For today's post you will need to click on the following link:
http://www.thenext45years.com/2008/02/five-healing-lessons-learned-from-pain.html
This will take to you the article Five Healing Lessons Learned From Pain that I guest authored for Alex Blackwell at his blog "The Next 45 Years." I thank Alex for asking and giving me this opportunity to expose new readers to my writings. It has been a learning experience for me to write this article, as all articles are. This one was different because as a blog owner, we all have certain expectations for what we want our blog to say. That is as it should be.
I always write my blog articles just like I have written my journal entries in the past. One reason that I write from the "I" position in my articles is because I am speaking mostly from my own personal experience and my own point of view. I feel that it is less threatening for the reader that way.
In writing this article for Alex, my first copy was mostly from the "I" position. Alex prefers and does his writing from the "you" position to get his readers more involved in his writing. Both points are very valid. Both points have their pluses and minuses for the author and the reader.
When Alex asked me to do a revision of my article and use more of "you" rather than "I", I wasn't sure that I could do it. Once I started writing, as most of my articles do, the words started to flow. The finished product also had more information. Each time that I rewrite an article, new information comes in to be included so in that way the finished article is much better than what I first presented to Alex to post.
What I want you, my regular readers to do is to tell me which style you prefer, the way I usually write or this slightly different style. Please come back here to share those ideas about my writing style. Thanks for your input. Don't be afraid of hurting my feelings. I have a thick skin. I wouldn't have asked, if I didn't want to know. I am curious. Growth, even in writing, is about change. Writing this article was a growing experience for me. Again, thanks, Alex, for the experience.
Patricia
Friday, February 29, 2008
Tuesday, February 26, 2008
How Will People Remember You?
Craig Harper from "Motivational Speaker" asks the question what would the people at your funeral say if you died today? That may not be Craig's exact words. That's my interpretation of what he said. Go to http://craigharper.com.au/2008/02/just-another-life.html to read what Craig says. My thoughts afterwards are the reason for this article.
In my comment on Craig's site, I told how my dad's funeral was the saddest day of my life. As a friend of mine said when her mom died, she felt like an orphan on that day. Her dad had died years before.
I can truthfully say that I had no regrets where my dad is concerned. A year and a half before he died, my sister and I visited him in his hospital room when he was diagnosed with a terminal brain tumor. The surgery removed as much of the tumor as the doctors could safely remove. They gave him six months to live. He fooled them and lived a year and a half. When we visited my dad that day in his hospital room, I spoke to his higher self and told him that I forgave him for the incest.
Did my dad use that year and a half to make changes in his life? No, the older my dad got, the meaner he got. He died alone living in a bus sitting on the side of the road. The bus had been converted into a camper trailer. He and a friend (the only friend who came to his funeral) both had a bus sitting end to end next to each other on the property of the friend's brother. My dad's death certificate says he died from alcohol and cigarette abuse. I assume that means that his heart just stopped beating. My dad was 68 years old. He looked like he was 80-90 years old. It took his friend a week to find any family to notify of my dad's death.
Why was my dad's funeral the saddest day of my life? When I gave everybody the opportunity to say something about my dad at his funeral, nobody said a word. I was too numb to think of anything to say. I was shocked that none of his ten brothers and sisters or his mom said a word. It is sad to me that none of the good things about my dad came to mind for anybody to speak about at his funeral. There must have been some good memories from the years before he became an alcoholic.
His friend was angered and was openly critical of me for the way that I handled things that day. I didn't react to his criticism. My thought was that he apparently knew a different person than I did.
I want to share some of Craig's words from his article with you because they are important to me:
"In the context of 'time' we're only on this planet for a moment, and in the overall scheme of things we are but tiny specks on the face of humanity. In a way we're insignificant, but at the same time we're giants, if we choose to be. Of course I'm not talking about our physical size, but rather the size of the contribution we make to others; our brothers and sisters here on the big blue ball. The legacy we leave behind. That contribution may be on a 'family and friends' level, a community level, a national level or it might be something we do, which in some way has global implications. If we operate from the premise that life is ultimately about what we can give, (as opposed what we can get - the opposite of what 'modern culture' teaches), then we begin to move from selfishness to significance. And on focusing on the giving we become richer (on every level) then we ever would have by focusing on the getting. Clever that. Selfish people rarely become rich. Generous poeple - often. And don't assume that people with loads of money are necessarily rich. Many of them are paupers; spiritually, emotionally and mentally bankrupt. Not all of course, but some."
So, my question to you is, "Do you want to live life like my dad where nobody has anything good to say about you at your funeral or do you want to be remembered for your contributions and good will? Do you want to be a real person who is loved and remembered by all because of who you are?
In my comment on Craig's site, I told how my dad's funeral was the saddest day of my life. As a friend of mine said when her mom died, she felt like an orphan on that day. Her dad had died years before.
I can truthfully say that I had no regrets where my dad is concerned. A year and a half before he died, my sister and I visited him in his hospital room when he was diagnosed with a terminal brain tumor. The surgery removed as much of the tumor as the doctors could safely remove. They gave him six months to live. He fooled them and lived a year and a half. When we visited my dad that day in his hospital room, I spoke to his higher self and told him that I forgave him for the incest.
Did my dad use that year and a half to make changes in his life? No, the older my dad got, the meaner he got. He died alone living in a bus sitting on the side of the road. The bus had been converted into a camper trailer. He and a friend (the only friend who came to his funeral) both had a bus sitting end to end next to each other on the property of the friend's brother. My dad's death certificate says he died from alcohol and cigarette abuse. I assume that means that his heart just stopped beating. My dad was 68 years old. He looked like he was 80-90 years old. It took his friend a week to find any family to notify of my dad's death.
Why was my dad's funeral the saddest day of my life? When I gave everybody the opportunity to say something about my dad at his funeral, nobody said a word. I was too numb to think of anything to say. I was shocked that none of his ten brothers and sisters or his mom said a word. It is sad to me that none of the good things about my dad came to mind for anybody to speak about at his funeral. There must have been some good memories from the years before he became an alcoholic.
His friend was angered and was openly critical of me for the way that I handled things that day. I didn't react to his criticism. My thought was that he apparently knew a different person than I did.
