Archive for the ‘SRA’ Category

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What is healing…

December 4, 2012

I am not really sure what healing looks like. I think it is different for each person. After years of looking at it, I still don’t have a solid definition, but I can share with you some things that sure look like healing for me.

Healing Is

Healing is being able to laugh…even in the midst of pain.

Healing is being able to cry…even when others are around.

Healing is being able to somewhat identify what I am feeling,
and hopefully…even being able to have an idea of WHY I am feeling it.

Healing is knowing when I need to decompress,
being able to identify safe places to decompress,
and then…doing it.

Healing is being able to sense whether a person or place is safe
And then being able to keep myself safe.

Healing is being able to find joy in life.

Healing is being able to see good things…even when bad things are happening.

Healing is being able to have gratitude for what I do have
rather than bemoaning what I don’t.

Healing is being able to be productive in some way every day
even if I am the only one who recognizes it.

Healing is being able to take a step forward,
no matter how tiny
and even if it is only in my heart.

Healing is being able to face some aspect of my past…without completely crumbling.

Healing is being able to recognize that some part of my history,
no matter how small or big,
no longer has a hold on me.

Healing is being able to make plans…and know that they might actually happen!

Healing is being able to say that I made it through
another minute,
another day,
another hour,
another week,
another month,
another year,
another anniversary,
another flashback,
another body memory,

Healing is having the freedom to fully unleash my creativity and
sing again,
play music again,
write again,
talk again,
share again.

Healing is being able to give without manipulation
and receive without manipulation
even more importantly… recognizing the difference.

Healing is being to allow myself to truly love
and open myself to the potential for heartache without fear,
knowing that I can rise above anything that happens.

Healing is allowing myself to trust others
and being trustworthy myself.

Healing is giving myself permission to live life to the fullest
without thinking much about healing or hurting or my history.
It is allowing myself to temporarily “forget” that I even have an abusive history.

Healing is knowing that I was a victim who dared to survive
and am now a survivor who dares to thrive.

Healing is being able to put words to my experiences,
words like
“rape”
and “sexual abuse”
and “incest”
and “satanic ritual abuse”.
And healing is to put them without capital letters because
I am bigger and taller and stronger than they are
and I refuse to give them capital letter power in my life.

Healing is being able to cry and know that I am OK
and everything will be alright.

Healing is being able to see my Creator’s love for me
even when I know I don’t deserve it.

Healing is being able to see His hand in my life…even during the most awful of experiences.

Healing is being able to see His protection and how He got me through.

I may think of more things to add to that list. As I do, I may edit

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Being a Warrior and a Survivor…

November 29, 2012

I am a fighter…and I recognize that it is my Creator who gave me that ability to fight.

I am a survivor…and it is my Creator who brought me through all the hell to get to the wonderful place I am today.

I am filled with the Shalom of my Messiah Yeshua and it is His Ruach/Spirit that has helped me all along my healing journey.

I am a warrior, too. So, what is the difference between a fighter and a warrior? I think there is a lot. I started out as a fighter, fighting my way through what was going on in order to survive. I fought to be “sane” (whatever that means). I fought to make it through the day. I fought to stay alive. I fought to hide my true self from everyone around me. I fought to look “normal” so no one would know the truth. I fought and I fought and I fought, but it was a fighting that was based more upon instinctively swinging my “arms” to fend off an enemy.

Over time, though, I became a warrior. I went on the offensive. And that is when things really started to change. That is when the evil I was fighting really started to show itself for what it was…dark and malevolent. It was not that I did not see that before. It was not that I was not doing some warrior fighting before. But there came a time in my life when I had no choice but to come out swinging on the offensive. I had to for the safety of my youngest.

My battle to survive and just make it through life slowly transformed into a battle of fighting back until the fighting back became the main thing. After years of feeling as if I were struggling just to keep my head above water so I could breath, I slipped into years of taking ground. I started to fight for real healing.

There are some who decry the term “survivor”, as if that is somehow less than or as if it somehow holds us back. We must never use that term, but must instead call ourselves “thrivers”…or some other term to define who we are.

But I AM a survivor! I have survived horrendous things and made it out the end! I am PROUD of that. Being a survivor means they did not win! A cancer survivor is one who has conquered cancer. No one would ever think of telling him or her not to use that term! So, why is it not OK for us who have survived extreme abuse?

