Tag: compassion

  • Her Shore.

    com·pas·sion (k m-p sh n)
    n.
    Deep awareness of the suffering of another coupled with the wish to relieve it.

    I didn’t realize that the depth of compassion equals the height of awareness, yet this confirms the way my mother responded to my abuse.

    Who knew that in order to be compassionate, you have to have a higher level of awareness and that you have to be able to see and hear and understand what happened?

    Without this awareness you simply can’t respond in kind…instead you appear indifferent, for you can’t reach the level needed for the scope of pain present.

    And it definitely feels you are uncaring and unkind and unresponsive to our pain, that it simply doesn’t matter enough…all we feel is your lack of awareness.

    I sat in my mother’s home and felt the drastic space between what I was aware of and where she was, the bleeding wound I was drowning in and how she seemed to be resting on the shore…how was it possible to witness my pain in such an unmoving way?

    Her awareness didn’t allow her to wade into the waters and she didn’t hear me from the shore, the distance was too great.

    It is my belief, that if you haven’t gone deep enough into your own pain, if you haven’t gotten your toes wet, it is really hard to have compassion. Or perhaps your level of compassion equals the level of your awareness.

    All I wanted from my mother was her eye to see me drowning, her ear to hear my cries or a hand reaching toward me, and in her unawareness…all she seen was a peaceful water scene, gentle waves and children frolicking in life, filled with love and peace…When in reality the seas were angry, the waves fearful and menacing, we struggled to keep our breath.

    As we looked upon her, she showed no signs of our distress nor made a move to rescue us.

    We were left to fight the ocean of abuse alone…the sea monsters, the brutal crushing waves, the bottomless sea…not able to make it to her shore.

  • Imperfectly Me.

    Yesterday morning, after a sleepless night I wrote the post about unconditional love, about knowing to the depth of my soul, no matter what I will not be the one to abuse my wounded child.

    I let go of all things but unconditional love.

    My husband and I had decided we would get out of the house and go for breakfast to give us a chance to talk privately.

    My husband turns to me when I enter the car and says, “do you have anything left to say to our daughter, is there anymore you have to offer?”

    And I say very weak defeated, no, I have nothing, all my knowing, my wise words and experience, all my efforts and love are not seemingly working, I am at the end of the road, I have nothing.

    He says, “Good. Here is how this is going to go down. What we did to her last night, by pressing her is going to drive her out of our home. I will not do that to her. She is hurt and needs a place to be, where there is no one pressuring her, a place where she feels comfortable…I love my daughter and want her always to feel that she is welcome in our home no matter what.

    I tell him, I agree. I just learned about my unconditional love for her, that I too will not hurt her when she is down.

    The next thing he says is you have to let her go, let her do it her way, let her be EVEN if she decides to move out of our home, let her decide, You have to let her go.

    I tell him he is asking too much.

    In that instant, I feel the little girl in me terrified of letting go, of losing once again.

    I tell him, Honey I know about letting go, about letting them decide, of allowing them to be, I let my family go and none of them came back to me.

    I have lost and I have lost and none of them ever come back, you are asking way too much, and now you are asking me to let go of my little girl to let her go free while she is alone and lost.

    I can’t let her go, for if she doesn’t come back I don’t know what I will do, I can’t let her go, I don’t have a heart big enough to bear this if she doesn’t come back.

    I tell him, “Mr. Big as a House Heart Man, you will have to lead this, you will have to stand in front of me, for me with the “Little as a Rock Broken Heart lady can’t be out front, I am afraid that if this little piece shatters, I will not have anything left, that I will go down and not come back up.”

    Honey I can let her go but your big heart will have to carry me, my heart isn’t big enough to do this alone and I don’t know how.

    In that moment I felt my holding grasp, its final clutch leave, and she was set off alone.

    Peace overcame me in that instant that seemed to settle over the spot that terror lived.

    My husband continues on unaffected by my emotional display. He says, “we can’t tell her what to do, she is a young lady, she is inexperienced, but this is how she will learn, we will offer her a space here to heal, but not tell her what to do.”

    I am in total agreement and following his lead.

    It is the first time in my life I let go of being responsible of taking the lead of getting on the back of the motor bike, of getting out of the wind and flying bugs and debris to snuggle in behind him and let him tell me what it is we need to do.

    What my husband and I then discussed was exactly what he had done for me six years ago when my world crumbled, when I too discovered that the relationships I had were very dysfunctional, when I had lost my way, when I found my self upside down and backwards, when I didn’t have a radar that knew its way, my dear husband opened up his heart wider, opened up our home, and allowed me to enter in.

    Nothing changed inside, it remained a place of normal in an otherwise upside down unnormal world.

    I entered in exactly as I found myself; there were no requirements no rules or regulations that I had to change first to be here.

    He allowed me the space, he demanded nothing, he asked no questions, he made no suggestions, he allowed me, a frightened wounded animal, to come into the warm space of his loving home and curl up an be safe.

    He never, not once asked me to do something I did not want to do, he waited for me to decide I was ready.

    He never not once wanted me to be further healed than I was, he waited for me to share with him.

    He continued to love and hold me like nothing had changed, to him I was the same person but sick or wounded, that was all.

    I told him, ”What you want me to do for our daughter is what you already did for me, I can do this.”

    I get to be him, to walk in his shoes and just allow her to be. I know even more for I have actually walked those steps.

    I felt immediately, that this was the right path for healing for I know that without him, this house, the space and undemanding loved ones, I would not have made it. I can now give to her that.

    I told him, “I can’t imagine what this had to be like for you, with a wounded wife, to be the only one to do this, it had to be very hellish, and how did we make it through that?”

    He isn’t wanting to go back, he wants to be here.

