of my husband and son. My honour amongst my peers means nothing to me without my faith. My waking hours are filled with grace beyond measure when I don't let the obligation, the fear and the devaluing expectations into that day. My sleep is peaceful when I'm not flinching from an angry phone call. My friendships blossom and grow out of mutual respect for both the scars and the healing.

To heal, to find out who I really am outside of those foundational lies has become a need I must meet. I need to be freed. I don't really need to understand because I understand enough to know there is no explanation. Sure, you could say, They don't know better. or that's how they were raised or the classic that's just how he or she or they are. But saying it doesn't make it true nor does it excuse anything.

Consider this your formal notice: I am no longer under that obligation to accept your actions or words. Stand or fall as you will but you won't be taking me with you. I'm walking away. No fights, no stand offs or show downs. I have come to the fork in the road of my healing journey and if I take one it leads right back to where we go around again and the other takes me forward. Maybe one day you'll be there too...you'll know where to find me.

I'll be laughing under a tree or walking by the stream. I won't be afraid, you won't find me by my fear. Come with love and you'll be met with love. Come with anger and I'm walking away.

Fuel on the Fire

2010-12-07T16:45:00.000-08:00

Today I'm guest posting over at Emerging From Broken.

Stop by and read my post, and those before it on the theme of anger. Great posts there and some awesome conversations in the comments. More great posts to come as we move through December.

"You cannot control your anger until you know it, understand it and can face it. We can still be angry – anger is a natural response to certain kinds of danger, certain kinds of injustices. Controlling our anger so it is a vent which safely lets the pressure off. Finding ways to release that anger can be positive and healing, it can clean our wounds and cauterize the cuts, it can be a warning and it can be a signal. " Shanyn Silinski

Motivational Posters & Greeting Cards

2010-11-01T06:56:00.000-07:00

I have an issue with motivational posters and most greeting cards.

My friend Darlene, over at Emerging from Broken, shared yesterday about a motivational video which really struck her and the comments are really coming. I got done my comment and I knew it was something I had to blog about too!

Have you ever struggled to find a good greeting card? In a greeting card world where do we find real sentiment? I'm always seeing lovely card images and struck by the verses which don't apply, that seem patently false. I cannot, really truly cannot buy a card which says things that are not true! This seriously limits the sentimental card selection for me and not every occasion can be handled by Maxine!

I didn't understand why so many cards made me leave the store feeling frustrated and strangely hurt or angry but as I've moved along this healing path I'm learning that sentiments are not truth. I remember looking for a card for Father's Day and they all were either praising, apologizing or laughing at the Dads. I wasn't someone with a sports Dad whose prowess I could praise. I didn't feel like I had to apologize for not being a good daughter and I didn't see how calling someone names or teasing them was funny.

Cards for anniversaries, birthdays and even everyday sentiments seemed laced with all sorts of cutting barbs, lies and strangeness. I certainly didn't feel like I could call my brother my best friend nor did I think I should be sorry for being his sister. But those were the choices! Father's Day was always hard, birthday cards were sometimes almost enough to bring me to tears. Why couldn't they be honest? Why did they have to make the giver sound like a cheerleader or a beggar? Cards for spouses are especially strange to me. I'm alive because of you or I'd be lost without you or there isn't a world without you and I'm sorry for not being as great as you. Where is the equality, the love, the we are in this together?

I make my own cards now and avoid that racket.

"Soar Like An Eagle" or how about "Fight, Steal and Bully Like A Big Bird"?

Motivational posters, videos, seminars and books have the 'bully you for your own good' flavor that used to confuse me because it seemed I was the only one they hurt!  Mike Rowe, on a wonderful Dirty Jobs episode tore apart the whole motivational thing and I loved it! He saw through it from a working person's point of view and I saw through it from a survivor's point of view.

"There is no 'I' in TEAM." but there is a ME and that's who I look out for. I don't let the TEAM take ME away any more! You don't get to drag me into the darkness of your abuse! You don't get to 'motivate me' with your cutting words, your sly, "it's for your own good".

Don't try to motivate me with your bullying and your threats, you false team and your strange bullying disguised as motivator.  I don't need someone to shout at me, even from a poster. I don't need your seminar to show me where I'm not social enough for the herd or that I'm not a team player. Survivors, like me, tend not to be team players because it was the team mentality that crushed us down, pushed us down, drug us through the hurt and blamed us.

The sarcastic inner me loves to edit those posters is that same inner me that doesn't 'get' the other kind. Is it my gallows humor or my cynical nature?  I don't know, except that I've learned this one lesson: no matter how 'nicely' it is put in words, on a poster or from whose 'caring mouth' the words come - if they hurt they are hurtful words!