I want to share some of Craig's words from his article with you because they are important to me:
"In the context of 'time' we're only on this planet for a moment, and in the overall scheme of things we are but tiny specks on the face of humanity. In a way we're insignificant, but at the same time we're giants, if we choose to be. Of course I'm not talking about our physical size, but rather the size of the contribution we make to others; our brothers and sisters here on the big blue ball. The legacy we leave behind. That contribution may be on a 'family and friends' level, a community level, a national level or it might be something we do, which in some way has global implications. If we operate from the premise that life is ultimately about what we can give, (as opposed what we can get - the opposite of what 'modern culture' teaches), then we begin to move from selfishness to significance. And on focusing on the giving we become richer (on every level) then we ever would have by focusing on the getting. Clever that. Selfish people rarely become rich. Generous poeple - often. And don't assume that people with loads of money are necessarily rich. Many of them are paupers; spiritually, emotionally and mentally bankrupt. Not all of course, but some."
So, my question to you is, "Do you want to live life like my dad where nobody has anything good to say about you at your funeral or do you want to be remembered for your contributions and good will? Do you want to be a real person who is loved and remembered by all because of who you are?
Thursday, February 21, 2008
Let Go And Let God---Al-Anon Slogan
I chaired the meeting for my Al-Anon group last night. It has been over ten years since I chaired a meeting. I took a break from meetings and learned to live what I had learned. I only recently returned to Al-Anon meetings because a friend asked me to accompany her to them.
I couldn't decide what to do the meeting on so I called my friend and asked what she, as a new-comer to Al-Anon, needed the meeting to be about. She said, "Let Go and Let God." This is one of the many slogans that we learn and use in Al-Anon.
I started the meeting with the following reading from Hope for Today, AL-ANON FAMILY GROUPS, 2002, page 320:
"When I heard 'Let Go and Let God' for the first time, it didn't make sense to me. Let go of what? And let God do what? The little I did understand was the futility of my efforts to try to control other people, places, and things. Al-Anon told me I could turn my attention to monitoring myself and my reactions.
I let go of other people and I began to feel some relief. I let go of what others said or didn't say, and what they did or didn't do. I let go of my expectations. I no longer felt a need to be a people-pleaser. As I let go, I found I lived more harmoniously with myself and with others. I began to take more responsibility for myself. I figured if I could accept myself, I could accept other people too.
I let go of outcomes. It was okay if things didn't go the way I envisioned. Sometimes the results were better than I anticipated. It was no longer important that others read from the script that my expectations had written.
As I let go, I learned I could let God. 'Letting God' doesn't mean I abdicate my responsibilities. In fact, I become more accountable for myself. 'Letting God' indicates that I accept my imperfections and grow toward the person I dream I can be. 'Letting go and letting God' means I can enjoy being responsible for what is rightfully mine and leave the rest to God.
Thought for the Day
'Let go' comes before 'let God' for a reason. I can't expect God to do anything if I am still holding onto my problem.
'When we put this slogan to work, we get out of the way.'
How Al-Anon Works for Families & Friends of Alcoholics, p. 76"
I could not have found a better reading to explain this slogan, "Let Go and Let God". The above reading says it all.
"Let Go and Let God" is not about enabling yourself to continue in the victim mode. When I first heard the word surrender, which is used a lot with Let Go and Let God, I thought to myself, "I will not be a doormat like my mother was to my father. I will not let someone else tell me what to say, do and think like my dad did when I was a child." I was in open rebellion to this idea until I began to understand the concept as expressed in the reading above.
Growing up with incest and a father that was a dictator who controlled everything and everybody in my family, I learned from an expect on being controlling. I was in Al-Anon for a few years before I realized that I had become my dad in trying to control. Notice that I said "trying to control."
Control is an illusion. What I realized was that the more I tried to control everything, the more out of control I became. I could not have imagined the freedom that came when I Let Go and Let God and stopped trying to control my world.
You only see the person that I am today. I hope by giving you glimpses of who I was that maybe you will learn from my experiences and not have to do the same thing in your own life. I know that some of you will make the decision to face the same challenges and have the same lessons to learn from those challenges that I did. Some of you will travel down that very same road. I can't and shouldn't try to stop you from doing just that, no matter how painful I know it will be for you. This is especially hard to do if it is my child that I see traveling down this road.
Well, today, I can Let Go and Let God and Let You. I couldn't always do that. I wanted to fix you and your problems so that I wouldn't have to look at my own. Today, I know it isn't my responsibility to fix anyone else. I am doing an injustice to you if I try. Today, I can say, "Have a glorious day, unless you choose to do otherwise." and mean it. What you do with your life is your choice. Today, I choose to Let Go and Let God. How about you?
I couldn't decide what to do the meeting on so I called my friend and asked what she, as a new-comer to Al-Anon, needed the meeting to be about. She said, "Let Go and Let God." This is one of the many slogans that we learn and use in Al-Anon.
I started the meeting with the following reading from Hope for Today, AL-ANON FAMILY GROUPS, 2002, page 320:
"When I heard 'Let Go and Let God' for the first time, it didn't make sense to me. Let go of what? And let God do what? The little I did understand was the futility of my efforts to try to control other people, places, and things. Al-Anon told me I could turn my attention to monitoring myself and my reactions.
I let go of other people and I began to feel some relief. I let go of what others said or didn't say, and what they did or didn't do. I let go of my expectations. I no longer felt a need to be a people-pleaser. As I let go, I found I lived more harmoniously with myself and with others. I began to take more responsibility for myself. I figured if I could accept myself, I could accept other people too.
I let go of outcomes. It was okay if things didn't go the way I envisioned. Sometimes the results were better than I anticipated. It was no longer important that others read from the script that my expectations had written.
As I let go, I learned I could let God. 'Letting God' doesn't mean I abdicate my responsibilities. In fact, I become more accountable for myself. 'Letting God' indicates that I accept my imperfections and grow toward the person I dream I can be. 'Letting go and letting God' means I can enjoy being responsible for what is rightfully mine and leave the rest to God.
Thought for the Day
'Let go' comes before 'let God' for a reason. I can't expect God to do anything if I am still holding onto my problem.
'When we put this slogan to work, we get out of the way.'
