Gloom & Doom vs Sunshine & Roses

When I previewed my previous blog entry, I took one look at the picture I had chosen (a pensive girl) and thought, "Gee, that's really depressing."  I removed the picture.  I realized that by  writing openly about the realities of childhood sexual abuse, you could get the impression that every minute of my childhood was full of fear and dread.  And it really wasn't.  The human spirit (and body, I guess) won't let us stay in that place for long. We protect ourselves by hiding the reality away, out of mind and sight, and we find ways to laugh, wonder, imagine, and create.  We find ways to be children.

My brothers and sisters and I went on adventures, climbed trees, and had secrets.  We ran and laughed and fought, like all kids do.  As we got older, we learned things from our parents.  I learned about carburetor's and spark plugs, growing carrots and rhubarb, ironing and hanging clothes, and making bread.  We had friends, favorite clothes, dreaded chores, and foods we either loved or hated.  Yes, the "bad" stuff was there but, in between, there was "good" stuff as well.

I had been thinking about this for some time and was planning to write about it here on my blog.  But, what motivated me to actually begin writing, was a dream I had last night. In the dream, I was at some kind of gathering, like a family reunion, and I was having a really bad time.  I wanted to shut out all of the people and the commotion, so I curled up on the couch and put a blanket over my head (something I've been doing in "real life" some lately).  My siblings were attentive and wanted to understand what was going on, and even my psychologist was there.  I wanted to to tell them how I felt and that there was nothing to fear, but I couldn't express my feelings. I wasn't afraid or despairing, I was just so very, profoundly, sad.  At the end of the dream, someone touched my hand, soothingly, and I immediately had an image of that touch on my vulva.

I woke up fine, not upset, but thinking about the dream and how I might write about it.  I realized what a great counterpoint the dream was to my earlier thoughts.  As a child, I survived by shutting out the fear and pain and, by doing so, I was able to have times of joy and laughter.  As an adult, having looked the monsters in the eye, I no longer need to hide from the the traumas of past events, and I feel pretty safe and content.  But, as my dream shows, the core of the trauma, the reality of it, is still deep within me.  The bittersweet truth is that I will always carry, within myself, both the horror and the joy of my childhood.   

Today I'm very comfortable with my psychological and emotional status, and I'm grateful that I had the help and encouragement to be at peace with myself.  I know I'll learn and change and grow for the rest of my life.  I also know that my past, and all that I've lived through, has made me who I am today.  It's given me depth and compassion and helped to form my own personal style, perspective, and magic.

Life is such an amazing gift.  In spite of all the struggles and traumas, I'm glad to be alive, and I'm very glad to be me!  If you've had similar insights, or if my experience resonates with you, I'd love to hear your comments.

MY DANCE WITH ANGER

Years ago, before therapy, I would tell folks that, "I never get angry".  And I'd mean it.  There were only 1 or 2 incidents in my whole life in which I had raised my voice to anyone.  I couldn't remember a time when I had even openly disagreed with a person.  It wasn't my style.  "I was just an easy-going person". 

However....whenever my therapist heard me say this, I'd get a raised eyebrow, a small smile, and sometimes the comment that, on the contrary, I was a very angry person.  I didn't argue with him (because, as we all know, therapists can see into our souls), but I totally disagreed with him.  I really never felt anger! I just didn't get "mad" 

So........from early childhood, I had been raped, abused, lied to, and manipulated by those whom I should have been able to trust...and I felt no anger!  How could this be?  Why didn't I feel this most understandable emotion? 

One of the reasons is that anger, as well as other strong emotions, was forbidden in my family.  In our household, only a "bad" person showed strong emotions, and only a foolish or stupid person strayed from the family paradigm.  In either the case, the punishment was to be shunned, rejected, and ridiculed.  Even as adults, all of my siblings and I get extremely uncomfortable around boisterous or outspoken people.

Of course, the anger was inside of me.  It manifested itself as sarcasm, "sniping," secretiveness, manipulation, self harm, and sickness.  I was passive-aggressive.  I would guard myself against intimacy and maintain a secret world, hidden even from my own conscious mind, of mistrust, anger, hatred, fear, and silence.  I would look for people's weaknesses so I would have a bit of power over them if I felt threatened.  I was a very angry woman!  It was very difficult for me to admit to this and to and accept this side of myself.  It brought a lot of shame and a lot of fear.  Anger equals bad, right?  If I was angry, I must be bad.  The old family rule. 

Slowly, I learned about degrees of anger and how to manage my feelings and how to allow ever stronger emotions into my comfort zone.  I learned that to be angry at someone is not to hate or despise them.  The emotion of anger passes, it can be resolved. 

I still have a tendancy to turn my emotions inward and to keep my opinions to myself, and I pay for that physically.  My immune system doesn't like that at all!  But, I'm learning.  Most of the time, I like myself just fine.  I even admire myself at times.  I would no longer characterize myself as an angry person. 

But now, unlike before, sometimes I just get mad......for a while. :-) 

Looking in the Mirror

While watching a show on TV this evening I was reminded of a conversation I had with my therapist a few years ago.  I made some off-hand remark about being old and he, in typical fashion, asked if I was afraid of aging.  I told him no, I wasn't afraid of getting old - in fact, I planned to live to a ripe old age as my relatives have been wont to do.  I told him, however, that when I looked in the mirror and saw myself as a "mature" woman instead of a young and beautiful girl, I invariably felt ugly and unlovable.  I said that, as a child and young woman, I had  come to believe that my only value was in my beauty and youth. If I wasn't young and attractive, I was of no value at all - I was nothing. 