It can be hard to tell but you can almost always spot the clues and you can feel when it is wrong for you. Respect that intuition, that instinct, that my healing path, surviving to thriving friends is the start of learning to listen to a healed part of you. The part that, as an adult, can say nope I don't care HOW nicely you say THAT, it still hurts and that is WRONG.  That part, as an adult, which says I'm caring enough of myself to walk away from a hurt and it is that instinct which was pushed down, squished and almost killed when we were being abused.

As children, as people trapped in abuse we couldn't act on those instincts because we didn't know to listen to them and we weren't strong enough. Everyone was trying to make us something else and we lost our self. We didn't have a choice but we do now. We can ACT NOW because we CAN be strong enough. I can - for myself. For my husband. For my son. For my friends and family. I can, and I do. Even when it has me leaving Hallmark's store empty handed or has me laughing out loud in a corporate lobby at their 'motivational posters'.

Take Sides!

2010-10-25T23:13:00.000-07:00

"Take sides. Neutrality helps the oppressor, never the victim.

Silence encourages the tormentor, never the tormented. " ~ Elie Wiesel

What? What? Take sides? Don't be neutral? Isn't neutral good? What are you saying?

I'm saying taking sides ensures there is an acknowledgement of both sides, of all sides. Even if it is just to say, "No! Stop! That's wrong!"

I'm saying being neutral is a false safe place, it is a big lie which removes anything that looks like responsibility.

Neutral can be a temporary measure to get you to safety, to pause a cycle of violence, to create an escape for a time. It can not be permanent - you have to stand for something.

When someone tries so hard to be fair, to be neutral, to NOT take sides they are actually taking a side. They are drinking the sweet poison of denial.

They can sound something like this - with their excuses:

"We treat our children equally, we don't take sides, parents have to be neutral."

"You cannot take sides, you don't understand the whole situation."

"You need to be quiet, it's none of your business."

(When my family didn't choose sides, they choose for abuse and they choose for silence and they didn't choose for the one being hurt. They didn't choose to speak up for me, they choose silence. Not just once, not just because they didn't know better but because there was something more important to them than my hurt, my pain, my wounds.  The friends of my brother, maybe even him, who watched me being raped choose silence, they choose for the one taking. Even as they laughed about it later, even as they labelled me and blamed me they still thought they were neutral. They did NOTHING .)

When the youth pastor took advantage of his position, when the gym teacher, basketball coach or anyone else takes advantage of other's silence they are winning! When someone thinks the long term solution is silence there is nothing being done for the wounded, the injured, the abused. They are not helping anything but the status quo.

It makes me want to scream when I hear, "Someone should do some thing." Is that their version of neutral? Is that their way of not taking sides? To stand there and ask for someone, besides them, to do something.

Or have the neutral people tried any of these on you: maybe you misunderstood, maybe you need to see it from their point of view, I'm just trying to see both sides.

I'm pretty sure I didn't misunderstand a broken arm and a whispered, "Keep your mouth shut.", I think I've seen enough of their point of view to last a lifetime and I live on my side and it hurts and that's the one that matters to me.

It seems to me that it isn't that complicated.  Simple steps to avoid being stuck in neutral, easy ways to take sides and yet we are faced with the on-going stony stare of silence, the manufactured bliss of neutral and still there is blood, there are tears, there are people wounded and dying because no one will risk being the one saying what everyone knows. Don't believe them someone always knows. Even if they only suspect they are the ones who are not surprised when the secret is out.

And what does everyone know? We know that abuse is wrong.  We know silence gives permission by default. We know that history shows bullies, abusers and cruelly neutral parties always end up on the side of pain, where they like to be, where they can dish it out.  We also know what history shows that silence, once broken, is never repaired. It is then that we can start healing.

it's not super complicated to speak up for what is right, to speak out when something is wrong.  People make things complicated, they make things hard. Sadly, I cannot even say these are 'Basic School Rules' as our schools are some of the most deadly places for children. These are the basics, in my playground, where you stick up for those who are being picked on, share and be kind, everyone gets on a team so pick sides and don't let me catch you acting like you don't know better!

I will not be silent! Won't do it. Won't risk it. Because when I look back and I start to wonder what would have changed in the world I lived in, the world I live in now if one person had spoken up? If one person has one less scar, if they have one less minute of shame, if they have one less day in the myth of neutral then my own scars mean something.

Silence can be safe in the short term, being on neither side of a fight can be safe in the short term, attempting to find a way without confrontation when it is not safe is wise. Survivors survive because they have learned these things but there will come a time to start living and that means we need to stop being silent.

It only takes one voice to change the world. It only takes one candle to light thousands. It only takes one hand to hold another and a chain grows that won't be broken.  I'm still healing and I'm still finding my voice.  I'm praying that you find your voice, I'm praying for you on the healing path and I'm praying for us all no matter where we are in our journey.