How Al-Anon Works for Families & Friends of Alcoholics, p. 76"
I could not have found a better reading to explain this slogan, "Let Go and Let God". The above reading says it all.
"Let Go and Let God" is not about enabling yourself to continue in the victim mode. When I first heard the word surrender, which is used a lot with Let Go and Let God, I thought to myself, "I will not be a doormat like my mother was to my father. I will not let someone else tell me what to say, do and think like my dad did when I was a child." I was in open rebellion to this idea until I began to understand the concept as expressed in the reading above.
Growing up with incest and a father that was a dictator who controlled everything and everybody in my family, I learned from an expect on being controlling. I was in Al-Anon for a few years before I realized that I had become my dad in trying to control. Notice that I said "trying to control."
Control is an illusion. What I realized was that the more I tried to control everything, the more out of control I became. I could not have imagined the freedom that came when I Let Go and Let God and stopped trying to control my world.
You only see the person that I am today. I hope by giving you glimpses of who I was that maybe you will learn from my experiences and not have to do the same thing in your own life. I know that some of you will make the decision to face the same challenges and have the same lessons to learn from those challenges that I did. Some of you will travel down that very same road. I can't and shouldn't try to stop you from doing just that, no matter how painful I know it will be for you. This is especially hard to do if it is my child that I see traveling down this road.
Well, today, I can Let Go and Let God and Let You. I couldn't always do that. I wanted to fix you and your problems so that I wouldn't have to look at my own. Today, I know it isn't my responsibility to fix anyone else. I am doing an injustice to you if I try. Today, I can say, "Have a glorious day, unless you choose to do otherwise." and mean it. What you do with your life is your choice. Today, I choose to Let Go and Let God. How about you?
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
The Last Straw---Support For Victims Of Domestic Violence
You will find the blog The Last Straw at http://thelaststraw.wordpress.com/ . My friend Deb from Deb_Inside sent me to this site a few days ago. Thanks Deb. The Last Straw is a site that says it is for "Support, Motivation, Tips and Warning Signs of Domestic Violence." It is also a site that allows survivors to speak out against Domestic Violence. Rebecca does a great service with her site by giving survivors a chance to share their experiences with other survivors.
Here is a comment that I wrote and left on The Last Straw site:
"Rebecca, your site is offering such a wonderful service in giving survivors a chance to speak out and share their stories. A friend found your site and sent me here since she knows that I am an incest survivor who blogs about my own experiences and recovery.
I never thought that I was a survivor of domestic violence too but I am. My dad was not physically violent except for a few occasions. Most of my abuse other than the incest was from emotional violence and the threat of physical violence. The threat was always in place if we didn't behave like we were supposed to. My mom didn't leave until years after all three of her children were grown and married ourselves. The only reason she left then was because she found out about the other woman.
I got the courage to leave when I was 19. Then I knew he couldn't make me come back. I was a year over the legal age of 18 and considered an adult by the courts. Having the courage to leave was the hardest thing that I have ever done. It took every bit of courage that I could muster to do it. I left without telling my dad. I was going to tell him the night before I left and my mom stopped me. I had just finished my second year at a small community college. A friend from college who was 10 years older than my parents offered me a place to stay for the summer and offered to help me get a job for the summer. I had been accepted into a four year college in the following September of 1971.
My mom waited two days before she told my dad the truth that I wasn't coming home. He came after me. My mom called his older brother who was a police detective. My uncle refereed the meeting between my dad and me. I went home for the weekend. My dad tried everything including threats of suicide if I left again. On Sunday afternoon, my friend picked me up where my mom dropped me off at the community college. I knew that if I had given in to my dad's demands that I would have lived the rest of my life under his control. I knew I would have died and become a shell of who I was if I returned home. That gave me the courage to refuse to be manipulated by my dad's demands and threats."
I had left a letter for my mom and sister so that someone knew where I was going and why. I know that living with the threat of violence is not the same as living with the actual violence. I also know that the damage to your emotions and mind can lead to the same results---feelings of low self-worth and the recreation of the same environment that you grew up in, among other things.
On an inspirational note, I am including a link to the blog of Lyman Reed who has a link to a video that is well worth watching. You will find the video on Lyman's site at http://creatingabetterlife.net/2008/02/17/the-last-lecture/ . Check it out. This is the best 12 minutes that I spent this week.
Here is a comment that I wrote and left on The Last Straw site:
"Rebecca, your site is offering such a wonderful service in giving survivors a chance to speak out and share their stories. A friend found your site and sent me here since she knows that I am an incest survivor who blogs about my own experiences and recovery.
I never thought that I was a survivor of domestic violence too but I am. My dad was not physically violent except for a few occasions. Most of my abuse other than the incest was from emotional violence and the threat of physical violence. The threat was always in place if we didn't behave like we were supposed to. My mom didn't leave until years after all three of her children were grown and married ourselves. The only reason she left then was because she found out about the other woman.
I got the courage to leave when I was 19. Then I knew he couldn't make me come back. I was a year over the legal age of 18 and considered an adult by the courts. Having the courage to leave was the hardest thing that I have ever done. It took every bit of courage that I could muster to do it. I left without telling my dad. I was going to tell him the night before I left and my mom stopped me. I had just finished my second year at a small community college. A friend from college who was 10 years older than my parents offered me a place to stay for the summer and offered to help me get a job for the summer. I had been accepted into a four year college in the following September of 1971.
My mom waited two days before she told my dad the truth that I wasn't coming home. He came after me. My mom called his older brother who was a police detective. My uncle refereed the meeting between my dad and me. I went home for the weekend. My dad tried everything including threats of suicide if I left again. On Sunday afternoon, my friend picked me up where my mom dropped me off at the community college. I knew that if I had given in to my dad's demands that I would have lived the rest of my life under his control. I knew I would have died and become a shell of who I was if I returned home. That gave me the courage to refuse to be manipulated by my dad's demands and threats."
I had left a letter for my mom and sister so that someone knew where I was going and why. I know that living with the threat of violence is not the same as living with the actual violence. I also know that the damage to your emotions and mind can lead to the same results---feelings of low self-worth and the recreation of the same environment that you grew up in, among other things.
