Tag Archives: friendship

Dark Souls Are Not to Fear, But to Love

Darkness

 

These words are not mine but instead, those of a courageous and insightful fellow warrior.  I’m fortunate to find these souls who in the absence of my words coming together to provide hope and compassion, they take over and provide us with comfort.  Please visit the link below to see the full article and more of Matthew’s beautiful writing.

In fact, do better.  Follow his blog and mine.  Spread the word as kindly as you can about the specific limitations and ultra-sensitive delights of a sexual abuse survivor.  We are worth it.  In this age where we strive to embrace the issues of racism, bigotry, violence, LGBT, transgender, bullying, etc., let’s begin by getting to know one another, the history we’ve experienced and the path on which we forge forward.  I’m ready, are you?

 

Dark Souls Are Not to Fear, But to Love

From Matthew Eaton: Writer, Child Sexual Abuse Survivor, Blogger

 

Do you languish in the darkness, or do you thrive in it?

This question lingers in my mind as I recall a conversation in my idle time.

“You know, the stuff you post is dark – really dark – but you’re always coming in here all cheery and happy.”

I discussed some people’s need to make me be something I am not. Instead, I learned a little more about myself.

I didn’t think anything about this statement at the time, but as I worried over it like a priceless possession, I wondered if it was possible the world was wrong and I, indeed, was correct in my darkness.

I live in the darkness, laughing at my disaster.

Dark souls are not to fear, but to love

What brought this post around was recalling a devotional my mother and I read when I was young. We were still members of the Foursquare church in Scotts Valley, and we weren’t the best of advocates to the holy life. No deep bible studies, no real praying or bonding with other believers, but we did invest in small devotionals that were to be ready daily. We read them in the morning.

They were filled with allegories and mental iconography galore.

So what made this particular devotional stand out? It contained the scientific knowledge (and commentary) on plant growth and the toxicity of continual exposure to light.

Since the beginning of my time as a God-ite, I questioned being in the light all the time. The thirst my other god-ites at the time held was rather interesting and confounding. They would shun people going through darkness, in fear the darkness would get into them like some sort of transmuted disease.

Nevertheless, here we were, reading a god-ite sponsored piece regarding the value of light and dark cycles with plants.

This is paraphrasing the work itself: “Too much time in darkness, and the plant withers. It is unable to reach any potential. Too much time in the light, however, is dangerous as well. At first, the plant thrives, but eventually it also withers and dies, burned beyond the point of recovery.”

Full article here

 

 

 


Every survivor. Every voice. Every story.

NMSN14-ButtonThe above words are the tagline of an extremely noteworthy and valuable resource that I’d like to share.

In January 2014, best selling author, Rachel Thompson and therapist/author, Bobbi Parish, both survivors, began a Twitter chat #sexabusechat as a forum for support and healing for survivors of sexual abuse.  With that resource quickly becoming so popular, they teamed with success coach and mentor, Athena Moberg to offer a Google Hangout on the evening following the chat to further process the topic of the week.

From there, these women have formed the NoMoreShameProject offering support, coaching services, publication and more.  Within this project, there are many opportunities for a survivor to thrive, an opportunity which I find in short supply.

I’ve been fortunate enough to stumble upon these incredibly warm, inclusive, determined and very smart!! women.  I’d like to pass this resource on to anyone touched by the issue of sexual abuse, child abuse or family violence.  When we actually begin to find our voice and begin to hold each other’s hands, a miracle happens.  Shame is released giving us long desired acceptance and freedom.

Check them out, grab a hand of a survivor friend and let’s circle the world!

 


what it takes to start writing….again

1604885_10152130171577702_1009583295_nSomewhere around the end of last year, right around the holidays, the bottom fell out of my world. Emotionally, spiritually, physically.  Actually, it had been falling out for over a year but the accumulated stress hadn’t taken its final blow.

It wasn’t the first time or the second but what felt like the hundredth, thousandth, millionth time.  All my coping skills had been used over the last year surviving several huge hurdles and I now found myself with what felt like an empty bag of tricks.

