I'm a bit better today. I think the long hours I spend sitting at my desk affect my health - both emotionally and physically. So last night I decided I would stand while working...well, I stood for the bigger half of the day. I stood for the last four hours of the day today. And I decided to go back to vegetarian eating.
Standing did help. I feel better.
I love how all this fits together, how our actions affect our moods. I also hate it!
I have a committee meeting here tomorrow evening - a meeting committee, and the house is a wreck. So somewhere, I have to find the energy to make it look presentable after work tomorrow.
It's always okay.
After a hot and steamy day it is thundering outside and rain is cooling the night air. I am tired, and the cooler air will help me sleep.
So, if not right, at least all is acceptable, or tolerable, in my world.
I hope you had a good day.
I'm sending love and hugs to all...Clare
Wednesday, September 11, 2013
Tuesday, September 10, 2013
Blossoming is blissful
I wanted family for the rough times, but also to make the fun times more fun. But I did not really want to live close to Mom and Dad, mostly because Dad was so mean so much of the time. That was his signal that he had enough forced family fun. Lash out with cruel words. He threatened to shoot me once.
"Thanks, Dad - I love you too."
Like that's normal. I just repeated the threat and looked at him. The next day he said it was because he was allergic to my dog, who had to sleep in the car. Her was tiptoeing toward apology, but not really going the distance. Apparently her fur was on me. Funny how other sibs brought their dogs and he didn't have an allergic reaction resulting in outbursts of hatred. I think I'm still angry about this...I thought I laughed it off years ago...
I could imagine living near Mom, though. Mostly I imagined living near siblings. The first time I was working through the process of ending my marriage, I talked to S#4 about possibly renting a house together an raising kids together. But, I got pregnant and thought the universe was telling me to try harder on my relationship. Now I think that last kid knew it was "now or never" since I haven't been brave enough to have another relationship.
You know I like family history. We are descended from two of the Mayflower families. They came here to escape religious persecution. And they immediately began to persecute others who did not conform to their religious beliefs. These were not noble, healthy, loving people. I think the underlying Puritanism of this country stems directly from their damaged, hate-filled approach to the world.
I am having a rough day. I simply don't see way through right now. I feel so sad, sad through my whole being. I want so much, and I can't see way through. I feel hopeless - like this is it for the rest of my life. Nothing is ever going to change.
I recommend you make your workshop interactive, make it a Me, too experience.
I saw a cartoon today that hit home. The graphic was a young woman sitting cross-legged before a flower, meditating.
She asks: How can I blossom?
The flower responds: The shell that protects you has to break open.
She asks: Does that hurt?
The flower says: Holding onto the shell hurts. Blossoming is blissful.
Maybe today's hopelessness is me hanging onto the shell. Maybe it has been opening and I am terrified of the Light...Maybe...
I love you,
Clare
"Thanks, Dad - I love you too."
Like that's normal. I just repeated the threat and looked at him. The next day he said it was because he was allergic to my dog, who had to sleep in the car. Her was tiptoeing toward apology, but not really going the distance. Apparently her fur was on me. Funny how other sibs brought their dogs and he didn't have an allergic reaction resulting in outbursts of hatred. I think I'm still angry about this...I thought I laughed it off years ago...
I could imagine living near Mom, though. Mostly I imagined living near siblings. The first time I was working through the process of ending my marriage, I talked to S#4 about possibly renting a house together an raising kids together. But, I got pregnant and thought the universe was telling me to try harder on my relationship. Now I think that last kid knew it was "now or never" since I haven't been brave enough to have another relationship.
You know I like family history. We are descended from two of the Mayflower families. They came here to escape religious persecution. And they immediately began to persecute others who did not conform to their religious beliefs. These were not noble, healthy, loving people. I think the underlying Puritanism of this country stems directly from their damaged, hate-filled approach to the world.
I am having a rough day. I simply don't see way through right now. I feel so sad, sad through my whole being. I want so much, and I can't see way through. I feel hopeless - like this is it for the rest of my life. Nothing is ever going to change.
I recommend you make your workshop interactive, make it a Me, too experience.
