Tag: abuse

  • Starts With Me.

    I am in the middle of reworking an old relationship, one where I have been very neglectful and actually very disrespectful and lazy.  In fact I had not even tried to see how my actions caused the other to suffer.

     

    It is always shocking to see your part, to see what your non-actions have caused, to see the affects and to feel the affects.

     

    Seeing an old relationship for the first time is not new to me, I have woken up and seen many places where I thought the relationship was fine, to then see it in a whole new light.

     

    I am marveling at how close this one was and how blind I was to it.  How I sat very lazy expecting the other to change. 

     

    In all my changes the last five years, it has always been me who needed to change, me, I was the common denominator in each relationship, and it was me where action was needed, always.

     

    It is the same today.

     

    My body is my last relationship that I have to fix, to heal and to change. 

     

    What I love love love about this one, is that I am getting immediate results. 

     

    The body doesn’t have its own agenda.  It isn’t fighting me against me, but following my lead.

     

    Deepak says that the mind is manifested in the body, and I know that has to be right.

     

    I had a lazy mind and a lazy relationship with this body, I expected the body to do all the work and serve up to me a healthy body, and I would ignore it until it did.  Or worse treat it badly expecting it not to show.

     

    As I lay in the floor poses, it came to me, that I have lots of repairing to do to this broken relationship, that each day I am down here doing yoga, I am rebuilding and redefining my part in this relationship.

     

    I am sad to see what I have caused, what my blindness, and selfish attitude has done. 

     

    Yet grateful that I am able to have a second chance, to be aware now and that it is up to me.

     

    In this relationship, I only matter, no one else but me can do this.  I always wanted total control, and now I have it.  Again, scary to actually know, if I fail so does the body, and if I win we both do.

     

    I could feel the narrow space I stood upon and no one was there to blame.  I carried it all.

     

    It is like abusing yourself and being shocked that you are abused!  You look and feel abused while you are abusing yourself, a mad cycle.

     

    Owning the hand that is slapping you.  Insanity!  Then blaming the abused body for looking abused.

     

    Each day of yoga is a loving caress a loving hug, a way to undo all the years of abuse. 

     

    The love starts with me.    (26 days of loving)

  • ….walked as you.

    My sister sent a request on facebook a few days ago, a ‘friend request’ and I accepted it with some trepidation.

     

    I am not sure why she is stepping into my world after 4 years and I asked her that.  I also asked if she still holds on the to views of her last letter.

     

    So far there hasn’t been a response, perhaps my request is not one she is willing to answer.

     

    In life we are asked many requests and in the past I would jump in without first asking a few questions or testing the waters, if you asked, I jumped and usually asked how high!

     

    Now, I am much wiser and hold my heart in a place of value, I just don’t go walking into places that will hurt me.

     

    Her silence could mean many things, yet I am surprised that her eagerness to have me back seems to be on pause.

     

    What stopped her?  What made her stop her advancement?  What has her retreating or re-thinking….and she could be asking the same of me.

     

    I know why I am not eagerly walking forward to embrace this woman, my experience of her still rings in my ears. 

     

    I invited her to read my blog as a way to find out if our ideals match, to see if she still wanted to be my friend. 

     

    Where can the two of us meet, what common ground is there for us to stand upon?  Why does she now feel that she wants to be part of my life, and which part?

     

    What part of my life do you want to enter into?   You suggested that you love me, so which part?  And that you have hopes of all the sisters reuniting, what will we reunite?

     

    How can I unite with you, we seem such opposites.

     

    I have always felt that if a brother or sister walked towards me I would meet them half way and not turn around.

     

    I am standing here facing you, asking what it is you feel inside about me.  It is a fair request.

    What do you see in me?

     

    In order to love me, you have to know me.  You can’t just love what you dream of me to be.

     

    I am not a thought in your head about what a sister should do, could do, or would do; I am a live walking talking moving person.

     

    Do you know me outside of your dreams?

     

    If you want to enter into a relationship with me, I ask just for your truth, show me who you are.

     

    If you are reading the blog, go back to the beginning and read along, it will open your eyes as to who I am, and I will understand if you withdraw your request.

     

    It seems that I became the enemy, the other side, and I know that you will have to forsake all you have ever known to walk along with me.

     

    It is way too much to ask.

    It is and will always be up to you to be with me.

     

    I understand your silence.

    I am the monster you fear the most.

    I am reality.