Choices

2010-10-20T00:06:00.000-07:00

Choices are around us each day. For so many people the choices are innocent and easy - half fat latte or half caff mocha? For others there are harder choices - food or rent?  And for some of us it is some other things entirely.

I was talking to my best friend and it was apparent that the person I am today is so very different than who I was even a few years ago that I felt compelled to tell him about some of the choices I've made to get here.

Thinking along those lines, I realized as a survivor those choices are sometimes life and death for mind, body or spirit, or all three and sometimes they are healing choices. I can leave behind the defenses that I needed to survive because I can do it without them!\

I don't need to be all barbed wire, tightly tangled cutting those who would get close with hurting, cruel and sarcastic words and I can set boundaries without having to constantly patrol and defend them. I can choose not to be an addict hiding from the world, I can choose not to be an abuser because I was abused, I can choose to be kind even in when I've beheld cruelty.  I can honour gentle and giving spirits and I know I can be one.

I am still a bit sarcastic but not to cause hurt. Acid Tongue is retired, the evil bitch has been replaced with the Alpha Bitch. You see I know I can be a strong woman without being hard, I can be brave without being cruel and I can have faith without accepting hypocrisy.

I can be a better person without imposing myself on someone else.

I can choose the healing path, and I can honour my scars. Scars are important to me, they show me that I can survive long enough to heal!  They remind me to help others gently honour their own scars.

I will not live my life being silent to abuse, nor will I live my life hiding away in a toke or a bottle or a pill and I won't deny my healing by denying my abuse. I will keep seeking and I will keep choosing the light, even though I know full well what lives in the dark.

Don't get me wrong, I still don't park next to vans, I still scan for 'too interested' faces at the mall when I'm with my son and I still can be outspoken and advocate.

What I am doing differently is choosing to use my words for helping and healing instead of hurting. I don't need to cause more hurt, I need to cause less.

However, if what I say makes someone uncomfortable then it is good because comfort zones can be as dangerous and deadly as any back alley or dark corner.

If what I have to say on my path to healing bothers someone I'd like to have them as themselves why before they ask me to be quiet.  After all, I believe that if you can choose differently for yourself then others can also decide to at least try to if not understand, then respect you for it.

Tell me about yourself...

2010-09-15T10:44:00.000-07:00

So tell me about yourself...

List your experiences and qualifications that make you the ideal candidate for this position...

Let us see who you are so we know you are the person we want for our _________________...

I'm stuck! Really, honestly totally stuck! There are two things I'd like to apply to do, wild and crazy of me, and they both require that I tell about me.

This is how it goes for me, the survivor:

Excellent leadership skills (inner voice mumbles leading what? mush headed rejects?)
Dynamic speaker (inner voice criticizes speaking? you don't make sense, no one gets you)
Independent and Creative (inner voice mocks of course you are, who would want to work with you?
Intelligent, knowledgeable, qualified (inner voice screams LOSER LIAR LONER DUMMY FAKE WHEN THEY FIGURE IT OUT YOU ARE BUSTED)

I freeze up. How can I talk about myself when don't even know what to say?

I am a good story teller, I'm a passionate advocate, I'm a good behind the scenes person to make things happen. I'm good in the shadows where no one can see or sense my scars, my fear, my pain, my inability to get past the inner voices who only want me to fail. They wouldn't say, fail, they would say, "not doing what we think is best with the undertone of, because you obviously have no idea what is best so we'll take care of that".

I do know they are liars, but they are the only ones I can hear when I'm faced with telling someone about me. I don't even think I have a good idea of how those who love me see me because I've been tangled up for so long. Every achievement has been because of their awesomeness (nothing to do with me at all) and every failure has been because of my utter failure to be what they wanted (nothing at all to do with me, vicarious living ain't fun or easy for anyone).

How does God see me?

How does my son or husband?

How about my friends?

My family? Okay some of them I do know, it is their voices I hear when the inner voices are shouting at me.

I know how I would like to be seen, but is it really how I'm seen? I have maybe five photos that I think are good ones of me, only one or two are of me alone. The rest are with those whom I love best and I think they are great photos because I'm able to reflect love.

Bigger still is the question that I think we all face what makes us think we deserve to be seen as loving, worthy, sweet, kind, tough, resilient, caring, dynamic when all along we've been led to believe we are dirty, whorish, small minded, cruel, worthless, unlikeable, unlovable and do I need to go on?

Even in the face of it being a lie it is still hard to get past it...I would love to be able to say, "I am totally the best person for this and I know this because of the following..." and I would love to have the silence of confidence inside where there are no doubters in my mind and there are no traitors in my corner.

