Tag: adults

  • “Called Out of Darkness,” a Spiritual Confession by Ann Rice

     …was playing in my Mail Jeep today.

    It is a very interesting journey, from being a Catholic, to Atheist to…not sure, not done with the book. 

    It was very interesting to see her viewpoint of religion and really life itself.

    She is about 20 years older than me, for she graduated the year I was born. But she noticed as a child, that the adult didn't like the children, and often times treated them as if they were innately bad. That if the adults were not watching the children would naturally misbehave.  

    She didn't like the way adults treated the children.  Her parents were different, and to them the kids were just other people in the house…and she never even was treated like a girl, but just a person.  So, she didn't have gender self esteem issues.  In fact her parents named her Howard and the kids called their parents by their given name. They didn't know authority in their home.  An interesting way to grow up.

    Imagine the hidden ways in which we lower a child…naturally.

    She said children are told things long before they have a question about things.  What an interesting observation. Imagine if we didn't tell children things, but waited until they asked???

    Her mother was teaching her religion…long before she could even understand the dynamics of it.  She does however recall feelings of awe and wonder about the Saints and Statues etc.  

    Life to me is lived mostly from the Authority viewpoint and imagine how much better we would all be IF we took the child's viewpoint instead?

    Lots of our religion can't be explained to a child, yet a child can tell you all the wonders it sees as they walk through life.

    She has a very unique viewpoint of her life…and herself.  Her novels spoke of her internal spiritual struggle that she failed to realize until later…I know the feeling.

    Listening to her story has provoked many new things to ponder.  I like it when books do that…nothing I love more than to see things from a new angle.

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  • Children will suffer.

    From Alice Miller’s book “The Body Never Lies,” she writes…

    “My attempts to persuade the Vatican of the importance of early childhood experiences have revealed how impossible it is to arouse feelings of compassion in men and women who right at the beginning of their lives learned to suppress their genuine, natural feelings so mercilessly that there is no trace of them left in their conscious minds. All curiosity about the feelings of others has been stifled. It seems that people who were physically mutilated in early life immure themselves in a fortress deep inside themselves, where they can only pray to God. It is to Him that they delegate all their responsibility, and they carefully obey the precepts of the church so as not to be punished by this “loving” God for any sins of omission they might commit.”

    “Shortly after the capture of Saddam Hussein in late 2003, the Vatican was largely instrumental in orchestrating the sudden increase, all over the world, of voices expressing compassion for the unscrupulous tyrant who had been such an object of fear and loathing while he was still at large. But in my view we cannot simply allow ourselves to base our judgment of tyrants on ordinary compassion for the individual, if that means disregarding things they have done.”

    “As biographers Judith Miller and Laurie Mylroie tell us in their 1990 book “Saddam Hussein and the Crisis in the Gulf”, Saddam Hussein was born on April 28, 1937. He grew up in a peasant family living in penury near Tikrit. They had no land of their own. His biological father died before his birth. His stepfather, a shepherd, constantly humiliated the boy, calling him “son of a whore” and “son of a bitch,” beating him mercilessly and tormenting him in the most brutal way imaginable. To exploit young Saddam’s working capacity to the full, he forbade him to go to school until the boy was ten. Instead, he would wake him in the middle of the night and tell him to guard the flocks. In these formative years, children develop and image of the world. Ideas take shape in their minds about the values that are worth upholding in life. At the same time, they begin to cherish desires and dream of their fulfillment. For Saddam, the slave of his stepfather, these desires all centered around one thing; limitless power over others. In his brain the idea presumably took shape that he could regain the human dignity he had been so radically deprived of only by possessing the same power over others that his stepfather had over him. Throughout his childhood, there were no other ideals, no other examples to live up to, only the omnipotent stepfather and himself, the defenseless victim of the terror inflicted on him. It was in line with this pattern that the adult Hussein later organized the structure of the country he ruled over. His body knew nothing but violence.”

    “Every dictator denies the suffering of his childhood and attempts to forget them by indulging his megalomania. But the unconscious mind of an individual has completely registered his biography in the cells of the body, it will at some point urge that individual to confront the truth. After the coalition invasion, despite the immense financial resources at his disposal, Saddam sought refuge precisely in the vicinity of the place where he was born, the place where all help was denied him as a child, a highly precarious spot that could not provide real protection. The fact that he should have chosen this place to “go to ground” reflects the desperate plight of his early years and clearly illustrates the power of compulsive repetition. His return to his childhood was the return to the place where he had no chance to escape.”