The number of times I’ve bottomed out or the trauma of my childhood isn’t the point of this blog post, its about what I did in that situation.  What I did was succumb. Psychically unplugged from life.  Flat. out. gave. up.  It had won.  I just couldn’t pull myself up one more freakin’ time to stare down the demons again and again and again.  Wouldn’t do it for my daughter, my husband and or for my dogs, which if you knew me is saying a lot.  

After limping through the holidays on about 25% of myself, the final layer peeled off in early January and took my physical health with it.  For months I was gone.  Lost in that circular, downward spiraling, free falling haze.  The demons recognized its frazzled, stressed out host with parasitic vigor.  They seized that opportunity to invade my body with long buried memories of abuse and violence.  They haunted my dreams, robbing me of much needed rest to heal and recover.  They invaded and eroded my skin, giving me huge welts across the backs of my legs reminiscent of beatings with the belt.   My skin itched and burned at the slightest touch, wearing clothes or any contact with a piece of furniture was a challenge.  I lost the ability to be comfortable in my own skin.  I had no where to go.

But mostly, they intruded upon my feminine parts with a vengeance.  The little girl parts that took the abuse, tried to adapt and scar over, the parts that became swollen almost beyond recognition, the parts that tried and tried to stretch but couldn’t….eventually giving way to rips and shreds.  Those parts were the target again.  What the little child couldn’t tolerate at that time, she buried deep and then systematically began to hand back to the adult woman in bits and pieces over the years.  Somewhere in our collective unconscious, we must have bargained. I must have made a deal with her that if she survived the early trauma through whatever means she needed to, then I, the adult, would deal with the suppressed memories and physical sensations later.

And that is what happened.  For weeks turned into months, I rode the edge of the razor’s split.  Burning, stabbing, swelling, searing pain.  Urinary, vaginal, rectal.  My every orifice that was violated contained sensations that rose to the surface.  Over and over and over and over.  The cascade of symptoms was never ending. Urinary swelling turned into infection which spread to my bladder and kidneys.  More crying and screaming than my husband could handle.

Eventually by late Feb, the symptoms began to subside a bit thanks to Marilyn and Betsy, two women energy healers who encouraged and tolerated appointments with me; half dressed in nightshirts due to my sensitive skin and sporting ice packs for my swollen parts.  Week after week, they lovingly helped me on the table and began to spin their healing magic.  We began to make progress that continues at this writing.

That’s the backstory, here’s the point.

What it takes to get writing…. again….is LOVE.  Four women emerged as a cosmic lifeline who carrying me out of the physical and emotional pain.  Four women who I’d come to know online but never met, shared many conversations with over the years, created a small online support group for me.  Just for me.  Each day and often several times a day, I’d come to the group page to see beautiful images, unfailing words of support and love as well as space just to let me be.  It was beautiful.  I nicknamed them the “Fabulous Four” because I’m not sure I would have emerged from those dark depths without having these angels to carry me.  And I’m coming up short with words to describe how it feels to be loved and cared for with this level of compassion, especially when one isn’t familiar with that level of support.  Again, it was just beautiful.

As I plunged to the bottom of Maslow’s hierarchy of needs, my writing and words died.  It was impossible to write, think straight of have any type of creativity when coping with issues of basic survival such as pain.  The bottom and largest portion of Maslow’s pyramid describes needs such as breathing, food, water, sleep.  He suggests that one must be secure in the basic needs before being able to move up the hierarchy.  Creativity is characteristic of the very tip-top of the pyramid and during this health crisis, far beyond my reach.

So, this is my debut….again.  I have scaled the pyramid with the LOVE and support of four extraordinary women as well as my energy practitioners.  My words are coming back as the crisis fades.  I see hope again and crave being present on this blog and with my sojourners in healing.  I’m confident that many more layers of the health crisis will be revealed when the time is right. As the accompanying image depicts, not only have I been lifted from the level of most basic needs, I’ve been infused with the energy of a Goddess-Priestess-Warrior vibe.  The power of our hearts beating in unison, multiplied.  I stand at the top of the pyramid with my arms wide open.  I feel my power again. 

Blessings to the women of Sacred Circle Retreats:  Jackie,  Melynnda,  Joss and  Deanne.  May we nourish the Divine Feminine in each other. 

