It's always interesting how passing thoughts relate. I had been thinking about the Umb family ever since my google-stroll through F-burg. I was wondering how they all were.
I think it is wonderful that you solved the mystery of the pain in your hips and legs. I am sorry that you suffered on your way to the answer. It makes perfect sense. I always think the first step is to name the monster and then, once it has a name, we can battle with it, and eventually overcome. But, you know, I don't like the word battle. I am trying to remove violence from my words and thought patterns. We can struggle and negotiate and analyze and ultimately disempower. All of my tension is in my jaw. I clench all the time. In fact I clench my teeth so hard, that I broke one. So I am learning to release, since I am not willing to have that happen again. Whenever I clench I (think I) immediately notice and relax. I think healing happens in more than one way. If I overcome my demons and feel safe, I would probably stop clenching my jaw. But maybe this conscious decision not to clench is allowing healing to slip in unnoticed.
And I think damage is done to our body on a spiritual plane. Your hips may have looked okay on an x-ray, but on a different level, they were damaged and never allowed to heal. What do you think would happen if you relaxed your hips. Sometimes I think that if I unclenched my jaws I would start howling and not be able to stop. Those words must be true, because the thought is making me cry.
Mom decided to explain menstruation to me when I was too young to care. She drew a picture of the uterus and Fallopian tubes, which looked like a Martian to me. She let me go after that comment. I was interested a few years later, but she didn't want to talk about it any more. I think at least portions of our society are screwed up about sex, but the dysfunction goes deep into our family. There is something almost predatory, stalking family members, fearing anything sexual. Those of us lacking predator mentality, we become prey. And if you aren't safe with your family, you simply are not safe. I remember B#1 loudly berating nieces who were pretending to be cheerleaders in the yard during a family gathering at the cabin. They were not sexy, but he perceived sexuality and it scared him enough to try to silence their childish exuberance. I remember thinking, "Afraid you're going to attack them, too?"
Sex and sexuality are such a gift. The connection and union it affords with another person makes life a higher experience. And our gift has been shredded through the generations. The abuse destroys our pleasure and the joy we could possibly find with another. It makes pleasure the source of pain and shame. That is the function of rape. It rips sex and love apart, and teaches us that our feelings are inconsequential. We are just here to serve another. Our feelings simply don't exist. We are not that important. We are lesser, worth-less, than the predator's needs to vent their pain.
So I think it's very appropriate to become riled when we talk about sex. I think it's important to become riled. It is the source family torture. So rant and mourn and be furious.
The interesting night meditations continue. When I was young, I could see fairies. That's the kind of child I was. I loved getting up really early on summer mornings and being outside, alone in the silence. Magical. And the fairies were about. I told Mom, and she told the neighbor, and they thought I was so cute, snicker, snicker - roll of the eyes. So I grew up, conformed, and shut my eyes to the magic of this Earth.
The part of Faduly that used to called Ugly spread wings last night...like a giant beautiful moth, maybe. Perhaps a hummingbird moth. I'm wondering if there was a caterpillar to moth metamorphosis. Maybe I will start to change, outwardly, too. And then the little girl from the box came back. She is a fairy child. Long legged and elven, although all night I was corrected - not an elf, a fairy! And she is dancing. I can't tell exactly who she is or why she was in the box. I think she may be part me, and part the story of our family, so part of all of us. But she's dancing, and enjoying her freedom.
I never heard Mom say she would rather die than lose a breast. What I remember is that when she chose mastectomy over lumpectomy, she said she would rather lose a breast than fear having cancer in her body. We all think we know what we'll do, but when faced with reality, it's different than we imagined. Life is more precious than anything else. Why do we cling so tightly to this life?
One last thought about sex. Only our generation has sex. I tried to talk to my youngest about something sexual once, and he put his fingers in his ears and sang, "I don't want to hear this from my mother..." I told him what I needed to say, speaking over his song, then left him alone. Our children don't have sex. Our parents and grandparents don't have sex...it's just our generation! The rest of the humans spontaneously generated! So Dad and his Viagra...TMI! Although I hope to be sexual when I am 80!
Smile, Love!!
Friday, June 22, 2012
Sex...it's just a three letter word
Clare,
I saw that turtle picture on facebook and was so sad. How tangled his inner organs must be...
but he lives on...just as we all live on despite our inner confusion and conflicts.
Last night I was thinking about dumb...
and my mind settled on the F-burg neighbor lady's name D. Umb....
it was just a passing thought.