On an inspirational note, I am including a link to the blog of Lyman Reed who has a link to a video that is well worth watching. You will find the video on Lyman's site at http://creatingabetterlife.net/2008/02/17/the-last-lecture/ . Check it out. This is the best 12 minutes that I spent this week.
Tuesday, February 12, 2008
My Mom---The Silent Parent
Today is my mom's birthday. She was born on February 12, 1931. She died on November 20, 1998. She would be 77 years old if she were still alive. I feel sad that she died so young. It will be 10 years since her death on November 20, 2008. Sometimes I remember her birthday, like today. Other years it slips by and then I remember, "Oh yeah, February 12 was Mom's birthday. I totally missed it this year."
Mom was born as the ninth child and baby of the family to a farmer and his wife. I am told that she was the apple of her daddy's eye as most baby girls are. My grandfather was in his 50's when Mom was born and my grandmother was 33 years old when she had her last baby. Mom weighed 12 pounds when she was born. Mom had already lost her oldest sister who was 18 when she died of tuberculosis. Her sister Maggie nursed a couple who had tuberculosis. Maggie caught it and died before my mom was ever born. Mom's two oldest brothers died before Mom was born also. One died of appendicitis and the other somehow as a baby climbed into a fireplace and burned to death. Mom's other three brothers and two sisters were all much older than she was. She was essentially raised as an only child. The sister closest to Mom in age was 10 years old when Mom was born. Mom quit school in the seventh grade when she thought she was going to be failed for missing too much school that year because of a major illness.
I was raised knowing, sensing, that my mother and grandmother loved each other and were angry with each other. I have discussed that in another one of my articles Family Generational Patterns of Behavior found at http://patriciasingleton.blogspot.com/2007/12/family-generational-patterns-of.html . My grandfather died in September of 1953 when I was two years old so I don't remember him. I did have a very special bond with my grandmother. When I was two years old and got the whooping cough, my grandmother took care of me so that my brother who was a baby wouldn't get it too. That is another story.
I have told you all of this to give you some background information about my mother.
The mother that I grew up with was silent and detached from her life, her emotions and her husband and children. When I was three years old, I knew that my mother didn't feel anything. At that time, I remember making the decision to be her protector. She was never mine, other than allowing me to be born.
When I got into Al-Anon, I found out that Mom use passive-aggressive behavior to express quite eloquently how she felt about everything---ANGRY. My dad was the dictator. My mom was the follower who never questioned his decision and never made any decisions on her own. When we asked her a question, it was always, "Go ask your dad." or "I'll have to ask your dad." She was not allowed to work outside of the home, outside of Dad's influence, except for two weeks that she worked in a sandwich factory when I was seven years old. That may have been to help pay for a week in the hospital when my dad got sick. She wasn't allowed to get another job until I was a Senior in high school. My brother and sister and I were never allowed to work either until we each left home.
No one really knew my mom. She didn't have any friends that weren't my dad's friends. Our family lived totally under my dad's control. As my title says, mom was the silent parent. I loved my mom and I always told myself that she loved me. It was so important that I hold on to that belief. I needed to feel that one of my parents loved me. I didn't believe that my dad did since he molested me. I kept silent myself for a lot of years because I didn't want to hurt my mom. Rmember, I had been her self-appointed protector since the age of three. By the time that I was 11 and the incest started, it was an ingrained habit for me. Protect my mom at all costs. I always put her feelings above mine.
I continued to protect my mom, even as an adult. My mom ended their marriage when she found out about my dad's girlfriend. They were divorced when I was 32 years old. I talked with my husband and he agreed that I could bring Mom to live with us. I took my protecting her to the next level. I told myself that finally she would love me if I told care of her by bringing her into my home. I was truly co-dependent. I learned that in Al-Anon too. She lived with us for 14 years.
Four years before Mom died, I was healthy enough in recovery to bless her and let her go. She moved in with my sister and lived with her for four years. A few months before her death, Mom finally got a place of her own. She loved it. I did my mom and myself both a disservice by telling her she was going to live with us. Desperation does that to a person. I was so desperate for my mother's love that I would settle for whatever I could get. I have actually said that I would settle for her physical presence if I couldn't have her love.
I have worked to forgive my mom and myself for the parts that each of us played in my life.
Here is a poem that my friend Sherryl gave me when Mom died in 1998. I will end this article with it. It states the way that I always wanted my relationship with my mom to be. The reality is that it never was. Today, I am ok with that.
Happy Birthday, Mom.
(I don't know the source that originally wrote this poem. Thank you to whoever you are.)
Remembering Mama
In the evening, by the twilight
Alone in your old rocking chair
I remember Mama
And the silver in her hair.
I remember all the stories
She used to tell me,
When I was but a little girl
Sitting on her knee.
I remember Mama
When I'd have bad dreams at night.
How she kissed away night tears and fears,
She took away my fright.
But now she's gone to be with Jesus,
In the city streets paved of gold.
The old home place seems empty,
So rustic and cold.
But I know wherever Mama's at,
She's happy as can be.
I remember Mama.
And she'll remember me.
In Memory of Cordelia Caldwell, 1931 - 1998
I love you, Mom.
Patricia
Mom was born as the ninth child and baby of the family to a farmer and his wife. I am told that she was the apple of her daddy's eye as most baby girls are. My grandfather was in his 50's when Mom was born and my grandmother was 33 years old when she had her last baby. Mom weighed 12 pounds when she was born. Mom had already lost her oldest sister who was 18 when she died of tuberculosis. Her sister Maggie nursed a couple who had tuberculosis. Maggie caught it and died before my mom was ever born. Mom's two oldest brothers died before Mom was born also. One died of appendicitis and the other somehow as a baby climbed into a fireplace and burned to death. Mom's other three brothers and two sisters were all much older than she was. She was essentially raised as an only child. The sister closest to Mom in age was 10 years old when Mom was born. Mom quit school in the seventh grade when she thought she was going to be failed for missing too much school that year because of a major illness.
I was raised knowing, sensing, that my mother and grandmother loved each other and were angry with each other. I have discussed that in another one of my articles Family Generational Patterns of Behavior found at http://patriciasingleton.blogspot.com/2007/12/family-generational-patterns-of.html . My grandfather died in September of 1953 when I was two years old so I don't remember him. I did have a very special bond with my grandmother. When I was two years old and got the whooping cough, my grandmother took care of me so that my brother who was a baby wouldn't get it too. That is another story.
