Living Life in the Face of Nastiness…

There are people in life who are simply nasty. They are mean, disrespectful and really don’t care how what they do affects others. When confronted with such people, we have choices to make. We can either react to them, wherein we lose ourselves by allowing them to control our lives and determine how we will live. Or, we can respond to them, wherein we maintain our own autonomy and integrity and choose how we shall live. I prefer the latter. That is my choice.

When I am confronted by nasty negative people I choose to remember that I, too, have had my “moments” of being nasty or ugly. It may not have been intentional. I may not have even been aware of how I was coming across. Or, I may have realized it as it was happening, but did not know how to “fix” it. Or maybe there was no fix…the damage was already done. Any way you look at it, I have had a negative impact on others at times in my life. So, I believe it is worthwhile to remain humble toward others, recognizing that I am certainly not perfect, either!

I also try to remember that everyone is the way they are for a reason. For good or bad, we have all had negative and positive experiences in life that have helped to shape us into what we are today. Sometimes, the balance between positive and negative was fairly even overall. But for some of us, one heavily outweighed the other.

For those whose positive experiences heavily outweighed the negative it can be difficult to understand those of who whose lives were the opposite. We may fumble where they do not. We may react to things that do not faze them one bit. I think it is good when each person can believe another’s story and try to imagine living in that reality. It can help us to be more empathetic toward others.

For those of us who weigh heavily on the negative, and some even in the extreme, it can be difficult to imagine life without that. We see the way others live and struggle to comprehend how they can do that. It just isn’t even on our radar.

Thankfully, though, there can be some good experiences even in the midst of craziness and evil, that give us some positive skills for life. For me, knowing my Creator made a HUGE difference. It is part of what helped to shape me and, I think, to temper how the abuse affected me.

I still deal with the physical effects of trauma brain and I can still experience flashbacks that are part of PTSD and getting  triggered.  However, I have learned over the years how to cope and work around the aftereffects. I know what I can do and what I cannot do and I no longer feel guilt or shame over what I cannot do…even when others do not understand. It is frustrating at times when people look less favorably upon me for what I cannot do. They cannot comprehend how even the simplest of things can be overwhelming at times. But I have learned to live with that and simply accept that there are things they simply do not know and, even if they did, might not be able to understand.

Life is good…even when it is hard. I am OK with that. My heavenly Abba/Father/true Daddy walks with me. So does my Messiah…Yeshua. Their Ruach/Spirit lives within me and that strengthens and comforts me…especially when life is hard.

I refuse to give up. I refuse to hold grudges. I refuse to not forgive. I choose to walk in freedom with my head held high…even when I am shaking inside.

Stability?

My family is probably in what most would call a very unstable situation. While our living quarters are much improved…albeit unfinished…we have zero income. Well, let me clarify that. Unemployment has run out and there is still no real job offer. Scary, right?

Actually, it is not. We are seeing G-d move in amazing ways. Our bills are paid. We have plenty of food. Odd jobs are coming our way. The wood stove is in and we have free wood for the winter…which is much milder than we expected. Life is actually good.

There are things I do struggle with, however. Our house is very chaotic and cluttered (due in large part to being unfinished and having no real outside storage at the moment) and I don’t do real well with that.  It is hard to find and keep track of things. Cleaning is a real challenge so there is a lot of dust and an untidy appearance. I have to constantly be aware of my surroundings to make sure I do not trip or bump into things. In a sense, I think it is not too dissimilar to the hyper-awareness that comes with PTSD. Regardless of the cause…it is a mental energy drain.

With hubby being unemployed, that means that this introvert has one more person’s presence I am always aware of. And yes, even just the awareness can be a bit of a mental drain, even if he is not interrupting me a lot like my son does. Like his father, he is in an extrovert so I am outnumbered here. It is difficult to get anything done…like writing here, for example! Trying to have a routine or schedule is pretty much impossible…or at least one that is very structured.

There are some things I can do to help achieve more stability in this environment. The first one, of course, is to really focus on my Creator. The closer I draw to Yeshua/Jesus…to YHWH of the bible, the better I handle the curve balls that life keeps throwing at my family. The more time I spend just interfacing with G-d and reading/studying His words, the better I do life.

Another thing that helps is to remember what works best for me…what I most need. As an introvert, I need time alone…time to just be quiet and “be”. I rarely have that so I really need to make ways to get it. Sometimes that means telling my family “no” and why. They are actually understanding and supportive if I just remind them of what I need as an introvert! I rarely even need to bring up that I am a survivor.

Because I am busy, I need to be very selective about how I spend my time. I try not to focus on things that are not going to help me grow and reach my goals. I try to focus on positive and uplifting things rather than ones that are either negative or  just frivolous. When I need to laugh, I focus on something humorous. If I need uplifting, I focus on something that is encouraging. What I focus on makes a difference in how I do life. Whether it is something to read, hear or watch I am learning to ask myself if it is really helpful or just a time waster. That is not to say that there aren’t times when I need to just do something a bit frivolous for my state of mind, but if it becomes a habit I know I am probably just avoiding something.

Which brings up another thing that helps…keeping short accounts and facing things head on. It takes more energy to avoid facing painful things that I need to work on than it does to simply work on them so that I can move on! It also takes more energy to stay angry at someone or to be fretting about how I have hurt someone than it does to let it go or go work things out with the person.