     

    I am reality walking and doing free of dysfunction, an enemy of your mind, your thoughts and your beliefs, your love and your security.  I am the opposite of all you have even been.

     

    Your silence will be a signal that you are not wanting to be with me.  I understand.

     

    I know where you are sitting…. I sat there.

    I know what you are thinking, I thought there.

    I know where your loyalties lie, I was loyal too.

    I know you for I know me.

     

    I wish you peace with this decision.
    I wish you strength and courage.

     

    I walked free….so I know you can too.

    You are much braver than me!

     

    A sister, one who walked as you.

     

     

    374

     

     

     

  • The shoes I wore were all for naught.

    454

    When I quoted my sister’s letter to me, and how in her own words, stated the way she wasn’t in denial, how she was front and center in my father’s life;

     

      “I have dealt with his probation officer and counselor.  He resides in my home.  He leaves the yard 4 times a month; his name/picture and my address are on the offenders list for protection of ALL others.  My son knows the truth, and my husband knows the truth, as well as his family and my friends.  DO NOT EVER dare say that I am in denial.  I care for him DESPITE all the horrific offenses he has committed in his lifetime.  He will die with me and you NEVER have to see him again.  I chose to forgive for MY SAKE and yet you judge…….What accountability do you take as a daughter?  How come you didn’t know the truth?  Why as one of the oldest did you not protect us?  Why JUST blame mom?” 

     

    Yesterday it occurred to me, it isn’t that she is in denial of who my father is, but she is denying herself actions on her part.  She is unable to move in a new way, to not be a daughter.

     

    She has seen him, but her only option is to stand in the relationship, it would never ever occur to her that this action from my father is a nudge (explosion) for her to go.

     

    The ‘application’ or the walk of denial is to continue on as though nothing has changed.  Meaning you still have to be a daughter, you still have to bring your love, your attention, your caring, your every thing, and he doesn’t have to lift a finger to warrant it.

     

    They cannot see the one-sidedness of their relationship.

     

    What I was so amazed by is their inability to not see him as a father who is a pedophile. But, Now I get that they did see him with this horrific offense, but what they failed to realize is that they held the consequence. 

     

    Their denial isn’t in who he is, but more in who they are.

     

    She can’t see that he gave up the right to have loving, caring daughters, the day he molested them.

     

    It isn’t us that need to work harder to become a better daughter, but he has to now start from square one and become a father.

     

    She thinks that if she can be a better daughter, than he will be a better father.  Impossible.

     

    She is in denial of her own self worth.

    She is in denial that she can walk out.

    She is in denial that she has the right to put up boundaries.

    She is in denial that she has to stay and be in a relationship with a man who molested her.

     

    It is shocking to me even, to see the application of denial.

     

    That it isn’t about seeing the damaged one, but instead to NOT SEE how you get to be a different person to them.

     

    I can literally see the denial at work, but she thinks that with staying in the game, rubbing shoulders and taking him to counseling sessions, by posting ‘warning’ signs in her yard, she is dealing correctly.

     

    Dealing correctly?

     

    She is only seeing one part of the deal.  She doesn’t see herself and how she is affected by his behavior, nor does she feel she has a choice.

     

    If she continues to only view her self as “his daughter” than she will continue to wear daughter shoes.

     

    In her letter, she writes, “What accountability do you take as a daughter?”

     

    In her world daughters have roles, daughters have rules, daughter comes before self.

     

    What I know to be true is that to the depth of her being, she feels that she must act and do as she is doing, that is what a good daughter would do.

     

    I lived in that locked up space, in the tight unmovable spot, I too used to believe that it was up to me to keep that family together, against all odds.

     

    Yet in the end, it wasn’t me who did.

     

    In the end, I tossed away my daughter shoes.

     

    I tossed away the shoes I wore to keep that family together, to keep it whole and loving.  Those shoes didn’t work.

     

    They were not magic shoes; they could not erase reality and build in its place a loving family.

     

    The shoes I wore were all for naught.

     

     

     

     

     

  • Look the other way.

    “There are two ways to be fooled.  One is to believe what isn’t true; the other is to refuse to believe what is true.”

     Soren Kierkagaard

     

     

    What is denial?

     

    Of course I had to look it up.

     

    Denial.

    -disavowal: a statement saying that something is not true or not correct

    -refusal to allow somebody something: a refusal to grant something desired or believed to be a right

    – refusal to acknowledge existence of something: a refusal to believe in something or admit that something exists

    The refusal to acknowledge existence of something: refusal to believe something or admit that something exists.