I have told you all of this to give you some background information about my mother.
The mother that I grew up with was silent and detached from her life, her emotions and her husband and children. When I was three years old, I knew that my mother didn't feel anything. At that time, I remember making the decision to be her protector. She was never mine, other than allowing me to be born.
When I got into Al-Anon, I found out that Mom use passive-aggressive behavior to express quite eloquently how she felt about everything---ANGRY. My dad was the dictator. My mom was the follower who never questioned his decision and never made any decisions on her own. When we asked her a question, it was always, "Go ask your dad." or "I'll have to ask your dad." She was not allowed to work outside of the home, outside of Dad's influence, except for two weeks that she worked in a sandwich factory when I was seven years old. That may have been to help pay for a week in the hospital when my dad got sick. She wasn't allowed to get another job until I was a Senior in high school. My brother and sister and I were never allowed to work either until we each left home.
No one really knew my mom. She didn't have any friends that weren't my dad's friends. Our family lived totally under my dad's control. As my title says, mom was the silent parent. I loved my mom and I always told myself that she loved me. It was so important that I hold on to that belief. I needed to feel that one of my parents loved me. I didn't believe that my dad did since he molested me. I kept silent myself for a lot of years because I didn't want to hurt my mom. Rmember, I had been her self-appointed protector since the age of three. By the time that I was 11 and the incest started, it was an ingrained habit for me. Protect my mom at all costs. I always put her feelings above mine.
I continued to protect my mom, even as an adult. My mom ended their marriage when she found out about my dad's girlfriend. They were divorced when I was 32 years old. I talked with my husband and he agreed that I could bring Mom to live with us. I took my protecting her to the next level. I told myself that finally she would love me if I told care of her by bringing her into my home. I was truly co-dependent. I learned that in Al-Anon too. She lived with us for 14 years.
Four years before Mom died, I was healthy enough in recovery to bless her and let her go. She moved in with my sister and lived with her for four years. A few months before her death, Mom finally got a place of her own. She loved it. I did my mom and myself both a disservice by telling her she was going to live with us. Desperation does that to a person. I was so desperate for my mother's love that I would settle for whatever I could get. I have actually said that I would settle for her physical presence if I couldn't have her love.
I have worked to forgive my mom and myself for the parts that each of us played in my life.
Here is a poem that my friend Sherryl gave me when Mom died in 1998. I will end this article with it. It states the way that I always wanted my relationship with my mom to be. The reality is that it never was. Today, I am ok with that.
Happy Birthday, Mom.
(I don't know the source that originally wrote this poem. Thank you to whoever you are.)
Remembering Mama
In the evening, by the twilight
Alone in your old rocking chair
I remember Mama
And the silver in her hair.
I remember all the stories
She used to tell me,
When I was but a little girl
Sitting on her knee.
I remember Mama
When I'd have bad dreams at night.
How she kissed away night tears and fears,
She took away my fright.
But now she's gone to be with Jesus,
In the city streets paved of gold.
The old home place seems empty,
So rustic and cold.
But I know wherever Mama's at,
She's happy as can be.
I remember Mama.
And she'll remember me.
In Memory of Cordelia Caldwell, 1931 - 1998
I love you, Mom.
Patricia
Sunday, February 10, 2008
Testing Of Your Faith, Patience And Surrender---India Trip
In the book With Love Man Is God written by Dr. Samuel H. Sandweiss, Dr. Sandweiss says, ". . . Swami waits until the last minute to test patience, faith, and surrender."
I found this to be true for myself with my sinus infection last October in India.
When you are a visitor at the ashram, many people are hopeful of getting a personal interview with Sai Baba. Baba says to desire an "inner" view instead of an interview. He says an inner view is much more important.
For me, the inner views always come as a voice that I hear in my head. I have learned to listen for that voice. I guess you could say that mine are inner talks instead of inner views. I rarely see anything.
As it got closer to time for us to leave India, I started to get concerned because my ears were still stopped up with fluid behind the drums. I have a friend whose ear drums burst from flying to Connecticut for Christmas a few years ago because she had fluid behind her ear drums. She wasn't allowed to fly home at the end of her visit. She had to rent a car and drive home to Arkansas.
I didn't have that option. You can't drive from India to Arkansas. A voice told me that when it was time to fly home, I would be fine. I had to trust that voice instead of listen to my own voice of fear and doubt. I had to fly home.
We left the ashram on the morning of October 14 for our three hour drive back to Bangalore where we would fly out about 2:00 a.m. on the morning of October 15. On the trip to Bangalore, I was feeling better until my friend Sherryl bought some Indian potato chips. She shared them with me and our two drivers. I took one bite, the pepper hit the back of my throat and I swear I coughed non-stop for at least five minutes or more. It seemed like forever. I frightened our two drivers because I couldn't stop. I was concerned because I didn't want to cough during our 22 hour + flight home.
When we got to Bangalore, we checked into our hotel and had a late lunch. Sherryl did Reiki on my head and lungs when I got a migraine and started coughing again. We took showers and slept the afternoon away. I still had fluid behind my ear drums.
We set our clock for 7:00 p.m., got dressed and ordered in a late dinner. We watched a little India TV which is a treat in itself. We were at the airport shortly before 11:00 p.m. to give us plenty of time to get through airport security and immigration with our passports. Our only hassle was when a bus boy wanted much too much money for helping with our luggage. Baba gave me a lesson in being firm about the cost. I was proud of myself that I didn't get taken advantage of.
At 2:00 a.m., we were seated on the plane waiting for takeoff which was late. In India, everybody runs on a different time than in the USA. You get used to it quickly. My ears were stopped up and I knew I still had fluid behind my ear drums. I couldn't hear everything that the airline personel said over the intercom because of it. I didn't get stressed about it. I learned a long time ago that worry does no good. Worry just adds more stress to an already stressful situation so why worry.
I believed what the voice told me. As the plane finally started to take off, a voice told me to Reiki my ears on takeoffs and landings and I would be fine. I know I looked strange to several fellow passengers.