I saw a cartoon today that hit home. The graphic was a young woman sitting cross-legged before a flower, meditating.
She asks: How can I blossom?
The flower responds: The shell that protects you has to break open.
She asks: Does that hurt?
The flower says: Holding onto the shell hurts. Blossoming is blissful.
Maybe today's hopelessness is me hanging onto the shell. Maybe it has been opening and I am terrified of the Light...Maybe...
I love you,
Clare
Escape or Opportunity?
The loss of extended family close by does sound beneficial. I too have frequently fantasized about how wonderful it would have been to have family help me through the rough times. To not have had to go it alone...
But what if they are not supportive?
What if they continue a cycle of abuse?
I am not asking this to disagree...but a friend of mine told me that her parents moved to the East coast from the midwest to escape the family patterns and abuse. She said that her mother decided it was better to be alone rather than have her family influence and potentially hurt her children.
After she and I spoke I wondered if that was one of the reasons that we are all isolated from each other...Perhaps we did not want to be reminded, but we also don't want any of the filthiness to touch our children. I am reminded of the title of a Erma Bombeck book, Family: The Ties that Bind and Gag.
I wonder what the seed of this in the American Culture? The country was founded by people who were willing to leave the familiar behind to set out for something better. Maybe they were escaping not only societal oppression, but family violence and oppression as well. Maybe we are descendants of the abused and oppressed...and that's why abuse is so common in our country.
Today on NPR I heard a report from The Lancet, a medical journal, about rape. In China they found that 10% of men surveyed admitted to raping a woman. The number jumped to more than 50% if they included those who reported raping their wives. What a wicked world we live in.
I just started a book called, Beyond Power; On Women, Men and Morality by Marilyn French. I am just getting into it, but it discusses a fundamental moral difference between men and women. It talks about the male idea that they are superior to nature, taming it and controlling it for their own gain and benefit. It also talks about women being part of nature, fertile and communal. This idea is the basis of the patriarchal society where males control everything, including women. It is sad that such an ancient and archaic ideal still sets the parameters of society.
I have been asked to do a 30 minute talk at a local women's conference in Oct. on stress and the body. I have a lot of material on this...I just have to make it interesting and somewhat unique. Any suggestions?
I am off and running once again.
Until tomorrow.
Blessings,
Maggie
Monday, September 9, 2013
Possibilities
I like the way you cleared it all up - your explanations are concise and spot on. I often said I was born and bred to marry and alcoholic. Sober men were not comprehensible - or my personal joke was that they were just too healthy for me. But in your terms, I was groomed to marry an alcoholic, to seek out the comfort of the familiar.
I always go back to my core belief - humans are good, humans are kind, humans are intelligent. But violence destroys humanity, and leaves only pain in its wake. All of the hurt we cause stems directly from numbing the pain. All addictions. We need to uncover the pain and soothe those who suffer - which is most of us.
In thinking your flash of memory - perhaps there was a layer of - "They are just like us. She's okay, so I'm okay." I also think there is our family pattern of not having the sense to protect yourself. I was raped, partially because I was careless. I should have been paying more attention to what was going on around me. But I had never been taught that I was worth protecting, and so I had no idea how to protect myself. I fear this might still be true, and that may be why I have never gone into another relationship...
I was reading a deep description of the rape culture we live in. If this was different, I would not have had to be careful.. The world would be safe. But instead, as I read last night, we live in a world where any woman, anywhere - if she's walking alone, especially at night, and hears footsteps behind her, feels fear. I wonder how many men can imagine feeling fear just while walking.
I have been thinking about Patch Adams. I had a chance to hear him speak once at the university, and he's been at a few of the herb conferences I attended in the way past. He has established The Gesundheit Institute, a free hospital that does not accept insurance, where humor is medicine and Me, too is a way of life, a source of healing. He said when they have a bulemic throwing up in a stall, others join in and force themselves to throw up. They try to make sure those in pain never feel alone or like a freak.
I started imagining the possibilities - the possibilities where a tantrum or a fit of violence becomes funny or clear - not where other wounded individuals join in and gang rape the world or whatever victim is handy. If I was yelling at my kids, what would stop me? An audience, for sure. But that would have caused shame and more pain. Kind words? A strong person to silently witness me - I'm sure a witness would have stopped me, made me self aware...