A while back you said something about you and cousin L hiding your breasts if you should ever be seen...I can understand that.
Do you remember that when I was young I had terrible leg/hip pain, especially at night?
I would lie awake with pain, sometimes crying. I used to imagine that I had hip problems like S#3, or a tumor, or something equally bad.
When I am stressed or feel threatened now, as an adult, my instinctual bodily reaction is to clamp my legs together as tightly as possible. This can be triggered by any kind of stress.
On those days and nights I have that same leg/hip pain. It is intense and unrelenting.
I have found that it is caused by spasm of my iliopsoas muscle group which is a main flexor of the hip and thigh. I and my husband have learned to release it through pressure point work...
all those years of pain...and it was all about keeping my thighs together.
So I think my answer to your question would be both...hands to cover breasts, thighs to cover my genitalia.
So was the fear of sex a cultural thing or was it from the Delana bones and traditions?
In the 60's people of all ages were experimenting with sex.
I don't remember Mom ever talking with me about sex or my periods.
I did get "modesty" talks, especially when B#1 had a few navy buddies home and I was in a T shirt watching TV...Dad called Mom into the kitchen and he left and Mom called me in.
I remember that I teased Mom on the morning after my wedding that she hadn't had the sex talk with me...she told me that she assumed that I knew more about it than she did anyway.
S#4 told me that her sex talk consisted of Mom describing that afterwards it feels like egg whites in your crotch...like you sat on raw eggs was the way she phrased it I believe.
When I was having trouble conceiving my first child Mom told me that they used reverse rhythm method to get pregnant...that could only have been your conception because 8 more in 9 years is too much rhythm...
The 4 little girls bought Mom a negligee once for her birthday...she thought it was funny...she said that she was glad that we still saw her like that...still young and vibrant enough to be sexy.
I remember Mom saying that she would rather die than have a breast removed...but then faced with her own breast cancer she opted to lose the breast, not her life.
In the more recent past I have to say how incredibly hurt I was when Mom and Dad would come to within and hour of my house (closer to S#3 and B#4) and not stop in or meet up with us...they had to pick up his Viagra from the VA...God forbid you stop in and see the products of your sex...just rush home to have more.
Sorry for my rant...I should focus on things more central to my spirit and healing...
This morning I journaled a series of questions...
universal questions about how and why humans hurt each other...
why power over others is so damned seductive...
enough to make us unconscious to the fact that we are abusing another human...body and spirit.
I was doing an exercise called tonglen...
I breathe in sorrow...I breathe out peace
I breathe in disrespect...I breathe out true vision
I breathe in pain...I breathe out compassion
Our normal human reaction to is take in the good and exhale the bad...
but intentionally doing the opposite is really opening...
I just have to remind myself that I am not taking on the problems of the world...because I like to take on everyone else's problems so that I don't have to see my own.
I love you,
Maggie
P.S. S#3 is having a difficult time right now...please hold her in the Light.
I saw that turtle picture on facebook and was so sad. How tangled his inner organs must be...
but he lives on...just as we all live on despite our inner confusion and conflicts.
Last night I was thinking about dumb...
and my mind settled on the F-burg neighbor lady's name D. Umb....
it was just a passing thought.
A while back you said something about you and cousin L hiding your breasts if you should ever be seen...I can understand that.
Do you remember that when I was young I had terrible leg/hip pain, especially at night?
I would lie awake with pain, sometimes crying. I used to imagine that I had hip problems like S#3, or a tumor, or something equally bad.
When I am stressed or feel threatened now, as an adult, my instinctual bodily reaction is to clamp my legs together as tightly as possible. This can be triggered by any kind of stress.
On those days and nights I have that same leg/hip pain. It is intense and unrelenting.
I have found that it is caused by spasm of my iliopsoas muscle group which is a main flexor of the hip and thigh. I and my husband have learned to release it through pressure point work...
all those years of pain...and it was all about keeping my thighs together.
So I think my answer to your question would be both...hands to cover breasts, thighs to cover my genitalia.
So was the fear of sex a cultural thing or was it from the Delana bones and traditions?
In the 60's people of all ages were experimenting with sex.
I don't remember Mom ever talking with me about sex or my periods.
I did get "modesty" talks, especially when B#1 had a few navy buddies home and I was in a T shirt watching TV...Dad called Mom into the kitchen and he left and Mom called me in.