Sherryl later told me that the young girl that was sitting across the isle and slightly ahead of us obviously thought I looked strange. She would stare. I didn't care. I was busy doing what I had been told to do. I Reikied my ears. I still had fluid behind my ear drums and I didn't have the first pain the entire trip. My ears did pop a lot but I had no pain at all.
As I was told the week before the flight home, I was fine and able to fly home. My ear drums did not burst. I did not cough once during the flight home. I did cough for two days after I got home before the cough went away on its own.
So, you could say that I agree with Dr. Sandweiss's statement that Swami does try our patience, faith, and our ability to surrender with challenges that are presented to us by Life and other people. I knew when I read those words that it was time to write about this experience of mine.
I found this to be true for myself with my sinus infection last October in India.
When you are a visitor at the ashram, many people are hopeful of getting a personal interview with Sai Baba. Baba says to desire an "inner" view instead of an interview. He says an inner view is much more important.
For me, the inner views always come as a voice that I hear in my head. I have learned to listen for that voice. I guess you could say that mine are inner talks instead of inner views. I rarely see anything.
As it got closer to time for us to leave India, I started to get concerned because my ears were still stopped up with fluid behind the drums. I have a friend whose ear drums burst from flying to Connecticut for Christmas a few years ago because she had fluid behind her ear drums. She wasn't allowed to fly home at the end of her visit. She had to rent a car and drive home to Arkansas.
I didn't have that option. You can't drive from India to Arkansas. A voice told me that when it was time to fly home, I would be fine. I had to trust that voice instead of listen to my own voice of fear and doubt. I had to fly home.
We left the ashram on the morning of October 14 for our three hour drive back to Bangalore where we would fly out about 2:00 a.m. on the morning of October 15. On the trip to Bangalore, I was feeling better until my friend Sherryl bought some Indian potato chips. She shared them with me and our two drivers. I took one bite, the pepper hit the back of my throat and I swear I coughed non-stop for at least five minutes or more. It seemed like forever. I frightened our two drivers because I couldn't stop. I was concerned because I didn't want to cough during our 22 hour + flight home.
When we got to Bangalore, we checked into our hotel and had a late lunch. Sherryl did Reiki on my head and lungs when I got a migraine and started coughing again. We took showers and slept the afternoon away. I still had fluid behind my ear drums.
We set our clock for 7:00 p.m., got dressed and ordered in a late dinner. We watched a little India TV which is a treat in itself. We were at the airport shortly before 11:00 p.m. to give us plenty of time to get through airport security and immigration with our passports. Our only hassle was when a bus boy wanted much too much money for helping with our luggage. Baba gave me a lesson in being firm about the cost. I was proud of myself that I didn't get taken advantage of.
At 2:00 a.m., we were seated on the plane waiting for takeoff which was late. In India, everybody runs on a different time than in the USA. You get used to it quickly. My ears were stopped up and I knew I still had fluid behind my ear drums. I couldn't hear everything that the airline personel said over the intercom because of it. I didn't get stressed about it. I learned a long time ago that worry does no good. Worry just adds more stress to an already stressful situation so why worry.
I believed what the voice told me. As the plane finally started to take off, a voice told me to Reiki my ears on takeoffs and landings and I would be fine. I know I looked strange to several fellow passengers.
Sherryl later told me that the young girl that was sitting across the isle and slightly ahead of us obviously thought I looked strange. She would stare. I didn't care. I was busy doing what I had been told to do. I Reikied my ears. I still had fluid behind my ear drums and I didn't have the first pain the entire trip. My ears did pop a lot but I had no pain at all.
As I was told the week before the flight home, I was fine and able to fly home. My ear drums did not burst. I did not cough once during the flight home. I did cough for two days after I got home before the cough went away on its own.
So, you could say that I agree with Dr. Sandweiss's statement that Swami does try our patience, faith, and our ability to surrender with challenges that are presented to us by Life and other people. I knew when I read those words that it was time to write about this experience of mine.
Saturday, February 9, 2008
Child Abuse Prevention Websites
Thanks to Deb of Deb_Inside for furnishing the websites that you will find posted here in this article and also in my Blog Roll under the title of Blogs About Healing From Sexual Abuse.
Deb has a wonderful site of her own that she writes inspiring and uplifting articles found at
http://deb_inside.typepad.com/ . Deb has become a wonderful friend over the past few months. Thanks for the research that you did to find these sites for me, Deb.
Sites with information about Child Sexual Abuse:
http://childmolestationprevention.org/
http://www.stopitnow.org/index.html
http://www.survivorshealingcenter.org/
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Child_abuse - Definition of Child Abuse
One more site that I want to introduce you to is found at
http://teddytour.com.au .
Please help us stop Child Sexual Abuse before it can happen to another child, maybe even your own child, by becoming informed.
Deb has a wonderful site of her own that she writes inspiring and uplifting articles found at
http://deb_inside.typepad.com/ . Deb has become a wonderful friend over the past few months. Thanks for the research that you did to find these sites for me, Deb.
Sites with information about Child Sexual Abuse:
http://childmolestationprevention.org/
http://www.stopitnow.org/index.html
http://www.survivorshealingcenter.org/
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Child_abuse - Definition of Child Abuse
One more site that I want to introduce you to is found at
http://teddytour.com.au .
Please help us stop Child Sexual Abuse before it can happen to another child, maybe even your own child, by becoming informed.
Wednesday, February 6, 2008
A Day In The Life Of An Incest Survivor
Daybreak - Meditations For Women Survivors Of Sexual Abuse written by Maureen Brady and copyrighted in 1991 is one of the books that helped me to heal from my incest issues. I would highly recommend it to any survivor of sexual abuse to use in your healing.
From Daybreak February 5 reading:
"As I go through changes, I notice how much more readily I see gifts and opportunities than I did before beginning to heal.
Change is not easy for us. We want something to hold steady. We have difficulty reconciling with the notion that all life is dynamic and that things change. Much of our pain comes from our resistance. 'Oh, please, please, don't let this be so,' we plead when we've been given information we know will have to be absorbed. We may have started crying out like this at the time of our abuse, hoping that we could put up a shield that would let us cling to the sense of safety we had before.
In my healing I realize I can turn my forces to being a participant in change rather than a resister to it. I discard old notions of how long a change will require me to suffer. I discover there is excitement in change that I no longer need to push away. I remain present for my life today and look forward to and appreciate change as part of my unfolding."