I am a survivor! I am alive! I am “sane”…well, I guess that may depend upon your definition of “sane”. I am smiling as I write that. I am HERE! I did not die. I did not end up in a mental ward. I did not end up in jail. I did not end up dead. I have a good marriage. I made it out of all the abuse. Yes, it took years to do. Yes, I am still partially amnesic. Yes, I have a lot of healing left to do. But I am ALIVE! I no longer answer to my abusers. Hallelu Yah!

I am both a survivor AND a thriver. You see, I don’t see it as an either/or kind of thing. I am both! And I am grateful. I can see the beauty in life and share it with others. Here is some of that beauty now.

 

 

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Living Life in the Face of Nastiness…

March 30, 2012

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.

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Grieving the Finality of What Will Never Be…

March 9, 2012

I found out yesterday that my mother passed away on December 24, 2010. Yep…that is 1 year, 2 months and 14 days, plus or minus. And he is already remarried…I have NO idea for how long.

We permitted our son to call my mother…it’s a long story. When he asked about his grandmother, my father told him that she had died two years ago on a date my son did not remember. I got the actual date by calling the coroner’s office. They were able to confirm the date of her death and the cause…melanoma. I was told that she had been in hospice care, which was why her death was reported to them. It is a law in that state to report all deaths of people in hospice care.

Over the years I have grieved for what was and grieved for what wasn’t. And now, I need to grieve for what for sure will never be. There will never be reconciliation. Never be recognition. Never be an apology or forgiveness extended. Never be so many things.

I have a lot to think about…and a lot to feel. It can be difficult not to second-guess myself, but there are things I need to face in order to settle things in my own mind and heart. I was told she was dying, but not that she was in hospice care or that it was imminent. My father just kept playing games and, I believe, actually kept us apart…especially given what she said in the one time I did talk to her…a call that was interrupted by my father.

Things are a bit complicated and I am having to sort them all out. I need to own whatever is mine and refuse to take on whatever is not. I will not try to pick up another’s guilt. It is simply not mine to carry. Nor is it for me to run from my responsibilities. I went into this with eyes wide open. I knew the risks. I took the chance. Now it is over. Now I will process from a different place…on the other side of her death.

It is sad when someone lies so much that even when they tell the truth it is not the whole story and you don’t really know what you can believe. There are so many what ifs that I could run through. And taking a look is not a bad idea…but living there is. I must face what I must face and trust my heavenly Abba to walk me through to the other side. He has never let me down.

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Yours, Mine and ????…

January 2, 2011

What am I talking about? Assumptions! Regarding: Experiences! Healing journeys! Therapy! Plus any other number of things that many of us go through.

So many times I see people making assumptions based upon their own experiences. They take what has happened to them and then project it onto others.

For example, I have run into some bad therapists. Based upon that, I could make the assumption that all therapists are bad. However, I know that is not the case because I was blessed to have had some good ones first. But what if the bad ones had been my first ones? I might never have even given a good one a try.

The reverse is also true. Before I ran into a bad therapist myself, I could have made the incorrect assumption that all therapists are good. Thankfully, I  knew better than that for I had heard of bad ones before I ran into any.

Another example of assumptions has to do with what happened with my father. When I was in high school, I kept getting a gut feeling that something had happened between my father and I, but I had no memories at that time of anything specific. My life was a mess, but I refused to allow that to cause me to assume anything specific had happened (as a way of explaining why I was such a mess). I wanted proof.

For several years I battled that feeling and grew weary of it. So, I told the L-rd that, unless He gave me the memories, I was going to shove aside my gut feeling…which I did. I pushed it aside and refused to even consider it. I was actually rather successful at it.

Later, when I was trying to get help, I was confronted with that gut feeling again. So, I prayed for the truth. I wanted to either have the memories of the incidents causing the gut feeling to be revealed or, if there were no underlying incidents causing the gut feeling, to have the gut feeling go away. I refused to make assumptions about my father and I.

As it turns out, the person I went to for help…for prayer help…was a mess himself. However, there were some things in my life that stopped after being prayed for. G-d did use him in His own way to help me. I used to have “visions” of walking into my apartment and seeing my husband and sons slaughtered and blood all over the place. That stopped. I used to “see” myself driving off embankments or being “pushed” down stairs by invisible forces. That stopped.