I remember that I teased Mom on the morning after my wedding that she hadn't had the sex talk with me...she told me that she assumed that I knew more about it than she did anyway.
S#4 told me that her sex talk consisted of Mom describing that afterwards it feels like egg whites in your crotch...like you sat on raw eggs was the way she phrased it I believe.
When I was having trouble conceiving my first child Mom told me that they used reverse rhythm method to get pregnant...that could only have been your conception because 8 more in 9 years is too much rhythm...
The 4 little girls bought Mom a negligee once for her birthday...she thought it was funny...she said that she was glad that we still saw her like that...still young and vibrant enough to be sexy.
I remember Mom saying that she would rather die than have a breast removed...but then faced with her own breast cancer she opted to lose the breast, not her life.
In the more recent past I have to say how incredibly hurt I was when Mom and Dad would come to within and hour of my house (closer to S#3 and B#4) and not stop in or meet up with us...they had to pick up his Viagra from the VA...God forbid you stop in and see the products of your sex...just rush home to have more.
Sorry for my rant...I should focus on things more central to my spirit and healing...
This morning I journaled a series of questions...
universal questions about how and why humans hurt each other...
why power over others is so damned seductive...
enough to make us unconscious to the fact that we are abusing another human...body and spirit.
I was doing an exercise called tonglen...
I breathe in sorrow...I breathe out peace
I breathe in disrespect...I breathe out true vision
I breathe in pain...I breathe out compassion
Our normal human reaction to is take in the good and exhale the bad...
but intentionally doing the opposite is really opening...
I just have to remind myself that I am not taking on the problems of the world...because I like to take on everyone else's problems so that I don't have to see my own.
I love you,
Maggie
P.S. S#3 is having a difficult time right now...please hold her in the Light.
Thursday, June 21, 2012
Back to Turtles!
Have you ever seen the terrible photo of the turtle who got caught inside the plastic rings that hold six packs together? Being bound in the Delana web of pain and sorrow, dragging the bones along behind me has done this to my spirit. I have unleashed some of the strands. Maybe that was why there was room for Faduly to rejoin who we are...
And I am back to turtles...........
Faduly
Of course they have negative, derogatory names. Dad named them. I was told that I was Fat, Dumb and Ugly so many times when I was young, that the words have been drilled into my core. I wasn't the only one so named. But I remember one day I realized I was trying to live up to his expectation of me, and he still didn't especially like me, much less love or respect me. So the trio has been in my consciousness ever since. I have been trying to find the positive aspect of each, and of the union, and to embrace it. Fat is actually soft and round and sexy. As I thought about that, I remembered Mom nagging me about my weight when I was a teenager. I was 5'8" about 145 pounds, and never over 150 pounds. Definitely not overweight. Yet she bought me diet diaries, and talked to me about how bad she felt for me. I think she was in a panic, because I was so curvy. My breasts were bigger than hers. That had to bother her, but also panic her, because it meant that I might be a sexual creature. She was definitely in the sex is bad, and only for marriage camp. So I was not fat, I was sexy. And in our family that was evil!
I found an article today that said women with big breasts have higher IQs! It discussed the myth of the dumb blond, mentioning that people who actually knew Marilyn Monroe or Jayne Mansfield knew they were very bright. But if we are sexual we must be of no other value.
Dumb is silly, goofy. Back to the dumb blond stereotype, although I was not blond past about 10 or 11 years old....Last night I let Fat, Dumb and Ugly rejoin, become one entity. Ugly is not about being ugly, but about not being seen. I still don't completely understand Ugly, but I appreciate your insight. I encouraged them to rejoin, then invited them into our being. I got flashes on my skeletal tarred little self. She seemed healthier. Maybe now, during solstice, she will rejoin me/us/me. I feel like I am putting a puzzle together, but I don't know what it's supposed to look like. Who or what am I?
I have been calling the new entity Faduly. I created a name with no meaning so I could avoid expectations. I have been singing Faduly, waiting for the next bit of info.
Isolation not only protects ego, it protects body and psyche when one is living with abuse. It can be necessary and self-protective. The problem is that after the abuser is gone, we don't know that it's safe to come out. And you are right. We are a tribal species. We are meant to live in community, with peers and multigenerational interaction. Now we don't even have nuclear family. That is mostly shattered. If we all lived in community, I doubt that we would consider your weaknesses. We would allow each person's strengths to shine, and find that we each have a necessary strength, we are each valuable to the whole. Now we are expected to do everything, and we beat ourselves up over the things we don't so well. And sometimes I think we punish self or others by asking them to do what they don't do well. Is this making sense, or am I blathering?