As I read the above page from Maureen Brady's book, my mind went back to images of the first time when I was 11 years old that my dad raped me in the hayloft of the dairy barn where he worked.
The whole experience was surreal - like it was happening to someone else. This was about two months after I had been molested by an uncle - my mother's oldest brother. My mind could not accept that it was happening again and, most important, that my own father was the one doing it.
As Maureen Brady quotes above, a part of my mind was saying, "Oh, please, please, don't let this be so." The shock is so much to handle, especially if you are a child. I can easily understand how some children split into different personalities in order to deal with the physical and emotional pain of this betrayal and ravaging of your physical body.
My way of dealing with it was to go inside of my head. I would close my eyes so that I wouldn't see what was happening. I would go inside with my thoughts. It was many, many years before I reconnected with my body. I never made a sound, no matter how much I was hurting physically or emotionally. With my ears, I would become so hyper-vigilant to sounds around me because I was so afraid that someone would come and see what was happening. I didn't see that discovery as a way to stop the abuse. I saw it as everyone then would know my shame. My fear of discovery was so intense that I would feel sick to my stomach.
I feel that today just writing these words. No matter how much work I do to release the shame, a part of me still carries that shame even though I know I did nothing wrong.
What surprises me as I am writing this is the intensity of the feelings that I feel right now bubbling to the surface. It is difficult to let myself feel these feelings in my body. For so many years, I refused to feel anything. My first reaction to these feelings is to stop breathing. I have to force myself to breathe. Breathing tends to stop when I am in the middle of these intense emotions.
I want to be real and stay with the emotions but I can't. My stomach hurts. I want to throw up. I have to stop. I don't know how to deal with what I am feeling.
This is a day in the life of a survivor who is making an attempt to reclaim her life as healthy and worth living. Sometimes she can do the necessary work and sometimes all she can do is run away from the feelings. I honor any survivor who reads this. I honor the support of my many friends who have been there for me as I do my own work.
From Daybreak February 5 reading:
"As I go through changes, I notice how much more readily I see gifts and opportunities than I did before beginning to heal.
Change is not easy for us. We want something to hold steady. We have difficulty reconciling with the notion that all life is dynamic and that things change. Much of our pain comes from our resistance. 'Oh, please, please, don't let this be so,' we plead when we've been given information we know will have to be absorbed. We may have started crying out like this at the time of our abuse, hoping that we could put up a shield that would let us cling to the sense of safety we had before.
In my healing I realize I can turn my forces to being a participant in change rather than a resister to it. I discard old notions of how long a change will require me to suffer. I discover there is excitement in change that I no longer need to push away. I remain present for my life today and look forward to and appreciate change as part of my unfolding."
As I read the above page from Maureen Brady's book, my mind went back to images of the first time when I was 11 years old that my dad raped me in the hayloft of the dairy barn where he worked.
The whole experience was surreal - like it was happening to someone else. This was about two months after I had been molested by an uncle - my mother's oldest brother. My mind could not accept that it was happening again and, most important, that my own father was the one doing it.
As Maureen Brady quotes above, a part of my mind was saying, "Oh, please, please, don't let this be so." The shock is so much to handle, especially if you are a child. I can easily understand how some children split into different personalities in order to deal with the physical and emotional pain of this betrayal and ravaging of your physical body.
My way of dealing with it was to go inside of my head. I would close my eyes so that I wouldn't see what was happening. I would go inside with my thoughts. It was many, many years before I reconnected with my body. I never made a sound, no matter how much I was hurting physically or emotionally. With my ears, I would become so hyper-vigilant to sounds around me because I was so afraid that someone would come and see what was happening. I didn't see that discovery as a way to stop the abuse. I saw it as everyone then would know my shame. My fear of discovery was so intense that I would feel sick to my stomach.
I feel that today just writing these words. No matter how much work I do to release the shame, a part of me still carries that shame even though I know I did nothing wrong.
What surprises me as I am writing this is the intensity of the feelings that I feel right now bubbling to the surface. It is difficult to let myself feel these feelings in my body. For so many years, I refused to feel anything. My first reaction to these feelings is to stop breathing. I have to force myself to breathe. Breathing tends to stop when I am in the middle of these intense emotions.
I want to be real and stay with the emotions but I can't. My stomach hurts. I want to throw up. I have to stop. I don't know how to deal with what I am feeling.
This is a day in the life of a survivor who is making an attempt to reclaim her life as healthy and worth living. Sometimes she can do the necessary work and sometimes all she can do is run away from the feelings. I honor any survivor who reads this. I honor the support of my many friends who have been there for me as I do my own work.
Tuesday, February 5, 2008
104 Subscribers
Today I am celebrating. Feedburner is showing that I have 104 subscribers + 21 reach. I still haven't figured out what the Reach numbers stand for. These are the figures for Monday, February 4, 2008. The Feedburner figures are always a day behind. I have been watching my subscriber numbers steadily climb closer to 100 for the past 2 weeks. Finally today I made it and then a few more. Hooray!!!! I have a total of 4,321 reader views of the 79 articles that I have written since June 1, 2007. On Monday, Feedburner showed that I had 79 views of those articles. The highest reader views in one day were 108.
I just wanted to say Thank You to all of my readers and to all of the new friends that I have made in the past year because of my blog. I am loving all of the comments that you, my readers, are writing at the end of my posts. Thank You for adding to my message with your comments. You comments add wisdom to my words. Sometimes, it adds a totally different opinion or a different way of looking at things. That is great. I don't expect everyone to agree with everything I say. That would be boring.
Sometimes, your comments remind me to be humble. Sometimes, your comments bring tears to my eyes and joy to my heart. Sometimes, your comments make me proud of the work that I am doing.
I just wanted to take a few moments to share my joy with you. Thanks for coming into my life.
I just wanted to say Thank You to all of my readers and to all of the new friends that I have made in the past year because of my blog. I am loving all of the comments that you, my readers, are writing at the end of my posts. Thank You for adding to my message with your comments. You comments add wisdom to my words. Sometimes, it adds a totally different opinion or a different way of looking at things. That is great. I don't expect everyone to agree with everything I say. That would be boring.