I have also learned to move within my limitations. I know…a lot of people see limitations as a negative thing. Well, I don’t. If I acknowledge realistic limitations and boundaries it enables me to move about more freely inside of them. Otherwise, I will stretch myself too thing trying to do too many things. I will be constantly drained and I won’t do any of them very well. I prefer to rotate my focus. I have several blogs and I take turns writing in them. I have Facebook and I slip that in, although I am trying to spend a lot less time there because I believe it can be a very frivolous thing if I am not carefully guarding my time there. I like to cook and organize my house and do assorted other things, but I cannot do them all at once. I have to take turns and there are some things I simply have to put on “hold” for the time being…like my poetry writing (or even getting what I already have written up on that blog).

I would rather do less and live in peace than try to do it all and constantly feel chaos within me. The world can get along without me, but I do hope that I can brighten at least my corner of it once in a while. I don’t want to be too busy to do that!

Well, I hope today’s ramblings will help someone. I know that writing things out helps me. It reminds of what is important and it helps me to get my thoughts in order and clarify things for myself! That helps me to overcome the chaos and clutter around me!

Emailed Mother…

Why? Good question. Perhaps I am simply a permanent optimist? Perhaps I am just always hopeful that something might have changed? Perhaps I am just plain nuts? Or even stupid?

I am not really expecting anything different this time. I am just making sure I am doing what I can do.

I am tired. The email from my father that was not supposed to get to me…the one that was supposed to be blocked…told me the criteria for us having a relationship. They call the shots…not me. Plus…we let them talk without interference with our youngest son and without us listening in. Hubby and I won’t do that. We just can’t.

I would actually be willing to let them talk to him…but only if we listen in. I am not telling them that, of course. I am not that stupid. I know it is all about him and them and not about me. I don’t count. I am unimportant…period. Such is my life. I am deemed worthy by others, but not by them.

Their loss.

More on Assumptions…and Getting Free…

I started talking about assumptions in a previous post called Yours, Mine & ????… Now I will give another bit of the story.

I left off with my parents living in our house. They had manipulated their way in and there really was no end in sight. As we found out, they were not really serious about finding another place to stay. We gave them a break by not charging anything other than a token amount for food and utilities, but they saved no money. Once we finally figured this out, my hubby confronted them about it. Still…they were there and they had no money saved. That was a tough realization.

They were on the waiting list to get into an affordable place, but they were nowhere near the top. That meant they assumed that they would get to stay. Wrong! It did not turn out that way. G-d did a miracle and got them into a place way ahead of other people. Of course, there is also the possibility that they lied to us in the first place and were closer to getting in than they had let on. They did know someone who lived there who was recommending them, so that might have helped, too.

I think it is important to share a dynamic that was taking place before they moved. Although there it a lot still buried in the depths of amnesia and dissociation, I have very good reason to believe my mother was my trainer. She could trigger me so easily…a lot of knee jerk reactions. I will give an example.

I was going nuts with my parents being there. My mother would say something like “I know it is hard on you to have us here. If you need us to move, just tell us. We will find something…somewhere…somehow.” You get the idea. The old knee jerk reaction would hit. “Oh no, Mom. It’s OK. Really.” And I would walk away wondering why that would automatically come out and I could not just stay quiet. Opposing my parents was simply a no-no. And that was one of the blatant examples. There were many more subtle ways that I was being played and manipulated…even as a married woman.  That is…until Darlene came along. She was part of the beginning of my freedom.

Assumptions. My parents assumed they would continue to be able to control me…to trigger me for their evil purposes. Again…G-d had a different plan. I could not break free on my own. They were living in my house. They were setting off all kinds of programming. I was in danger. My son was in danger. Only I did not know that at the time.

My parents moved in during the month of August right not too long after my son’s fourth birthday. Talk about a vulnerable time. My husband started traveling…something very unusual with his job. A month after they moved in, I finally went to talk with my pastor and the worship leader with whom I was close. Although I was not “suicidal”, I did keep having suicidal ideations. I wanted to die…a lot. They convinced me to talk to my doctor about giving antidepressants another try. They also talked me into seeing a therapist. G-d used all of them to help me stay alive and get through the whole thing.

The first therapist (P) I saw for only one appointment. I couldn’t afford to continue with him, but he was someone to see until I could get into a different one. This is another way that I see the hand of G-d. I had left messages with several of the therapists, but he was the first to respond. As it just so happened, he was very knowledgeable about DID and had even written an article on it.

What he saw in me really concerned him. Knowing I would not be coming back to him and being afraid that I might have a suicidal alter trying to take me out, he shared his article and said to read it and think about it. He was very upfront about what he thought might be happening. He said that he, ordinarily, would never do that, but he was afraid for my life.

I took to heart what P had said and read his article. At first, I did not really relate to any of it, but the more I read, the more the light started to go off. I saw things he described that explained some things I had noticed in my life…things I just shrugged off as being who I am. Although a bit skeptical, I tried to keep an open mind and look for truth. I also prayed for truth…a LOT! I was very cautious about being “led”, but could see more and more of myself in some parts of the article. Bear in mind that I still did not have any clear SRA memories yet. I was very cautious…not wanting to assume and not wanting to be deceived…whether in my own mind or by anything in the spiritual realm. (Yes, I do know that demons exist.)