     

    I am wondering the difference between women who stand by an alcoholic husband compared to one who stands by a husband who is accused of being a pedophile.

     

    What seems to be easier to see is the alcoholic, for he comes home with the evidence written all over him, he smells like a drunk, walks like a drunk yet that woman is not condemned for standing by him.  Why?  Why is this one ok? 

     

    Now in the case of a woman whose husband is accused of being a pedophile, the only evidence is the child.  What did the child say?   More often than not, the man isn’t found with his pants down by his ankles, so the woman then has to believe the child over the man.  And the child has to be the one to speak up, to bring up this bit of information. 

     

    The man himself takes great care in covering up his evidence, he is actually a smooth operator, a con artist, a master manipulator, and we expect the woman to scout this out. 

     

    When he comes home you do not see his evidence.

     

    Instead you have to find his evidence on the children within range of him.

     

    People look at him and instead they need to look for evidence among the children.

     

    The question comes to me, more often than not, “where was your mother in all of this, what did she know, or how could she not know.”

     

    Now I am not defending her, but instead trying to sort out how it is that grown ladies seem to act so “stupid” it seems when it comes to the man they love.

     

    I am not certain what happened with my mother, it could have been a combination of many things.  One that she never experienced him as a pedophile, she never was a victim of him.  Second she never caught him in action.  Third, she had to believe a small child speaking.  Her day-to-day evidence didn’t support the allegations.

     

    When I suggested to her, that she danced with a monster whether she knew it or not, her comment was, “I don’t dance”.

     

    She couldn’t see him as a monster.  Yet in my case my body knew he was.  So I had evidence of this in my body.

     

    Do you have any idea of what the cost is to seeing someone different?  Do you know what it takes to replace a rosy picture with a nasty one?  Do you know what will be expected of you if you ‘change’ your mind?

     

    I do.

     

    My whole world flipped around, all my family lay in a discarded mess off to one side.

     

    What you are asking of these women is huge.

     

    I have no experience of living under the influence of a woman whose husband is an alcoholic, but I can tell you what happens to grow up in a family of a woman who couldn’t change her mind.

     

    Somehow I think that in the ‘old days’ it was admirable to stand by your man, and in fact doesn’t the traditional wedding vows claim, “in sickness and in health, in good times and in bad…” so a woman is made to be better if they stick around even when times get rough.

     

    What I am now beginning to understand it is much more admirable to step out, to walk away, to stop being victimized by someone who is lost behind a disease, to divorce your mind from the rosy image.

     

    What is the difference between my mother not being able to see her husband in a bad light, and a mother who refuses to see her child addicted to drugs?  They both want to keep the innocent image, to not have to deal, to not change their minds.

     

    What is it that keeps us so mentally dysfunctional when it comes to those we love?  What has us blinded so that we can’t picture them in another light?

     

    Is it more about us than it is even about that other person?  Was my mother’s story and self more at risk than anything else? What was she to lose? 

     

    What was the cost inside of her?  What would she be required to feel?  What pain would she have to endure?

     

    To live painless is to not deal, not see, not be aware of what is wrong, instead work like hell to make what is not working work.

     

    Become very good at putting on a social face of normal, while underneath the truths get pushed to the back and out of the day to day running of life.

     

    Is that denial in its application?  Isn’t that what it means  “The refusal to acknowledge existence of something: refusal to believe something or admit that something exists.”

     

    It almost seems like such a gentle word, “she was in denial” like she was lying on the couch.  Yet that one little word allowed a man to continue on doing what he did, continue to be a monster in our presents, because she failed to acknowledge the existence of a monster, she refused to believe.

     

    Each monster needs a woman in denial to operate.

    Each addict needs a woman to co-operate to work.

     

    The application of not seeing works to the benefit of the disease, to the benefit of the addiction, to the detriment of the children in the house, even to the person locked behind the addiction.

     

    You are not helping your loved one by blinking this away; instead you are helping the disease.

     

    Imagine the shock and horror each ‘caring and loving’ mother/wife would be in, if they knew that by not seeing the disease they were actually abusing the child/husband and loving the disease.

     

    Who could know that your love slips onto the disease!

     

    Just by denying the disease doesn’t make it disappear, even if you want to hold on to the image of pureness, the disease lays over the top.

     

    My mother’s biggest crime was not seeing him as a monster, period.