I also had four memory flashes while working with him.  Two were of molestation. Although I did not really want to believe, I knew they were true. And even though I could not see who it was…I “knew”. In my heart of hearts I knew, but I did not want to deal with it. So, I shoved it aside. I did not want to assume it was my father…not unless I clearly saw his face.

The other two made no sense to me. They were ritual abuse in nature, but at that time I was not familiar with ritual abuse and I had no inkling that I had that background.  He interpreted the flashes as non-memory. He said they were some kind of generational thing passed down from prior generations. That did not sound right to me. So, I just set them aside for the time being. I did not assume they were non-memories. I did not assume they were memories.

Later, it kept bugging me. I suspect it was because odd things were happening between my father and I…as an adult married woman. I just kept feeling like I needed to stop shoving this under the rug. So, I went to a woman who specialized in a prayer ministry. We prayed a lot and, with the help of the Holy Spirit, I was able to see more of the memory…enough to see my father’s shirt…and his face.

As it turns out, this woman was abused herself. I think that caused her to push me to confront my father…perhaps before I was ready. It was something I felt I needed to do…even though I was really nervous about it.

When I did confront my father, with my mother by his side, he never denied a thing. He only said that he did not remember doing anything like that. I thought that was an odd response. My mother readily agreed that something had happened to me. She was just wondering “who it could have been”.

I pointed out something my father had been doing in the more recent past that was boundary crossing. It was part of the oddness that had been going on between my father and me and had to do with kissing me on the mouth against my wishes. I had been ducking and making it clear with my body language that I was not comfortable with it.

My father acknowledged that he knew I was uncomfortable with it, but said that body language  was not enough. I had to verbally say it. My mother was furious with him at first, but then got quiet.

My father, when confronted with my memories, assumed that the counselor must have suggested them to me. As she pointed out to him, I had them before I came to her. He then assumed that I must have gained them via hypnosis or psychotropic drugs. I was never hypnotized and had not taken any psychotropic drugs. Then he assumed they were planted there by satan to try and break the family apart. Mind you, my family was never close anyway. The only thing it could break apart were the manipulations going on.

He gave me a whole stack of articles that he “just happened” to find in people’s houses that he was cleaning. He said that G-d had led him to them. They all dealt with the false idea of False Memory Syndrome…something never proven and not in any of the DSM’s.

I don’t think he really believed any of those things caused my memories. However, I did start taking a look at them. Nothing in those articles applied to me. Nothing. Nor I did fit the typical FMS profile of that time. I did not sue my parents. I did not file a police report. I did not go public. I did not act in any kind of vindictive way.  I did not even keep my sons from visiting with my parents. It simply became the subject not talked about…until about four years or so later.

When my youngest was three, my parents started to manipulate their way into living with us. Even my pastor, when he heard about the situation, thought it was very odd. I became very unstable and started to have suicidal ideations. I prayed and fought and it got better…until they actually moved in.

Then it got really bad. With my father up early and my mother up late, I had no time alone other than in my special room. They ended up spending more and more time with my son while I was being driven further into instability…an instability they were actually causing. They created a problem and then were there to “help”. I could take a whole book to share the kinds of manipulations that were going on.

It was not until they had been out of the house about a year that I got a more complete understanding. It was all about them having access to my son. They moved in the month he turned four. They assumed that they could eliminate me…either by suicide, hospitalization or simply my shutting down…and they would have complete access to my son. But G-d had a different plan!

More to come…

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Still Here…and Freedom Run Ministries…

November 29, 2010

I haven’t completely dropped off the face of the earth! It only feels like it at times. I have been sick. Ugh! And my laptop is sick. Even after getting it back from the repair depot it STILL is not working right. Now I cannot even upload anything. Thankfully, I uploaded almost all of my art pieces for my art blog before I sent it in the first time. I just need to write the posts and get them published.

Still…this is annoying. I am very grateful for the gift of this laptop, but I simply cannot recommend Lenovo. They keep saying it is software. Well, if it is…it has to be THEIR software! They have already replaced the wi-fi card and then sent it back with some of my keyboard keys not working. Anyway, there is a whole lot more to this story, but I won’t bore anyone with the details. Suffice it to say, another shipping box comes tomorrow.