This is why we need community. One adult should not be solely responsible for a passel of young'uns!
What if I had had a sister across the street? I could run outside and yell, "These kids are driving me crazy!" And you all could have come and done the crazy dance and made me laugh and rescued my babies for a few hours. We all would have been healthy.
Instead I was strong, I did it alone. Everyone told me I was magnificent and powerful and amazing. Maybe I wasn't. Maybe I was too weak to ask for help...
So my mind is twirling, and I'll dance off for the night.
I love you!!
Clare
I always go back to my core belief - humans are good, humans are kind, humans are intelligent. But violence destroys humanity, and leaves only pain in its wake. All of the hurt we cause stems directly from numbing the pain. All addictions. We need to uncover the pain and soothe those who suffer - which is most of us.
In thinking your flash of memory - perhaps there was a layer of - "They are just like us. She's okay, so I'm okay." I also think there is our family pattern of not having the sense to protect yourself. I was raped, partially because I was careless. I should have been paying more attention to what was going on around me. But I had never been taught that I was worth protecting, and so I had no idea how to protect myself. I fear this might still be true, and that may be why I have never gone into another relationship...
I was reading a deep description of the rape culture we live in. If this was different, I would not have had to be careful.. The world would be safe. But instead, as I read last night, we live in a world where any woman, anywhere - if she's walking alone, especially at night, and hears footsteps behind her, feels fear. I wonder how many men can imagine feeling fear just while walking.
I have been thinking about Patch Adams. I had a chance to hear him speak once at the university, and he's been at a few of the herb conferences I attended in the way past. He has established The Gesundheit Institute, a free hospital that does not accept insurance, where humor is medicine and Me, too is a way of life, a source of healing. He said when they have a bulemic throwing up in a stall, others join in and force themselves to throw up. They try to make sure those in pain never feel alone or like a freak.
I started imagining the possibilities - the possibilities where a tantrum or a fit of violence becomes funny or clear - not where other wounded individuals join in and gang rape the world or whatever victim is handy. If I was yelling at my kids, what would stop me? An audience, for sure. But that would have caused shame and more pain. Kind words? A strong person to silently witness me - I'm sure a witness would have stopped me, made me self aware...
This is why we need community. One adult should not be solely responsible for a passel of young'uns!
What if I had had a sister across the street? I could run outside and yell, "These kids are driving me crazy!" And you all could have come and done the crazy dance and made me laugh and rescued my babies for a few hours. We all would have been healthy.
Instead I was strong, I did it alone. Everyone told me I was magnificent and powerful and amazing. Maybe I wasn't. Maybe I was too weak to ask for help...
So my mind is twirling, and I'll dance off for the night.
I love you!!
Clare
Complexities
I think that you are correct identifying alcoholics as invalids, their infirmity is inside of them...
invisible until they add the alcohol to their system.
I think that that train of thought could be expanded for perpetrators of violence as well.
They are black holes that suck people into them...
and then abuse them because to relieve their own pain.
On of my central disagreements with the domestic violence movement is that believe that all perpetrators are sane, rational, mature adults who consciously choose to abuse. The whole grooming process, and the escalation of control and ultimately violence is somehow pre-scripted or at least outlined in their brain from the beginning.
That is too simplistic. It negates the influence of biology, psychology and their social environment...we are a product of our total environment...to change behaviors we need to change the way we sense the environment and the way that we react to its stressors.
When we see an invalid we are moved to compassion and possibly action to help them. We long ago did away with the notion that the blind man was blind because of his or his father's sins. But we are not as understanding of alcoholics or perpetrators.
There are many in addiction therapy who still believe that use/abuse of substances is a conscious choice. They throw people out of the program because of their lack of compliance. What they fail to realize is that the addiction is driven by learned behavior, genetics, altered neurodevelopment, physiologic craving, environmental cues and stressors, and more. We can never "cure" and addict until they overcome their reaction to internal and external environmental cues. It will never be simple...it cannot solely be "just don't drink". That just shames them which perpetuates the cycle.