     

    She failed to acknowledge its existence.

     

    How many ladies are out there that fail to acknowledge the existence of alcoholism, or drug abuse, they simply want to retain the innocent image.

     

    That is their crime, or fault, they are incapable of seeing something change for the worse, to crumble and fall, they fail to see the pain in another to see one they love in a different light.

     

    My mother isn’t that unusual.  I am witnessing the application of denial and it comes in all shapes and sizes, it doesn’t discriminate, it is an equal opportunity for all.

     

    Denial is the legacy my mother gave us, and oddly enough my father told his truth.  He was the monster; she just could not see it.  He walked, talked, and breathed who he was.  He did is part well. 

     

    Who is more authentic in their case? 

     

    I can see why each of my parents did what they did.

    My father was abused as a child and he went forth and replicated what he felt love was.

    My mother was abused a child and she went forth and replicated what love was.

     

    Both were the perfect match to undo this wrong.

    Neither one could begin to unhinge the wrong.

    All it takes is one person to see.

    One person to stop this pretend dance, one person to acknowledge the existence of what is.

    It takes just one.

     

    To me they failed to see their life lesson, they failed to heal their childhood wounds.  They became ‘adult children’ of abuse; they literally failed to right a wrong that was done to them!

     

    The legacy of denial, the legacy of abuse, maybe the legacy of denying abuse exists.

     

    All it takes for evil to win, is for us to look the other way.

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

  • A no to you is a yes for Me!

    If someone said to identify yourself how would you do that?

     

    What do you consider your identity?

     

    We can’t use our bodies, or our titles, but our own inner identity, what would that be?

     

    How do you explain your own inner identity?

     

    I am sure self has to be connected with identity, or otherwise we would be describing something outside of us.

     

    It is not our bodies, it is not our brains, our thoughts our minds, is it the heart of who we are?

     

    Is it our passions, our joys, the things that make us smile, laugh and do what we do?

     

    What is our identity that gets stolen with abuse? 

     

    Dr. Robin Smith spoke of this on her radio show about addictions.  That little children who get abused lose their identity.

     

    What happens to us at that time, what leads us on a life of addictions, of being cold and treated like an object? 

     

    I have been trying to write about this, but damn this seems like a puzzle with no answer, that the more you look and the more you twist the less clear it becomes.

     

    If I can’t use this body to identify myself, then how do I do that?  My actions?  Do they point the way?

     

    What is taken out of us so that we are left a barren vessel that we will use and abuse trying to get back what was stolen!

     

    When a two year old learns the word “mine” is that how we begin to identify ourselves?

     

    But usually the child is referring to an object that she wants.

     

    It seems we have many ways to prove who we are by credit cards, driver’s license or social security cards, but does that really tell us our identity, for when a small child is abused, she has none of that, so how do we identify our self?

     

    Stolen identity is when someone creates a false life using our identity.

     

    Did my father steal who I thought I was, and replaced it with his idea?  Did he take who I thought I was and make me into a new thing?  Did I go from being his daughter to something else?  Is that what Dr. Robin means?

     

    Did I change from being a little girl into a thing that no little girl can describe, but a little one who is used for things that she can’t comprehend? Is that how it was stolen, my young little innocent girl identity was stolen from me?  I then became a part of a twisted dance.

     

    Instead of seeing myself free to be me, I am now an object for him. 

     

    How did I let my identity go so easily to be replaced by something so sordid?

     

    Why was I so easy to convince that this new me was a better one?  What did he do to win my approval to make me lay down my own sense of self?

     

    Did he threaten me, shame me, blame me, did he convince me that this is what I wanted to, to be this new me?

     

    It seems hard to go back to that point in time, to the innocence of a being such a small girl, to put my big lady self back there, in that land that is even hard now to view.

     

    We have to picture an innocent girl doing acts that are way beyond her years and understanding, with a man who holds the label father.

     

    Maybe his identity is what really changes, maybe he no longer looks and acts as a father should but convinces me it is.

     

    Perhaps Dr. Robin is partially right in that we lose our identity, but we also lose the father’s identity too.

     

    He no longer acts nor behaves like a father, but instead of changing our identity of him, we change ourselves.

     

    Is that what is meant by our identity getting stolen?

    That being a loved and protected daughter dies, and is replaced with one who is damaged.

     

    Not loved, not protected, no longer good enough to handle with care and compassion.