Photo credit, used with permission from Sarah Durham Wilson, DOITGIRL .


an unexpected moment of peace…..

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Photo credit: An’ Marie at callmeanmarie.com

Peace and joy are elusive to survivors.

We have to learn and re-learn these types of experiences, cultivating the beautiful aspects of life as if we were students in school grasping a new skill.  I’ve usually been able to be kind of a joy parasite (not to be confused with a joy sucker) who gravitates toward frollicking animals, playful children or any group or individual who is just laughing unabashedly.  I watched and learned what this beautiful emotion was and then set out to mimic it.  These situations always felt right and kind to my heart although in direct conflict with my upbringing.  Kindness and love weren’t taught or shown but pathology and self destruction was handed out freely and often.

Survivors as a general rule haven’t learned how to play well or experience peace.  If we did learn to play, what we were probably experiencing was destruction in action disguised as play;  i.e. out of control drinking/drug/food/anger (fill in your favorite addiction or crazy shit here), driving recklessly, giving ourselves hearts and bodies to men that were undeserving of that sacred gift.  So many behaviors were masked as “a good time” that it took decades for me to truly figure it out.

During my high school years, I usually found myself gravitating toward healthier families.  I certainly can’t take credit for this action for it wasn’t conscious.  But I’ve come to believe that living things; plants, animals, people will gravitate toward health and love and I base that belief on some serious reflection upon my past behaviors.  I wanted a better life and in many ways, set out to get one even as a child.

One family I attached to had two parents, 6 children who were blissfully crowded into a tiny house with a tiny kitchen.  Many families grew up in this fashion in my day, no one owned a McMansion or rarely had a bedroom to themselves.  It was customary to share a room and even a bed with a sibling.  And this was the way it was at C. J.’s  house.  She, myself and several other friends grew up in that tiny house; from junior high girls, into high school girls, to brides, then mothers and now grandmothers.  We’ve buried parents, sent sons to war, survived cheating husbands and celebrated our re-marriages. We’ve lost touch and reconnected many times, rarely without missing a beat.  They are my ya-ya’s, my sisters.

I had the good fortune to spend a weekend with C.J.  It’s always an easy kind of experience to spend time with friend from long ago, who knows your stories and your quirks.  We’ve transcended needing to explain things as we just know each other that well.

It was the usual agenda; yard sales, thrift stores, food, playing with the dogs and cats, naps, late night talks with the girls.  Yeah, girls….56 year old girls. All the good things in life.  My last afternoon was marked by C. J. hosting a dinner (and she’s a fabulous cook by the way) for me before I left for home. Her modest farm home was full just as her childhood home was and served as a playground to many activities that day. After an afternoon of swimming with the grandkids, I plopped myself (temporarily of course) on the living room couch where I soon found myself snuggled in and stretched out.

I can’t exactly describe what happened but whatever “it” was, I’ve managed to hold onto “it” for weeks, even sharing the feeling with other friends. Sitting on the over stuffed couch, I found myself sinking in deeply, letting my tension float away and began to absorb the energy of this household. The sheer comfort of the environment gave way to me lying down putting a throw pillow over my face.  I became so relaxed and peaceful that I couldn’t resist  the temptation to surrender.  During the most blissful two hour nap I’ve had in a long time,  I floated in and out of the commotion of the grandkids playing and eventually crying, the miffed off weiner dog’s continuous bark to get back into the house, doors slamming, the phone ringing, the parental and grand-parental units shushing the kids to be quiet as to not wake me and the most delicious smells of garlic and anchovy coming from the kitchen.  It was a sensory delight.  And it was heaven.

The more that the everyday, normal family life noise increased the more peaceful I became.  A thought came to me as I grinned under my throw pillow; this must be what its like to be a part of a family.  It was okay for me to relax, to feel peace, that loved ones surrounded me, even cooked food to nourish me after my nap.  I recalled a long forgotten dream as a child to belong to a nice family.  And that simple gesture on C. J. ‘s part became a truly, magical afternoon for me.

I left for home that evening, after my nap and dinner, accompanied by my yard sale treasures and fresh tomatoes from their garden.  My most treasured gift was the lightness and peace that I felt.