Can I do it because I know I'm really qualified and a good candidate or can I do it thinking I'll fake it until someone figures out I shouldn't be here and I'll quietly leave...

Friends, survivors - how would you describe you?

How do you think the people who love you most see you?

Today I'm struggling and today I'm going to find the words!

PART II: Tangled Wire Knots

Emotional Barbed Wire

2010-08-23T08:13:00.001-07:00

"We love you but right now we don't like you."

This could be the single most confusing thing I've heard in my life, and it is one that I have consciously tried to understand for years. I still cannot. It baffles me. It confuses me. It makes no sense.

I understand loving a person and not liking their choices, but this statement always had me believing that love was an obligation and that liking someone was more of a character judgment, a choice. The obligation of loving was somehow expected and desired, required even.

However, being able to say I love you was mysteriously separate from actually liking that same person...eh? What? Let me wrap my mind around this, if I can, that you can 'say' you love someone but then be also able to 'say' that you do not, in fact, like that person. What sort of twisted mind came up with that bit of emotional barbed wire?

For anyone who doesn't really know much about it barbed wire is a terrible thing. Once you get tangled up in it the harder you struggle to get free the deeper you get cut and the more you bleed. People and animals have died from being tangled in barbed wire. The only way to get free is to carefully disengage each barb, cut each wire where you can and gently pull yourself free.

HOWEVER...this is the hardest thing to do when you are actually tangled up in it! Emotional barbed wire is just as deadly, just as wounding and just as likely to kill you.

The "love but not like" lie is a whole rotten, rusted fence line of emotional barbed wire, and although it has been said since I was a little girl I still don't understand it. I don't think it is something that is really understandable because it was only meant as a means of control, of power.

Love is something that is given freely, love is something that shouldn't have a string or price tag. You don't really have to love everyone you like. That would weigh a lot! BUT, can anyone who truly loves say there is love in their heart for someone they don't like?

There are people in my life that I love dearly and we don't always agree with or like the choices that the other makes. If my little boy makes a bad choice, do I tell him he is a bad person? NO! I still love and like him the person, his choice is something else. It is a choice to agree to disagree, it is not a judgement call on them as people. I have many people who I genuinely like and a few I deeply love - seems simple to me that when I don't agree with their choices (and some have been shatteringly bad choices) I still care for them as people, I still value them as people, I still hold their person in my care and in my prayers.

Emotional barbed wire is everywhere, and when we are recovering our lives, when we are finding out what life is like as a survivor, there are rolls of it everywhere! Rusting on fences, shining on rolls, tangled in the bush, draped over our doorways and beds...emotional barbed wire ready to tangle, twist, cut us and make us bleed.

I wish I could give you a pair of fencing pliers, some side cutters, a hacksaw for heaven's sake so you could cut yourself free when you feel the barbs digging in. Do you know the signs of emotional barbed wire in your life? Once you do it is easier to avoid, and easier to untangle from. It has taken me many years to untangle this lie from my life.

I promise myself, every day, that I won't be stringing wire.

How Many Stand Silent?

2010-08-20T17:29:00.000-07:00

How Many Stand Silent?

How many stand silent,

Watching as you quietly die?

How many stand silent,

Watching as you are abused?

One, a dozen, the whole world.

What if no one spoke for any of us?

Would you speak if the hand raised,

was raised against you and yours?

How many stand silent,

Knowing who deals death

Just beyond their door?

How many stand slient,

Knowing cruelty lives and thrives

Just beyond their door?

One, a dozen, the whole world.

What if no one looked at any of us?

Would you cry out or would you cower away,

if the cruelty was coming through your door?

How many stand silent,

Waiting for someone to speak?

How many stand silent,

Believing the lies, "I've changed"?

One, a dozen, the whole world.

What if we stopped believing them?

How many stand silent...

How many stand silent waiting for...

Just one person to say, "Stop! Enough!"?

How many stand silent...

How many stand silent waiting for...

Someone else to make the world change?

When the bullet hits the bone

2010-08-12T07:17:00.000-07:00

"Where am I to go now that I've gone too far

So you'll come to know

When the bullet hits the bone
So you'll come to know
When the bullet hits the bone."
Twilight Zone, Golden Earring

Have you ever been shot at or had a gun aimed at you? I have. It's a feeling that tells you that you are utterly exposed, naked, that you are soft flesh, weak bone, blood and spirit. It tells you that nothing will ever be the same again. It can tell you what you are made of deep inside. It can tell you what parts of you matter most.

"Sexual abuse is like a bullet that's never been removed." - Ksenia Oustiougova

What happens when you cannot remove the bullet? What happens if it keeps moving deeper? What happens if it stays and builds up a scar, tough and hard? What happens if it infects and poisons you?