I started seeing B the next week. I told him what P had said and that I thought I might have DID. He just said, “we’ll see.” So, I just started paying attention. It was minor stuff really, but it was there. He remained unconvinced…so he told me. I was almost upset with him because I was pretty sure I had it, but wanted some confirmation…something he refused to give. I did not want to assume anything. So, I just kept observing and sharing. Then, one day in February, something happened.

I had been struggling to hold my own in my own home. A girlfriend came over…someone who had DID and was a cult survivor (although I don’t think I knew that about her…yet). We were talking about repressed memories and how they can come up. I shared about someone I had known a few years previously who had witnessed, as a child, her father murdering his mistress…the mother of her best friend. Years later, as an adult when she was safe, she started to have memories and PTSD surfaced big time.

Suddenly, my mother agreed with us. She said that she knew that could happen because she had memories that had come to the surface. I had to fight to keep my jaw from dropping. I looked at my girlfriend who knew that my parents had denied my memories. Or, at least my father had. I had to fight to keep from saying, “Mom…how can you say that and not believe me?” But I stayed quiet. I was floored and needed to process this.

The next night, I was kneeling on the floor of the kitchen digging something out of the corner cupboard. My husband was behind me facing the other counter. My father reached over me for something. Suddenly, I felt something hit my rear end. In retrospect, I think my father had something in his pocket and his jacket, which was very large and loose, just swung forward and hit me. At the time, though, it felt like my father had patted my rear end and I reacted immediately. I was instantly triggered…seriously triggered. I was in shock at the thought that he would actually pat me like that with my husband standing right there.

Somehow, I got up and made it to my room. I had my own room for art, computer, sewing, etc. It was my sanctuary. I closed the door behind me trying to figure out what to do. I was losing it. The next day was Valentine’s Day and we had a special day planned. I did NOT want to blow the day…for my poor husband’s sake.

As I started to sink to the floor, knowing I was completely shutting down, I said something. I don’t know if I quietly said it out loud or if I said it in my mind…but I know I did say it. It was something along the lines of, “please, I don’t know if you are there or not, but if you are, I really need your help because I cannot do this.”

At that point, I slid into the background and someone came forward. It was Darlene. I just watched and listened at that point. It was a very odd sensation…as if I was in the backseat or something.  I felt no emotion. I was impassively watching and hearing everything, yet was removed from it. When I went back out of my room, I could hear “myself” talking and see everything, but Darlene was in control.

Darlene was very key to my freedom and survival. My parents assumed they could get me out of the way, but they could NOT. They assumed they could get total control over my son. But they could NOT. And the best thing…Darlene had been created during my first marriage. I still do not have the details of that event, but this I know:  she was NOT trained by my mother and was, therefore, impervious to her triggering. She was very “unimpressed” with my parents and did not like them. I came to realize later that she had also been side by side co-present with me for about 18 years by that time…all unknown to me.

I find that, even after all this time, I am affected in the telling of this. So, I will stop for now and continue again later. I hope there are no spelling or grammar errors. I need to walk away from this and not reread the whole thing right now.

Parents…a Love/Hate Affair…

There is a drawing I did back in 2005 that so reflects how I feel right now. You can see it here:  Always Out of Reach.

My parents are one of several reasons I have not been writing here for a while.  Some of those reasons are good ones…I have been baking, shopping and wrapping. Others are not so good…I have been struggling in my living situation even more with the early onset of cold weather and snow and I have been emotionally drained from trying to deal with my parents. Yeah…my parents.

As you can see in the picture, nothing has really changed since I have been a young girl. The man who used to be my hero (in what I came to realize was a made up life) is just as unavailable as ever. The game playing still goes on. The manipulation attempts…or maybe…they are not merely attempts, but actually accomplishments…at least on some level…in spite of my attempts to not be drawn in.

Awhile back I phoned my mother. At the end of that call, she admitted that my perception of being pushed aside for my son was accurate. She was being real and she told me that she wanted me to know why that was. She said it was important, but not, apparently, important enough to answer any of my emails following the call.

Writing to my father produced more of the same messy communications as always…or should I say lack of communication. He ignores part of what I say, picking and choosing what he will respond to. His responses do not always make sense because he will quote me out of context. This last email he basically wrote everything I wrote back to me.

My husband had already written him…telling him to piss or get off the pot. Either communicate in a real way and start a relationship or back off. Make a choice. His choice was to parrot what I wrote to him back to me.

So, I wrote him with four things he could do to show me that I can start to believe what he writes to me. I have blocked his email addresses. He can do those things and he can write via my husband. If that happens, then I will consider unblocking his emails, but I am not holding my breath. No longer will my pulse race when I see an email has come into that email account for I will know it is not him.

I did not block my mother, though, so I won’t be surprised if she suddenly starts to write me. It is difficult to predict, but they do like to sort of play tag team at times. I hate to cut her off seeing as how she is dying. However, it does no good to try to connect if she is not truly open to connecting.

When Paul wrote and reminded us of sending in a piece for the 6th Arts Carnival, I started looking through my pieces to see what I might enter. When I saw this one, only two days after telling my father I was blocking his email, well…it just seemed fitting. As I wrote Paul sending him the link and telling him why this particular piece, I found myself tearing up. There is a lot of grief still inside over not having my parents and over never really knowing what it is like to grow up feeling secure, loved and sane. The only love I really remember is the love of Yeshua/Jesus.