    “there is conclusive evidence that the character of a tyrant will not change as long as he lives, that he will abuse his power in a destructive way as long as he encounters no resistance. The point is that his genuine aim, the unconscious aim concealed behind all his conscious activities, remains the same: to use his power to blot out the humiliations inflicted on him in childhood and denied by him ever since. But this aim can never be achieved. The past cannot be expunged, nor can one come to terms with it, as long as one denies the suffering it involved. Accordingly, a dictator’s efforts to achieve that aim are doomed to failure. Compulsive repetition will always reassert itself. And an endless succession of victims is forced to pay the price.”

    “With his own behavior, Hitler demonstrated to the world the kind of person his father was and the kind of treatment he suffered at his hands when he was a child: destructive, pitiless, ostentatious, merciless, boastful, perverted, self-enamored, shortsighted, and stupid. In his unconscious imitation he was faithful to his father’s example. For the same reason, other dictators like Stalin, Mussolini, Franco, Ceausescu, Idi Amin, Saddim Hussein behaved in a very similar way. Saddam’s biography is a striking example of how extreme humiliation in childhood is avenged on thousands and thousands of victims at a later date. The refusal to learn from these facts may be grotesque, but the reason for refusal are not difficult to identify.”

    “ The fact is that an unscrupulous tyrant mobilizes the suppressed fears and anxieties of those who were beaten as children but have never been able to accuse their own fathers of doing so. Their loyalty to these fathers is unswerving, despite the torments suffered at their hands. Every tyrant symbolizes such a father, the figure whom the abused children remain attached to with every fiber of their being, hoping that one day they will be able to transform him into a loving parent by being blind.”

    “This hope may have been what prompted the representation of the Roman Catholic Church to demonstrate their compassion for Hussein. In 2002, I turned to a number of cardinals for support when I presented the Vatican with material on the delayed effects of spanking and asked authorities there to do what they could to enlighten young parents on this subject. As I have said, not one of the cardinals I approached with this request showed the slightest interest in the universally ignored but crucially important issue of physically abused children. Nor did I come across the slightest indication of Christian charity or compassion in connection with this issue. Today, however, those same representatives are eager to show that they are indeed capable of compassion. Significantly, however, this compassion is lavished not on maltreated children or on Saddam’s victims but on Saddam himself, on the unscrupulous father figure that the feared despot symbolizes.”

    “As a rule, beaten, tormented, and humiliated children who have never received support from a helping witness later develop a high degree of tolerance for the cruelties perpetrated by parent figures and a remarkable indifference to the sufferings borne by children exposed to inhumane treatment. The last thing they wish to be told is that they themselves once belong to the same group. Indifference is a way of preserving them from opening their eyes to reality. In this way they become advocates of evil, however convinced they may be of their own humane intentions. From an early age they were forced to suppress and ignore their true feelings. They were forced to put their trust not in those feelings but solely in the regulations imposed on them by their parents, teachers, and the church authorities. Now the task facing them in their adult lives leaves them no time to perceive their own feelings, unless those feelings happen to fit in precisely with the patriarchal value system in which they live and which prescribes compassion for the father, however destructive and dangerous he may be. The more comprehensive a tyrant’s catalogue of crimes is, the more he can count on the tolerance, provided his admires are hermetically closed off from access to the sufferings of their own childhood.” Alice Miller.

    What a brilliant cycle this abuse is, for the circuitous madness not looking creates. How nature creates ways in which our mind can overrun our realities for survival and yet this very technique is what allows it to continue.

    The hurt child ends up hurting children and the hurt children who don’t want to feel their pain ends up seeing the ‘heroic’ adult and not the monster.

    It takes Herculean efforts to go with the body of truths and swing wide of society, church and family to see reality.

    Imagine a world full of delusional adults who carry a false picture of their formative years, they will not be able to spot a monster in their presence?

    No matter not how detailed his catalogue of crimes are, what matters most is that his followers, family and friends, haven’t discovered their own box of crimes of childhood…the sightless followers, the ones who love to live in the land of denial will not see his crimes.

    It is incredible to me, it isn’t that they are not seeing what is going on today, but the long ago blindness that makes them unconscious supporters of evil.

    You simply are incapable of seeing in the present if you didn’t see in the past.

    And the sheer volume of people refusing to deal in the past wrecks havoc on today’s reality.

    While I screamed loudly about the present, they clung to the vestiges of their ‘happy childhood’.

