A welcoming, outstretched arms of inclusion. The rare and radical leave a tingling of newness, spreading across the shoulders, chest and back. No expectation. Taking in the offering. Not strange at all. Just a moment of reception. Receiving joy and compassion feels light and joyful. Not strange at all.
They’re a special breed, these folks. A chance meeting. A surprise invitation to meet an underdeveloped part of ourselves. The parts that open and take. Acceptance of warmth. Of soul recognition. It unfolds just as it should. Authentic and organic, giddy and gorgeous.
Sometimes we are the stranger. The giver of free love and compassion. Responding to the pain, relief or undeniable connection with another human. Hearts moved to meet. The power to heal. The power within us all.
I’m in love with sprouting seeds. Beginnings are special and cause for hope. Sleepy heads popping out of warmed soil. Met with squeals of excitement. Beckoning their silent promise of coming attraction. A possibility of radiant blooms for gathering quite a useful visual and olfactory delight.
Hope may have escaped us in 2020. Underneath it all we are the sprouting seed. The seed dependent upon light, love and the promise of improvement and growth. Hiding in darkness, waiting and trusting in the universe for the continuance of our existence.
Sprouting seeds of green, yellow and purple unfurl and remind us that we have innate inner wisdom. A knowing. Each sprout a unique expression of divinity. A fresh start on the journey to fruition. I’m in love with sprouting seeds.
I never lost the child within. She’s right here next to me. Gathering trinkets on walks. Stones that peak interest, pine needles that prickle on my cheek, pods yet opened, full of possibility and promise of another season.
Feathers of hawk, abandoned hornets nests, berries artistically encased in ice – saved in the freezer, crimson leaf pressed in the pages of the Mother Earth catalogue, brown, striped seeds of mystery.
Recuerdos, mementos for recalling yesterdays, telling the earth’s story one tchotchke at a time. Don’t lose the child within. He/she is counting on you.
When you weren’t looking I was having fun. When you weren’t looking I made friends. When you weren’t looking I got all A’s and B’s. When you weren’t looking I got trophies and ribbons. Praise and encouragement from teachers and strangers. When you weren’t looking I followed all the rules.
When you weren’t looking I was unraveling. When you weren’t looking I was starving myself. When you weren’t looking I kept our family secrets. When you weren’t looking I hated you. When you weren’t looking I was planning to die. When you weren’t looking I felt isolated and weird. When you weren’t looking I wished it was you who died. When you weren’t looking I could feel crazy.
When you were looking I told you I loved you. I keep our family secrets. When you were looking I followed your fucked up rules. When you were looking I believed all your fabrications about people and the way life worked. When you were looking I believed the beautiful, sweet story of our tragic, broken family. When you were looking I was the perfect daughter. When you were looking I silenced the truth I felt so I wouldn’t upset you. I silenced who I was because I always felt defeated. When you were looking I made it seem like I had a sane Mom.
Your looking, an uncomfortable look of ownership, dangerous caged rage. Those eyes tho, burned a hole in my soul. A hole so deep, my lifetimes fell in, waiting to be rescued. But you were still looking so they’d have to wait. Because when you were looking, it wasn’t safe for me to own anything. It would be taken. Any semblance of aliveness was forfeited. No choice at all, the need for food, shelter and love was ever present. When you looked, I surrendered it all, smiling. Set on fine China, dainty flowered setting that hid the tears. Because when you were looking, appearance was Queen.
When I was looking, the color turned to death. I could flirt with pink and green and orange and red but only for a minute and it surely would be detected and devoured. This fed the hungry beast inside you. When no-one was looking. It slithered, smiling, through the caverns of our existence. Spreading it’s brown paralyzing slime onto our child lives. Twisting n turning so we never could sense direction. When no one was looking. Your inner beast ran through our home salivating, relentlessly stalking. This was not a safe existence for children, when no one was looking.
Intolerable and exhausting. Swimming upstream from birth. We surrendered, we yielded to crazy, to the killing of our innocence, our right to be free, to live unburdened. There really was no choice. We handed it over because we’re just children. We craved belonging, safety, love, softness, easy breath, dreams. Sacrificing our well being over and over. The darkness victorious, stamping out our light, our dreams, our drive. When no-one was looking.