During the 2 hour drive home, I think my heart actually smiled.

An Marie 1ecc9394106646b69ed2a35e726cecc5

Photo credit: An’ Marie

To view other works by this artist, visit www.callmeanmarie.com


So the woman who has danced out of control….

So the woman who has danced out of control, who has lost her footing and lost her feet...has a special and valuable wisdom

 

Thank you Jackie Robinson for coming to the rescue today.  This is the beauty of connection at its best.  One of us puts wise words out in the world, another friend finds them and passes them on.  And so it goes.

As I combed through my inbox, I found this jewel just waiting for me to find at the perfect moment.  From Clarissa Pinkola Estes, Women Who Run with the Wolves

‘So the woman who has danced out of control, who has lost her footing and lost her feet and understands that bereft state at the end of the fairy tale, has a special and valuable wisdom.’

Wow.

I would consider it an honor and privilege to rise to this occasion that Dr. Estes illustrates.  It would be a personal challenge to take those life challenges where I’ve lost my footing and turn it into my own fairy tale. First, I have to fully grasp and accept the feelings that arise from losing one’s footing.  Each time I do, I believe it to be the last and final time that I’m faced with such challenge that completely knocks me off my feet.  Yet again and again, I’m plunged into that dark place where I must face once again the end of the fairy tale.  But now, I’m starting to understand that there is more than bleak, painful acceptance.  I can use the opportunity of the darkness to rest, spin a beautiful, silky cocoon around myself and re-invent myself, my soul and the fairy tale.

This really got me thinking hard again.  There is much dancing to be done.  Dancing with wild abandon.  Dancing out of control.

I would encourage you to visit Jackie’s site, A Heart’s Whisper and especially Sacred Circle Retreats.  These women, among others, in person and online have kept me afloat during those “bereft” times.

They dance with me out of control.

 


I’m the dissenter….

Recently I read a conversation on Facebook where a friend was crying out in pain due to her family shunning her.  Her pleas were confused, angry, sad. By her standards,  she’d been loyal and loving in her gestures toward her family over the years but they had chosen to ostracize her for reasons that they wouldn’t share with her. This challenged many feelings inside her.  She questioned her reasons for staying true to herself, thinking maybe she should have been softer with them, perhaps even more enabling.  Many times she’d reached out attempting to find a common ground with them, something to build a new foundation upon, to no avail. But the bottom line of her pain was that she missed them.  Terribly.  Her emotional loss visits her often.  And I felt her pain even from where I was sitting 1000 miles away.

If you change out the players and setting, you have my exact family situation.  Since my friend and I feel many of the same feelings towards ourselves and our families is probably why we’ve stayed close.   It’s also why this post struck so deeply.

As hard as I try to maintain contact with my family, they just aren’t motivated to return my gestures.  As I’ve grown and learned more about myself, I’ve been able to temper my anger toward our abusive upbringing that we all were subject to.  I, above anyone else, know the deep wounds etched in our young psyches.  I guess I always figured that this fact would make me safe to them.  I understood. I got it.  I was one of them.  Yet somehow, sitting in one of my many therapist’s offices over the years, I convinced myself that if I healed, worked hard, found the solutions for us and held up the light of illumination that they would somehow follow me along that hallowed and healing path.  My fractured reasoning combined with a dogged and desperate approach to enforce my fractured reasoning would result in many, many failed attempts and lots of heartache.

For a while, I was just plain pissed.  After all, I was one of them, how could they turn their backs on me?  I had gone through divorce from an abusive partner, poverty that left me selling my possessions including my car, a child to care for and a tender spirit that had given so much that she’d lost herself completely.  They turned their heads, they wanted nothing to do with me.  When the anger began to wain, the depression ensued, medications were taken, anxiety filled my days with my child.