It was, and is today, still jarring to see my reflection in the mirror. 

I know that being "selected" by my father and the minister, being used by them to satisfy their own needs, is what brought my young mind to these conclusions.  What I wonder about now is, why have I held so doggedly to those "lies" all these years, after so much introspection, therapy, and healing.  I know the truth -that I am innately beautiful just being myself - so, why is it so hard to let the old ideas go and embrace the truth?

Am I afraid? 

I don't think so. 

I think I'm just "comfortable."  I know that sounds silly but don't we always tend to stay with what we know?  I know that it will take effort to change my perceptions of myself.  Every day I must look in the mirror and make peace with what I see - admire my attributes, forgive my shortcomings, and claim MY SELF.  It's the same with other feelings and perceptions (lies) that were fed to me as truth by my abusers.  It takes work to move away from them and toward the truth.

So, am I lazy?

I don't think so,

In order to survive as a child, I withdrew inside myself and made the best of a bad situation.  I didn't fight, I didn't think, I didn't feel.  So now, I have to learn how to fight.  I have to use my mind and my energy and my emotions to notice and challenge the lies that I took to be truths.  I'm not afraid and I'm not lazy.  But, now and then, I have to shake myself out of my comfort zone and break down the lies and learn to live in my own truth.

I write these feelings as an encouragement to myself, and also as an encouragement to others. I suspect that these struggles are common to all survivors of abuse and trauma.  Fighting for the truth my be difficult at times, but it's sooooo much better than being lost in the lies.  Hang in there with me - we're not alone - and it's worth it!

Avoiding What I Want and Need

Did you ever start out to do some"dreaded" task and then get sidetracked by a completely different chore, like cleaning out a closet or straightening up your music CDs?  I think we've all done that at some time or another.  It's perfectly natural .  We put off the thing we don't want to do by substituting another useful job in its place. 

I've just become aware of something in myself that's related to this idea.  I was recently encouraged to ask myself what I really wanted - what I wanted to be, to do, to become. I had never really asked that question before. I had always asked what others wanted for me.  I had tried to measure up, to be adequate, to produce what was expected.

So, I took a deep breath, closed my eyes and consulted my inner self .  Here's what I came up with.  My body is built to be sturdy and strong.  I want to be that.  I have a playful, curious spirit. I want to play and explore, to make things and do things. My personality is one of giving, caring, listening, supporting.  I want to be that.  I want to draw and paint.  I want to write.  I want to be calm and centered.  I want my own personal beauty to show through.

However, although I love baked fish and fresh veggies, I choose to eat pizza, snacks, and massive amounts of sweets.  My "strong and sturdy" body is overfed, underexercised, and plopped in front of the computer for hours on end.  Instead of taking the time to draw or write, I watch TV with my husband in order to "be with him" - a noble idea, but one he does not require.  I make excuses to my friends when I'm invited out.  I declare myself too busy or too tired to explore new activities.  In other words, I'm replacing what I WANT FOR MYSELF with meaningless or harmful activities.  WHY???

Have I given my real desires the label of  "dreaded tasks?"  Sort of. 

More accurately, I think I have labeled them as "you don't deserve this" or "only bad people want things for themselves" or "you're being selfish" or "you have no right to be yourself."  So, for all these years, I've muddled along instead of enjoying my life. I was believing and internalizing dreadful lies which caused me to fight against myself and deny myself  what I needed and wanted. 

Thinking about what I really wanted for myself was a new experience for me.  I suspect that many (most?) people affected by childhood sexual abuse or other forms of trauma have felt this way.  But, once we see the lies, we no longer need to accept them.  How to challenge these deep-set beliefs?? I think that the strongest way to attack them is by concentrating on the truth.  I'm going to remind myself daily of the things that I really want for myself.  I may have to close my eyes and look inward again each time in order to know the truth, but I'm willing to do that so that I can become ME!!!  All of me--as God intended. 

As always, share your thoughts and questions if this was meaningful to you.

Why MEEE??

Since this is the first post on my first ever blog, I'll start by explaining how I came upon the name MEEE.

During one of my not so uncommon 4:00 am musings,  I was thinking about the things I should incorporate into my life every day in order to feel strong, focused, and confident.  What are the basics that I need for a strong body, a clear mind, and good interpersonal relationships? 

I came up with the acronym MEEE, which stands for Meditation, Exercise, Eating well, and Engagement.  Meditation provides a centering, a stopping of the cacophony of the outside world as well as the inner chatter.  Exercise boosts my confidence, strengthens my body, and keeps depression at bay.  Eating Well makes me feel better physically, helps my immune system, and gives me a sense of control. And, Engagement calls me to interact with others and with my surroundings, drawing me out of my internal world.

That MEEE looks like a very dramatic form of the first person singular (me) is not a coincidence.  It helps me to remember to honor, value, and care for myself throughout the day. 

And, how am I doing at implementing this clever little plan of mine?  Well, like all good plans, it works just as well as I work it!