When I think about sexual abuse I think Ksenia's quote and I understand that when someone uses trust to hurt you it is like being shot. And worse than being shot with a clean through and through, it is a bullet that never gets removed.

It stays, burrowing deeper, building scars, cutting and making you bleed. No medic, no doctor, nor surgeon can remove it. It stays and unless we can cut it open and reach inside to pull it out into the light, it stays. It stays. It stays.

It scars over, it leaves a faint mark on the outside. Inside there is a trail, a wound track that follows the bullet from precious place to precious place. Abusers use their power to shoot us. The trails of their bullets scar our trust, our memories, our feelings. They rob us of safe places and trusted people. They leave us wounded, bleeding and sometimes they walk away. Sometimes they stay and see us in pain and fear.

When we start down the path to healing, when we see ourselves as survivors, we start to understand the bullets we feel that no one can see. Sometimes we move the wrong way, sometimes a person will cause us to flinch back from the cold steel and sometimes we hold our hands over the wound, trying to feel it again, to prove it was real.

You made it through the impact, past the blood and tears, the smell of your own fear and the taste of your own sweat and tears. You survived the shot, the hole, the wound...only to find that when you are ready, really and truly ready to share, there are those who would dare to ask you why you still think about it.

They ask, "Was it that bad?" "It didn't really hurt that much." or they cruelly say, "Oh well there are others much worse off than you." It isn't them carrying around a bullet, a wound to your body, mind and soul. But they, who have only ever done the shooting, dare to question those who have the holes from being shot. Those who carry bullets never removed, never dug out, never touched very often shot by shooters who carry no shame, no blame and paid no earthly price.

For those of us who carry bullets, count, calibre or range isn't what matters, I honour your scars, I celebrate your being amongst the survivors. I proudly tattoo around my scars, I write about my bullets and I sing the songs that were stolen from me so long ago.

Join me and my sister survivors as we blog weekly on a quote...click on the links below to visit:

Chicks with Scars
Ksenia
Sugar Patch
Ye Old Crone's Gazette

Fat Slaves and more...

2010-08-05T10:22:00.000-07:00

‎"Better to starve free than be a fat slave." - Aesop

I was that fat slave, truly and really not only getting larger by the day but also more and more enslaved by the day. That was in my old life with my abusive ex (and his family), before that my body image was constantly assaulted by family who expected big boned girls to be petite, that being strong made you look unfeminine and that you really should be able to wear someone else's clothes because they want you to.

Even if I could I wouldn't show you what I looked like then, in my slave days, because those images although burned in my mind have also been physically burned to cleanse my spirit. I got rid of the reminders of my slavery. My psychic chains were dropped overboard when I made my escape.

Today, I would rather be alone and free than to be fat and enslaved by anyone or anything. That is not universally understood or even accepted. Some people will always think that the right thing to do is what the majority or those in 'control' wish for you to do. It is not. Not for me. Not for you. Not for our children, our friends or our family.

Slavery of the mind, body, spirit or emotions is wrong even if you are a well fed slave. A slave is still owned, a slave is still put in chains, a slave is still someone's property and is theirs until they say differently.

Freedom can be lonely but it is sweet - to paraphrase some of my favorite lines from my freedom singer Melissa Etheridge. She and I spent, and still spend, many hours together - her singing and me listening. Listening with free ears, not sneaking a song here or there like a slave. To afraid to speak up, too scared and scarred to make noise or waves. I didn't sell my soul for freedom, although it felt like it sometimes. That was until I realized that it wasn't my soul that I sold but my chains, my slavery, so intertwined with who I wasn't felt like my soul because I lost so much of who I was...I had to lose it all to get it back again.

For the first time in my life I was able to, last night, be truly and honestly fully facing my feelings about family, relationships and the past. I was, for the first time, safe in my freedom enough to reject their slavery, their control and understand it for what it was. A trap. A lie. An easy way into losing yourself. A way to relinquish who you are for what they want.

Ever notice that? That the WHO is lost when we become slaves because we are no longer a WHO but a WHAT. I am free, who I am is free. I was enslaved, what happened was slavery, I was a person enslaved. Slaves are not people, they are objects and property.

We are not objects, we are not property, we are persons, we are alive and we deserve our freedom, even if it costs us some of the false security of slavery, some of the poisoned meals, the fabric covered chains and sweetly scented threats.

When I started healing, really healing, and getting strong I started to see things differently. There are some things I won't tolerate, some things I cannot abide by and some things I will quietly or loudly fight against.

I still sing to Melissa, I still have to stop myself from thinking like a slave in some situations and I have to remember always, especially in mid-July, that my own independence day was the sweetest, hardest, bitterest and most incredible thing I had done and that that path I started down has been hard, loving, wonderful, savage and led to so many wonderful blessings...it's a long road but worth it to walk it in freedom.