So, yeah, I remember the names Dad called people, especially young men who were interested in us. It had nothing to do with our value to him or to the family. It had everything to do with humiliating us and reminding us that we were not loveable, because if any of these males loved us, we might become sexual. Over and over I think of the panic both Mom and Dad felt about sex. Dad almost beat B#3 to death, in my memory, because a neighbor said he exposed himself. That was not normal. That was absolutely not normal. Where did all the anger and fear come from? Mom was embarrassed and furious when I asked about sex. They simply are not normal. Which is probably why they had so many children.
Had a long talk with my oldest yesterday. There was so much compassion. I apologized again for my anger when they were young. I was told that they have their talks, like you and I are doing, and they remember, but they also discuss the tremendous pressure I was under. And they are all in awe of what I did for them, with them. I have to make sure I don't fall into the Mom Mea culpa routine, which immediately shuts down all communication. And as agonizing as it might be, accept that maybe I was a good mother. I did have fun when they were little......
Commendations on facing your fears and traveling through F-burg. We will have to do it together and on foot, see if we can trigger anything.
I'd hug you, but it's soooo hot, so just love for today!!
I found an article today that said women with big breasts have higher IQs! It discussed the myth of the dumb blond, mentioning that people who actually knew Marilyn Monroe or Jayne Mansfield knew they were very bright. But if we are sexual we must be of no other value.
Dumb is silly, goofy. Back to the dumb blond stereotype, although I was not blond past about 10 or 11 years old....Last night I let Fat, Dumb and Ugly rejoin, become one entity. Ugly is not about being ugly, but about not being seen. I still don't completely understand Ugly, but I appreciate your insight. I encouraged them to rejoin, then invited them into our being. I got flashes on my skeletal tarred little self. She seemed healthier. Maybe now, during solstice, she will rejoin me/us/me. I feel like I am putting a puzzle together, but I don't know what it's supposed to look like. Who or what am I?
I have been calling the new entity Faduly. I created a name with no meaning so I could avoid expectations. I have been singing Faduly, waiting for the next bit of info.
Isolation not only protects ego, it protects body and psyche when one is living with abuse. It can be necessary and self-protective. The problem is that after the abuser is gone, we don't know that it's safe to come out. And you are right. We are a tribal species. We are meant to live in community, with peers and multigenerational interaction. Now we don't even have nuclear family. That is mostly shattered. If we all lived in community, I doubt that we would consider your weaknesses. We would allow each person's strengths to shine, and find that we each have a necessary strength, we are each valuable to the whole. Now we are expected to do everything, and we beat ourselves up over the things we don't so well. And sometimes I think we punish self or others by asking them to do what they don't do well. Is this making sense, or am I blathering?
So, yeah, I remember the names Dad called people, especially young men who were interested in us. It had nothing to do with our value to him or to the family. It had everything to do with humiliating us and reminding us that we were not loveable, because if any of these males loved us, we might become sexual. Over and over I think of the panic both Mom and Dad felt about sex. Dad almost beat B#3 to death, in my memory, because a neighbor said he exposed himself. That was not normal. That was absolutely not normal. Where did all the anger and fear come from? Mom was embarrassed and furious when I asked about sex. They simply are not normal. Which is probably why they had so many children.
Had a long talk with my oldest yesterday. There was so much compassion. I apologized again for my anger when they were young. I was told that they have their talks, like you and I are doing, and they remember, but they also discuss the tremendous pressure I was under. And they are all in awe of what I did for them, with them. I have to make sure I don't fall into the Mom Mea culpa routine, which immediately shuts down all communication. And as agonizing as it might be, accept that maybe I was a good mother. I did have fun when they were little......
Commendations on facing your fears and traveling through F-burg. We will have to do it together and on foot, see if we can trigger anything.
I'd hug you, but it's soooo hot, so just love for today!!
What's in a name?
Clare,
Isolation is protective...but it protects our ego...not our inner Light.
Our real, inner self requires communion...
I really believe this...but find it so hard to practice.
To truly live in communion/community would mean allowing others to know me...
my strengths (no problem)...
and my weaknesses (big problem).
We were raised to be ruggedly independent...the Teddy Roosevelt mindset.