Mission accomplished. Torched souls, we assist you in drawing the shades of life, a smiling mask donned in public, living “as if” so as not to raise any suspicions about our fucked little lives. All this darkness placed inside, the saccharine sweet lies conflicting with and twisting our fight for sanity, lucidity, transparency, space.
All this “looking” but no seeing. Your eyes glued shut Mom. You didn’t really have to “see”your food to be able to eat it, now did you? You could smell the life force, the need to be stripped of our aliveness, our need to be silenced and gutted. Sensed like an animal in the night. Just to feed your emptiness. She fed from and possessed our every emotion, when no one was looking. She took everything. Our joy, our anger, pain and peace. And handed us back blankness, autopilot, apprehension, lack of self trust, hate and suspicion of others. Insanity. We learned so many things about darkness and dancing with crazy.
I’ve transformed, Mother. And what a trick this MOTHER word! I’ve stripped your ugly from my existence. No longer a subscriber. I was the one who escaped, by some small miracle, I made it. My Spirit rose up to assist me. I was made for greater things. Without your sad influence. Without you looking, I’ve dug and scraped and washed and scoured you from my loins. 30 years is a long time to live, surrendering one’s essence, in service to another. “Out of service” an outstanding book title I foresee in my future. Although, “when you weren’t looking” could work, too. My mind is free. Free to roam without restriction, censor or proper.
Thank you Mom for leading me to the edge and shoving me off. Body sinking to guaranteed demise, my Higher Self was there to catch my fall. The Human Spirit is a powerful force that can lift you up and beyond what you thought was possible. Listen to the call, take the difficult challenge of putting yourself first, staying the course and rising from the asses.
You fought, you pleaded with me to shut up. Oh I wouldn’t shut it. Not for a hot second. You created this mess. All of you. Perpetuated it by keeping the lid on, simmering, bubbling. Me poised to explode. Abuse years, haunting memories, flashbacks and dirty tricks making their way to the surface. Into the now. My mouth too small of a space for this hot garbage baggage to escape. It came through my pores, my guts, out of my eyes. Violently it breached the walls I had erected to keep the silence with you. For you. About you.
I wanted to save you. All 5 of my sisters. I would physically carry you if I could. Come with, I begged. I tried to wake you, slap that cool-aide pitcher out of your hand. Jesus Christ. You were abused too, I saw them, I saw you. How dare you deny this? It wasn’t your fault. It was just the way it was. Generational. My best efforts to save others were received like “attacks, attempts to ruin the family or make problems”.
Even in my dreams, I was unsuccessful. You were frozen. I would escape, door left open, and no-one followed. You stayed. I pleaded. I escaped. You dug in harder. How I wanted to remove the dark cloth from your eyes. Rip and tear and claw until you saw. Scream like the wounded animal that I was…until you connected – with something. With reality.
Torturous to want something sooo out of my control. Yet, I kept on. Pain and anguish were frequent dinner guests. A plate and seat were saved. I wanted someone to board the reality bus. Empty bus then, empty now. Oh, how delicious it would have been to have someone stand beside me. To honor OUR truth, OUR breaking up with dysfunction, OUR naming the insidious virus. Divorcing the dead from our life.
As children, our leader wanted us distracted. Our perfect saccharine sweet smiles. Pretty pin curls and dresses. Manners and obedience and black paten leather. Exceptional family. Got us so much outside attention. Stroked her gross ego. Believable. The world believed the picture. We were not allowed to question. blindly pleasing, serving. Resistance just a dream. Beautiful little liars, all of us.
Remembering all of this. Remembering all of the ways we had to leave ourselves. All of what we were forced to give up in order to belong, to have somewhere to live, food and some semblance of safety….
I walked away. Cutting the frayed cords, split ends. I was tired of hemorrhaging on those who drank my blood out of both sides of their mouth. I decided my life was worth saving, worth better. Donned with the ole oxygen mask, I stepped new steps out into the world. Lonely, edgy steps. Only taking small sips of life at first, barely looking back at the owned, the victims, perpetrators, the voiceless.
I actually did you a favor. Free from the reminders that my face brings. Free from the sting of my authenticity. Free to believe the beautifully creative fairytale you tell of your past. The fabricated loveliness of the overcrowded vacant house we were raised in.