This town thinks I'm crazy...They just think I'm strange

Sometimes they want to own me...Sometimes they wish I'd change

But I can feel the thunder underneath my feet

I sold my soul for freedom...It's lonely but it's sweet

Melissa Etheridge, Talking To My Angel

Stop by and see who else is blogging about this post by clicking on the following links, leave some love and if you write or are wanting to start a conversation about this please send a message!

Chicks with Scars

I don't have to say sorry when I'm right!

2010-08-01T14:06:00.000-07:00

Yeah, isn't that the kicker? When we are in a situation of abuse being right can be the worst thing to be, and when we are healing sometimes we feel we have to be dumber than or apologize for being right in order to keep those new people in our lives happy with us. We have not learned that it is okay to be right, even if it is right for us or just for right now. When do we get to the place where we can say, "I'm right, and I don't have to say sorry for it"? It took me a very long time to find that place on my travels on the Survivor Trail where I didn't have to say sorry for who I was, for when I was right or for when I had my own thoughts and feelings.

Let me give you some background - in my family if you think you remember something and you share that memory you will be wrong. No matter what it is, no matter how recent or distantly past, no matter what it was someone will not only dispute you but they will tell you that you are wrong and expect you to be sorry for your mistake...even when everything in you is screaming that you are not wrong.

I know sometimes I've been right, but I have not only been forced to back down but also to say "I am sorry" because to them it was not possible that I COULD be right.  It was never based on fact, it was never based on knowledge - it was based simply on the belief of those in a place of dysfunctional control that there is no way you can independently correct or right.

So here I am, thinking back upon the visit of a week or so ago - and thinking that there were times I was so certain that I was correct in a memory or fact. And it was still argued, still I was expected to be wrong and I was still expected to be sorry for being wrong. I didn't let myself be pressured into that this time, but it was hard! Flash forward to today - working on a call for my job.

My job, where I am responsible for being if not right, on the right track or finding the way to it, can be both challenging and frustrating. When I'm challenged I'm learning that it is often because of someone's lack of knowledge, understanding or common experience (and make no mistake that someone can be me!). I don't say I'm sorry for being right. I don't say I'm sorry for knowing what I know.  I am not a threat because I know something they don't. I'm an asset, I have value. Do you know what that feels like?  Scary, terrific, horrifying and somehow so right!

When we survive being right we feel like there is a weight lifted off our lives...the first time I told my Dad that he could not only be wrong but that at the same time I could also be right I thought I was going to be smoted.

I feared the world would end, and in a way it did...because over 8 years later I'm still right. I still won't say sorry for being right. I embrace and love the blessings that I have because for the first time in my life, in my 30's I was able to say, "I know I am right, it is conceivable that you are wrong. I am not sorry for being right."

Today I am standing my ground, without apology, because it is my job to speak up for those with no other voice speaking for them. In my volunteer work I advocate and educate. In my family, I encourage finding our way without blame because it is the path to knowing that is more important than just knowledge. They both have value but the knowing is the heart, the knowledge the mind - and we strive very hard not to value the person based on one or the other in isolation.

Never say you are sorry for knowing your own story, your own scars and your own life. Never say you are sorry for being right, because I'm confident that we wouldn't use our 'being right' as a stick to beat up on another person.

This is my story, and I understand it is not yours, but sometimes we find common links and shared paths...and I'd like to thank you for sharing this part of my journey with me...be brightly blessed, always and in all ways...

Poison People

2010-07-17T20:49:00.000-07:00

Poison people, poison people,
Sucking out the life from our air.

Poison people, poison people,
Killing spirits without a care.

Poison people, poison people,
I wonder how you dare?

Poison people, poison people,
I see you and I know you are there.

Poison people are everywhere, and when you've been abused it can be so hard to deal with those who are good at disguising their poison. Their poison is subtle - it undermines you, it corrodes you and it leaves you wounded and vulnerable. Their poison comes disguised as backhanded compliments or 'I'm sorry but...' statements, their poison is fueled by their own sense of power and guilt. They try to make us drink their poison because it makes them feel better.

They know they are abusers, they know they are bad for us and they do not care enough to stop. They like their power, they like the way our pain drives them. They like to try and convince us that they really are not hurting us, we are just too weak, to silly, to needy to understand that the world works this way. They expect that their poison will bring us to a level where it can continue to kill us slowly.

They seduce vulnerable and abused partners into thinking that when they provide a sexual service or an emotional service that it really is being done to make the abused partner feel better. Excuse me! Really, sleeping with someone who is suicidal, depressed and being actively abused by you is a favor, that you are sacrificing yourself so they can feel pretty?

Lies, deceptions and poison...when you use your power for pain you are abusing someone. When you use your power for your pleasure paid for by someone's tears - you are abusing them.