But, if I could find the means to let down my guard...
to allow others to see me and to help me where I am weak...
what a wonderful symbiotic life that would be...
like you said, two Lights shine brighter than one.
Am I able to do that?
The picture of Fburg's house didn't bother me at all.
There was no emotion. I once drove there, and slowly drove around the house, through the alley, by the elementary school and into the main street...and I felt nothing.
No rush of memories, no pain, but I felt nothing good either.
I was confused by that.
I drove to that town with trepidation and a nauseous feeling...then nothing when I got there.
That's why I asked if you would go along the next time, maybe with both of us I would remember or process something.
The ugly character...I would love to know how you do this "location of the image process"
My initial thoughts from your description...
maybe there is blindness because the heart doesn't see..it intuitively knows things...
perhaps, like a blind person, this character has a heightened perception from the other senses...
able to determine good/bad, safe/dangerous, trustworthy/or not....
all without the prejudice that sight allows.
The other two characters are located away from the heart, the center...they are also in the vicinity of the cleansing organs...perhaps they filter the material first...then send it on to this ugly character.
The one thing that keeps going through my mind is that first they are all named very negative, derogatory names...and their true purpose is skewed because of the prejudicial names...definitely a trait that came from our family of origin...
Think about all of the names Dad used to give our boyfriends (and some friends)...
mean, prejudicial names...
meant to embarrass them and us and make us feel as if we were dating someone less than worthy...
like we were ever valued and prized in our family...
we were tolerated and sent on our way at 18.
Perhaps you should embrace these three characters and rename them...
or ask them to reveal their true names and nature to you.
Just some ideas...
I love you,
Maggie
Isolation is protective...but it protects our ego...not our inner Light.
Our real, inner self requires communion...
I really believe this...but find it so hard to practice.
To truly live in communion/community would mean allowing others to know me...
my strengths (no problem)...
and my weaknesses (big problem).
We were raised to be ruggedly independent...the Teddy Roosevelt mindset.
But, if I could find the means to let down my guard...
to allow others to see me and to help me where I am weak...
what a wonderful symbiotic life that would be...
like you said, two Lights shine brighter than one.
Am I able to do that?
The picture of Fburg's house didn't bother me at all.
There was no emotion. I once drove there, and slowly drove around the house, through the alley, by the elementary school and into the main street...and I felt nothing.
No rush of memories, no pain, but I felt nothing good either.
I was confused by that.
I drove to that town with trepidation and a nauseous feeling...then nothing when I got there.
That's why I asked if you would go along the next time, maybe with both of us I would remember or process something.
The ugly character...I would love to know how you do this "location of the image process"
My initial thoughts from your description...
maybe there is blindness because the heart doesn't see..it intuitively knows things...
perhaps, like a blind person, this character has a heightened perception from the other senses...
able to determine good/bad, safe/dangerous, trustworthy/or not....
all without the prejudice that sight allows.
The other two characters are located away from the heart, the center...they are also in the vicinity of the cleansing organs...perhaps they filter the material first...then send it on to this ugly character.
The one thing that keeps going through my mind is that first they are all named very negative, derogatory names...and their true purpose is skewed because of the prejudicial names...definitely a trait that came from our family of origin...
Think about all of the names Dad used to give our boyfriends (and some friends)...
mean, prejudicial names...
meant to embarrass them and us and make us feel as if we were dating someone less than worthy...
like we were ever valued and prized in our family...
we were tolerated and sent on our way at 18.
Perhaps you should embrace these three characters and rename them...
or ask them to reveal their true names and nature to you.
Just some ideas...
I love you,
Maggie
Wednesday, June 20, 2012
Solitary Confinement
It is hot today. So far today I worked. I was falling asleep at work, so I tried to lie down under the fan. And if it's 93 degrees, with a heat index of 104, cuddling is logical...for a cat. I laid down and immediately had a furry, purry drape!
Isolation is a big issue. I have long understood that I have an incredible capacity for being alone, and I also have infinite capacity to be silent. We use isolation to insulate ourselves, yet it ensures the private space to allow abuse to occur. And then there is solitary confinement, among the cruelest of punishments. I inflict it on myself. And as we have been discovering, we have thrown off bits of ourselves - I'm still not sure if it was discarding or protecting - all isolated one from the other and from our core, aware self. It's our friend, our saving grace, our oasis of sanity, yet our enemy, the source of greatest pain.