Manipulations…

I am rather angry. I have a Facebook account…more than one, actually. I get sick and tired of people posting things that are manipulative. “I have a wonderful family. If you also have a family who thinks the world of you, copy and paste this on your status and leave it there for at least one hour.” Or something to that effect.

It really does not matter what the subject is, the implication is clear. If you DON’T do what it says then your family must NOT be wonderful. Or your husband is not loving. Or you don’t care if soldiers come home safely. Or you don’t really love Jesus. Or…

I HATE this. All of my life has been about being manipulated. If I tell someone I love them it is because I DO…not because I must. I write what I write because I WANT to…not out of some sense of duty or coercion. Grrrr!!!

I hate feeling like I am fighting attempts to manipulate me…attempts to make me feel guilty…to control what I write or what I use for my profile picture. I have fought long and hard to be my own person. I intend to stay that way. I will NOT submit to this coercive nonsense. I am not defined by whether or not I do these thing. My sense of being OK does not come from conformity. It comes from being true to who I am in Yeshua. Period!

Cruelty and Healthy Boundaries…

What my mother has done is cruel. I keep trying to empathize and to understand her pain. But not matter how much I empathize…no matter how much I forgive…it still hurts like hell. I am the unwanted daughter. I did not step up to the plate. I did not take over. I stepped out of line. I left. I have no desire to be a princess other than in the One True Creator God’s kingdom.

I will never live up to her expectations. Her expectations (and his) lead to death. I have chosen a different path. If they do not want me…they can forget my son. I was actually willing to let them talk to him on the phone, but if they don’t want me…forget it. That is not being selfish…it is being real. It is not being vindictive…it is setting boundaries…healthy boundaries.

Boundaries are not OK in the cult. My whole life I had no boundaries. I did not know where I ended and other people began. I was trained to be a chameleon…to anticipate others needs/wants. Those in the cult who knew the trigger words and actions could get anything they wanted. NO MORE!!

I was accessed by a “Christian” therapist after we moved here. He had experience with cult clients. Little did I know that he was not only cult himself…but that we had met many years ago. It ends here…and now! I will not kowtow to my parents. I will not kowtow to anyone but my Lord…and He does not ask me to. He lifts my head to look into His eyes so that I can see His healing love.

I hurt. I am angry. I do not deserve to be treated this way. Even IF I had been the worst daughter on the planet…rather than simply and imperfect one…I do not deserve this. I have reached out via email for a year and a half. It has gone nowhere. I tried. My conscience is clear. I have done what I can. It is their loss. They can blame me all they want…but they have a part in this. I am an adult. I will not submit to them or to their control. I will not go back to the way things were.

So I will continue to mourn what was and I will mourn what never was. I will mourn the dream of having a somewhat regular family. I will keep my heart open until there is nothing left…and at that point…I will mourn for what will never be. I have dreams. I have always had dreams. Many of them are just broken dreams…turning to dust beneath my feet. Oh, well.

I have survived. I will survive. Nay…I will thrive! In spite of how hard my life is right now…I have more freedom than I ever did living under their control. The Creator has given me the gift of who I am…all of me. I am His…and no one else’s…no one’s.

I hope we can make peace before she dies…same with him. But if it does not happen…I refuse to beat myself up with guilt that is not mine.

Anger Is My Ally and Having a Voice

I always used to be afraid of anger. Anger could get you in trouble. You weren’t supposed to be angry. So, if you were you darned well better hide it! Ack! So, what to do with anger?

I remember meeting with a therapist right after my separation from my then husband. I had started to see her for other things, but she switched us over to dealing with my marriage (or lack thereof) when I separated. My assignment was to write down all the things I wished I could tell him. Boy was that a tall order…but I did it.

When I brought it in to her she looked at it and then wanted me to read it. I just looked at the list and at her and could not do it. She insisted. I refused. I could not give voice to what I desperately needed to say. She would not let it go…so I got angry and threw it down on the floor. I find that choice interesting. I could have destroyed it or hidden it, but instead I threw it on the floor where I knew she could pick it up…which she did. She then started to read it again…only out loud this time. She gave her voice to what I could not give my voice to.

Listening to her read that list was incredibly hard. I don’t remember much more about that appointment, but I do know two things happened. Her saying out loud what I could not…even though he could not even hear it…was validating. I don’t know that I consciously thought of it that way at that time…but it was. To hear someone else saying what I wished I could say…was hugely validating. She did not think anything was stupid…or exaggerated…or insignificant…or anything else that some people might have tried to do with it. This woman was my voice when I did not have one and she began the process of setting my voice free. There were things on that list that I felt uncertainty or even embarrassment over. Her treating that list as she did took that away.

It was just like during another appointment (or perhaps it was later in the same appointment) when I described something he had done and she said, “So, he raped you.” I just burst into tears when she voiced those four simple words. I had always “felt” the word “rape” regarding those times (it was more than once), but I could never actually attach it. I could never out loud or consciously call it that…for a whole variety of reasons better left for another post…if I remember to do one. (OK…I just went and titled an empty draft to remind me.)

To hear someone describe what happened to me as “rape” was SO validating. I just sat there and wept. She confirmed my reality and she gave me my voice…both in the reading of that list and in calling what he did to me “rape”.