    He tells me, “you are not to say anything negative, in fact you are not allowed to say anything at all, you are to go on creating a loving home, doing what we have always done here and let her just be.”

    I say, “Honey I get it, I get to be a loving mom unconditionally l can do this.”

    I say I will follow your lead, for did the perfect job for me.

    As we sat face to face over breakfast, my body a noodle, empty and drained, feeling like I had just completed a 6 year marathon, I say to him.

    “Honey, what would a perfect mother have done?”

    He says to me, “she would have stopped this morning like you did, she would done exactly everything you did and said, but she would stop now and let her go.”

    I know for some this may not seem like an answer to a trouble wounded child, but it worked for a very mentally twisted up and wounded adult child.

    I sit in awe of what this man has done for me, and what we, him and I can do for our little girl, our almost woman child who has been wounded, we can open our home, our hearts and welcome her in.

    We demand nothing but accept all.
    We say nothing unless asked.

    We work hard to maintain the energy or atmosphere of our home as it always was.

    We keep this the one piece in the world unchanged in her very changed life.

    This home, the people in this home were my saving grace.

    They never treated me like the outside world talked of me, they remained true to me as what we had previous, they did not change.

    They went to work and did what they loved, they did not have a blame or shameful eye directed at me.

    In their eyes I was imperfectly me.

  • Words to Cover-up.

    Compassion and forgiveness when misused, covers up evil they do not delete it away.

    They become tools that are used to cover up dirt…like putting a pretty blanket over the top will change what lay beneath.

    What happens instead is you now have a dirty blanket too.

    What is so surprising to me is that many cannot see that their acts of forgiveness and compassion are fuel for evil and not only that, leave a stain on your own hands.

    I know that the words seem to have this magical power to make changes in another, but sadly the only one it changes is you.

    You become blind to the real power of evil or maybe blind to the power of truth.

    The power of the truth is often set aside for the comfort and warmth of forgiveness and compassion, and it is much easier applied.

    Kind words are spoken, prayers and intentions are muttered or uttered, words, words, words…a blanket of words.

    A blanket, which covers up the dirt/evil, becomes a veil behind which you see; eventually it is so thick you can’t see yourself.

    Not only is your sight impaired looking outward, but also the vision of your soul is hidden from view.

    In the moment I discovered all that my blanket had covered, I uncovered my soul.

    I sat with a bare soul and a dirty blanket.

    A very dirty blanket, a reality unchanged, actions unstopped, wounds unhealed, sorrows and pain lay in a heap by blanket of useless words.

    Words of morals,
    Words of value,
    Words of piety,
    Words of kindness,
    Words of forgiveness,
    Words upon words upon words…the mighty words had fallen.

    Had bounced off of evil leaving evil unscratched, words just pieces of the alphabet all jumbled up.

    My new definition of forgiveness is once again Martha Beck’s. “Forgiveness is accepting that the past will not change.” And I believe compassion is seeing what is.

    Using words to match the action, like the old sesame song, “two of things belong together, one of these things just doesn’t belong….”

    Reality needs no words to cover-up.

  • She is watching you always!

    As I have been pondering, tossing and turning around in my head, how it is possible that the 4th generation is just beginning a relationship with the same pedophile, it occurred to me it was love and compassion that has kept this legacy going.

     

    I know it sounds nuts that such a kind sentiment can be the cause of this legacy continuing on, but it is.

     

    The third generation is just following the path of the second and the second of the first, the first being my mother.

     

    As my nephew goes to visit his grandpa, he is only doing what he has witnessed his mother do and his grandmother do since he was born.

     

    There is nothing unusual in his steps.

     

    His daughter will also watch and see how her father engages with this man and will follow his lead.  Her steps will echo his.

     

    There doesn’t need to be any words spoken, written or shouted to the moon, nope, just seeing how the adults in the room treat her great-grandfather is all she needs, she will mimic them all.

     

    Does it matter if her great-grandfather is on the sexual predator list, that he needs to be supervised around her, or that he has a long history of damaged little girls behind him?

     

    Nope, none of that information will stack up against the fact that her father is okay with this man, that her grandmother is fine having a relationship with him, and that is all that matters. 

     

    She will use them as her gauge, her monitor and her guide in what is acceptable in life and what is not.  She is being groomed to be comfortable with a pedophile, she is being taught not to fear him and she won’t.

     

    This one fact alone is what has allowed him to continue on, no one fears him they all love him.

     

    The ones that love him allow him access now, then and always, for they love without conditions.

     

    While most are looking at my father and his actions and watching diligently for him to make his move, no one is looking at the ones he is with.

     

    My mother was the first adult to know of his actions within our family tree, and her reaction were what we all followed to a tee.

    She never left him, had a consequence for his behavior within their relationship, she didn’t warn us of his disease, there were no outward signs in her behavior that would have sent us a signal, not one.

     

    Not once as far as my limited memory serves me did she ever act in fear of this man, not one time, never.

     

    What she instead always showed, was love, respect and normal petty complaints that two married people have, she never once suggested to me that his disease was ruining our lives, that it had ruined many, that the potential was there, that she feared for the safety of her girls, their girls and their girls, and their friends….

     

    Not once.

     

    Her actions have always been to love and support him, to show him compassion and caring, always.

     

    We only see actions, actions, actions.

    Words are meaningless unless and until an action follows.

     

    So as you tell me my fears are unfounded, that I have no reason to worry, I will tell you this.

     

    You are your mother’s daughter, you are doing exactly as she did and you will receive the same exact outcome.

     

    The legacy continues through you, your children and now your grandchildren.

     

    You are the one teaching them NOT to fear a pedophile, know it and own it.

     

    The little baby is without words but she is learning much already, she is watching you always!

     

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