Sometimes, your comments remind me to be humble. Sometimes, your comments bring tears to my eyes and joy to my heart. Sometimes, your comments make me proud of the work that I am doing.
I just wanted to take a few moments to share my joy with you. Thanks for coming into my life.
Sunday, February 3, 2008
Welcome To My Dark Side
Fear keeps me stuck.
Laziness keeps me stuck.
Indecision keeps me stuck.
Inactivity due to Lack of committment keeps me stuck.
All of the above are parts of my dark side, the part of me that doesn't live in the Light. What Light is this, you ask? The Light of Love.
Having a dark side is not a bad thing, in and of itself. Letting it run your life is. Giving into fear, laziness, indecision and inactivity are not good things, not if you want to move forward in life, not if you want to heal.
What brought out these thoughts today? I was sitting in church this morning listening to a guided meditation and suddenly my mind was filled with the above thoughts. I always carry a small notebook along with me to write down what I want to remember of the minister's sermon or like today to catch the thoughts of importance that run through my mind. Today I didn't catch much of what the minister was saying. I had my own thoughts to deal with.
Where did these thoughts come from? For awhile now, I have been wrestling with myself over being sick and why I haven't been able to figure out how to stop the migraines that I have been having more and more frequently. I have also gained back most, if not all of the weight that I lost in India back in October.
I have been asking myself why am I getting the migraines? Why am I getting them more frequently, sometimes 2-3 a week lately? What can I do to stop them? What am I doing to cause them? When am I going to be ready to heal myself. Why am I not willing to do the work to learn how to heal myself? What am I not willing to do? What am I not willing to see or hear? What part of me is still resisting change?
At this point, I have lots of questions with only a few awarenesses and not very many of the answers YET. I put the word "yet" in bold letters and caps so that you would see, and so would I, that my intention is to be open to doing this, just not yet.
I am leaving the door open for the possibility of the answers coming. I know that I have all of the answers. I know that they are inside of me. I know the answers will come.
Why the title "Welcome To My Dark Side"? Well, I wanted to introduce you, my readers, to my dark side. Believe it or not, my dark side does exist. I am not the goody-two-shoes that one part of me wants to believe that I am. I have a dark side. She is often angry, frightened and punishing. She is also sad and lonely. Mostly, she is afraid.
Also, I intend to welcome all parts of me into the Light. I have never wanted to acknowledge that I have a dark side. I now intend to work with acknowledging and accepting all parts of me. As long as I am divided into Light and Dark, Good and Bad, I am divided. More conflict happens as long as I am divided against myself. Inner and outer peace happens when conflict ceases and acceptance happens.
As the saying goes, "I have nothing to fear but fear itself." I know all about fear. Fear of failure and fear of success do the same thing. They keep you from moving.
Laziness, indecision and inactivity due to lack of committment all keep me standing still. By nature, I don't like standing still. I like to always be moving forward, learning something new, meeting new people, going new places.
One awareness that I got this morning was that I am allowing fear, laziness, indecision, and inactivity to keep me from finding a way to heal myself from these migraines. I heard a small, whiny voice say, "It is too much work. Why can't someone else do it? I want it now without having to work so hard to get it. I want it now." Would you say that my ego is running rampant right now? I would.
I have all the resources. I have all that I need. I Am all that I need. I know.
Laziness keeps me stuck.
Indecision keeps me stuck.
Inactivity due to Lack of committment keeps me stuck.
All of the above are parts of my dark side, the part of me that doesn't live in the Light. What Light is this, you ask? The Light of Love.
Having a dark side is not a bad thing, in and of itself. Letting it run your life is. Giving into fear, laziness, indecision and inactivity are not good things, not if you want to move forward in life, not if you want to heal.
What brought out these thoughts today? I was sitting in church this morning listening to a guided meditation and suddenly my mind was filled with the above thoughts. I always carry a small notebook along with me to write down what I want to remember of the minister's sermon or like today to catch the thoughts of importance that run through my mind. Today I didn't catch much of what the minister was saying. I had my own thoughts to deal with.
Where did these thoughts come from? For awhile now, I have been wrestling with myself over being sick and why I haven't been able to figure out how to stop the migraines that I have been having more and more frequently. I have also gained back most, if not all of the weight that I lost in India back in October.
I have been asking myself why am I getting the migraines? Why am I getting them more frequently, sometimes 2-3 a week lately? What can I do to stop them? What am I doing to cause them? When am I going to be ready to heal myself. Why am I not willing to do the work to learn how to heal myself? What am I not willing to do? What am I not willing to see or hear? What part of me is still resisting change?
At this point, I have lots of questions with only a few awarenesses and not very many of the answers YET. I put the word "yet" in bold letters and caps so that you would see, and so would I, that my intention is to be open to doing this, just not yet.
I am leaving the door open for the possibility of the answers coming. I know that I have all of the answers. I know that they are inside of me. I know the answers will come.
Why the title "Welcome To My Dark Side"? Well, I wanted to introduce you, my readers, to my dark side. Believe it or not, my dark side does exist. I am not the goody-two-shoes that one part of me wants to believe that I am. I have a dark side. She is often angry, frightened and punishing. She is also sad and lonely. Mostly, she is afraid.
Also, I intend to welcome all parts of me into the Light. I have never wanted to acknowledge that I have a dark side. I now intend to work with acknowledging and accepting all parts of me. As long as I am divided into Light and Dark, Good and Bad, I am divided. More conflict happens as long as I am divided against myself. Inner and outer peace happens when conflict ceases and acceptance happens.
As the saying goes, "I have nothing to fear but fear itself." I know all about fear. Fear of failure and fear of success do the same thing. They keep you from moving.
Laziness, indecision and inactivity due to lack of committment all keep me standing still. By nature, I don't like standing still. I like to always be moving forward, learning something new, meeting new people, going new places.
One awareness that I got this morning was that I am allowing fear, laziness, indecision, and inactivity to keep me from finding a way to heal myself from these migraines. I heard a small, whiny voice say, "It is too much work. Why can't someone else do it? I want it now without having to work so hard to get it. I want it now." Would you say that my ego is running rampant right now? I would.
I have all the resources. I have all that I need. I Am all that I need. I know.
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