And those of us who have lived with addicts or perpetrators understand the meaning of pretending to be normal. It is the way that we were trained to behave in public. No one could see us as we truly were because that would be mortifying. Not only do we pretend to be normal, we do it so well that we forget what is reality and what is pretend.
I just had a memory flash into my brain.
In 5 grade and through Middle School I had a friend who lived fairly close to us. I would go to her house and sleep over frequently. It seemed a better place than our house, but her Dad would occasionally come home drunk and violent. When we heard his car pull in, her mother would very quickly rush us into my friend's bedroom and close the door. He never hurt us, but I could hear yelling and things crashing outside of her door. This experience should have scared the crap out of me the first time it happened, but it didn't. I kept going back to sleep over. Did I think that behavior was normal? Is that why it didn't scare me away. Like I said I preferred to sleep over there...it got me out of our house. Was I that good at pretending that I could even pretend that drunken violence at a friend's was normal and not worthy of reporting to anyone?
My brain just stopped with that memory. I will check back tomorrow.
Love and Light,
Maggie
invisible until they add the alcohol to their system.
I think that that train of thought could be expanded for perpetrators of violence as well.
They are black holes that suck people into them...
and then abuse them because to relieve their own pain.
On of my central disagreements with the domestic violence movement is that believe that all perpetrators are sane, rational, mature adults who consciously choose to abuse. The whole grooming process, and the escalation of control and ultimately violence is somehow pre-scripted or at least outlined in their brain from the beginning.
That is too simplistic. It negates the influence of biology, psychology and their social environment...we are a product of our total environment...to change behaviors we need to change the way we sense the environment and the way that we react to its stressors.
When we see an invalid we are moved to compassion and possibly action to help them. We long ago did away with the notion that the blind man was blind because of his or his father's sins. But we are not as understanding of alcoholics or perpetrators.
There are many in addiction therapy who still believe that use/abuse of substances is a conscious choice. They throw people out of the program because of their lack of compliance. What they fail to realize is that the addiction is driven by learned behavior, genetics, altered neurodevelopment, physiologic craving, environmental cues and stressors, and more. We can never "cure" and addict until they overcome their reaction to internal and external environmental cues. It will never be simple...it cannot solely be "just don't drink". That just shames them which perpetuates the cycle.
And those of us who have lived with addicts or perpetrators understand the meaning of pretending to be normal. It is the way that we were trained to behave in public. No one could see us as we truly were because that would be mortifying. Not only do we pretend to be normal, we do it so well that we forget what is reality and what is pretend.
I just had a memory flash into my brain.
In 5 grade and through Middle School I had a friend who lived fairly close to us. I would go to her house and sleep over frequently. It seemed a better place than our house, but her Dad would occasionally come home drunk and violent. When we heard his car pull in, her mother would very quickly rush us into my friend's bedroom and close the door. He never hurt us, but I could hear yelling and things crashing outside of her door. This experience should have scared the crap out of me the first time it happened, but it didn't. I kept going back to sleep over. Did I think that behavior was normal? Is that why it didn't scare me away. Like I said I preferred to sleep over there...it got me out of our house. Was I that good at pretending that I could even pretend that drunken violence at a friend's was normal and not worthy of reporting to anyone?
My brain just stopped with that memory. I will check back tomorrow.
Love and Light,
Maggie
Sunday, September 8, 2013
The Invalid
Honey,
I don't want to travel to France to seek out the healers. I want to go and train to become one. I am open, and if way opens - I will go. But a lot has to change in my life in order for that to happen - so we'll just leave that door wide, wide open!!
I read your post this morning, then watched my granddaughter all day, which gave me a lot of time to think about it. My mind was flooded. I hope I can get it all out coherently.
After I started Al Anon, I read a lot of codependency books. Codependents tend to be overweight, and tend to be in helping professions. We are often nurses or teachers. It struck me that we are praised for being Mommy's little helper from an early age, either because mommy can't cope or because mommy can't cope with living with an alcoholic. We step in and take on responsibilities within the family in order to be good.