The other thing that happened was that I got in touch with a whole lot of pain and emotions that I had been stuffing through all those years of marriage. I was flooded with a world of hurt as she read everything on that list. Hearing it from her made it even more real. These were not things in my imagination or in my own head. These were real things. Real events. Real feelings.

Anger also started to rise. It had always been there in one form or another, but I always tried hard to not express it. There was one point toward the end when I actually threw some things at my ex. I felt really bad about doing it, but I was desperate to try to do something to hopefully get him to see what he was doing. I was hoping that my taking an action that was so out of character for me would shock him into actually listening to me for a change. It didn’t phase him one bit. I think I just gave him some fuel for the lies he was already telling me about me. Or…maybe it wasn’t all lies? Could it be that I was switching and did not know it? I don’t recall losing time. Any more, though, there are a lot of things I am no longer certain of. I do know that I was reacting to things he was doing…and he did not like it…nor would he acknowledge any responsibility for it. He was manipulative…very manipulative. If I tried to point out that I needed something from him in order to give him what he wanted from me I was accused of trying to blackmail him. He refused to accept the way things work between people. Sadly…everything that he was…he accused me of being.

As I look back on my life with my ex (something I try not to do any more than necessary) I think that my anger did come out in some ways. I would say that I was probably passive aggressive to some degree. I don’t remember it being a conscious thing. It wasn’t like I said to myself, “Self…if he won’t this then I will that.” Oh, no…that would have been SO wrong in my worldview at that time…and it still is. I was a good cult girl and would never consciously stoop to such manipulations. But I think it was slipping out from inside anyway. In fact, it is entirely possible that I was switching without even realizing it…that someone inside was trying to somehow protect me and make things better. But nothing ever got better. It only kept getting worse and worse. There comes a point where you can only stuff for so long before it starts coming out one way or another. One sad thing is that I know my children took some of the brunt…not that I was consciously abusive…but I was harsh at times in my perceived helplessness and frustration.

Anger can be such a powerful emotion. It can give us the energy to make changes that we really need to make. It can help to strengthen our resolve when there are tough things that need doing. It can also be scary. I was always terrified of anger…both the anger of others and of my own. I was always afraid of losing control and I was raised to always be in control. So, I continued to stuff a lot of my anger, although I think I did start expressing it more.

I wasn’t in therapy very long. When I finally got back in many years later, I was still afraid of anger. I was afraid that, if I started to let myself feel it, I would be like a volcano that kept spewing and spewing. I was afraid that I would explode and not be able to regain my illusion of having control over it.

Anger…helpful…scary…necessary…protecting…hurting…punishing. So many things can be involved with anger. I think the biggest thing I learned about anger, though, is that it is typically a cover-up emotion. Anger is not the real issue…it is whatever anger is covering up. The anger indicates some other emotion. It could be fear, for example. I am afraid, but I don’t want to admit I am afraid…do I feel anger. Fear requires acknowledgment of something and possibly having to take action. Anger can be a blind feeling of agitation that does not really require an action…other than to perhaps rage. I feel afraid of abandonment…but instead of acknowledging that and dealing with that…I cover it with anger over something completely unrelated.

Once I read about anger being a cover…I started to look deeper…to look underneath the anger to see if I could figure out what was there.  As I did that, I was able to start taking more control over my life…bit by bit…which made me feel more empowered…and less angry. Anger started to become determination…resolve…energy for the actions I would eventually need to take. Learning that about anger helped me a lot. I learned that anger is my ally. It is my indicator that something is not right…either with me…or with something happening to me or another.

I hope this made sense. I have a lot to do and wanted to get some thoughts out here. So, I have not taken much time to “polish” it up.

Questions and a Log House

I am going away tomorrow. I am getting nervous. I will be alone…in a rural area. Granted…just down the drive…right before the street…is a family I know. (The two properties are connected in more ways than one.) And the woman who lives with her family in that house knows I am a survivor…but she doesn’t understand what all that means.

I am nervous. I will be away from what is familiar in an unfamiliar place. Yes…I have been there before and have even helped in some of the finishing of the logs and such. BUT…it is not “home”. I am not that familiar. The root of familiar is the same as the root for family. We live with our families. We know our families. We live in our homes. We are familiar with our homes.

Even though I am not really “comfortable” in my little RV…I am comfortable. I know…that sounds contradictory…but familiarity is comforting. That is why children of alcoholics and dysfunctional parents oftentimes end up marrying spouse who are similar…even when they swear they won’t. Their spouses may manifest their dysfunction in some different way…but it is still there.

I am a cult survivor. Alone in a rural area has not exactly turned me on. Then again…sometimes I just have to adjust…and continue to trust the Creator. Yeshua has protected me in so many ways and my location is not a hindrance to Him one bit.

I have my list of things to make sure I bring. I hope I have not left anything off. The most important things, of course, are my laptop and my art pieces. That is why I am going there. But I know it won’t be the sum total of what I do there. I don’t want to be “busy”. I want to just “be”…to rest with no demands…no interruptions…whether that resting be reading, praying, napping, just sitting…whatever.

All alone in a log house…a large log house. Talk about ambiance. I should get some pictures of that, too.  I know they want some, but I am not sure what they want. I’ll try to remember to ask before they leave.

I will be bringing my comfort foods and the things I want to eat. I not only do not want to put them out for food (I am staying for free), but it is also nice to know what to expect. I don’t want to have to wonder where the boundaries are…so I am bringing my own. It is easier for me that way.