I was talking to one of my offspring yesterday and mentioned that you and I have been working together a lot. The comment was that: Yeah, Aunt S#2 and Aunt S#3 were always the most in tune with me/our family. You mentioned the consistency throughout your life with me and S#3, and that is what I have felt, too. I know she does not want to remember what happened, and I can't blame her, but sometimes I think what she would have to add to this body of writing would be invaluable. Eventually we'll create the circle that draws her in.
What did I feel when I explored F-burg? First a question for you: Did you have any reaction to the photo of the church/old neighborhood? I felt curiosity, a lot of questioning of myself, what was right, what was true memory, why would I remember obscure names and facts...? I thought of some of the characters in the neighborhood, some funny, some frightening. Somehow the front part of the house - both of our bedroom windows are along that face that barely shows - wasn't as frightening as I thought it would be. I remembered being sick there, I remember contemplating suicide there, I remembered a bedroom wall covered by teen heart-throb pictures. I remembered when the old plaster ceiling collapsed on the little girls' bed. I remembered the hole the older two boys drilled, or scraped into the bathroom wall, so they could watch everyone bathe. I used to fill the hole with soft soap, but they always cleared it back out. I wondered about the willow trees, and the grape vines that cut the yard in half, and the old, old pear tree. More wondering, less feeling...not very emotional. I wonder what it would be like to walk through the streets. I wonder if things are so different now that it wouldn't trigger the visceral memories. From the aerial map, it looked like a lot of the old buildings along the alley were gone. If I have a chance to get down to you, we can consider the walking tour. It will definitely get stories flowing!
So, I sought Ugly last night and found it in my heart. My heart physically reacted as I encouraged it to come out. Ugly is definitely has a chameleon quality. It takes on the absolute color and texture of anything it is on. I almost didn't see the creature, I just saw movement - unless it looked at me. It is about the size of my hand - no, a bit smaller - round, with insect type legs. And it took some doing, but Ugly has black eyes - like dark circles from kidney weakness, like bruised from being hit and like extremely dilated pupils. And Ugly can not see. Ugly was using my heart to see. ( I am feeling very strange, weird, vulnerable to be writing this. Why does my psyche have to be so far out there with the symbolism??) Ugly likes to keep eyes averted all the time.
Do I store ugliness in my heart. Is Ugly there to help or to hide? I have said many times that I have a broken heart. Why there? Maybe it is absorbing all the Ugly, so my heart could keep beating, so I could remain basically kind and humane.
I keep returning to isolation. It can be so soothing. I wonder if that is why Dad always gets mean after we've been there for more than a day...or really he can't seem to handle overnights. He needs to be soothed by isolation - no one looking at him, no one touching him, no one making demands of him...It is soothing, yet so sterile...we survive, yet we don't live...we are waiting to be noticed and loved, yet we don't want anyone to disrupt our lonely sanctuary...
Isolation is a big issue. I have long understood that I have an incredible capacity for being alone, and I also have infinite capacity to be silent. We use isolation to insulate ourselves, yet it ensures the private space to allow abuse to occur. And then there is solitary confinement, among the cruelest of punishments. I inflict it on myself. And as we have been discovering, we have thrown off bits of ourselves - I'm still not sure if it was discarding or protecting - all isolated one from the other and from our core, aware self. It's our friend, our saving grace, our oasis of sanity, yet our enemy, the source of greatest pain.
I was talking to one of my offspring yesterday and mentioned that you and I have been working together a lot. The comment was that: Yeah, Aunt S#2 and Aunt S#3 were always the most in tune with me/our family. You mentioned the consistency throughout your life with me and S#3, and that is what I have felt, too. I know she does not want to remember what happened, and I can't blame her, but sometimes I think what she would have to add to this body of writing would be invaluable. Eventually we'll create the circle that draws her in.
What did I feel when I explored F-burg? First a question for you: Did you have any reaction to the photo of the church/old neighborhood? I felt curiosity, a lot of questioning of myself, what was right, what was true memory, why would I remember obscure names and facts...? I thought of some of the characters in the neighborhood, some funny, some frightening. Somehow the front part of the house - both of our bedroom windows are along that face that barely shows - wasn't as frightening as I thought it would be. I remembered being sick there, I remember contemplating suicide there, I remembered a bedroom wall covered by teen heart-throb pictures. I remembered when the old plaster ceiling collapsed on the little girls' bed. I remembered the hole the older two boys drilled, or scraped into the bathroom wall, so they could watch everyone bathe. I used to fill the hole with soft soap, but they always cleared it back out. I wondered about the willow trees, and the grape vines that cut the yard in half, and the old, old pear tree. More wondering, less feeling...not very emotional. I wonder what it would be like to walk through the streets. I wonder if things are so different now that it wouldn't trigger the visceral memories. From the aerial map, it looked like a lot of the old buildings along the alley were gone. If I have a chance to get down to you, we can consider the walking tour. It will definitely get stories flowing!
