Wednesday, May 23, 2012

Deep Roots

"I think the deepest root of the problem isn't a disconnect with each other, it's that we've disconnected from our own soul."   Thank you for this.

It is profound.  And difficult, most likely because it is true.  We have found ways to shatter each other, generation by generation, and to scatter the parts to the wind.  Sometimes I feel like a jigsaw puzzle with missing pieces.  Without the pieces, I don't quite make sense...I almost make sense though!!  Must be why I babble sometimes!

I don't think most people realize how splintered we each are.  And maybe that's why we're always looking for someone outside of us to complete us.  We want someone outside us to love us and prove we are of value.  We just know we are not whole...and the root of whole is the Old English halig, which  is the same word that has become healthy and holy.  Halig means intact, uninjured.  I don't think either of us, any of us, have ever been halig from the time we left Mom's body.  We entered a place that began the destruction almost immediately.  It was in the family, but it's such a part of our society.  When our cousin M died so young, I remember sobbing and thinking,  "He never had a chance."  I think that is true for all of us.

And I am not healthy.  I use food to commit slow motion suicide.  But I am healthy enough to survive.  I survived the abuse from our home of origin, the abuse I invited into my life via partnership with an alcoholic, and the abuse I inflict on myself with the words I use, the criticism I inflict, the fears I allow to control my life... I certainly don't see myself as holy!!  I am a bit more holey!!

This is the first time I have ever considered the abuse I inflict on myself.  How do I identify and stop it?  I would have to value myself too much.  Where do I find the seed of value...there's gotta be something worthwhile in me, because I only play at suicide, I see something of worth in me or in life that keeps me here, that gets me up every morning...emotions are rising in my chest...I'm onto something...Obviously I am in pain, but the pain does not outweigh the joys.  But I keep the joys away, hold them back with my big stick.  Then there are moments of such beauty, that I forget to hold my breath.  I breathe them in and remember how much I love this planet and the fleeting joys it offers.

How do we allow more joy?????????????????????  Joy is my youngest daughter's middle name because I love the word so very much.  I want it, and I want it to not be fleeting.  I want to exist in joy.  Can I stand that much pleasure?

Oh my gosh - I just checked the etymology of the word, and another Middle English version of the word is Wynn.  I named a road, once - Wynn Rd.  I must dive into this.  Obviously joy is more important to me than I ever suspected!

Have you ever seen this quote?  Your one line observation brought this quote to my mind.  The first time I read it, years ago, I almost could not catch my breath.  and deep inside, we know who we are, but we don't believe it...
Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.
-Marianne Williamson

I thought about this a lot.  I remember two very deep messages ingrained into my soul from our childhood.  First:  You damn kids, this is all your fault.  And second:  Fat, dumb and ugly.  That's all you are.

If I emerge, become what/who I truly am, I lose you all.  I will no longer be Dad's obedient daughter.  I will no longer be good, be what he expects of me.  This seems irrational as I write it, but the kid inside of me wants Daddy's love and approval.  Just once I want him to tell me I'm okay, I'm acceptable, I'm worth it.  But instead I remember, "When you're 18, you're out.  Don't you think I'm going to take care of you after that.  And don't you even think of bringing your kids here.  We are not going to be your babysitters."  And so I left.  And so I kept my children to myself.  And do you want to know a secret - part of my obedience to those proclamations is pure spite.  Because I know they miss us, and are sad that they don't see us and are not a part of our day-to-day life.  But abused children take their power where they will!

I am not that abused child anymore, although parts of me don't know that.  I think I also kept my kids to myself, didn't let them stay with Mom and Dad when they were little, without me there, because I knew that they were at risk of sexual abuse.  I wasn't consciously aware, but the Mama Tiger inside me knew.

About your letter to Mom.  You can not save her.  Your job is to take care of yourself, to save and heal yourself.  If talking to Mom helps you find lost Maggie, and find connections, then go for it.  If you are trying to force someone else to open and heal, don't do it.  Because, then you are right - it's a distraction.  Not remembering is like living in the eye of the storm, I think.  It seems safe, but it isn't.  But after years of torment, any calm is welcome. And as I keep bringing up, it is awful to walk through the pain.  It killed part of us to go though it the first time.  To purposely and willfully go through it again seems crazy.  What we find, though, is some of those lost selves, those poor damaged, lonely hurting, defenseless, hidden pieces of our soul.

You mentioned being held down by your shoulders.  The thought came, that if someone you trusted implicitly held you down by your shoulders, who would you scream at.  Whose name would proceed,  "Let me go!  How dare you!  Never touch me again!"  But the thought of that process makes me feel nauseous, so I don't know...

Question of the night:

Who do you think you are?  Who do you think you are?  Who do you think you are?


(I am Halig Wynn!)

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