I am no longer the one who ruined this amazing family unit. I am no longer the lost sheep. I am no longer cause of chaos and making poor, defenseless mother sad. Gag. I am no longer trying to pry you from your completely functional, well adjusted existence. I have no desire to wake you. You are completely correct, my energy, my desire to transform and re-parent, and evolve, and open my heart, and see and hear and feel – that is all for ME. I won’t waste any of that on you. My bad.
As a courtesy, I will leave you alone. You all function way better in a slumber. No matter how delicious, I will not remind you of the atrocities. We can leave them where you’ve buried them. How dare I devote any portion of my life and love to those who think I’m trying to ruin theirs? I will even tuck you in with soft, fuzzy blankets. Sleep well. Sleep well.
I heard the call. The call to run. But first I must stand still. Still enough to know just how far and fast I’d have to run. My boys, 5 and 2. So sweet, so innocent, so loyal. Hanging onto my legs, my every word. Looking deeply into my presence to feel the safety only their momma could muster. They love me, they need me. All of this. Triggering the vision of an engulfing, suffocating beast. Stealing all but a sip of untainted oxygen for itself. From the depths of middle earth this beast, slithering, watching, waiting. Safety was away from my family of origin. My inner child was bathed in muck and lies and deception. Hypervigilance, dissociation was living… this felt safe, ground. I was thawing from THIS freeze. Coming alive, breaking the surface, just the way they wouldn’t want me to. All of my abusers.
My true self attempting to surface, the bubbling wouldn’t stop. The dirty water no longer able to hold my buoyancy down. In dreamland, I was orchestrating this violence, killing for revenge. Long held rage and helplessness thawing from my frozen petite veins. Graphic scenes of stabbing, blood soaked, lifeless bodies, ripping knives through flesh. Ripping, like orgasmic, primal release. Always protecting myself from being wiped out – like I NEVER could. I could fuck you over just like you did to me. Kill or be killed. The delicious, giddy power of a knife, gutting as I was gutted, tearing at my power center. My aliveness gushing out like a shaken soda bottle. And you drank every drop. I felt justified, powerful, alive. You like me now? Does this feel good? just like you’d ask me.
Saving my sanity overnight, everynight. Revenge on those who want to hurt me for their own pleasure. I’ll show you what it’s like to have your guts ripped out. I can show you what it’s like to feel like an object, an option, a toy. Killing people without killing people. The dead I felt inside brought to life one REM cycle after the next.
Years and years titled The Rebirth of Me, Me Taking My Power Back, Who I Came Here To Be, Anyways. No Fucking Apologies. Me speaking my truth to anyone who would 1/2 listen. Me opening up to my experience, reaching, for the first time, for validation. My body thawing from habitual anxiety, chronic muscular tension, sinus infections, sore throats, sciatic, neck pain, gall bladder attacks, anorexia… the list goes on, long. I must be dying. I know I have a tumor. This is what they wanted. Every medical test known to man, negative. My body was trying to express and keep us healthy. Now it was time to listen. Only I could do this for myself. For my first 30 years I ran. I kept busy, I shoved it down. The souls of my children, showing me how it should have been, showing me the pure innocence, trust and love of a child. Just BEing. How it should have been. 23 years now. Standing up. Standing Tall. Standing with. Standing in. In my pain, my anxiety, my reflux, my vertigo -asking the ________ what it’s here for. What’s the message…cause there is ALWAYS a message.
So, the Holidays, hmmmmm. I’m guessing that some of my readers may be very excited for Holidays. I am also knowing that there’s a whole other section of the general pop who are digging themselves a large hole, preparing to jump in to escape all things “family celebration”. I’m a proud member of the second, gasp less acknowledged group. Actually I’m a charter member, with 10 years of sanity under my belt 😂 (and all over my body, actually LOL).
Tis the season for hushed-toned conversations, multiplying in frequency, “Oh, she doesn’t come around” and “He doesn’t bother with us” even “I think she’s crazy, she doesn’t talk to any of her family”. “Who could walk out on their family?” Well, there’s ALWAYS a pretty good fucking reason why someone would cut the ties with their tribe. Always. Period. It’s usually one badass warrior mother fucker who can pull this off in search of a wonderfully joy-filled life. Someone like um… like um… ME. Turning out to have found peace…away from their tragic family of origin. This, my friends, is the elephant in the room.