    Who knew that holding tight to a ‘happy childhood’ could cause so much pain!

    By not seeing who you really are you are incapable of seeing the truth in others…and this works so well for the monsters among us.

    Who will stop them?

    What will make the blind see, how much destruction has to be spread around the planet, before we can begin to see that children are not born this way, the parents are the cause.

    As long as we don’t see the suffering children, children will suffer.

  • A New Legacy to Begin.

    “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 Kierkegaard

    I did yoga today, only the second time this week, and I felt the stiffening up of my body, the tight joints and the way I seemed to have drifted away from the presence of me.

    I fall quickly into a world that has little of me in it…for without taking the time each day, I slip away unnoticed.

    My body pays the price; my essence gets left in the background and to the forefront arrives all kinds of reasons to leave it there.

    My weakening resolve plays with any lazy excuse and before I know it a week has passed and I have not spent any time with me just for me.

    What came to me in yoga today (which is another reason to do yoga, great insights) is that we are greeted into the world and then ‘told’ or highly suggested how this world operates and are then programmed to fit in. We learn life from the eyes and perceptions and actions of our parents.

    Imagine instead if we were left to explore on our own, to see freely and build ourselves from the inside out?

    Instead our insides desires and passions, questions and interests are put aside due to the ‘knowledge’ our parents have about life.

    Instead of us gulping up and witnessing the fresh look at life when babies arrive, we stifle it and bend it and hurt it so that the child’s view of life matches our own.

    How backwards and how growth stunting this is to take new fresh energy and make it look old and stiff.

    On my mail route I deliver mail to what we would call ultra conservative families, where the woman are dressed as they did on the wagon trails out west, bonnets and long flowing calico dresses.

    As this bonnet-wearing woman answers her door, there are children of each age at her legs, and I am amazed that she has gone along with this dress code and submissively is led to live as they did 100 years ago…yet what I know is that each generation before refused changes, refused to see progress and actually applauds the legacy that has held strong regardless of progress all around them.

    The youngest ones smile freer, the bit older ones look in awe but with a tinge of fear as they hang back, but the littlest ones meet your eyes and smile wildly for they react naturally untaught.

    Along the route are various degrees of ultra conservatives and what I see the most is the absence of children being children, for they are like young adults, doing adult jobs with adult responsibility.

    In Alice Miller’s books, her main trust is the lost child, how adults greet it with all their issues and steal away the innocence, the lack of pure enthusiasm, love, peace and joy, and fill it up with all things opposite.

    As I completed my yoga, I thought what most of us are craving and thirsty for is the freedom and innocence of babies, to be able to be set free from our parents legacy, to give back our ‘inheritance’ and go it alone.

    Imagine a world of grown up newborns…all living life from what they feel and experience instead of what is acceptable by their parents.

    The parents are our biggest detriment to society and yet they can also be the biggest factors in change…for by changing my attitude and by me seeing my children, my children will see theirs.

    The chain has to be broken in order for it to be fixed.

    You can’t fix things at the same level they were created at, says the wise man Einstein, and I agree.

    I told my daughter yesterday, I had to leave my family in order for the abuse to stop; I had to leave my family in order to save my children. I had to do what was best for the child, not the legacy of the family

    That old legacy had to end in order for a new legacy to begin.

  • Our Own Mother Lode.

    In Alice Miller’s book, Banished Knowledge, the chapter, called ‘the wicked child’ is the following.

    “In Thou Shalt Not be Aware, I have demonstrated how precisely Freud’s “drive” theory and Melanie Klein’s theory of the cruel infant coincide with the traditional pedagogic view of the child. That which Martin Luther postulated four hundred years ago is still accepted today; thus, for instance, the psychoanalyst Edward Glover writes:

    “Expressing these technical discoveries in social terms we can say that the perfectly normal infant is almost completely egocentric, greedy, dirty, violent in temper, destructive in habit, profoundly sexual in purpose, aggrandizing in attitude, devoid of all but the most primitive reality sense, without conscience or moral feeling, whose attitude to society (as represented by the family) is opportunist, inconsiderate, domineering and sadistic. And when we come to consider the criminal type labeled psychopathic it will be apparent that many of these characteristics can under certain circumstances persist into adult life. In fact, judged by adult social standards the normal baby is for all practical purposes a born criminal.”