Being sick has one advantage. It gets my mind off of my parents…at least once the crazy thought cycling that tends to happen when I am sick calms down. I feel as if I have better clarity right now. I wrote my father and asked if he and my mother are OK. Mentioning that she was not responding to my emails, I wrote that I hope she is alright.

Now…I am done. Unless, of course, he responds. In that case, whether or not I am done will depend upon his response. For now, I am pushing them into the background of my thoughts and mind…and, possibly, right out the back door.

I believe in honoring my parents to the best of my ability. In this case, honoring them may mean leaving them alone. It did before. Maybe it is again. Someday…if we ever get into the house…I will probably do some artwork on this…and allow myself to feel grief. Right now…I cannot. I still feel too crummy to focus on anything very deep. And that is OK!

Life can have some very interesting turns. It is never boring. I meet new people…make new connections. I found a new resource called Freedom Run Ministries. You will find links in my sidebar. So many people do not want to focus on the spiritual side of Ritual Abuse. They do not believe there are any dark spirit entities that can play a role in the affairs of humans. When you do not know your enemy…you are in double danger. I hope you will check out their site. They are in the process of putting together lists of resources for survivors. They are doing their best to keep the list to safe resources. But, as I have learned in life, safety is something we are all responsible for. No one can know for sure that a person or place is 100% safe. And sometimes…people and places change.

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Maybe…It’s That I Contacted My Cousin…

October 20, 2010

I found a cousin on my mother’s side on FaceBook. It is interesting connecting with her. I have never been close to any family members. We always lived really far away from everyone. I would really like to add her to my friends list. Thing is…she most likely has a cult background, too. There is every indication that my family is generational…on both sides. So…do I just add her and trust that all will be OK?

My former therapist noticed something about when people break free from the cults. For some unknown reason, they find that the breaking free goes across and down…to siblings, cousins and children. So…maybe she is free. She did mention that she had been trying to figure out what issues the family had, but that she could never figure it out…that it was always a secret with them.

Could she have broken free without knowing about her past? Could it be they are just leaving her alone? I don’t know. I have no connection with family on either side. I have no real desire to connect with anyone on my father’s side. I got to meet my relatives on my mother’s side more frequently…albeit only a few times.

I don’t really know how to resolve this. I hate to bring up the SRA. Perhaps I should mention my growing up amnesia and see how she responds to that. I so want to connect with my cousins. Right now…she is pretty much it. Even she does not seem to be close to her other cousins. She was not sure where some of them are.

If it were not for my own children and grandchildren, I would just befriend her. She is being very understanding about connecting in private. I am grateful for that.

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How a Webinar Is Done…

August 19, 2010

A webinar is an online seminar. Instead of going to a physical place, you sign in to an online site…from the comfort of your own home. That is nice because you don’t have to be concerned about traffic or getting there on time. You also get to have handy whatever you need to help you keep grounded…or to get grounded if something in the webinar triggers you. All those who are signed up will receive an email with the site address and the log in. Via that site, you get to watch the slides used by the presenter.

A second email invites everyone to the webinar conference call. The email includes a phone number with a sign in code. That connects everyone in a single call. Those listening mute their phones while the presenter is speaking to cut down on background noise. There are times given for feedback or questions. Most presenting sites also have call in or microphone capability. Not each site is equal in its quality or features, though. Therefore, Survivorship has chosen to use one site’s call-in software and another site’s presenting software.

So, you receive two emails…one with the call-in information and one with the link for the log-in to see the slides. It is a very interesting experience. Oh…and another thing. There is a side chat window for those who have difficult with speaking on the phone. It is possible to ask the presenter questions there.

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I Hurt…

July 1, 2010

I actually wrote this yesterday, but wasn’t sure I wanted to post it. Today…I am thinking I will go ahead. Between all of this and trying to get all my art pieces ready before I have to send my PC off and then having to replace my PC before the webinar because they won’t fix it…they will only send a check…and my living situation. I am stretched. I miss being able to catch up on my friends’ blogs. Little by little I do get to read their blogs. It has just been a real challenge to focus, too. And then there it also simply day-to-day life…places to go…things to do.

Anyway…here is what I was thinking about posting yesterday:

Might Trigger

What can I say? I hurt…and it makes me feel like a wimp. This seems to be the week for flashbacks. Inside pain. A few visuals.

