As I sit and reflect on my childhood, I can’t help but wonder how many other children -right this minute- are being raised the same way. Continue reading “2:38 a.m.”
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
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.
We’ll do anything for a good Mom. When there was so much wrong in our childhoods, we need, now, to reparent ourselves and get what we’ve missed.
Bringing loving kindness to ourselves. Validation. Safety. Feeling comfortable really , deeply being seen. Celebrating our Aliveness. Feeling worthy.
Gift yourself these. Get whatcha need. Fill those holes. Anyways.
Picture credit to 9Gag.com
Oh the opportunity to feel, when no-one’s looking. Today I took my sad ass outside to sit by the fire pit. Sweet Grass, Sage, Palo Santo, healing wand in hand. All with the intention to purge, to sit in the fresh air and sunshine. Handing myself over to the earth, to the powers that be. To bear my sadness, grief and hate to the trees and listen for their wisdom.
I light the Sweet Grass, quickly the fire spreads to the Sage and engulfs the Palo Santo. Sweet ceremonial earthy fragrance circles around my tear streamed face. With a turkey feather I assist the plumes around my head and body intending to bebseen in my grief and hate. With the intention of healing the deepest sadness I carry. With the intention of Bird Medicine supporting my use of a home-made healing wand, dispersing the smoke with Hawk, Turkey, Crow and Peacock plumes. The smoke making its way to my body’s energetic centers. Bird medicine feels so right, calling on Hawk or Crow to watch over me as I present my latest emotional garbage for renewal and healing.
I am hit with a wall of grief, to the solar plexus (navel area) with the likeness of being gutted. It arrives in waves of rage and sorrow, guilt and shock. She’s getting ready to die. My Mother. I feel the disruption, the frantic, the reaching. I am questioning my platform, my truth. Am I too selfish? Mean? Demonic? Am I self-protective to a fault? Am I stuck in a battle that is long past? Is there self hate for the parts of myself that are unyielding? Is there love for my unhealed, rough parts?
There are no right answers. There are, though, many haters on this path. When we choose to do the right thing and live our truth those closest to us seem to lose their fucking minds. It’s like you are being asked to live everyone else’s guilt and have to’s and should have’s. Like I don’t have enough of that shit myself. Eye roll. I think that people lose sight of “mind your own fucking business” when someone is suffering. I think it’s “normal” to want to take action and ease someone’s suffering. But stay in your own lane and do your thing. The second you expect anyone to join in on your next best idea this is when you fail.
I am not here to alleviate anyone’s suffering – mental or physical. Period. I am no lifeline or Savior. Lately I feel so distant from my Mother’s situation. I am done attempting to fulfill her needs at the expense of my own mental health. I’ve spent 34 years of my precious life doing that. Fuck that. I vow to my inner child to not give up on her (inner child) and to put her safety and sanity first. I refuse to continue giving up this precious little child inside of me -handing her over to be slaughtered and used. She’s way too precious. EVEN if the slaughter-er is dying. Even if. The threat of death doesn’t change anything for me. Nothing changes. Which shocks the shit out of those around me. It remains me, living my truth. Even if no-one supports me. Even if.
Please let me live with the consequences of not seeing her one last time. Let me feel it. Let me feel the wide open freedom of knowing she won’t show up and stalk me and whisper in my ear “You’re trapped”. Let me know that I will never feel her seductive touch. Let me feel the reality of this world rather than be told lies about everything and anything. Let me be fabulous, and smart, and worthy and just right in my body without someone putting the doubt in my head that I’m too much and should dumb down my glory or that someone ELSE deserves the credit for what I’VE accomplished.
So as the smoke dissipates and my tears subside, feelings of satisfaction and completeness arise. I fill my lungs with fresh Winter air, imagining the breath traveling down to my Winter boots and into the earth. SHE supports me, Mother Earth. Supports my journey and the beautiful mess that I am. I’ve accomplished a whole lot, Mother, without you, despite you. Anyways. Because of your self-hate and baggage. Because of your traumatic disowned past. Because of generational mental illness and sexual abuse.
And what a wonderful existence was waiting for me. Without you. Without thinking of you, without remembering that I even have a Mother. Thank-you for all you’ve taught me about my worth, my ability to see reality and my love for my body. Anyway. Anyway.
As the smoke dissipates. You were wrong. I am amazing.
I knew something was terribly wrong. The desire in me, to bust out to the world with what I knew, was so very strong. I had kept the secret for a long time. Knowing something bad happened, something unspeakable, I could hardly keep from bursting at the seams. Continue reading “Canned Peaches & Custard”
Born into a family of dysfunction, I navigated my world the best I could, hoping to be loved, cherished, valued, held and heard. Instead I was met with disregard for my life, repeated, long-term invasion of my body, my innocence, violence disguised as love, safety/security masquerading as control. All at the hands of my parents and male siblings. I was doomed. A shell of a human. Existing in the dizzying cycle of being tossed around in the surf of life – only occasionally able to take a full breath, surface. Pieces of my personality chipped off, the tide taking them far off, away. Never feeling the ground beneath my feet. Becoming dead inside, broken. Accepting the abnormal as normal. As violence, invasion came over me again and again I became familiar with rage. The rage that was growing inside of me. Rage that would never be recognized. Undercover. A secret rage, thoughts of revenge that would bring a sweet, savory smile to my perfect little-girl face. Continue reading “Just A Shell”