It Hurt So Bad.

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"Woe to those who call evil good and good evil, who put darkness for light and light for darkness, who put bitter for sweet and sweet for bitter. Woe to those who are wise in their own eyes, and clever in their own sight." Isaiah 5:20,21

It hurt so bad. It hurt my mind. It hurt my body. It changed the way I moved in the world. I stopped being free. I needed to cover all of myself - my body, my soul - even my mind. I couldn't be seen. 

I was too scared to let anyone look in my eyes. If they did, they would see the shame, the badness, the horribleness of who I was. 

My body is bad. I can't be seen. To be seen means to be hurt: raped, punched, beaten. Being seen hurts too much. It means being forced to do what what I don't want. Hold your breath. Don't move. Then no one can see. 

It hurt so bad. In hurt my mind. It hurt my soul. I wasn't good enough. I moved in shame. I moved in apprehension knowing the slightest look, the tiniest hint of vulnerablity would result in an unwanted attack. 'Don't touch me. Don't look at me.' I feel dirty. I feel less than human. 

Beaten and shamed, I deserved what I got. That's what he said, his fist shoved in my face. I held back tears that wanted to pour out of me, but I knew if they did, they would never stop; my soul would be flooded and I would drown in their torrent. I need to fight to survive. I need to fight me, to hurt myself to stay alive. 

I have become my abuser. I need to punish myself because they are right. I am bad. So I cut into my soul and I cut into my body, trying to rip the good out, tear the bad apart, desperate to be accepted. 

I watch the red life force stain the sheets, the bed, the floor. My blood. It tells me I am still alive. I can go on fighting. The demons rage in my head, fighting for my soul while I stand on the sidelines waiting to see who the victor will be.
 

Pleasure

"I sometimes wonder whether all pleasures are not joy." C.S. Lewis. 

 I hate cooking. I don' t know how to throw things together to make something great. I eat simple....usually the same things everyday. I grew up not having anyone help me.....teach me....show me how to experience 'normal' eating....or even sharing mealtimes together. And I lived on the streets...runnning, hiding....eating whatever and whenever I could. 

Tonight I bought one of those taco packages because the kids have been bugging me for them. I wouldn't eat it. I didn't like the smell of the taco or of the meat. But the kids went crazy....trying it all kinds of ways, grating cheese....then melting the cheese....my youngest loving the flavour of the meat...both running back and forth into the kitchen to heat up more tacos or get more toppings....squealing with laughter....chattering happily. 

I ate yogurt....mixed with cereal and blueberries...watching them...fascinated with their delight.  There was something about the way they handled the food....their joy....their laughter...experimenting with the different things set out on the table....it all made me feel strange. 

I didn't know what that strangeness was....I thought...maybe I'm still carrying that belief I have no right to 'touch' life....or experience it in ways that bring pleasure. 

"Pleasure." That's it.....living life with pleasure. I don't know how. How do I let go and enjoy an experience.  All I know is how to focus on a goal....a cause....a fight....a struggle that needs to be overcome. 

Pleasure....it sounds foreign....But I want it. I want to experience its freedom....and have the joy I saw in my children. I don't know if there's a step, a transition...a way to attain it...a level that I have no idea how to reach. 

Pleasure....simple pleasure...joy....a new concept to me... a new goal...something I never thought of....never considered....I've been a fighter...fighting my way through life.  

Letting go...trusting the process of life....I wonder if that's it....if that's what I've been afraid to do. Feeling completely safe enough to let go and simply enjoy....

Smile

"Everytime you smile at someone it is an action of love, a gift to that person, a beautiful thing." Mother Theresa

As a kid I learned to read people...watching their faces...trying to detect what they were feeling....happy, sad....worried, angry. I thought if I knew what they felt...it would help me stay safe...it would help me not get hurt. I became so in tune with other people's feelings...gauging my own with what they felt. A hint of disapproval, upset  or even a scowl....made me afraid...forcing me to do something....anything to make it right for them.   

And their look of disgust - impatience...annoyance...triggered my feelings of worthlessness which quickly turned to anger.....causing me to turn on myself.  I  interpetated what I saw on their face...as 'rejection of me.' 

As an adult....I still tried to read people....basing my self-worth on what I thought I saw written on their faces.  Encountering anyone....even a stranger....who didn't smile....who scowled....who looked annoyed or dismissive....I took as rejection.  Anger kicked in and again I turned on myself... cutting and hurting my body in ways that almost killed me.  

