Monthly Archives: March 2012

shame makes a lousy muse….

in that place again

there are no words

it silences and paralyzes me

visceral cellular memory flood my body

all i hear are the preverbal screams

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i hurt for the women…

Try as I may to steer away from politics, it reached up and grabbed me by the throat this weekend.

It isn’t the political arena itself that disturbs me.  That can be a fabulous forum for learning about others, working for change, finding common ground and truly being a crusader to help those who can’t speak for themselves among many other purposes.  Politics enlighten us to others’ opinions and passions and when used for a higher good can be a liberating venture.

But when the media and political arenas are methodically and maliciously used to hurt, to inflict purposeful pain, to divide people from their place of connectedness with their fellow person/themselves/God, to destroy and mock for the sole purpose of making money or some vile sort of entertainment, that’s where I hop off the bus. 

This weekend I’ve chosen many courses of action related to the “war on women”.

It has been particularly challenging for me not to lose myself when this type of negativity presents itself.  Friday night was spent in a long distance phone conversation while my friend sobbed.  She, like myself and many others, felt that heaviness of pain thrust upon us by a man who succumbs regularly to the urge and addiction to hurt.  I watched another women attempt to be heard while comments and name calling  were flying around on Facebook and while I don’t know for sure, I think she was trying to alleviate her confusion in the spirit of communion. And I’ve raged in my own way.  Mostly I’ve reached out virtually to women I know in an attempt to “hold hands” with them as we sort through this together.  It is a time when I need my tribe the most; to help me find the beauty and purpose that grounds me.

I do hurt for the women; their families, their partners and children.  Wider than that, I hurt for their communities as the ripple of negativity plunges us under.  We hear the word “slut” and it becomes more than just a bit on TV, it becomes personal.  I think I actually felt a universal “wince” as those brutal words were played and replayed.

But true to the survivors that we are, we bob back to the surface, gasping for air, begin to clear our heads and process what has just happened.

And today, we are back.  Still holding hands with each other for support, we slowly start moving again.  We go to our gardens and look for the first sign of growth; some are reading to their children, others are silently praying for a more loving world while others are shouting it out.  Our bodies go back to our jobs but our hearts still hear the faint reverberations of hate.

We sit and hold this pain until its evident that it has passed through us instead of sticking in our hearts.  We again accept the challenge of how to love back in spite of the hurt.


my first nominee for Candle Lighter award….

First, I want to thank bipolarmuse who I’m choosing just to call Muse.

She had the grace and kindness to nominate me for the Candle Lighter award, which was my first blogging award and I am totally geeked about it.  Being recognized by a fellow blogger with the same goal of just trying to make our way through life is just the cat’s meow for me.

As I have no particular illusion of grandeur in writing this blog, it remains primarily just for me.  Following that, its for the folks that I attract along the way who are using every skill they can grab onto to manueuver through life and find their way home.  I am so committed to speaking out about the dark subjects of sexual abuse, incest, mental illness and all its counterparts with my ultimate hope being that this information falls into the lap of someone needing it.  And it lifts them up.  That’s what it is all about for me.  Lifting myself and others up. So, thanks Muse, you made my day.

I’ve thought long and hard about to whom I would pass this award.  There are so many incredible bloggers that I subscribe to (yes, I’m a blogaholic) that fill me up on a daily basis and any of them would be an ideal candidate.  But I kept contemplating (and yes, I seriously over think things) until I figured out that I wanted this to be personal for me.  In this world of virtual friends and wonderful, technological accomplishments, this had to be real for me.

The Candle Lighter Award is an award for a post or blog that is positive and brings light into the world.  

The Candle Lighter Award belongs to those who believe, who always survive the day and who never stop dreaming, who do not quit but keep trying.

There are no rules.

If you wish to, simply accept it and you are done!

You are also free to decline or ignore it.  

Recipients can pass it on to as many nominees as they wish and as often as they wish.

The woman I’m choosing is someone I’ve known my whole life.

It feels right in that full-circle-synchronicity kind of way for us to be in our fifties and bonding by incidents of over 40 years ago. We haven’t spoken in person for years but grew up in the same town, with the same story, with the same kinds of traumatizations.  It wasn’t until and because of technology, the internet and specifically Facebook that we even became reacquainted.  As our conversations progressed, we started a late night confessional of our secrets that had occurred in our childhoods and plagued us ever since.  My heart sank as I heard her story yet I somehow always knew that I wasn’t alone in being a victim of sexual abuse.  To say that it was rampant in my family and community is an understatement.

Our lives have taken somewhat different directions.  Our views on God and faith are blazingly different and our commonalities are huge.  I like to think that our mission trumps any religious or spiritual differences.  In fact, it makes the union that much more beautiful.  She will reach survivors that I couldn’t even touch.  In fact, she already has.  Upon coming out and publishing her own blog, several women have come to her and disclosed their own stories of abuse.  My heart goes out to her calling and to all the little girls I grew up with, sad in their own ways, no one to turn to, unable to speak about their atrocities because no one did back then.  And I mean NO ONE.  She has opened a portal that I forsee many people, male and female, being able to pass through into healing.

This little award doesn’t even touch the respect and admiration that I have for Debbie King Killian and her blog, Reclaiming my Life.  I consider her a true candle lighter.



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