Earlier today…I started to sense hurt inside again. Could it be that my system is looking ahead to having the privacy to feel pain and express pain? No holds barred? It’s certainly possible.

I leave tomorrow evening. It is time to go to bed. I might get a little bit of reading time in. It depends on how long it takes hubby to get to bed.

Good night, everyone!

I hope I don’t forget anything.

What’s Going On…

I am not sure what I am feeling. Physically…I feel so-so. I am always a bit up and down when it comes to physical stuff. Mentally…not doing too badly. This is not one of my “space cadet” days. Emotionally…hmmm…how do I describe it? It is almost as if there is an emotion…some kind of feeling…just beneath the surface. I catch glimpses of it now and then, but it is not strong enough to identify it. So, I am left unsure of what I am feeling.

Then it comes on stronger…but not any clearer. It is very frustrating. Same old thing…emotional flashbacks. Or…it could also simply be something inside that needs to come out but my living situation just does not allow for that. I picked up a cloth doll that I need to pack outside because there is just no room in here. Oh, the feeling I felt when I just sat there holding it. It has been sooooooo long. The younger parts of my being need an outlet. I typically curtail them. They want to express and I feel I must say “no”. Sometimes that is VERY hard. It is like they surge forward and I have to fight and explain to them that others would not understand…that it is not safe. Oh, the longing I sometimes feel from them. *sigh*

I hate it when I feel antsy…especially when I am either unsure what to do about it…or don’t have good access to what I need to do about it.  I really need to get to a private place…speaking of which I am so excited about next week. I get to go spend three days all alone in a big log house. Some friends are going away and I am going to spend the time just “being” and going through my art work so I can take photos for the upcoming webinar I am going to do. I have been packing and paying attention to what I need to bring.

The main focus, of course, is going through my art for the webinar. They have huge rooms with lots of floor space. I will actually be able to lay all my art pieces out and see them all so that I can organize them and sort them. They also have some rooms with good outside light coming through the windows. I am hoping to get some good photos that way without having to use flash. We’ll see how they turn out.

My date got changed from August to July, so I really need to get working on it. I do already have a list started of what I want to cover in the webinar. I don’t think it will really take me that long to finish it once I get the art pieces organized and photographed.

Other good news is that progress is being made on a place for us to move to. It will probably be several more months…although I keep hoping it will be sooner. I have made it through this so far, but it has been really hard. It is my hope to get into a bigger place and be able to work more on areas of healing that I am unable to do now. I look forward to doing more healing art…to writing more poetry. I am hoping that the guitars and keyboard are not ruined being in a shipping box in this weather for 4 1/2 years.

I am looking forward to getting back into shape. This living situation has taken its toll on my health, my weight and my overall fitness.

I am looking forward to being able to organize things and find things. I am looking forward to not being paralyzed by being surrounded and closed in upon.

I am looking forward to having PRIVACY!!!!!! To having doors I can shut and be ALONE!!!!! Yes!!!!

I am doing OK overall, although it does not always feel that way. I really have to take things one day at a time. I struggle at times with not living in my head in order to escape the reality of my living situation. That is especially the case when things are tougher…like when I am sick…as I was recently.

I will get through this. I have made it this far. I will make it to the end. I know my heavenly Abba has His plan…His purpose…His timing…for all things. I trust Him.

My Place In This World & Coping with Social Situations!

I was reminded recently of a Michael W. Smith song called “My Place in This World”. That song has always touched my heart…for I have always struggled to feel as if I really fit in anywhere.

As a daughter of the Most High G-d, I am secure as to my place in my heavenly Abba/Father’s kingdom…of my place in the spiritual realm. Yet…even with that security, there are times when I feel so disconnected from everyone and everything that I even experience some doubts about that. Thankfully, I do regain my perspective and the doubts do pass.

When it comes to this world, though, to the people around me…I rarely feel as if I belong. I almost always feel out of place…as if I am on the outside looking in.

In The Cost of Reality, I share how I used to feel almost all the time. For a huge part of my life I rarely, ever felt comfortable or a real part of a group.  I hated going any place where there were a lot of people I did not know. I was almost panic-stricken the first day of school every year. I was that way with any new place or any new event.

Now I only feel the intensity of it if I get a particular program triggered. However, that does not mean that I feel comfortable around people and social events. I do…but I don’t. I have had to learn how to work my way around these kinds of things. Otherwise, I would be totally isolated.

One thing I do is try to get to events early. When I get there I try to connect with someone who is a part of the event and even offer to help in some way if I am up to it. If nothing else, I learn my way around and help to welcome others that come. By being one of the first ones there, I sort of make myself a part of what is going on. That does not solve it all, but it does make it a whole lot easier.

If I show up after a whole bunch of people are there…I feel lost. Unless I come with another person, or plan to meet another person there, I will typically feel very uncomfortable.  I will be uncertain where to sit…wondering if I am intruding upon some group of friends. I am very aware of cliques.  It seems like, in so many places, you have families and friends who have known one another for a long time. Where do I fit into that?

So…another thing I do is look for someone else who seems to be alone. The other person is usually grateful that I did and we end up having a rather enjoyable time together. I may never see that person again…but for those few hours we enjoyed one another’s company.  I have had many good laughs at tables where none of us women knew anyone else at the table.