I started noticing when someone smiled....it felt different...it felt safe...I felt accepted. Their smile broke through my self-hate....my shame....my feelings of worthlessness.....In some weird way....their smile made a difference.

I've learned I don't know what anyone is going through....I have no idea what they've lived...or are experiencing...Sometimes just a simple smile can made a world of difference to them.  






 
 

Daughter

"A mother's treasure is her daughter."  ~Catherine Pulsifer

My oldest is turning fourteen on Saturday. For the past couple of years, people have been telling me....wait till she's a teen....then things will get out of control. She'll be wild, mouthy....disrespectful. I told them they don't know my kid. I know her....She's amazing....a great kid...a kid who always sees the positive...the bright side of things...the good in people.. She's my tree hugger....the one who wants to protect the earth and wildlife.... and help others and give back in ways that make a difference. 

She's my kid who can fix anything....do mathematics in her head....and create beautiful works of art from scraps of nothing.

But....like her mom, she struggles to make decisions, often doesn't know what she likes or wants and saves her money rather than spending it. 

She's never talked back....and when I'm down....she whispers in my ear, Know Hope and rubs my back and tells me things will be ok. Her and I talk about everything and anything. I value her opinion and the amazing thing....she values mine.  

I'm totally proud of her. Inspite of where I've come from...she's turned out to be an awesome kid. 

When I had her.... I was terrified I would hurt her....that I would do to her what was done to me. I wanted to break that cycle of violence. I spent hours in the dark begging Him to help me be a mom....the kind of a mom I never had....a mom who would love her kids....love them in ways they needed. I had no idea how to do to that. I didn't know how to be a mother. I just knew I didn't want to hurt my kids like I had been hurt. I didn't want them to ever feel the fear, shame and pain I had. I didn't want them to grow up and live on the street, lost, alone.....stoned....vulnerable to every perpetrator of harm.    

You know what? He helped me....He helped me love my kids. The gentleness of His love...taught me acceptance and respect. He heard....He made the difference.

Feelings

“Sometimes my feelings are so hot that I have to take the pen and put them out on paper to keep them from seeing me afire inside....." Mark Twain

I used to be afraid of my feelings. I never knew what to do with them. I would feel someone's pain.....my pain....someone's hurt....my hurt....someone's need....my need and become overwhelmed.  The feelings would grab onto me and hang on....screaming to be released. I didn't know how. I had no idea. I just knew all the emotions churned inside and drove me crazy.  

I tried getting rid of them.....numbing them out...throwing up...ripping my arms....shooting up....anything to not feel....anything to silence their intensity. When I couldn't quiet them....I turned on myself angry for even having them. 

Growing up...it wasn't ok to express anything.....especially fear and sadness. When I started to cry....my parents shoved their fists in my face....threatening I better not cry or they would hurt me. I learned to hold everything inside. I learned to not feel....or at least that's what I thought I was doing. I think though....I just numbed everything out with all the addictions.  

It's taken me a long time to learn feelings are neither right or wrong. They just are. They're there. They come and they go. I don't need to be afraid of them.

I've learned healthy ways to release them....like running in the woods. Feeling the pain in my legs grounds me...and being in nature is soothing.  It's hard in the winter because I can't run....so I write instead....writing  from the inside out....writing from that place where my heart speaks....where all the emotions seem to cluster. 

When I need that physical release I work out with the wii or goofing around with my girls. It's not the same as being outside and running but it's better than hurting myself. 

Feelings - acknowledging them...embracing them has helped me in connecting back to myself and others.

Never Give Up

"Never give in, never give in, never; never; never; never"  Winston Churchill

I've always lived on edge....fighting....never feeling safe..always wanting to hide....needing to disappear. Shame consumed me.....crippled me...made me feel less than human....hideous....ugly....unacceptable.

I learned to fight....to stay alive even though everything inside me screamed to give up...give in...die. Something in me, though, kept fighting...fighting hard...fighting to stay alive....to push back against all the brutality.

I watched friends give in to the darkness.....ending their lives....unable to fight  anymore. I lived numb...aching inside...desperate to belong....desperate to stop the cycle of pain....Nothing worked....nothing could free me from the chains that held me in their grip. Nothing except......His touch...the touch of His gentleness. He did what nothing else could....One touch of the power of His gentleness broke through the darkness....broke through the chains....He was the key that turned the lock and broke through when nothing else could even make a dent. 

My friend died....took all the pills her doctor gave her.  She couldn't fight anymore. She couldn't hang on. She was kind and gentle....but she had no peace....she lived in constant turmoil....wondering why she had to live as if she weren't alive....in torment.....her mind never quieted from the angst in her soul. 