Poison people are everywhere - and when you are healing and doing the really hard work of getting well they are at their most dangerous. When we are focused on surviving, on the single steps that take us along the way to survivor, we are not thinking about those poison people who are waiting to abuse their power in our lives, in our worlds.

It may not be to us directly, it could be to another person who is also on the survivor trail, and we see it happening. We hear it happening and all we can do is try to hold them together, get them to help and keep the poison people away. When someone is working so hard to poison another person it is a very painful thing to witness - how do you explain to someone that the person who claims to be helping them is really trying to kill them? That they are slowly bleeding their spirits to death, killing their minds and letting their bodies linger.

When a person takes their power to harm another person - that is abuse.
If you end a conversation with someone feeling sick, weak or badly - they are poison people.
If time with someone leaves you confused, drained and weak - they are poison people.
I've been around poison people disguised as caregivers, family, friends, lovers...it doesn't matter what their title is, their relationship or age. They are poison people!

My question to you, and I'm really looking for some discussion here: how do you deal with a new life with healthy people if you've only ever known poison people? If you are drawn to that world because it is all that you've been able to understand? I have a friend going through this - right now, tonight...and I love her and am praying for her...

Sweet Wind Dancer, you have people who care for you, that love you and know you. They are not poison people, they know who the poison people are and want to protect you from them...let us show you that real love, real caring and really loving people are in the world and love you. The poison people will always want to snag you but you've come so far in your journey as a survivor...we love you and are proud of you!

I am...

2010-06-25T12:22:00.000-07:00

I hate the world today
You're so good to me
I know but I can't change
tried to tell you but you look at me like maybe I'm an angel
underneath
innocent and sweet
Yesterday I cried
You must have been relieved to see the softer side
I can understand how you'd be so confused
I don't envy you
I'm a little bit of everything
all rolled into one

Chorus:
I'm a bitch, I'm a lover
I'm a child, I'm a mother
I'm a sinner, I'm a saint
I do not feel ashamed
I'm your health, I'm your dream
I'm nothing in between
You know you wouldn't want it any other way

So take me as I am
This may mean you'll have to be a stronger man
Rest assured that when I start to make you nervous
and I'm going to extremes
tomorrow I will change
and today won't mean a thing

Chorus

Just when you think you've got me figured out
the season's already changing
I think it's cool you do what you do
and don't try to save me

Chorus

I'm a bitch, I'm a tease
I'm a goddess on my knees
when you hurt, when you suffer
I'm your angel undercover
I've been numbed, I'm revived
can't say I'm not alive
You know I wouldn't want it any other way

Copyright Meredith Brooks

I'll admit it, when I first heard this song it was so hard for me to listen to - my strong self had not yet emerged and it was scandalous to me that someone could and would sing so proudly about being all aspects of her own self. It really shook me to the core and yet I listened, quietly and secretly, to the song. To the words, until one day I just started singing - really loud and out loud.

Guess what? I was not smoted, I was not struck down by the holy lightning of control, toeing the line, being 'less' or by being 'more' of what I was. I started to realize that this song was a story that could be told in tears, burning cheeks, bruises, scars and direct gazes that dared, DARED, to say, "If you cannot accept me for who I am, whatever place I am in, then you aren't the one to be with me."

Friend, lover, parent, sibling, stranger on a bus...the embarrassed lady in the produce aisle that caught me singing at the local Safeway. I didn't apologize, and she just sorta smiled like maybe, just maybe she wished she could say the words. Just to see how they felt, to see if the world would come crashing down upon her for shedding her outer layers just long enough to let the La Loba inside breathe. See if the dragon still can fly. See if the birds can sing with random abandon. To see if the sparks burned as brightly on the skin as they did in the night sky.

There might be more on this later, in a Part 2.

You've Changed!

2010-06-20T08:26:00.000-07:00

She looked at me, there was a tone and she said, “You’ve changed…”

No denying it, she was right. I have changed, I have grown and learned. I have new experiences – trials and victories – which have shaped my life. I have changed and for me change has been a good thing. I’m stronger, braver, sometimes wiser and sometimes more outspoken. I am less invested in pleasing others at the expense of my own safety, sanity and peace of mind.

There was time, however, when I would become almost physically ill with worry. Worry about what other people thought I should be and how far I would fall short of their mark. Notice I was sick about failure? That’s because only in my most crazy dreams did I ever achieve the much sought after success of pleasing them, any of them, all of them! A single moment that never happened and yet it took a toll on me physically, emotionally and spiritually.

So it was a great sense of satisfaction that I was able to look her in the face, and smile and reply with, “You say it like it is a bad thing!” and I knew to her it was a very bad thing! I was working outside the norms, exisiting and living beyond the set boundaries. The set boundaries of my family, of their friends, of their world.

