More harm than good...

I do think that we fulfill our own inner expectations...
embedded there by our early interactions...
hopefully most people are taught that they are beautiful...
but when I speak to women in particular I know that is not so...they have image problems.
I have always known that I am fat...
even when I wear a size 6 I know that it is temporary and that I am really a 12...
even a 12 is what the average US woman wears and I still am unsatisfied.
I have never been fully comfortable within my own body.
I care for it, feed it healthy food, exercise it, stretch it...but not because I honor it.
I do all of those things in the hope that I can get skinny.
I also have noticed that I gain weight when I am unhappy...
I guess I believe that it insulates me from the source of my unhappiness...
in reality it just adds one more layer to my unhappiness.
I have read that healers tend to be overweight, the layers of adipose insulate them from the troubles of their patients/clients. Perhaps we do intuitively sense the protection it provides... I don't know.

I saw the movie, The Butler, today with daughter #2...what a good movie. It was so moving and gave a slightly different perspective to the civil rights movement. I also keyed into the tumultuous relationship between the parents and their son. It gave me hope that I should be strong and trust the journey. That it is a marathon and not a 5K...a lot happens along the way.

I don't recall anyone ever being in the closet with me...I remember feeling very alone and frightened. I would guess that we all have repressed memories...good and bad. I wish that I could recall more of the good times. I just can't remember very many of those either...especially in the earlier years.
I do remember being able to daydream vividly...which really means that I could dissociate at will.
I am an escape artist from way back. I clearly remember lying on my back in a bedroom in the house on the army base and being able to just let go of my body...totally travel within my mind.
Now, as a social worker, I wonder what was going on at those times?
I wish that I had the courage to ask the right questions, ask the right people to put together the scraps of memories that I retain. Who would I even ask? Our siblings aren't sharing. What about aunts or uncles? They will all be gone in the relatively near future...but would they know anything, and if they do, would they share? In the end, would it cause more harm than good?
I have toyed with the idea of hypnosis many times...can I handle that?
Perhaps we should journey to France to seek out those healers who release deep seated trauma from our bodies...perhaps.

Anyway, I am rambling now.
Keep a notebook by your bedside and note what you are experiencing at night. It would be fascinating to see what it's about. I, too have been dreaming actively, but cannot recall the dreams in the morning.

Love and Light,
Maggie