There is a woman…can’t remember what she looks like…from many years ago. I cannot stop thinking about the time I visited her apartment. Her son went to school with my son. My son wanted to go to his friend’s. He said that his friend’s mom saw him after school one day and told him that she really enjoyed talking with me. She thought I was really nice and she wanted me to come over with my son.

I did not want to go. I did not remember her. I am not comfortable around strangers. Even when I saw her…I did not remember her…and she would have stood out in my memory…I thought.  It felt awkward. I am not really sure how I got through it. Maybe I dissociated? And where was my younger son? I am sure he was with me? Did he have someone to play with?

I keep seeing the apartment door…I am approaching it from the outside. It was the downstairs apartment and I think there were stairs going up by their door? It is all dark and hazy. I have thought of her off and on throughout the years…briefly. And now…she keeps coming to mind over and over and over again. Why????

Sweet baby toes…and feet…and legs…and…fade to black. Don’t think about it. I HATE what they did to the babies. I HATE what they had us do to them. Communion like no other. SICK! SICK! SICK!

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Another Day in the Neighborhood…

June 27, 2010

I was reading last night in the bathroom. I just wasn’t ready to go to bed. The book was fairly light reading…nothing heavy or majorly intense…although it did deal with spiritual warfare in an Amish community. When I was tired, I went to bed…figuring on having plenty of time to sleep.

When I laid down…I started to see baby toes on baby feet. It went from there to the feet and so on. Flashback time. So, I just laid there in bed dealing with it…no place to go. I was fighting a battle. On the one hand I was trying to force myself to be open to what I was seeing. On the other hand I wanted to push it all away.

Someday…all this stuff needs to be able to come out. Someday…I will need to get the privacy to allow it all to come out…and the fortitude. Someday…

I did finally get to sleep…but then I woke up early in the morning and never really got back to sleep. So now I sit here at 9:30 and I am tired! I have been tired…but unable to go to bed yet. When we move out of here my bedtime will no longer be contingent upon another person.  I am anticipating that SO much!

Regarding the flashbacks…I wonder…in the book I was reading this Amish woman witnessed an accident that took the lives of her husband, son and unborn child. She pushed it all away…resulting in hysterical blindness. In the book, she reaches the point where she wants to see again and realizes that one key to that is to allow the memories to come. I wonder if reading about that process that she was going through could have made me more open to having them?

On another note…we watched the Bourne Identity today.  I had never seen it. It wasn’t nearly as bad as I thought it would be…and we watched the director’s cut with all the explosion scenes. Perhaps I had steeled myself against it. I don’t know.

Afterwards, though, I felt foggy and it was very difficult to think or function. Although I know others who have that kind of history…assassin training, etc. …I don’t. I relate to having amnesia…although not to the degree Jason Bourne has it. But then…my amnesia tends to be different from anyone else I have “met” so far. I have lost my sister. She is somewhere in this head of mine…but I don’t remember living with her for 10 years growing up. And other things are spotty, too.

After the movie…I just sort of talked to myself…reminding myself that this is NOT my story. NOT my history. There is absolutely NO indication that I have gone through anything like this. I have handled guns and fired them…it does not come naturally to me. No training.

Anyway…I am very tired. I couldn’t even bring myself to watermark more of my art. I need to get it all watermarked and exported before I send my PC in. Yeah…I am having PC issues.

Well…gonna wrap this up.

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Bits and Pieces and Feelin’ Blue…

June 22, 2010

I feel really blue right now. Not sure why. Maybe it is a bit of this and a bit of that. So, I think I will just kind of list what I’ve been doing and where I am right now. Some of it feels positive. Some of it does not feel so hot. Some feels neutral? I don’t know. I am rambling…not sure what to write. So, what follows comes in random order.

PC will be sent in. I will probably get a check back instead of a repaired PC. A check would be good…BUT this whole thing means no PC when I need to be working on my webinar. On the other hand, a check means I can get a PC with a CPU that can maybe handle my photoshop elements program. Emotionally = mixed bag.

Father’s Day. I don’t even know what to say about that one. Reality check: they are only interested in my son. OK…now I’m fighting tears. I keep telling myself that it does not matter. Heck…I was raised in a generational SRA family. What the heck DIFFERENCE does it make???? I got out. Stay out and move on. Sure…that is exactly what I do. But, you know what…these are my PARENTS!! They were just as abused. In fact, in some it was worse for them because they had no heart connection with the Creator to help them get through it. I did…and it did make a difference.