I also try to smile a lot at people…just to see how they respond. They ones who light up at my smile, I keep an eye on. If it seems like they are open, I will walk up and talk to them…and find out if they are alone or not. That helps, too.

Sometimes, I just have to focus on what is going on and go through it. If programming is triggered, that is when it is the worst. I just have to accept that I am not in a frame of mind where I can truly trust anyone. I just need to smile, be pleasant and get through it.

Sometimes I experience an impending sense of doom that I cannot connect to any person or place or event. It is just a feeling I walk around with. That, too, makes it difficult in social situations. I keep wondering if I have somehow blown it…somehow said or done something wrong. I have learned that I just have to ride it out if I cannot find a legitimate reason for it.

So, I have all sorts of struggles with social settings…unless I am in the midst of giving it. Yet…I can speak and sing without too much difficulty. Or at least I once could. It has been a long time since I have done it. In fact, since I started realizing the truth about my history and my makeup I have not really pursued it. There is a difference between being up in front of a group and being down within the group. I had a therapist who was the same way. She could teach a class…no problem. But as a student…she was actually rather shy. It is a matter of being in my element.

What’s In a Song

This song really touches me deeply. It makes me want to cry. Although my life with my ex was not quite like that, there were times when I was afraid of him. But I don’t think that is quite what it is. I think it is the helplessness…the feeling of being trapped. I have felt that way almost all of my life.

Even as an adult, I felt trapped in my relationship with my parents. Moving out sort of helped…although I did end up back at home…where I felt even more trapped.

Getting married did not help, either…at least not the first time.  I was still trapped. I was still enmeshed with my parents…especially my mother. Of course, I am sure it did not help that my first marriage has all the earmarks of a cult arranged marriage…an alliance.

It was not until my second marriage…my non-cult marriage…that things started to change for me.  It took a while, but he provided a bit of a buffer between them and me. I started to be able to be around them and feel more comfortable…which isn’t saying a whole lot since I did not feel all that comfortable anyway.

My parents could control me so well. Hubby kind of interfered with that a little. It would take quite a few words to describe what would go on between us. It was so subtle and between the lines…not something an outsider would easily pick up on. In fact, I was still in the dark in so many ways as to how they were manipulating me. That is the way of the cult…programming…training. And I had been trained well for my job.

I did break free, though. It was a bit hairy as layer after layer of information came up. It was a journey…a process. It was a fight…and well worth it. My son was my biggest motivator. I was fighting to keep him safe.

So this song…I see a woman who is trapped. She could no more leave this jerk than fly. Just like I felt with my parents. I could not separate from them…not truly…not on a deep level. They had me.

But it isn’t just the video…it is the words, too.  Because of You I relate to hiding how I really feel. I grew up that way. Now I can be more real, but for most of life…even my adult life…I had to hide how I really felt…especially with the ex.

Even now I struggle at times with being open. That is mostly because I just don’t think people would be able to understand the depths of what I go through and what I feel…especially when I get triggered. That is when I hide the most. I am slowly opening up more. It depends on who I am with. And it depends a bit upon who I am, too.

Working on freedom hasn’t been easy. I am still working on it. Healing is hard.  So is being open. Being open is also a gamble. I just keep inching my way there…and then pulling back…observing. Some day…

I Was Trying…

I started another post and was trying to finish it…but I just can’t right now. I am weary…feeling overwhelmed. So what else is NOT new?

I know that this life is just a breath compared to eternity, but while I am living here still bound by time, it seems like eternity is already here. I know that things will change…I mean…why wouldn’t they? But I wonder how I will hold up.

I like to think that I am strong…and, I guess, in some ways I am. However, I also know that I am weak. I have the brain of someone who was abused as a child. My stress threshold is much lower than it should be…in spite of all the hard work I have done. And yet…in some ways…I am handling some things better than I would have many years ago. I guess that IS a sign of some healing.

If I really think about it…there is probably no way I could have lived in this situation years ago without going totally crazy. Now…I only go partway crazy. I guess that is progress.

Sometimes…it seems as if I am doing so much better. Then something happens that sets me off…that triggers me…and I feel as if I am right back where I used to be so long ago. Maybe the difference is how long I stay in the “crazies” when they hit? Or the way I use what I have learned to combat it…or to get through it?

The same…yet different.

No progress…yet progress.

Stuck…yet moving forward.

Going…yet standing my ground.

Shaking…yet calm.

Amnesic…yet with a sense of history.

“Orphaned”…yet a child of the Most High G-d.

Broken…yet healing.

Alone…yet never alone.

Forsaken…yet chosen.

Losing it…yet holding together.

I was reminded today of something that has really helped me. Someone I know wrote about it here.  In my current situation, being truly alone is a precious rarity. Oh, sometimes the guys are outside for quite awhile, but it isn’t quite the same. There is always the possibility of interruption. Still, although that does not help very much with my healing, per se, I could start taking advantage of it for quiet time…instead of using it for everything else I try to squeeze into it.

Today, I had a difficult time getting on line and staying on line…not that I had any technical difficulty…it was just that I had no desire to be on line…no words to write. I felt empty. It was like Yeshua was calling to me to come spend time with Him, to be refilled with Him…so I did…after a fashion. I spent some time reading the Word…something that also helps a lot…and just letting it soak into me. That really helped, although it does not take away the struggle completely.