    “When I opposed this thesis of the cruel child, the alleged sexuality of the child is often pointed out to me. Without the moral attitude of ‘poisonous pedagogy,” which I describe in “For Your Own Good”, such a line of reasoning would be unthinkable for it assumes that sexuality is something bad and culpable. So far, psychoanalysis has not seemed to free itself from such evaluations. Although the assertion of infantile sexuality was declared the principal dogma of psychoanalysis, it is not clear what definition of sexuality this assertion is based on. The literature of psychoanalysis contains examples of very heterogeneous phenomena, such as childish curiosity and sensuality and the desire for physical closeness, for stimulation by stroking, for caressing and soothing, for gentle touching, for the physical warmth of another person, and for numerous pleasure experiences in the child’s own body, including the genitals. Yet all this doesn’t amount to sexuality, even though adults who were once raised with coldness and physical deprivation may like to call it that. In Sigmund Freud’s day, childish autoeroticism was punished with extreme severity, and the touching of the genitals was countered with threats of castration because the adults projected feelings of their own ‘impurity” onto the child and punished him for their own forbidden fantasies. However, this is not nearly the reason enough to equate childish autoeroticism, sexuality, and curiosity with sexuality.

    “Sexuality is the copulative urge of human beings, who do not receive their hormonal directive until puberty. Proceeding from this biological definition, it is logical that I do not find this sexuality in children. It goes without saying that sexual abuse of children leaves its mark on its victims. Thus an abused child can simulate “sexual” behavior so as not to lose the regard of the adult. The result is a distorted picture. I have long been preoccupied with the question of why the plight of sexually abused children and their behavior are constantly being cited, in courtrooms as well as in psychoanalytic practice, as proof of their guilt. One reason is that the adults unload their ‘impure’ sexuality by ascribing it to the child through projection.”

    “Even if the copulation urge were already active in newborn infants – which, of course, is utter nonsense – why should that be regarded as culpable? Sexuality is a natural urge that can’t be held responsible if some people resort to it to impair and destroy the lives of others. Such people become culpable, not because they succumb to the copulation urge but because in their history this urge was coupled with other factors such as cruelty, humiliation, and the exercise of power and because, on the basis of this history, they act destructively. When they include sexuality in their destructive acts, sexuality cannot be blamed for those acts. Taking the example of Jurgen Bartsch, I demonstrated in “For Your Own Good” how a person who was tormented in childhood becomes culpable and how misleading it is to hold his sexuality and alleged “uncontrolled drives” responsible. A small child cannot be cruel for the simple reason that he is defenseless and unable as yet to take revenge on others for the torments he has suffered – except perhaps on small animals. The child has not yet the power to destroy human lives, even though, of course, he can – and must- harbor murderous thoughts and vengeful desires in his imagination.”

    “ A young pediatric analyst, who practices according to Melanie Klein’s method, once told me; “You obviously have no children of your own. Otherwise you would know that children are not, as you describe them, innocent, but have cruel imaginations. This can be observed even in the way an infant smacks its mother.” I didn’t immediately tell this young analyst that I am the mother of two children; instead I asked her what she meant by “smack.” She described a child who in a frenzy hit his mother’s face with his hands – with his fists even, she said. Although she herself had no children, she had observed such behavior on several occasions; moreover, mothers of children who were her patients had reported the same behavior to her. I tried to query her certainty: This smacking, I argued, might also be a harmless game; it depends on how the mother sees it. It is only if the mother feels humiliated and beaten, if she confuses the child with her own parents and resorts to pedagogic measures, that what began as playful behavior on the part of the child can turn into frustration and assume destructive traits. The child then feels misunderstood, and the only way he can express his frustrations is by hitting his mother with his fists. If I describe such a situation to someone who hasn’t been trained for ten years in the Kleinian theory, I am immediately understood. But this analyst looked at me with suspicion as she said, “Melanie Klein spent all her life working with children and her theories were based on her observations.”

    “That is precisely the point: What kind of eyes are doing the observing? A mother sees her frenzied, screaming child and is firmly convinced that the children must be disciplined. After all, that is what she learned from her mother, and those early lessons are extremely affective. Melanie Klein observed her child and the other children from her practice against the background of her own upbringing and apparently did not see beyond what she had learned in her own youth from her mother. Since time immemorial, gynecologists, nurses, and parents have observed screaming infants and have likewise remained blind to the fact that those screams are the expression of psychic distress and are altogether avoidable.”