I grieve for them. I wish they would get healing, too. I wish their lives would turn around, too. I wish they would be as interested in me as they are my son. I actually thought the other day of emailing them with the reality of what they are doing…with the fact that I know it is only really him they are interested in. Telling them that I really don’t know what else to say. I see no indicators that they are the slightest bit interested in me…especially since I won’t renounce what I have told them I remember.

Yeah…it’s time for more grieving. Grieving: for what never was…for what could have been…for what was…for not having a “regular/healthy” family…for not remembering growing up with my sister. Yeah…THAT really hits a nerve.

When she died, they had her cremated. They wanted to scatter her ashes at a beach on the bay that my sister used to really like when she was still living with my parents. They wanted me to come along…without my hubby. By that time, I knew about the SRA. I knew about the DID. I knew about the programming. And there was no way in hell they were going to get me to go with them to an isolated beach without my hubby. So…there was either no “ceremony” or I was just left out. The whole thing with my sister was bizarre from start to finish. Her death. Her autopsy. Her funeral home junk. Ack! Yeah…let the tears flow.

My son. It has always been about my children….but especially this son. They moved into our house to get control of him…and to get rid of me. But they lost. They did not succeed. And now…years later…it is STILL all about him. No him…no anything really. All real communication results in silence. The last time I wrote to my father I told him that I left behind the insecure little girl that he once knew. I am a confident woman who stands on my own integrity before YHWH.Nothing he can say can change that. Nothing he can say can change the truth.

Then I asked him where he wanted to go from there. What kind of relationship did he want to have with the woman I have become. Answer: he just pressed me again to share with him what I remember. I won’t do that…and I told him why. Just as I had to remember on my own…he has to remember on his own. Otherwise, he might thing his recovered memories were “tainted”…”led”…”suggested”. (In other words…that they might be everything he has accused my memories of being.)

Since then…nothing. There is always a lag time between communication…a long lag time. I don’t rush to respond to him and vise versa. Same with the mother.

So now I feel like writing something that just kind of spells it out. I want to tell them that I know they are not interested in me. I accept that it is all about my son. Therefore, I see no reason to communicate further. I hope they can find some real peace in Yeshua/Jesus…some real healing. If, for some reason, they decide they want to really work on some kind of real relationship…they know my email addy. Otherwise…we might as well call things the way they really are. I am not into playing a game and I am not going to beg for their acceptance. Much as I would like to have “mom” and “dad”…I will not sacrifice my integrity to have it. I won’t pretend that nothing evil happened. I will just pray for them and leave it at that.

Well…I didn’t get very far with my list…did I? There is more…but I think my parents is really what it is mostly about right now. I put up more art on my other blog…finished putting up the 6 part series. Am trying to figure out to finish the webinar if my PC is gone…and especially if I have to buy a new one. I will figure it out.

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My Healing Art Blog…

June 21, 2010

I put my first piece of artwork up on my Healing Art Blog. Not that it is my first piece of art ever…just the first healing art piece that I am putting up. I hope to add more pieces over time.

I am uncertain whether to simply put them up and let them stand-alone. Or…to add notes to them. I could share mediums and methodology. I could share what was going on inside when I did them (if I remember, that is). I could share what I was hoping to accomplish and anything else that comes to mind. Or…I can just let them stand-alone.

I could really use some feedback on that.

In the sidebar on the right is the link to my Healing Art blog…if anyone is interested. I am thinking of starting one with poetry, too. Any thoughts on that? Any interest?

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Update…of Sorts…Rambling Thoughts

April 18, 2010

So here I am…sitting here with many thoughts going through my head. I think I will share some here…in no specific order.

It is amazing how my heavenly Abba works things out. I recently reconnected by email with an online friend. Then I went to a webinar. During that webinar (which was excellent, by the way), we had the opportunity to respond to what the presenter was sharing about building healthy relationships with others.

Well, in the process, someone else there really related to what I was sharing. So, I gave out one of my emails…not the one I typically use with the aforementioned friend. The woman I met on the phone at the webinar wrote to me and I recognized her email addy. It was my friend! We actually got to “meet” on the phone and did not even know it because we were using screen names that were different from when we had met before. The funny thing, too, is that we knew each other by at least two other screen names each. Know we have a third! We were both excited to reconnect in two ways!

