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This area is reserved for the tidbits I know hope will be of interest to my readers. Check back often for regular updates. 


Check out this article about the Fifty Shades of Grey phenomena, including a list of organizations which strongly oppose this sick trend, and have implemented various means of helping women who have been sexually victimized.


Were you raised by a narcissist? Chances are you were if you suffered any form of childhood abuse. The Little Red Survivor website is filled with excellent articles examining the many faces of narcissism.


It's been a long time coming---7 years to be exact---but finally email notifications for new BD posts is available. Sign up today and never again miss another post. You know you want to!













Kate Is Rising has an excellent Survivors Resources page which directs you to numerous websites dealing with issues of abuse, healing and recovery. Please bear in mind that the information on these pages may be triggering.



There's lots of good stuff at the Dissociation Blog Showcase, including a list of 180 blogs dealing with some aspect of this disorder. 



On the Overcoming Sexual Abuse site there's an article entitled, "It's Not About You Mom" which I could have written myself. I bet many of my readers could say the same!








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Little Ol' Bread Baker Me

When it comes to feelings, I've this sense that mine aren't genuine until another person comes along and gives them a name. Is it grief I'm feeling? I'm so out of touch with my emotions that I must depend on others to tell me what I'm feeling. But more than that, I need permission to "name it and claim it." Oh intellectually I know this is ridiculous. Intellectually I know I have as much need and right to express myself as anyone else. Trouble is, anything beneath the level of my intellect is murky at best. Growing up with a dictator who changed the rules according to his whims, and who mocked us kids if we showed emotion really messed me up.

I'm making an effort (however feeble) to get the ball rolling. Yesterday I painted my first canvas. I was hardly halfway through when I decided I wanted to paint a set,  one for each stage of grief:  anger, denial, etc. I like the end result if only because of the gorgeous colors I chose:  indigo and deep violet mostly. Well, this is one way to clumsily attempt to express myself. Writing would be my usual outlet but you know what? I'm sick to death of writing the words for incest and depression and abuse and blah blah blah. How many different ways can I write it?

If I were an actress I'd act it all out. If I were a sculptor my hands would mold clay into exquisite forms which would be rough with heartache and fear, but all the more beautiful because of the raw pain they express. If I were a lion tamer I'd pretend the lion was my past, threatening to devour me. I would tame it into submission.  A mechanic? I'd take apart my pain right down to its last nut and bolt to see what was causing the malfunction. As a bookie I'd bet the odds were in my favor for recovery. If I were an accountant I'd add up 2+2 and always arrive at 4; there would be no surprises in the equation of my grief.

As it is, I'm none of these things. I'm a nana who most days doesn't feel old enough to even be a mother. What are my options for getting the pain out? I'll paint when and what I can, I'll write even though I'm weary of it. Perhaps I'll write a play to express my grief, that would be something new. I'll bake it, out of recipes calling for bittersweet chocolate. I'll pound out my anger as I knead bread dough, pretending the dough is my abuser's soft yeasty soul. Maybe a few tears will fall and I won't care if they get kneaded into the dough because they'll be honest tears, and pure. They will add their own unique flavor and people will ask in amazement where I got the recipe. They will beg me for it, but I'll just shake my head and make a helpless gesture with my hands. "I made it up as I went," I'll say. "I've no idea what extra ingredient I added. Sorry." And all around me people will be swooning with the sweetness of my bread that isn't really sweetness all by itself but sweetness diluted with brave endurance.

I think I've gotten a tad bit carried away here. Time to finish my coffe, and you know what? Suddenly I have a strong desire to make bread!



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Reader Comments (2)


I really like the way you used metaphors to deal with your pain, such as the accountant, bookie, and mechanic. I hear you when you say you are sick of writing, but you have such a gift. You are an excellent writer. I wish we could see your painting. I love the combonation of the colors you use.

Take care.

Missing In Sight

January 14, 2010 | Unregistered CommenterMissing In Sight

The painting is really quite awful, trust me. I don't know if I'll ever screw up the courage to post a photo!

January 14, 2010 | Unregistered Commenterbeauty

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