It is personal!

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:

1. Are they talking to me about me?
2. Is this thing they are talking about directly to do with me?
3. 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

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.

Copyright Shanyn Silinski 2011

More than porch lights

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

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

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

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

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...