So, I sought Ugly last night and found it in my heart. My heart physically reacted as I encouraged it to come out. Ugly is definitely has a chameleon quality. It takes on the absolute color and texture of anything it is on. I almost didn't see the creature, I just saw movement - unless it looked at me. It is about the size of my hand - no, a bit smaller - round, with insect type legs. And it took some doing, but Ugly has black eyes - like dark circles from kidney weakness, like bruised from being hit and like extremely dilated pupils. And Ugly can not see. Ugly was using my heart to see. ( I am feeling very strange, weird, vulnerable to be writing this. Why does my psyche have to be so far out there with the symbolism??) Ugly likes to keep eyes averted all the time.
Do I store ugliness in my heart. Is Ugly there to help or to hide? I have said many times that I have a broken heart. Why there? Maybe it is absorbing all the Ugly, so my heart could keep beating, so I could remain basically kind and humane.
I keep returning to isolation. It can be so soothing. I wonder if that is why Dad always gets mean after we've been there for more than a day...or really he can't seem to handle overnights. He needs to be soothed by isolation - no one looking at him, no one touching him, no one making demands of him...It is soothing, yet so sterile...we survive, yet we don't live...we are waiting to be noticed and loved, yet we don't want anyone to disrupt our lonely sanctuary...
isolation
Clare,
It is hot...
So far this morning I have talked with my wise friend...
and walked 4 miles...
contemplating the words of my wise friend.
We talked alot about isolation...
as a set up for abuse...
as a protective mechanism after abuse...
as a box that is keeping me from moving forward...
I can analyze all of this as much as I am able to...
but in isolation it means much less than if it is shared.
That's why this dialogue/blog is so important...
we are sharing...connecting...listening respectfully to each other.
we have created a community (of 2).
You may have been on and off in my life...
but you are the closest thing I have to real consistency in our family of origin...
S#3 also, although she is not a part of this dialogue.
I told my wise friend about my dreams...
she felt that the open, flail chest was a sign that I am opening...the wall around my heart is breaking away.
So what feelings did you have as you explored Fburg?
Do you want to come visit and we can explore it together...on foot?
I still haven't had the inner motivation to go back...but it might bring insight.
So the physician in me is identifying underlying organs for your dumb and fat...
lower left ribs...spleen and kidney...cleansing and protecting organs
right shoulder...pain referred to the right shoulder is liver or gallbladder...again liver is cleansing and protecting...gall bladder is helpful for digestion.
Maybe they were protecting you and your heart...not blocking, but purifying and detoxifying the materials that eventually made their way to your heart...maybe?
I feel at peace this morning...sorry afternoon.
Thanks,
Maggie
It is hot...
So far this morning I have talked with my wise friend...
and walked 4 miles...
contemplating the words of my wise friend.
We talked alot about isolation...
as a set up for abuse...
as a protective mechanism after abuse...
as a box that is keeping me from moving forward...
I can analyze all of this as much as I am able to...
but in isolation it means much less than if it is shared.
That's why this dialogue/blog is so important...
we are sharing...connecting...listening respectfully to each other.
we have created a community (of 2).
You may have been on and off in my life...
but you are the closest thing I have to real consistency in our family of origin...
S#3 also, although she is not a part of this dialogue.
I told my wise friend about my dreams...
she felt that the open, flail chest was a sign that I am opening...the wall around my heart is breaking away.
So what feelings did you have as you explored Fburg?
Do you want to come visit and we can explore it together...on foot?
I still haven't had the inner motivation to go back...but it might bring insight.
So the physician in me is identifying underlying organs for your dumb and fat...
lower left ribs...spleen and kidney...cleansing and protecting organs
right shoulder...pain referred to the right shoulder is liver or gallbladder...again liver is cleansing and protecting...gall bladder is helpful for digestion.
Maybe they were protecting you and your heart...not blocking, but purifying and detoxifying the materials that eventually made their way to your heart...maybe?
I feel at peace this morning...sorry afternoon.
Thanks,
Maggie
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