I am thinking about the webinar I am planning on doing. What artwork will I use? How will I get decent photos of the pieces? What will I share? I am looking forward to writing something up and picking out the pieces. I am excited about doing the webinar and hope I can be ready by August…given the unknown of my living situation between now and then.

I am thinking of mother’s day…of father’s day…of my parents. My “relationship”, which is pretty much non-existent, was part of what I shared about in the webinar. The ball is in their court and I am waiting…patiently…for his eventual response. Truth be told, most of the time I don’t even think about it.

However, Kitty (the presenter) shared something called DARVO. Boy, did that describe my family. D is for Deny, which is the first thing the abuser does when confronted. Then…they Attack…which is A. RVO is for Reverse Victim and Offender. By attacking me, when I confronted my parents, I became the “offender” and they the “victims”. I was “hurting them” with what I was saying. I also related to the fact that Kitty, when talking about denial, used the phrase “I don’t remember”. That is EXACTLY what my father said…”I don’t remember doing those things.” Boy, did I relate.

I am thinking of my my marriages…and the vast difference between the two…and the similarities, too. After all, I was in both of them and I have issues. How my husbands responded to my issues is different. And yet…there are times when my current husband can set me off.

I am thinking about sexuality…but that is a whole other post.

I am thinking about my sister, my birthday and her death. She died on my birthday…while I was regaining cult memories. Her death was odd…the manner, the timing. Everything about it and about what happened afterward was just plain wierd…and had the earmarks of cult.  Why was I stronger? Why did I get out? Why am I free? Is she even really dead? Or do they have her somewhere. So many questions…ones that I doubt I will get answers for before I stand before my Creator at the end of time.

I think about my sister…how young she was…how she was living on extended time as a hard core alcoholic and bulimic. I think about the cult family she was living with and how they treated her. I think about her boyfriend who never married her…which was good in the end. I might never have even known she was dead if his parents could have been able to claim her body. I think of their attempts to manipulate me…and of my parents’ attempts.

And I wonder if my parents think of her…and what they think of her. I wonder if they really even think of me…or is it still all just about my son?

I think about the art I want to do…and have no place or privacy to do. I long to do my art…to get back to processing things…whether by art or by writing…by poetry, journaling or blogging.

It has been difficult to find uninterrupted time in my busy days to write here. I feel as if there is so much inside to write about…and yet it is difficult to actually write. I feel as if I am just rambling in my thoughts…rambling in my brain and rambling on “paper”.

Ah, well. Sometimes it is good to just get the rambling out. Maybe it will only make sense to me. That is OK. I know my online friends won’t mind. They are very forgiving. Perhaps more thoughts of substance will come another time. For now…I will live in today…one day at a time. And I will love the people in my life today…each and every day. They are gifts for a time and I cherish them.

I don’t know what tomorrow will bring…what joys or what sorrows…what new memories will be made or what old ones I will be reminded of. I do know Who holds me together and Who will always be with me…no matter what…my heavenly Abba, my Creator. I choose to walk. I choose to trust. Whatever comes with each new day…I will be given whatever I need to handle it.

I hope this post makes sense to others and that it helps someone else. I know it helps me to get things out. I wish I could write more…but I am keeping someone else awake. This is my best uninterrupted time…but it is also not my free time.  There is a weight hanging over me. *sigh* Maybe I can write more tomorrow. We will see.

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I Feel – Poem

April 6, 2010

In Triggers and Blow-ups and Talking About Things, I wrote about feeling like I have to hide. The following poem, written in February of 2009, reflects some of that feeling.

I Feel

Trapped. Trapped. Deep inside.
It feels like I have to hide.

The very truest part of me
is tied into a box you see,
always remaining on the shelf,
always covering my core self.

Some are living their lives outside
in a world so vast and wide.
There are others who are caught
in space internal – the land of naught.

A puzzle with pieces you can’t see,
you’ll never meet the whole of me.
With pieces not allowed to show,
I’ve pieces with no place to go.

It feels like I have to hide.
Trapped. Trapped. Deep inside.

copyrighted 2009

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My Place In This World & Coping with Social Situations!

April 6, 2010

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.

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