I write about this in support of thosebadassreaders I have. The people who don’t feel entirely settled when the Holidays arrive. Those who are depressed, anxious, angry, revengeful or indifferent when it comes to “family”. For those of you who are new to my blog, I use quotation marks when I write “family” because the word is LOADED – ya’ll know what I’m talkin bout. It’s in no way a normal word for me and can be very heavy. You’re feelin me.
Chances are, your “family” wants you to just forget everything that’s happened in the past and smile, be pretty and pretend like everything is normal. Hell, deep down, you WANT to believe you have the best family ever (who tf doesn’t?) – So you, against your better judgement, attend the family Holiday party —- thinking it will be fine this time. You got this. Fuck them. I’m not going to let them get to me this time. Let’s do this. Put your party clothes on and grab a bag…to carry all those triggers that are waiting for you. Happy Holidays😳
It can be very very diff to go through the motions and attend Holiday gatherings just for the sake of keeping the peace. As if. As if you want to be there. As if. As if. Usually, there’s a price… predictably sacrificing your own needs and boundaries for the sake of others’ needs and happiness. That shit never feels good and the next day we make ourselves pay for it in whatever way feels familiar to us.
Me? well, the day after, I’m curled up in a ball, feeling punched in the gut, filled with regrets, swearing to God I’ll never say yes again. So much crazy shit swirling in your head- hate for them, hate for yourself and guilt. Guilty for hating everyone and everything. Enter mind-fuck…maybe it IS me. Maybe I’m making a big deal out of nothing…they all seem happy 😳. Ewe, WAIT! NO.
So how does one survive this scenario? this gathering of triggers, this no-thankyou portion of family, this nothing-is-as-it-appears celebration? I am so glad you asked
put yourself first. listen to your heart and do what feels correct for you. It is your decision. No-one knows what it is like to be inside of your body. Eyes wide open, ask yourself what you need, what would make YOU happy (for a change). What makes you feel good.
know that you are making the best decision for you – only you, because onlyyoucan.
create a holiday tradition that touches your heart. Something specific to honoring what is important to you around the Holidays. Whatever brings you joy, keeps you centered and grounded and calm. Giving your time/talents to others or creating something for yourself with no outside influences.
write about how things will be different if you do spend time with family over the Holidays. (write it out, read it to someone or keep for next year – so you can chronical your growth. If you’re into ceremony and ritual maybe you meditate on your written ideas and set fire to it when it feels complete. Sending your intention out to the Universe for manifestation)
surround yourself with people (outside of your family) who support your feelings. Do not expect your family of origin to understand what you are going through. They don’t. Period. Find those outside of your “family”. They won’t be triggered by YOUR “family” shit – they most likely have different baggage and can support you in an unbiased way.
stay away from alcohol if you can possibly help it. Your guard will be down and you may end up saying and doing things you prob wouldn’t have. Seriously, resist the urge with all you have. It can be so tempting to numb yourself out but save the drinking for when you are with more supportive, less triggery folks. You’re welcome.
give yourself an energy bath – wipe that nasty energy off with a washcloth and down the drain it goes. Replacing the nasties with clean white or golden light. Filling in the holes that were punctured intentionally and unintentionally during your “family” time.
envision a shield protecting you prior to entering a sketchy situation. Especially your heart, solar plexus (core) and sacral chakras. In no way are you a bad person for protecting yourself from negative energy. It’s brilliant and gives you a slight giggle as you try on, “You can’t have me” or “You can’t get me” or “I’ll decide what you get from me”! delicious, absolutely delicious. Self empowerment, strength and self advocacy sure looks sexy on you. Only you can do this for yourself.
be gentle with yourself!!! it’s exhausting work to challenge your family’s structure. The emotions of guilt, anger, betrayal, sadness, frustration are all a normal part of creating boundaries with people who do not respect our “NO”.
make a plan. escape route, get away line, time limit, certain people to avoid. Identify what is off limits for you and what you’ll spend less time around – these suggestions all go a long way to create a sense of control over the situation. No-one has to be IN on this plan. Use when triggered and repeat if necessary. Creating and sticking to boundaries will feel MEAN initially, mostly because we were raised to not have/expect boundaries. But if practiced enuff, you’ll get over it, trust.
makealternateplans for the Holiday – out of state, out of the country, Mars? And divulge these plans early so people have time to get used to the idea! There, now you can breathe deeply. Can’t see the dysfunction from there can ya?
fake an illness – who wants to be with someone who has strep, chicken pox, cock-sakie (good Lord), or the dreaded flu? Not only will you get sympathy but people will be GLAD you didn’t show up. And BONUS… you will get lots of sympathy.
even if you do not attend, and you’re anything like me, you feel like shit because you’re not with your family. You feel like shit because you don’t want to be with them. You feel like shit because you are feeling relieved and happy because you didn’t blindly agree to attend. You feel like shit because you can’t imagine it will EVER be any different. You feel like shit because you feel so alone and unloved and cast aside, betrayed, crazy. That’s a whole lot of shit to shovel. This can be very, very difficult to push through. I went through this on several holidays. It’s so important to create your own Holiday rituals and traditions.
