She's home

What a day!  My little dog is home.  She's actually medium sized, but when I had more than one, she was the smallest and earned the title, My Little Dog.  They said they were really worried about her at the shelter.  She wouldn't lift her head, she wouldn't go out, she wouldn't eat. My vet said she called and really emphasized that she is a very old, sick dog and she needs to be at home.  When she saw me, she got right up.  So she's home, and has endured the ultimate discomfort - a bath, and she is in the chair next to me - her typical place.

The cat is a little miffed.  She has gotten used to being an only child, and took over the dog's chair.  Now she'll have to go back to sleeping on my desk while I work.

I have a book here, For Their Own Good by Alice Miller.  It talks about how abuse and neglect can create a monster.  I wish the person exploring Jeffrey Dahmer could explain what happened to him to destroy his psyche and remove his humanity.  We need to develop some critical thinking skills in our culture.  We seem to look at situations, shake our heads and say, "Bad."   We don't seem to be curious enough to look for the deeper reason.  What happened to this human, to his humanity?  And the prize comment  in my post referred to being a notch on someone's belt...just one more bitch he did.

And I agree - power is heartless and mindless unless paired with vulnerability.  I am really beginning to see the duality.  Either you have both inside of you, or you look for someone who has the other half, and suffer.  I do believe abusers suffer, maybe as much as those they abuse.  They must be filled with self-hatred.  They must long for their innocence, their loveability, the lovingness, their humanity. 

Abuse as parasitism...I am very excited by this concept.  I must let it percolate!!

So, last night I read about rage in Women Who Run With Wolves.   I no longer rage, but I know rage intimately.   Clarissa Pinkola Estes begins by comparing the early emotional wounds we receive to a broken leg.  What if the leg is never set?

"The original trauma would cause tremendous disruption of other systems and rhythms in the body, such as the immune and skeletal systems, locomotion patterns and so on.  That is precisely the situation with old psychological trauma.  For many it was not attended to at the time, whether out of ignorance or neglect.  Now, one is home from the war, so to speak, but feels as though one is still at war in the mind and the body.  Yet by harboring rage - that is the fallout of the trauma - instead of questing for solutions to it, what caused it, what we can do with it, we seal ourselves into a room full of it for the rest of our lives.  That is no way to live, intermittently or otherwise.  There is a life beyond thoughtless rage..."

I was trapped there.  I was an intermittent rager, but my episodes were terrifying for me and for my kids.  When out of control, there is still a deep quiet self trapped inside, trying to find way out.  But shame blocks the way.  I am not sure exactly how I stopped, or if I am finished.

I question myself because of this passage:

"...a woman who avoids all confrontation begins to feel better. But it is temporary.  This is not the learning we are after. The learning we are after is to know when to allow right anger and when not.  The tale is not about gentle sainthood.  It is about knowing when to act in an integral and wild manner."

I am not sure how much martyr is still inside me.  I think I have let St. Clare go, but I am not sure.  I am unsure of myself...And I still can't define or recognize wild.  I know it's going to be a brilliant Aha!! moment and I am going to be astounded at how easy it is when the light dawns, but I am not there yet.

The next question I have to ask, is how do we reset the bone, realign our patterns so many decades after the abuse occurred, especially since we still don't know exactly what happened.  I think this blank spot in memory is what keeps us spiraling.  It's like pulling off the bandage.  We know it's going to hurt, so we lift it little by little, enduring short bursts of pain rather than ripping the whole thing open and exposing it to the light and the air...the healing light and the healing air...

I read these words about rage last night, and dreamlessly slept on them.  Then this morning, Spirit offered me:

"The way of the miracle workers is to see all behavior as one of two things: either love or a call for love."
                                                                                                -Marianne Williamson

We are miracle workers, I believe, as is any vulnerable soul, who has empathy and sympathy.  I will try to live with this, and to live this.

One last thought before I go sit with my dog.

You offered me thought, word, action.  I recognize this as the integral steps of creation.  And you offered me a prayer, some support to complete the trinity, to follow through.  For some reason this triggered a memory, and I want to share it, so I can remember who I am, or at least who I can be.

For a few years, a Friend, my youngest and I visited local high schools at lunch time.  We shared literature which discussed joining the military.  The recruiters have access to our kids, and so we asked for equal time.  The schools were very careful to keep us separated.  But one day, we walked in and there was a recruiter at "our" table.  We stood back, as he hadn't seen us yet, trying to decide what to do.  I was nervous and afraid.  I did not want a scene, and the teacher who was with us, was also very nervous.  I said I thought we should talk to him.  By we, I did not mean me!  But my Friend said,  "You go talk to him. I will come with you."

As I walked toward the recruiter I felt fear build around me.  It was physical.  Then I came to a wall, a psychic wall of fear.  And I stepped through it.  I was empowered!  It was an amazing moment.  I went to the recruiter and explained what we were doing.  He actually thanked us, because they don't want to enlist kids who don't know what they are doing.  We shared literature and ending up talking about raising chickens.

It was thought, word, action. I created a new me that day. I need to remember this facet of self - she's powerfully vulnerable and vulnerably powerful!

I love you! 

C.