Writing also helps. There are times when I just have to get out my feelings and thoughts. This blog is one way to do that. It really helps me to write…to reflect…to share.  Finding the words to get what is inside to the outside…it all helps. Having a certain amount of anonymity helps, too. There are a few who read who know my true identity, but very few. That helps me to share more easily.

Hopefully, soon, I will be able to get back to the other posts I want to write…the posts that are just sitting inside waiting to come out.  I feel as if this post is a bit disjointed, but right now it is the best that I can do. It has been a rough day and tomorrow is really busy. I know I will make it through because I always do. Somehow…my heavenly Abba keeps me together. He gives me what I need for each day…whether that day is rough or easy. He provides. He gets me through it.

Being Thankful?

Years ago, I remember struggling so much with life that it was difficult to find things about it to enjoy…things to be thankful for. There were times when I had to really work at it. It seemed like life was hitting me constantly and I could barely even catch my breath…let alone truly enjoy life.

It is much easier now to find things to be thankful for…to see the blessings in my life. Still…there can be those moments when I am triggered and all I can think about is getting through the next moment. I am thankful that those days are few and far between compared to what they used to be like.

My living situation is going to change…for the better. Hopefully, it will happen before winter…but it may not. I am very thankful for the upcoming change. However…with that change I know there are going to come challenges.  I have been holding things under the surface of the pool of amnesia. I have not really had any choice in the matter due to my current living situation. But what will happen when it all changes?

Although the new situation will free me up in many ways…I am also aware that it will free up other things…things that have been hidden for a very long time and buried deep within. While I am sure that some of the “calm” that I have been experiencing is the result of hard work and healing…I cannot help but wonder how much of it is simply that I have had to stay in shut down mode. How much will start surfacing…screaming for attention…when my situation no longer forces me to keep it all inside?

Sometimes I get vague flashes of things…kind of like what another blogger wrote in his post: Opening Yourself Can Tire Most Kids.  Michael wrote, “You reach inside, focusing on a part that has rarely seen the light of day, or a memory that gets recalled only when you see a phrase or two on another’s blog and so you must go within to retrieve that just-now-remembered something from your inner Self.”

I relate to that. Thing is…it is very difficult for me to get even the flashes. It is harder still to get to whatever is behind them. Will that change when my living situation changes? It very well might. In fact, I am hoping it will.

So…what does have to do with being thankful? Well…I guess I am pondering if I will still be thankful when the good changes also allow a lot of pain to come to the surface…when the relative calm inside that I have been experiencing more and more gets disrupted by the storms of healing.  Will I still be thankful?

I think I will. I want to move forward…no matter how hard it is. One foot in front of the other. I want to understand more about who I am and what I have been through. I want to know whatever it is that I need to know in order to move forward.

I have relied upon my Creator for my healing. I have trusted Him to show me the truth…in the right time and in the best way. He has never failed me. My heavenly Abba has been holding my heart all along. For that…I am very thankful.

My husband…what can I say about him? He has been so patient…even when I know he has been extremely frustrated with me. The change will effect us, too…how we are able to relate to one another. Huge changes are on the way. While I look forward to them…I am also terrified of them…if I get really honest with myself. I have hope…and I have trepidation. The potential taps into some very deep things.

Yet…I am determined to be thankful. I have learned that being thankful is not something I feel…it is something I choose to do. I decide. I have choice. And this choice no one can take away from me. My abusers took a lot of my choices away…but they can never take this one.

Fighting? Quitting? Choices!

OK…there are choices to be made…especially when life is hitting really hard. I can give up…or I can fight. I have to almost laugh because I have never really quite figured out what “giving up” looks like. The only thing I really know how to do is fight. I might be fighting on my hands and knees. I might be fighting curled up in a ball. I might be fighting simply by getting out of bed in the morning. I might be fighting by choosing to live life to the fullest that I can.

Fighting might mean making a phone call. Fighting might mean taking SamE. Fighting might mean writing or praying or studying or listening or any of the other things I might try to do to cope. It might mean sitting quietly. It might mean talking about the abuse and trying to educate others. It might mean just riding things out. It might mean never giving up my trust in my Creator.

Whatever form it takes…I know how to fight. I just don’t know how to quit.

I do know to walk away from things. It is especially important to walk away from unhealthy things…or things that make it worse. I also know how to run away…in the positive sense that I should run as fast and as far as I can from those people and things that drag me down. Walking away and running away (in this sense) are not quitting. So, what exactly IS quitting? I really don’t know.

Is it going catatonic? Can’t imagine going there. Well, let me correct that…I CAN imagine it. Thing is…I don’t like what I imagine about it. I don’t like giving up control. Nope…not for me. Is it not getting up in the morning? Well, having a son to teach makes that not workable. He means too much to me. He means enough to get me out of bed in the morning…even when I am tired and my back is aching.

Perhaps it means becoming a grumpus who snaps at everyone around me. Well…I cannot honestly say that I have not been that at times. Thing is…I love my guys too much to remain that way. I also love myself too much to remain that way. And then there is another aspect to that, too. If I stay in that mode of thinking, I start to spiral down into hopelessness and helplessness…which is a dangerous place for me to be.

So…I will fight…and I will continue to fight for as long as it takes. I will not quit. I will not give up. I might have to give up some of my desires in life…but I will not give up on life itself. Nor will I give up on healing or on myself. I will not give up on the Creator, either.

I will fight!