This was a painful, painful time and the healing took the form of one minute after another, one hour, then one day.  My trust eventually extended to several women friends who gradually over time replaced my family of origin.  We created our own family gatherings, raised our children and moved on piece by piece.  But this was hard, hard work.  And dammit…I didn’t want a replacement for my sisters, nieces and cousins, I wanted THEM.  They were the ones that my heart stayed attached to, they were the ones whose blood my body recognized simply by standing close by or thinking of them.  What I realized is that there aren’t enough curse words, things to be broken or tears to be shed that will make another person return to you if they don’t want to or simply can’t.  And it was in this last phrase that I finally took another step toward healing.

My family can’t be around me.  They just can’t.  And they don’t.

I don’t exactly know why or do I have any explanations as to my conclusion but have had many possibilities given to me by loving friends, sponsors and therapists.  One thought is that I am the one person in the family that left.  I am the dissenter.  Like the little girl in the photograph, she’s the one who is standing up, preparing to separate herself from the circle.

In their eyes, I chose to honor myself, putting my individual needs over the group’s needs, get the hell out making sure that my life and my daughter’s life would never reflect that stagnant, cesspool upbringing that I had.  I had left the cult and the cult like thinking that defined us. Following this line of thinking, my family then shunned me as a religious community might shun those who no longer follow the thinking of the group.  So maybe, we were really just simply a sociological~philosophical~anthropological~spiritual textbook example? That’s the cunundrum, its all of these truths but  it. is. not. simple.  Have I overthought and personalized a situation that perhaps historically has happened throughout time?  Believing I was not unique actually made me feel a bit better.

I search for reasons behind the fact that they can’t be around me.  My friend and Inner Bonding facilitator, simply states that they are too wounded.  Their inner child feels too wounded to be able to give any love back to me at this point and maybe never.  But what does that mean for me?  That I never know them again?  That years go by and people die and new babies are born and the children get married and I’m never, ever a part of this?  I was wounded too but found a way to free myself, why can’t they step up and do the same?  We could lift each other up instead of giving up and staying so stuck, perpetuating the same cycles over and over.  They have the same ability that I did to throw off the blinders and go out into the world and experience other ways of life outside the cult commune.  Wow, look who just showed up!  The angry cheerleader strikes again!  I want to inspire them with my chosen set of values, yet when they don’t respond, I’m pissed.  Hmmm…..

Actually, I’m hurt and sad.  I miss them and I want them whole and happy.  I want to see their children and have them know my daughter.  Then, I’d like to throw in a family reunion where we all have T-shirts printed the same, with a rainbow overhead, while we frolic the day away proclaiming our undying familial love for each other.  Insert my family as interesting, well read, politically moderate and non-racist individuals who love themselves and perform altruistic work for a living preferably with an environmental flair.  And you can see where this goes….off into fantasy land. But since this is reality and the previous scenario is not going to happen, I learn there is absolutely nothing to do about it.  Except to pray for their peace.  And well, there is that acceptance part.

Using my best  DBT (Dialectal Behavior Therapy) skills, I stay as centered as I can and allow the feelings to wash over me.  My mantra being that I must accept myself and my family for who they are and what they can give.  Just accept….with compassion….the place where we are at this given moment.  Send them love.  Send me love.  Breathe.

My niece responds via text  “damn, I miss you”.  She has read the quarterly upbeat newsletter type thing that I do.  Actually she confesses that she received it a week before but looked at it with dread for days before opening and reading it.  That puzzles me but I let it go.  My newsletter is similar to what families send out around the holidays, updating family and friends that they don’t see in person throughout the year.  I’ve chosen this method of communication by default.  Since we don’t have family reunions or holidays together or even Facebook connections, it is my safest, best and most creative way to stay in touch.  The subjects are benign and safe.  This issue was about the dogs in our lives.

Here’s the other thoughts that I try to release from my heart….How can you miss someone and let that be the overriding feeling?  As in, I miss you so much but will do absolutely nothing about it.  I will simply choose to sit here and miss you and deny myself the experience of trying to work things out or even let myself think that I deserve a chance at happiness?  I’m going to tell you just enough to let you know I still think of you,  making the move to reach out and give you a quick, elusive, snippet of love and then yank it back so fast that you won’t even really know it was there.  An illusion, a wisp, a fantasy that can be denied.

I mailed out 12 of my newsletters to my family a month ago and to date, I’ve received one text of  “damn, i miss you”.