     

    So the loved and protected part of me, the trusting part was stolen and it was replaced by the opposite.

     

    There is a small book I picked up a few years ago called “when I love myself enough.” 

     

    After living 40 some years in a body without love of self inside, I now am able to speak of what I need, what is good for me and what I want.

     

    I am free to move away from people who hurt me and treat me like an object, I no longer see myself that way.

     

    I see myself as love.  So the identity inside is Love?

    When love disappeared, I lived in Fear.

     

    Reaching forever outside in fear trying to grasp on to the love that is missing inside.  That makes sense in my experience. 

     

    I also heard Dr. Robin speak of boundaries, and that once they are trampled down as a little child they remain down until we build them back up.

     

    So we are walking around in fear, exposed and vulnerable with no inner sense of love and boundaries, easy prey to be manipulated and tossed about.  It is no wonder our bodies are forever anxious, for no one is minding the door, there is no inner guard, we are wide open for abuse again.

     

    This is very intriguing to me, it explains my lack of knowing, my lack of control, my lack of love, my lack of boundaries, it explains how I built a mental lady identity.

     

    When I look at myself now, I can see how I slowly erected boundaries, each little no set this in place, each time I refused to attend a gathering of folks with lost identities, I succeeded in gather more identity for me.

     

    I am amazed, grateful beyond words to have this inner Love.  My words and actions match what is now inside, I no longer feel so out of control, to be whipped around in the wind in a thousand directions for my long lost love.

     

    Instead I stand with my Love in hand, looking out at the world, with the greatest understanding and awe at those folks who are still empty inside, I know, for I walked there, “forgive them, they know not what they do.”

     

    I recall telling my brother that it felt like I was walking out of rehab, that each time someone asked me to go back to the family with no boundaries and lost identities, it was like a drug that I had to resist.

     

    Now I way know why.  They were my drug of choice, my responsibility for them was my drug!

     

    Addicted to responsibility. 

     

    I am a recovering addict, I am recovering my self, my love and my control, I am outside of the rehab and now the real walking begins.

     

    A no to you is a yes for me!

     

     

  • There she was……

    She didn’t know, as she twirled on the tire swing, her hair grabbed by the breeze and taken prisoner, the tree creaked above, the sound mingling with her carefree laughter, her white sandals scuffed by the moist soil below, the smell of charcoal and barbecue filled the air, the other children ran in the yard, chasing each other and staining their clothes with the deep green grass, her bright eyes gazed up to the tree, the branches covered with leaves, down, down, down, they fell spiraling to the ground, she spun around on the old tire swing, her surroundings blurred and she closed her eyes until the tire stood still, she opened her eyes and looked innocently at him, unknowing, that he would be the one to hurt her.   

     

    Written by my daughter.

    IMG_0985

  • My Intentions

    IMG_4003 When the Blog idea came to me, I could envision me being in contact with other women who found themselves outside the normal category of society.  Women who are in a place of either accepting their imperfections, their reality and learning how to live from there, or being a failure.

    What I found, in my own experience, was that if you live from the spot of being imperfect, there are no rules to follow, no norm to measure up to, no yardstick to fall short of.  Instead you are able to live life that is for you alone to decide if it works.  Now this doesn't mean that I am a rebel, but rather I am a free spirit in a loving way to myself and mankind.

    I would like to share my experiences of walking free of dysfunctional patterns, learning how to build up a new you, to the many wonderful Spiritual Authors who shed the Light upon the way.

    I would like this blog to inspire confidence, free spirit, and self love for woman who are lost in a sea of dysfunction and abuse.  I would like to be a voice of reason in their head full of madness.

    To show them that Imperfection is Perfection.  That it is impossible to strive to be someone else.  That all your experiences, your life to this point is exactly as it should be.  It is from this point that you can look back and learn from your past  to make a future that is more to your inner desire.

    There are no rules, except to be you.  You do what you do, for reasons that are strictly your own to decide.  It is the whole journey to go from being a free soul when we are born, to getting stuck in patterns of our childhood that hold on to us into adulthood, to one day stepping free again.

    I want freedom, free will, and love, peace and joy for all.  All who are stuck in a pattern of pain, hurt and without a sense of self.  Other than the self that serves others, while leaving them empty inside.

    We will see where this blog takes me….I am open to see what happens, to me and to all who participate in this.

    Thanks in advance for your openness as we explore life as a Spiritual Being on a human journey….or how a Soul seeks to experience itself.