Happy Holidays!!! 😘😘😘 Do YOU. and let me know how it goes 💪 👑
So much sadness – playing out. Her mental illness more translucent than ever. Infantile, empty, spiraling, desperate. Her energy screams- save me. Her wanting to orchestrate, push and control others. More than happy to reduce (anyone but primarily) her children, to servants. Her constant chatter, talking just to talk. Pitiful attempts to get her soldiers to respect her, respect her wishes, follow her crazy, blindly. Unsuccessful. Relentless reporting out to others. People, facts she’s confusing. Desperate to connect the dots, connect with others, but clueless as to how to execute.
I can’t help you mother. I never could. Any sign of weakness or vulnerability – sinking your teeth in, you just consumed me. If I give up my boundaries, my SELF, I can have a Mother. You can’t help it. I know this. The wanting I feel in your energy field keeps me just out of reach. You pulled the strings, a masterful puppeteer, directed my life. And when I strayed too far onto the edge of reality or erected a healthy boundary… you schooled me with your disapproving looks and shame.
Although I feel crushing sadness for the way you’ve regressed, your devouring, degrading and energy snatching persona is repulsive to me. If only you were able to see what I see. If only. Instead you slip deeper into your unreality. Maybe one day, eventually, forgetting who I am. Completely. That should hurt when your biological Mother cannot remember who you are… I think it hurts more that she NEVER knew who I really was under the handcrafted outward appearance of a pretty, sweet, unassuming Catholic girl. It hurts more that I didn’t have a good Mother. An available Mother. A warm, safe Mother. Can she really forget something/someone she never knew in the first place?
I can’t save you from the life you’ve fashioned for yourself. Non-reality will be permanent for you now. Dementia, a gift of sorts. It’s what you’ve always wanted – your brain finally conceded. Thank you for teaching me what to run from, separating myself. Giving everything up to protect myself from degradation, shame, guilt, control, crazy, intrusiveness, invasion, abuse, betrayal…too much to list.
Wow, this quote is just perfect. Today I’m trying to be gentle with myself. My legs hurt, neck burning down the left side. I’m gunna not get pissed that my body doesn’t function perfectly. I’m gunna recognize the monstrosity trauma trying to ooze out today. All at once. I don’t really have time to process through what my Spirit is sending me today. Appointments – dentist, mammogram, hair… I can ground and breathe and center myself whatever I’m doing, where ever I find myself today.
The real work will be loving myself though the purging of stuck trauma energy. Knowing that I can be gentle and patient with myself and seeing my body as an alliance rather than the punisher. The pain just being information which my Higher Self has decided its time to take a look at. I have a choice. I can forge ahead and ignore what’s going on or I can yield and show my body that I am her friend. It takes courage to yield.
I won’t be hard on myself. For I am not a problem- I never was. Bringing gentle in and on and around my sore body will bring me peace and comfort in a world which does not value this. In a society that puts high esteem on doing rather than being. I’ll do it anyway. Today I choose to bloom. This or better.
Met someone from my past today. Except she clearly, did not recognize me.
I was getting a pedicure 3 chairs down from her. My feet are pretty ticklish so I was squirming and laughing through the brushing, the massage, hot stone massage, etc.. She looked over at me, enjoying myself, and shot me a look of absolute disgust and hate. Leaned over, closer to her friend, “what is so funny, why is she laughing at us?” she announced rather loudly.
WTF? This nasty human obviously had no tolerance for my joy or light. She assumed I was laughing AT HER. How convoluted and strange. At first I was shocked but it still did not stop me from carrying on feeling the joys of foot massage and reacting uninhibited. I’m not about to put a lid on my joy.