I never knew life could be....fun....connected.....free. I want others who are where I was, to know....they can experience freedom. I learned if we hang on long enough...life changes...the bad can turn good.....But when you're fighting in the darkness....it seems like it will never change....It does...it really does. 

Myths

"The great enemy of the truth is very often not the lie -- deliberate, contrived and dishonest -- but the myth -- persistent, persuasive and unrealistic" John F. Kennedy

I carted the 10 pound bag of potatoes home...proud I had gotten them on sale for just $2.50. Just two potatoes would have cost close to a buck. But by the end of two weeks we had used only four of the potatoes and had to throw the rest of the bag out. 

I was buying things in bulk because someone told me it's a great way to save money. My therapist asked why I was buying so much when we only used a fraction of what I bought. Her words stunned me. I never thought about it. All I thought about was the saving factor.

She showed me the value in buying only 4 potatoes even if they cost $2.00. It was better than paying $2.50 for a huge bag of an item that ended up in the garbage. 

Myths....I didn't know I was defeating the purpose I was trying to achieve. And there's been other things....like going away.... holidays. People said I needed to go away for a full week...even two, but I get nervous being away from home too long. I would end up going away for a week or ten days but spend most of the time worrying and wanting to go home after four.  My therapist said.....just go for four days. I was shocked at her words and wondered,  can I do that? Nobody does that. 

I wanted so much to fit in, to be like everybody else so I tried to do what I thought was right. Growing up....it wasn't ok to have my own needs or think my own thoughts or feel my own feelings. I couldn't cope....so I disappeared. I went away in my head and used dope and threw up and cut myself to be invisible. Learning that it was ok to have my own needs and thoughts and feelings has been really difficult. It's taken me a long time but I've learned.... something may be right for one person...and not necessarily right for someone else. And also, everyone needs to honor their own truth. There is no right or wrong. 

Rights

"Get up, stand up, Stand up for your rights. Get up, stand up, Don't give up the fight." Bob Marley
 
 I never knew I had rights. In fact I believed I didn't even have the right to exist. This week....someone asked me to post only the positive....things about my kids and not the pain of what happened.

It's taken me a long time to speak....to tell what I never could....to own it....to look at it head on and not run. The shame lived inside, crippling....keeping me from living my best life. This past year.....writing...blogging...I could feel the shame leaving. I've learned something through blogging....I have the right to my voice.....I have the right to say what I need....I have the right to tell what happened.

I had been silenced by shame. It did cripple me...kept me stuck. I couldn't look people in their eyes and worse....have them look in mine. I never stayed anywhere long enough to let anyone get close. I still struggle with that...I have to force myself to be with people. But writing....blogging....helps me. It frees me. 

Before my book went to print...I spoke to a lawyer. She told me I have the right to tell my story. I have a right to speak my truth. I have a right to not keep silent anymore. Tell and keep on telling she said.

I need to tell. I carried it alone too long. I kept it secret....not letting anyone know. I can't anymore.

Freedom

"I looked at my hands to see if I was the same person. There was such a glory over everything! The sun came up like gold through the trees, and I felt like I was in heaven. ”  Hariiet Tubman

Harriet Tubman...a slave....knew about being treated less than human. She had been beaten by those who owned her..... not just once....many times. They left scars on her body....and scars on her soul...Somehow she learned to be a fighter. She escaped.....found freedom......found safety. Yet something pulled at her....tugged at her heart....made her risk her life to return over and over and over to help others also know freedom.  

It had been dark for so long...when He finally freed me from the drugs....I walked outside and looked around at the trees, the flowers, the sun, the sky....Everything looked so brilliant...like velvet. The colors....the textures....I wanted to touch everything. It's almost like I had never seen any of it before....

Freedom! It made me see the world differently. It's as if my eyes had been blurred. Everything had been so dark, dim, shaded. I felt like I had been given a new pair of eye glasses that brought everything magically into perfect focus.

Freedom - When I was trapped, a slave to the drugs - nothing mattered except my need to survive from one day to the next, one hit to another. The same with the eating disorder....all I could think about was the addiction....and how to survive. 

I have recieved so many emails and phone calls from people who've read my book...telling me they're finding healing for themselves....and hope for their own freedom....I resisted telling my story. I fought hard not wanting anyone to know what had happened. But now...with every email, every phone call.....I want to tell and keep telling.....I want to help someone else find freedom. 

And I just found out February is Black History month...makes me especially  happy to honor the life of Hariiet Tubman.