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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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« While I Was Gone | Main | Disjointed Post »

Growth Spurt

My mother's coming back to town in June, Sissyface informed me the other day.

"Wait a minute! How come every time she visits you tell me that's her last visit?"

"Because," Sissyface said, "she keeps telling me it's her last visit."

I suppose June seems far off, or maybe it's simply the fact that I've chosen to forgive my mother. Either way the prospect of her upcoming visit isn't having the same impact on me as the last time she entered my turf. Oh I still won't let her know where I live. Forgiveness or no forgiveness, I think it wise to protect myself from any further abuses.

As for me (in the meantime) I'm just biding my time waiting for something mysterious to happen. Every time my life takes an unexpected turn, I experience something in advance-- not a premonition exactly but a sense that I'm about to embark on a new adventure.  A deep inner restlessness, an impatience with the things and activities (and sometimes even the people) which usually keep me occupied, and/or give me pleasure--these often signify big changes on the horizon.

The last time I felt this way was a couple months before getting this apartment. Before that it was a week or so before Tim's accident. I'm hoping what waits around the corner won't be a situation similar in any shape or form to dealing with all of that. But life is funny, it throws stuff your way whether or not you're ready for it. You don't even know, couldn't know really if you're ready for something like that until it happens.

I like that I've gotten through such incredibly hard stuff. There's something to be said for simply enduring. Some things take time and a willingness to hang in there over the long haul. I've not always been adept at doing this; in fact, my life used to be (for decades) quite a mess because I didn't know how to stick with anything, not if it took hard work and endurance. Back then if things didn't change overnight (in a relationship, for instance) I simply gave up, went elsewhere. With Tim's accident and with so many difficult situations I've had to deal with, there was no question of walking away. Sometimes we're backed into a corner. We want to take a shortcut, it's in our nature to do so, but we find that our current crisis allows for no such shortcuts.

For many years I refused out of stubbornness to destroy myself, to take the shortcut of ending my life. I couldn't let my abusers win, could I? Ending my life would be the same as waving the white flag of surrender, of announcing to them that they were right, I'm a stupid person who can't do anything right.

These days I find my motivation has morphed into something else. I don't want to survive merely for the sake of proving a point. Neither do I want to survive so I can use my survival as a means of retaliation. Look how well I'm doing in spite of all those wicked things you did to me! The astonishing fact is that this reveling in my survival has nothing to do with my abusers. I don't take them into account when a sense of joy washes over me as the result of taking an objective look at how far I've come. They are not with me in that moment of satisfaction, they are as closed off to me as the dead. I say that their lack of being any part of my reveling in this is astonishing because it wasn't that long ago that I couldn't enjoy anything without the intrusion of my mom or stepdad. Everything, it seemed, was forever tarnished with their unwanted presence. Since I've decided that forgiveness was the best route for me to take, both my mother and stepdad seem to be fading more and more from my conscious thoughts.

Let the dead bury their dead, Christ once said, and I'm finally beginning to get all the truth contained in that statement.

My mother (by her own choice) is in a sense dead to me. But I'm alive to all the possibilities of this me who is so transformed by my wilderness wanderings that I barely recognize this woman as the one who raised me. Someone else will have to bury her; I'm too busy going where I'm led, listening for that still small voice to lead me into the next chapter, next adventure, next growth spurt.





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Reader Comments (1)

I like the last paragraph. That is so heartwarming.

March 2, 2009 | Unregistered CommenterAustin

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