Imagine walking around in life thinking everyone is reacting to YOU, that EVERYTHING that happens around you – is about you – and for you? Sounds kinda like a 2,3,4 year old child. She clearly wanted to extinguish my aliveness with violence. The way she looked at me was full of contempt. Like I “DID something to her” just by being in joy and being in the moment. This threatened something in her. She wanted to attack me. She kept looking over to make sure I was not still smiling at her.
She wanted to shame me and tried to involve the clinician who was doing her pedicure. I heard her say, “That’s disgusting” and motioned for her friend to look over at me. I felt them both look over and laugh to themselves. Evil, I’ll tell ya. I so badly wanted to rise up and give her the feeling of powerlessness that she soooo does not want to feel!!!! I’d volunteer…I fantasized about getting in her face and pressing it against the glass, or grabbing her by her hair and dragging her head down to the ground ☺️ but instead, I chose to laugh at the ridiculousness of the situation. She was livid. It tore her UP to see me still enjoying myself. Her efforts to bully me were fruitless. (Stick yer tongue out emoji) LOL and wasn’t she so very comfortable with trying to intimidate and bully people who appear to “defy” her wishes. Yep, that’s me, just running around pissing people off on purpose.
Her life must be a living hell. Imagine the feelings of complete powerlessness, paranoia and terror this “woman” (and I use that term loosely) has buried under all that rage, disgust, contempt and blame.
It is impossible to know what someone else’s perception will be for any given situation. Never assume that someone will react “normally” in a seemingly no brainer situation. Who really cares what someone else’s reaction to my light is. DNnnmnnnon’t let anyone steal your joy, or try and bully you out of it. My foot massage felt great, it tickled me, brought me amazing pleasure, it was a sensual experience. Too bad if someone reacts unfavorably to my feeling of pleasure – not my f’n problem. I’m just having a reaction within myself, it should not cause rage. Her perception skewed, full of blame and projection.Rather bizarre. But we have no control over how other people react to us.
God bless this poor rageful soul. I refresopted out of refreshing her memory and letting her know we actually were on the volleyball team together in high school… LOL Hopefully she stays out of prison.
Finally Friday. Life unfolds perfectly. Live every 5 minutes like you were running out. Noticing. Noticing the wonders, flavors, fragrances, textures, colors, vibrations that imprint your surroundings. Let’s just relax into now. No wishing time away, bypassing sensory lovelies awaiting discovery. Time savored. Nothing is owed to us.
It’s Friday. The temporal boundaries of 24 hours. Hold your Friday experience sacred. Not tomorrow, not next Monday, or next week. Stay right where we are. With permission. Drinking, absorbing, allowing, receiving this very moment. And this one. And this one. And this one. This is the gold. The prize. Honor your curiosity about NOW. If just for Friday. This. Or better.
Being with teens sometimes hurts my soul. Today I am upset with my gag order circumstances. Kinda goes against the grain of my -say it- fabric. I suck at keeping my mouth shut Continue reading “Right Church Wrong Pew”→
When I really sit and observe my cat’s behavior, the likeness to the human condition is uncanny. 2 indoor lovelies roam my hallways. Needing connection, interaction, touch. Space to move around, occasionally some treats. Having a special place to eliminate, exercise independence and privacy. Cherish solitude to recharge their purring batteries. A voice, even if it falls on deaf human ears, we hear it. The ability to have a protest be it obvious or subtle. Nails out, balls out or just a murmur.
Cats never forget when they’ve been wronged. They never forget where good energy, food and preferred textures are located. They know how incredibly soul-healing warm sunshine can be. Acutely aware of the power and benefits of nature as they roll on own anything I’ve brought into the house from the yard. I think we may have the same instinctual/ancestral need to immerse ourselves in nature, cover ourselves with its sensual fragrance, making love to all out-sided-ness. Cat’s are also empathetic, able to detect sadness/depression and act to comfort us when tough times hit. Not making a fuss about our condition, they creep in stealth-like and curl around our worries like a soft, squishy grandma with a glass of warm milk and a blueberry muffin.
They are acutely aware of the need for self-care, above all else. Napping, removing themselves from a noisy environment, staying away from people who are not good for them, using the bathroom when they feel the need, using their voice to get attention – letting others know about their pleasure, objections and inquiries. Owning their favorite “spot” in life and securing a private, secret area to recharge…Caring for themselves, they exude love of self as a normal part of their existence. No permission or apologies needed.