    “My assertion that the infant is innocent has nothing to do with romantic idealization, nor is it derived from this or that philosophical evaluation. It stems rather from the reality of the child’s situation: A baby is defenseless and as yet bears no responsibility for others; as yet, he owes nobody anything. But this fact does not contradict the frequently observation that children can behave very cruelly, just as cruelly as they have been treated by others. Erin Pizzey, the founder of shelters for battered women and children reports that there are even some three-year olds who cannot tussle playfully but fight each other as if to kill. In their behavior these children reflect in every detail the brutality they experienced at home and reveal unmistakably where they learned their destructive behavior.”

    “I am often asked by worried parents whether children are learning cruelty from television. In my view a child
    who harbors no pent up rage will show no interest in brutal and sadistic TV programs. However, brutal programs are avidly absorbed by children who have never been allowed to defend themselves against overt or subtle tormenting at home or who, for example, to spare a threatened parent. So they satisfy their secret longings for revenge by identifying with what they see on TV. These children already carry within them the seeds of future destructiveness. Whether or not this destructiveness will erupt depends largely upon whether life offers them more than violence: in other words, whether witnesses willing to rescue them cross their path. What is important to understand is that the child learns cruelty not by watching TV but always by suffering and repressing.”

    “The school of cruelty is often coupled with sexual abuse. When, for instance, a twenty-year-old man masturbates a five-year-old boy, the destructive components of gratification of desire are imposed upon the child by the adult. The child will never free himself from this type of gratification and, as an adult, will be subject to the unconscious compulsion to avenge another child, in some form or other, the rape he once experienced. Thus destructiveness, with all its attendant rationalizations, is taught, learned and disguised.”

    “It is only from adults that an unloved child learns to hate or torment and to disguise these feelings with lies and hypocrisy. That is why, when the child grows up, he or she will say that children require norms and disciplining; this lie provides access to adult society, a lie that permeates all pedagogy and, to this day, psychoanalysis. The young child knows no lies, is prepared to take at their face value such words as truth, love and mercy as heard in religious instruction in school. Only on finding out that his naiveté is cause for ridicule does the child learn to dissemble. The child’s upbringing teaches him the patterns of destructive behavior that will late be interpreted by experts as the result of innate destructive drive. Anyone daring to question this assertion will be smiled at as being naïve, as if that person had never come in contact with children who didn’t know “how they can get on your nerves.” For at least since the days of Sigmund Freud, it has been known in ‘progressive’ circles that children come into this world with a death drive and might kill us all if we didn’t ward off “the first indications.” Alice Miller

    When we stop seeing innocent parents we will start seeing innocent children…Especially adult children need to look at their parents in reality and stop glamorizing their childrearing ways as without faults and failures.

    And in order for the adult child who still suffers the affects from abuse, we need to rage against the proper person, the one who hurt us, and let it out, changing our ideas of who our parent really is compared to the version with our repression of rage.

    When you see someone who has injured you and your repress your rage, you are then building up the steam if you will of repression and if you don’t direct it to the right source, you then get a distorted view of reality and any annoyance or disturbance that springs up, your unexpressed rage falls upon the innocent.

    In my experience, my rage for my father and mother was poured upon my children, the moment they did one small thing wrong.

    And I knew I was way out of control and that I was way overreacting to a minor infraction, but I couldn’t control it.

    Once I was able to see and feel who my father really was, and not my repressed memory and rage, I was able to pour out of me my rage towards him, and it left my children out of the picture.

    They just happened to be innocent bystanders in a long-standing abusive relationship.

    I had to change my perception of who my parents were.

    We do have this all backwards, for each person who makes it to adulthood, and who has a child, they can be rest assured that the rage within will spill upon the child, Unless it has been delivered to the abusive person who began this dance.

    Children always arrive innocent. Always.

    Adults are the only ones who can turn them into evil destructive people…people who will hurt themselves or others.

    If each of us would just mine our own rage and vent it to the proper places, our whole planet would change. We are responsible for our own mother lode.

  • We Play!

    “When my daughter was about seven years old, she asked me one day what I did at work. I told her I worked at the college – that my job was to teach people how to draw. She stared at me, incredulous, and said, “You mean they forget?” ~Howard Ikemoto

    Imagine a world where we didn’t forget to be a child, to have the childlike wonder of the world, a sense of knowing we know how to do anything without fear and lack of self-confidence?

    Where we didn’t have to take classes to learn how ‘draw correctly’ or write perfectly, but instead do what feels right for you.

    It seems at times we are taught so much, we are taught how not to be ourselves.

    We learn until we lose our way back to our self.

