First Things First
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Odds & Ends

 

 

This little section is reserved for those little tidbits of information I know hope will be of interest to my readers. Check back often, as I plan on doing a regular update.

 

 

 

 

"Emotionally bonding with an abuser is actually a strategy for survival for victims of abuse and intimidation. This is often called "Stockholm Syndrome."

 

Here is an excellent article on The Stockholm Syndrome, an all too common effect of protracted abuse.

 



 

Many adult survivors of sexual child abuse reach a point in their healing journey of questioning whether or not they can (or want to) continue having a relationship with one, or both of their parents. Ten years ago I decided that I could no longer have a relationship with my mother. Though that decision brought me much relief, it also created much anxiety.

My Parents Are Dead to Me is a well-articulated article expressing the anguish of being put into the position of having to sever ties with one's parents. I recommend it for anyone who is considering ending their parental relationships, or for those who already have and are experiencing guilt for having done so. 

 

 

“Cutting through the lies about your perpetrator is vital to your healing. He or she was the “hunter”; you were the “hunted.” He or she took every precaution to abuse you in private. He or she thought about it and planned it. He or she chose the right bait to lure you in, and then pulled the trigger. When a hunter shoots a deer, do you blame the deer?” Patty Hite

 

 

 

 

There are many things I could devote the rest of my life writing about, but I've chosen to focus primarily on sexual abuse issues, which leads to the purpose of this little paragraph. Having been honored with a 3 page spread of my poetry in this month's Pink Panther magazine, I'd like to invite my readers to visit their blog as a show of support to abused children everywhere (and for the abused children most of you reading this used to be.) This magazine also deals with domestic abuse issues. You'll find me on pages 42-45--but this isn't a lame plug on my own behalf! Please check out the other writers and artists and join me in reveling in the knowledge that light is steadily at work, fighting the darkness. And finally, for those who would rather read a printed version of this monthly publication, you can order a copy here.

 

Click this link to go to Dissociation Blog Showcase. There's a wealth of great blogs here, all dealing with the intricacies of living with DID.

 

Overcoming Sexual Abuse is an informative and empowering website worth checking out.

 

 Child Sexual Abuse: Body Memories is an excellent article exploring the issue of missing memories,  body memories and real memory syndrome relating to sexual abuse.

 

Standing Up for Your Child covers everything from peer pressure, to bullies, to speaking out for the most helpless members of our society, our children.

 

"It's impossible," said pride. "It's risky," said experience. "It's pointless," said reason. "Give it a try," whispered the heart.

 

 


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 




Need help finding a therapist? The website for the International Society for the Study of Trauma and Dissociation is a good place to start. There's a whole lot of other excellent information as well that's worth checking out.

 

 

 

 


 

 

 

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Sweet suburban solitude:



 

Miscellaneous
Ponder This

 

If the shoe slipper fits, wear it!

 

 

 

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"The decision to set boundaries with my abusive parents didn't have anything to do with whether or not I forgave them. Some people assume that I had to be bitter or feel hatred toward my parents to end my relationship with them. That's not true. It didn't have anything to do with my feelings toward my parents; it had to do with my love for myself." Christina Enevoldsen

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  


« A Different Kind of Day | Main | Oh to Be Heard »
Monday
May032010

The Me I've Become

I'm writing this from my bedroom where I finally have a computer hooked up. Two 1960's Barbie dolls, one in black and white striped swimsuit and sunglasses, the other wearing a black evening gown and heels, are perched on top of my monitor, mementos from my long ago childhood. These dolls are not for playing with; when a grandchild spies them I shoo her away as if guarding a valuable museum piece.

This weekend my mother flew into town for my niece's graduation from nursing school. Her sister, who I haven't seen in over 40 years, was also in attendance, as well as one of my brothers who cut himself off from me and my kids about 10 years ago. All very good reasons for absenting myself. I'm getting used to the necessity for making myself scarce on certain family occasions, but there is always that little twinge of resentment that I must once again make way for others as I back out as gracefully as possible.

Though I don't expect life to be fair, I cast around for something to sort of even things out. What good things have happened lately to counterbalance my odd-man-out status? Probably what excites me the most is reconnecting with Suz, my old childhood friend. We live several hours from each other, but she's already visited me once. I had worried the old chemistry might be forever gone and we would desperately grope for things to talk about, but the moment she knocked on my door it was as if we were 11 years old again, hanging out and goofing off.

As we sat on the couch chattering away like magpies, I started to say something, then interrupted myself to say, "Wait, hair in mouth." As I extracated the offending hair she began to laugh hysterically.

"You used to do that when we were kids," she said with a gasp. "I'd forgotten that till now. We'd be talking and you'd say in this deadpan voice, "Wait, hair in mouth." How surreal to be visiting with someone who knew me so long ago, who could see me do something and relate it to something I used to do over 40 years ago! The resuming of our friendship is as comforting as wrapping an old, worn soft blanket around me like a hug. There were other things she commented on, little quirks of mine she remembered from those long ago days of childhood. But I didn't exist back then, I nearly said, but of course I did, for here was all the proof I needed:  someone with whom I used to be joined at the hip, who saw me in ways my step dad and mother never did.

The resuming of that old connection is like discovering money in an old  forgotten bank account. Every time we hung out together as kids I was investing in that account, depositing riches I would some day--during my nana years--need to withdraw. Suz is a touch of sanity in my often confusing world. She's kooky and full of life. I used to envy her ability to be exactly who she is, to live honestly with integrity.

While she played her guitar and sang I felt as though my heart were being serenaded. I'd forgotten that she had these talents! What else had I forgotten? Perhaps the ease with which I used to lean on her, our bodies casually touching in the most innocent of ways. My body began remembering, for I found myself during our recent visit touching her arm frequently as we laughed, rediscovering the contentment of feeling deliciously at ease.

Nothing can really make up for the dysfunctions in my family of origin which make it impossible for me to be a full participant in family get togethers, but Suz's friendship takes some of the sting out of that tired song and dance of not belonging.

I know you, her very presence seems to say.

I enjoy you, she might as well say every time her eyes look at me with delight.

I know that when she looks at me with the same expression she must see reflected on my face (a sort of stunned joy), she is seeing my little girl self of decades ago, but also the me who has grown into my adult self. A nana, a stumble-bum, but the me my younger self was in the process of becoming all along.

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