Forcing this responsibility on our kids is a form of emotional incest. I did it to my oldest. I expected more of her because her dad was not around. I recently put myself in her shoes, and felt an overwhelming sense of alone-ness. I am so sorry. I wish I could have do-overs. I thought I was doing okay, because I never asked as much of her as was asked of me. But I f***ed up, nonetheless.
When we were children, the adults were sick and got to act out. Then we grew up and we got to be sick...
Because what came to me as I was pulling this apart is that the family alcoholic is really an invalid who needs special care. But we pretend that they are fine, they are healthy, that everything is fine. And so we grow up tending to an invalid, being very careful of their feelings, not doing anything to make things bad, or worse. That is abusive. But what is worse is the way we are treated if the alcoholic is set off. It is all our fault. We are not good. We are not good enough. And we deserve the punishment we get. More abuse. And as I am sure I wrote before, a casual survey of friends of my youngest who are overweight netted a 100% having been abused response.
I don't know if you have developed all your healthy habits to be skinny, or to conform. The current standard of beauty is the undeveloped maiden. Or the overly-buxom maiden, but maiden is important. I am so overwhelmed with images of ideal bodies, that I can't sense what would be ideal for me - or even recognize healthy, I fear.
I used to be able to "astral project." I could float out of my body and explore the ceiling or the room I was in. And I am still a champion daydreamer. It is my escape. I am a modern day, female Walter Mitty!!
I really don't think it would help to ask the aunts and uncles. I think everything is so repressed and denied. Could you ever imagine Uncle B. admitting things that went on within his family? I can't - especially since he is married to someone who was not part of all that. If we had more contact though, I suspect we would begin to hear clues, pieces that fit together.
Off to bed with me, mornings come really early!
Love from Clare
I don't want to travel to France to seek out the healers. I want to go and train to become one. I am open, and if way opens - I will go. But a lot has to change in my life in order for that to happen - so we'll just leave that door wide, wide open!!
I read your post this morning, then watched my granddaughter all day, which gave me a lot of time to think about it. My mind was flooded. I hope I can get it all out coherently.
After I started Al Anon, I read a lot of codependency books. Codependents tend to be overweight, and tend to be in helping professions. We are often nurses or teachers. It struck me that we are praised for being Mommy's little helper from an early age, either because mommy can't cope or because mommy can't cope with living with an alcoholic. We step in and take on responsibilities within the family in order to be good.
Forcing this responsibility on our kids is a form of emotional incest. I did it to my oldest. I expected more of her because her dad was not around. I recently put myself in her shoes, and felt an overwhelming sense of alone-ness. I am so sorry. I wish I could have do-overs. I thought I was doing okay, because I never asked as much of her as was asked of me. But I f***ed up, nonetheless.
When we were children, the adults were sick and got to act out. Then we grew up and we got to be sick...
Because what came to me as I was pulling this apart is that the family alcoholic is really an invalid who needs special care. But we pretend that they are fine, they are healthy, that everything is fine. And so we grow up tending to an invalid, being very careful of their feelings, not doing anything to make things bad, or worse. That is abusive. But what is worse is the way we are treated if the alcoholic is set off. It is all our fault. We are not good. We are not good enough. And we deserve the punishment we get. More abuse. And as I am sure I wrote before, a casual survey of friends of my youngest who are overweight netted a 100% having been abused response.
I don't know if you have developed all your healthy habits to be skinny, or to conform. The current standard of beauty is the undeveloped maiden. Or the overly-buxom maiden, but maiden is important. I am so overwhelmed with images of ideal bodies, that I can't sense what would be ideal for me - or even recognize healthy, I fear.
I used to be able to "astral project." I could float out of my body and explore the ceiling or the room I was in. And I am still a champion daydreamer. It is my escape. I am a modern day, female Walter Mitty!!
I really don't think it would help to ask the aunts and uncles. I think everything is so repressed and denied. Could you ever imagine Uncle B. admitting things that went on within his family? I can't - especially since he is married to someone who was not part of all that. If we had more contact though, I suspect we would begin to hear clues, pieces that fit together.
Off to bed with me, mornings come really early!
Love from Clare
Saturday, September 7, 2013
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
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
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