Breathe.  Breathe.  Give yourself love and compassion and then extend it to them.

Related articles:

6 Steps of Inner Bonding

Dr. Margaret Paul,  Do you chase when someone withdraws?


awww shucks, another award…

I absolutely love the concept of supporting each other’s healing and creative journeys expressed through our writing, blogging, art, music.

And though I don’t know who originated the idea of giving blogger awards to each other, I think its brilliant.  We, as recipients, know that they are small albeit genuine affirmations created to spread the word of our blogs/art form and raise awareness of the issues close to our hearts.  In my little corner of the world and especially for those of us who are crawling out from under a rock of mental illness, anxiety disorders, depression and chronic illness, these awards make you feel like a rock star.

I’ve had the honor of being nominated for the Inspiring Blogger award from Fringewalk, a very intricately woven blog simply stated as ” A few stitches in the global human tapestry”.  She is as complex as the many issues that she addresses which she does so beautifully.  I always enjoy reading the words from her angle, from her perspective, from her corner of the world.  Thank you, I’m so honored.  Its so cool to feel that people crawling around on the internet have not only found me and my blog but find it inspiring.  Not sure it gets much better.

Rules of the award:
1.) Thank the person who gave you the award with a link to their blog.
2.) Tell them 7 things about yourself.
3.) Nominate 7 other blogs for the award.

Now that I’ve officially thanked Fringewalk for her love and support, I’m moving on to the 7 blogs that I want to nominate.  This is a a bit of a challenge for a bona fide blog-a-holic but here goes….These blogs are ones that I find myself drawn to over and over.  For one reason or another, they inspire me.  And if the recipients aren’t as geeked about these awards as I am or simply can’t find the room on their site to post them, that’s okay too.   I’m just flat out giving them, in no particular order….and letting each of you decide what to do with them based on your situation.

Bone Sigh Arts

Where do I start?  This awesome, woman owned business, produces the most beautiful cards, prints, books, daily quotes, and e-cards imaginable.  But its the sentiments layered on top of the colors that really cinch the deal.  And even more than that, its a forum for friendship, solace, comfort and humor.  And…yes, there’s more…. Terri’s diverse and inclusive nature will draw you in and steal your heart.  Truly a remarkable place.

Wholly Jean

This woman just oozes sweet Southern, honey dripping charm.  She’s a writer, artist, fellow blogger who has provided much needed words of comfort across my computer screen combined with a straight spoken fierceness of a woman who doesn’t compromise her beliefs. Log on to her site, it will be quite an adventure.

Walking in Beauty

Joss, AKA the Crowing Crone, simply radiates love.  When I visit her blog, it feels like coming home to an old friend who has a cup of tea waiting for you.  The beauty of the way she conducts her life and writes of her experiences has given me comfort at some very difficult times. But don’t let the pureness of her heart fool you….she’s a tough lady who has transcended some tough times.  Her book, What I Know About Fibro is a very good case in point of a woman who has turned her life around.

Healing from BPD

A very honest and informative site for survivors and others struggling with Borderline Personality Disorder.  Debbie’s blog is upbeat yet real when it comes to the challenges presented by BPD.  There have been many a day that her posts have been timely and comforting to know that someone out there really understands the issues surrounding this illness.  She promotes acceptance, understanding and coping tools and does a fabulous job of removing the stigma of BPD.  

Raising My Rainbow

I do not know this woman or her son, as in I have never really corresponded with her as I have the others I’ve listed above.  But I’m a regular lurker on this beautiful, creative “mommy blog” about the “adventures in raising a fabulously gender creative son”.  Her words, not mine.  One cannot read this blog without having CJ steal your heart with the credit going to his mother for portraying him in such an incredibly, fiercely loving way.  I suspect that she is nominated for many awards and so she should be.  She is addressing some really tough issues surrounding LGBT children with pure love and acceptance.  And besides that, she is flat out hysterical.

Canopy in the Sunlight

One of my first pals that I met through the Bone Sigh Arts forum, Illuminary is a bit of a willow-the-wisp.  She’s a self admitted kind of a hermit who seems to prefer the sanctity of her studio and musings.  I’ve found her to be witty, concerned and incredibly self reflective. While she may post only occasionally, they are well worth the wait as I always find her words comforting and thoughtful.  