    Perhaps the class we need the most is an open class without rules or expectations, a class where we go to unlearn all the fears and lacks that have been preached to us, a safe zone where we shed the years and layers of all the things that are not us.

    A shedding room, a fleecing space where we can get back to the childlike place, where we are the center of the Universe, where we can do anything and we admire ourselves and all that we accomplish, where we affix stars to all that we do each day, where there is an unlimited amount of energy and things we want to see and do, where the world is wide open and we are free.

    How do we take off the heavy cloaks of doubt, fear, and lack that we drag around each day? How do we quiet the voices that have trained us to be motionless in fear?

    We wiggle free by doing things no adult in their ‘right’ mind would do… we play!

  • Felt Its Worth

    Before beginning yoga today, I cleaned the mirror I stand in front of, it was layered with weeks of dust, and I appeared fog like behind it. Today I felt the need to wipe it free, as I did so the line from a song arose in my head, “I can see clearly now the pain is gone…”

    Then into yoga I went.

    I was on the third part of the Awkward pose, where I go from standing up to squatting down, and Bikram asks us to descend slowly, and I lost my control and fell into a squat and smiled as I did so.

    This smile took up my whole face, my cheeks, my eyes and my mouth rose into a delightful bend, and inside I felt its wonderful wave of joy.

    I smiled at my rendition of his yoga; I smiled at me and the transformation of my face and received fully my smile about me.

    A smile about me isn’t something I have any memory of ever receiving.

    I was shocked first at the way this smile changed my look, and even more stunned to receive its full value inside.

    To feel myself worthy of a full-blown smile.

    I froze for a half of second to feel such sheer delight inside myself.

    My smile quickly disappeared and I struggled to smile while tears of sorrow dampened my face.

    Imprinted in my minds eye is my smiling feeling being over swept by sadness as memories flung themselves upon me, one on top of the other.

    A 50 year long life review flashed before my eyes, all the places where I mistook myself for being bad, wrong, and despicable, how I had not seen my own worth or how I had lost sight of myself inside myself.

    The simple fact that I was unworthy of a smile from me about me is so harsh and tragic; yet it was never my smile I sought. I didn’t even know I was missing my smile for me.

    The mouth I tried to change was my mother’s.

    Before putting my words to paper, I spoke to my brother and then did some mindless cleaning, and it came to me what love I had for my mother.

    I literally gave my soul, my insides away in order to bring a smile to her face and to keep it there.

    How tragic that she wanted my smile more than she wanted my tears and my sorrows, and even more dreadful for a little girl to be left with such sorrow inside, such darkness.

    In denying my abuse, she left me in the dark.

    It is funny in a sad way, how I wanted her to have a smile, more than me.

    I could cry a river of tears for the little girl who wasn’t allowed to feel her sorrow out loud, to be heard and valued as abused.

    Valued as abused and not having to hide this fact.

    I can see I took up my mother’s view of me.

    My mouth and facial images reflected hers in my mirror and even more tragically inside.

    Inside I knew my mother blamed me.

    I took away her sunshine, I stole her lovely story, I was darker than the darkness that abused me.

    I changed her smiling face to anger.

    And it was my job now to put her smile back.

    And I tried and danced, and pranced and worked and slaved and toiled to bring it back, and to keep it in place.

    When I was tired of holding up those cheeks, when I simply didn’t have anymore to give, or when I tried to tend to myself, I heard her angry response, “How dare you Beth Ann…” and up I got and began dancing again.

    Six years ago all my dancing for her was over, done, finished, the end.

    I stopped where I stood and in the middle of the darkness began to see what I did for me and what I did for others.

    Life offered up to me a million situations for me to choose again, their pleasure or mine, their smile or mine, their feelings or mine.

    Each and every time I found the strength to disappoint my mother and chose me; I opened up inside, made room for that smile.

    Today, I feel that I have made it to the other side, to the side of worthiness, or at least I have felt the wave of joy lap at my feet, I feel that I am worthy to now frolic in the ocean and swim to its depths.

    I look forward to seeing another one come out of me and shine upon me and for me to welcome it in!

    I have been waiting in vain for her to arrive and tell me that I am a good girl, that I am of value, and that the abuse didn’t change who I am, in her eyes.

    I wanted her to smile that it was okay that I was abused, it didn’t matter to her, and she loved me any way.

    Again, the smile I sought was hers and the one I found was mine.

    What I love is that the first smile I was able to receive was mine!

    A smile in full acceptance of all of me, the darkest dark and the brightest bright.

    I smiled at me and felt Its worth.