I did the unthinkable – I changed! I decided to live! I realized that if I didn’t change parts of me would keep dying off until there was nothing left of me but a stiffly smiling compliant husk. I understood that we have to change, everything does.

Even mountains and shorelines change by forces small and large. Trees grow and change from seed to sapling to young tree to towering giant. Butterflies, flowers, spiders every thing that lives must change or it is dead.

Why is it, that when we change away from unhealthy to healthy those who don’t change with us take it personally? They say, “You’ve changed” in such a tone that practically shouts that the change is not only against their wishes, but also almost certainly doomed not only to catastrophic failure but humiliation. Not just humiliation for your either, no there is a whole train of baggage that includes their humiliation, their feelings, their standards not being met.

When I stopped trying to please my family, when I stopped trying to squeeze my mostly ‘round peg’ self into their ‘square peg’ holes, they were so upset. When I wouldn’t stop advocating for something I believed in I lost a job I loved. When I couldn’t not be who I am I was accused of things, I was left behind, I was told I’d be a failure.

“You’ve changed!”

Yes I have! I’m not trying to please you by letting you live vicariously through me in my life. I’m not trying to make you happy by doing what you would choose for me. I’m not trying to achieve goals that are not in my framework for personal, social and professional satisfaction. I’m not rolling the credit reel with your names at the top to finish every success I celebrate.

“You’ve changed…” the disappointment is heavy…you can hear it dripping of every letter.

And I will continue to change as I walk through my life and grow in confidence, faith and love. And I will continue to change, every day we can choose to change and grow. Or we can choose to stay behind in the past, in our comfort zones where children stay children, where new ideas are always vetted past the old idea thinkers, where doing something outside of the usual people pleasing, family peace mode is unthinkable.

I am in a place in my life where I value new things, different things. I am in a place in my life where each challenge or choice is not prefaced with, “What would they do? Will they be happy with this? How could this affect their reputation, their feelings for me, their lives…?”

I have changed, and I will fight, shout and cheer for everyone who also chooses to change for the most important person in their lives, themselves! I don’t want a drone for a child, I don’t want mental slaves for friends and I don’t want to watch people being wounded by those who are supposed to love and care for them. I’m not afraid anymore because I have faith, a family of my own and a life that has not been built on meeting the impossible needs of pleasing others.

There is no harder work, there is no greater fear and there is no more wonderful a reward than to look in the mirror and honestly say, “Today, I pleased me, I made my life a wonderful place in small or big ways. Today I choose for me! Today I celebrate me!”

Today when you take your first steps of the day, the first steps towards pleasing you in your life choose the path with less traffic, less baggage and less expectations. Without all that weight you’ll find a way to a day made with you in mind. Walk that dog, take that nap, say, “no thank you” and when they say, “You’ve changed…”, stand tall and reply with a smile. “Yes, yes I have, and it’s GREAT!”

It's not about you...

2010-06-16T18:25:00.000-07:00

It's not about you...keep that firmly in mind if you think this post is about you. Remember the Carly Simon song. This post is about me, for the first time I am speaking out in this way and it is about me.

My healing.
My journey.
My story.
My faith.
Me.

Not your reputation.
Not your recollection.
Not your friends.
Not your family.
Not your feelings.
Not your guilt, or lack thereof.

It is about me opening doors and airing things out. It is about me sharing my story so that I can encourage and inspire others on the same healing path.

It is about me not being ashamed of who I am, not being angry at the circumstances which formed me into who I am.

I am a survivor of sexual abuse, physical abuse and emotional abuse. The key word there folks is survivor, so journey with me and we'll be strong together, we'll cry together and we'll most likely get in to a great bit of trouble because we won't be silent anymore!

It is about going to bed and not thinking about the monsters in the dark.
It is about waking up and loving the woman in the mirror and the girl she was.
It is about taking a chance that the world won't end if the silence does.

If you do know me, and you don't know this story about me, I pray that it doesn't change how you see me. I'm not any different than I was before you read this, your just seeing another layer, another dimension of me.

If you don't know me and you are reading my story as I start this journey, welcome!

If you are among the few who who parts of this story, it is because you encourage and inspire me that I am doing this next part of my journey of healing, of faith. You have brought me along with your love, your tears, your healing...and I thank you for it.

You don't have to like what I say.
I don't like what I have to say.
You do have to listen.
I could have been your daughter.
I could have been your sister.
I could have been your friend.
I could have been your wife.
If I was, would you have stayed silent?
If I was, would you feel differently about this story?

I am still a seeker, and I'm still scarred - that's who I am. This is me...welcome to the journey with a Scarred Seeker, also known as Mystic.