A Heart’s Whisper

I have learned so much from Jackie over the last year.  I must look toward women like her who are consistently graceful and gentle especially during times where my emotions are all over the place.  She is grounding and constant and pure love.  I would encourage anyone wanting to journey farther into themselves to check out her writings.  This is an absolute safe place to be.

PS~~Julie Catherine….You already had this award but I wanted to sneak you in here anyway because I love your stuff too!

And finally….7 things about myself.   This was BY FAR the more challenging task.  Not sure what noteworthy tidbits you all would want to know but here goes….

  •         I feel incomplete without a really cool pair of earrings which is about the only jewelry that I wear.
  •         I prefer the company of animals to most people.
  •         Had my daughter at home with a midwife attending.  Celebrated with a few friends, champagne and ice cream and took a hour   long bath with my new baby.  Probably one of the grooviest experiences of my life.
  •        Got to fly to Washington DC with 30 magnificent women to participate in a march for reproductive freedom. 
  •        Almost got kicked out of the local beauty pageant during high school because I wouldn’t remove my POW bracelet.
  •        For a day and a half, sat with and sang my mother from this world as she passed to the other side.
  •        Consider myself an emotional empath as I’ve always felt emotions stronger than most.  This is a gift and a curse.


Thanks for hanging in during this very long post….but I wanted to play by the rules and give credit to these fabulous new friends that I’ve had the good fortune to meet.  I’m humbled by this award and am so glad to be here in such great company!


My friend Barbarie

hold my hand

This is the reply from a dear friend Barbarie, who was one of the first people i told about being molested…i finally had the courage to tell her what had happened and how i had been writing to recover…it is upon this message that i started this blog and came out…she helped me write my very first words here….

“Grab hold of your inner courage MY Friend! Writing it and sharing is such a powerful tool in that that is how we give our experiences a VOICE that so deeply wants to be heard, acknowledged and shared. You are courageous in sharing with me.  If you want to talk about being scared I am open to sharing with you.  It is so loving to give those parts that want to hide out a voice to come from the hiding. You can do it Sweetie …. Take a deep breath in and let it out and take another deep breath and let your fingers do the talking and sharing. Your Inner Being will sure appreciate it and love you for being so COURAGEOUS in giving her a VOICE that is truly a blessing to be heard.”

This is the kind  of love that I received from Barbarie who has become my virtual friend and confidant, introduced to me by my therapist here in the midwest.  She and I live thousands of miles apart, have never met in person and yet the distance makes no difference when two women have shared so many similar experiences.  I have found that when I meet a woman who has survived assault, rape, sexual abuse in any of its forms, that small talk and other social routines aren’t as necessary.  I tend to dive right in, delighted in the fact that I’ve found someone who gets it and who understands and to this day, I haven’t met a survivor that I didn’t feel an instant connection and kinship with.  

I have that with Barbarie, she is a rare gem of a person and I will always be grateful to her undying support of me when I was struggling with words and not sure what to do with them.  Now that the blog is up and running, I’m even more grateful because together we can continue to reach out to women, victims and survivors of sexual abuse, rape, incest….Thank you, my friend Barbarie…



The Possible World-Life After Traumatization

I’m feeling extra proud today!

In the spirit of sharing the work of a fellow blogger and survivor, I want to thank  Meeka and the The Possible World  for honoring me with a Very Inspiring Blogger award.  Check out her blog, she’s an awesome woman with a lot to say!  Woot…how lucky am I to have all this incredible support!

These awards are a simple gesture but make the day of a person struggling to find and articulate their voice.  I commend her on how well she’s empowered herself and know that she’ll continue to be an inspiration to others.  Plus she’s a funny and entertaining woman!

For the sake of brevity, I’ve linked readers to the post where I thanked the woman who initially nominated me and the 7 things about myself.  Heck, who would want to read that again!

https://rescuinglittlel.wordpress.com/2012/06/27/awww-shucks-another-award

 
Love from Little L   
 
 
 
 
 
 

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