Be the change you want to see.

"But if being abused is a curse, it is not an unbreakable one. Yes, the path of least resistance is to recapitulate the abuse one learned as a child, but that is not the only path."

THESE are passages from a post by siderea that I really recommend anyone read who had a difficult, abusive, or neglectful childhood, or who loves someone who falls into that category.

Another passage:

"This is what the work of breaking the cycle of abuse entails: re-examining the past with the full cognitive capacities of an adult so that you can re-evaluate and replace the understanding you have of the abuse you experienced, and seeking out, identifying, and remedying the holes in one's interpersonal (and other) functioning skills. The former is generally pretty painful in the short term, but leads to radically less suffering and increased peace of mind medium-term and long-term; the latter is an ongoing hassle but pays steady and compounding dividends of improved relations and social/business success.

But the first step, in general, is realizing that there's something to be done. By the adult who was abused as a child. On one hand, it does seem terribly unfair that the victim is the person who gets stuck with doing all this work if they want to be restored to their full powers, or at least as much of their full powers as may be available to them. Would that you could sue your abuser into giving you back the childhood they owed you!

But on the other hand, this is good news: the power to recover what was yours is in your own hands. You don't need anyone's permission. You don't need your abuser's permission or assistance. They don't have the power to withhold this from you. Yes, it sucks that you are the one that has to do the work, but what a relief that you get to be the one to do the work. Because the alternative is being dependent for your very psychological well-being on the good will of people who have demonstrated not much good will to you. So the realization that there is something you can do is liberating."


please see also my post in a similar vein, Metaphor for Fear.

I have yet another post on this that I want to share if I can find it, the one about having to deal with the fact that you have to shovel your own shit, no matter how you acquired it.

I'm consuming too much media.
It interferes with my capacity for independent thought, interrupts ideas-in-progress.

YMMV, of course, but it's notable in my case.

Was thinking earlier today about what does it really mean to be grown up?
Adult?
A "Woman"?
A "Man"?

To put a different spin on it, when exactly do us Walking Wounded finally come to own our own souls?
Our bodies, our health, our own opinions and reality?


I had no concept of myself as lovable for the first 18 years of my life. I had no idea of myself as attractive, gorgeous, loved, until I was 20 (thanks, gorgeous and loved Irishman...) I had no idea of myself as a dancer till I joined Travellers' Union at age 22 and started to learn English Country Dance and Ballroom (Thanks, all you former Travellers!) I had no idea I could be athletic until I started taking TaeKwonDo (thanks, Master Rankins!) at age 26.

Of course, I didn't realize I could be broken, either. I challenged myself to try new things, always proceeding with caution, hesitantly. But I could feel my self stretching, growing, filling out, and dimly sensing that the possibility of *flowering* was there, even if I wasn't robust and juicy enough yet.

Then I backslid. I married the wrong guy (or, the right guy, because I did need the "another opportunity for growth" because I was STUCK and needed to be jarred loose). I fucked up my knee from trusting that my teachers knew my body and abilities better than I did (dumb, dumb, blind, thoughtless and dumb), and I coped with the first disease/problem that was the brush with death. That's when I discovered that doctors are not omniscient, they are human, and make mistakes. I worked on healing myself and in the time I thought I was face-to-face with my own ceasing-to-be, I looked at my blind spots and my dead spots and my not-broken-but-grew-crooked spots. And I started trying to remove the dead spots and enlivening the dead spots and retraining the grew-crooked spots.

Then I made progress. I worked with the Thiasos, a group of Hellenic Pagans based in Sacramento and the Bay area, and I started to learn what mattered. That *I* mattered. That *I* was a child of god, same as the trees and the stars (thanks, Desiderata!) That I was worthy. That I could be strong, but that I would have to work on it, since I had a habit of thinking of myself as weak. I learned that I was *beautiful* (Thanks, Adelphai! *wipes tears from eyes*) though it had to come to me as a surprise and after a lot of time working on my headspace. After that, I joined a learning coven, a Wicca 101 group, and started to work on becoming strong and principled.

Still I referred to myself as a "girl". A "girl" of thirty-something, because "woman" was ... fraught. Being "a woman" felt like more than I could claim for myself. I mostly referred to myself as a "person". "Woman" still is complicated (political, and with lots of connotations), but at 41 with the life experience I have? I'm finally referring to myself as a woman, because somewhere between 30 and 40 I actually DID "grow up:"

I did start taking responsibility for my own health and my own happiness.
I did start taking responsibility for my own life and my part in building or destroying my own relationships.
I did start making the conscious decision to strive to be kind and compassionate and truthful. To live my sense of what is right and true and ethical.

Whenever I start to feel like I'm treading water instead of making forward progress, I look at what I'm saying, and what I'm doing, and what I'm thinking. I look at where my relationships are, and if there is any place I have enough resources to help someone else - time, attention, energy, and sometimes money or goods.

One of the Christian philosophical systems has a saying: Lord, let me be an instrument of your peace. I add:
Lord, let me be an instrument of joy.
Lord, let me be an instrument of healing,
Lord, let me be an instrument of hope and compassion.

I am a grown up now. In my way of thinking, that entails a number of responsibilities.

If you have strengths, you use them in the service of weakness, and helping others become stronger.
If you have learning, you use it in the service of educating ignorance into knowledge.
If you have passion, you work to fan the flames of passion in the world: passion for justice, for truth, for beauty, for fairness.
If you have health, you use it to help others heal themselves.
If you have traveled from brokenness to wholeness? You work on helping others see and fix the broken wherever it is to be found.

And you know what? None of this is *easy*.
None of this Living on Planet Earth is easy. We get sick, we suffer. We hurt each other, intentionally and un.
We lose possessions we value. Maybe we learn something.
People we love die. We suffer. Maybe we learn something.
People around us suffer. Maybe today we have enough to share, a hand to stretch out in comfort. Maybe we are the ones suffering, and hoping to have the comfort of another's hand. And maybe we learn something.

and maybe? maybe what we learn? is that's what Love is.
maybe once we stop being afraid, we can put Love to work in our lives.
For real.
And maybe that is all the Change we need.



If Love drives out Fear, how do we make sure everyone has enough Love? How do we help people Not be Afraid?

It starts with me. It starts with one word, one hug, one (dumb) little post on the internet.



And the courage to make it public.

It's easy to write for people I've chosen, people I know I can trust. I'm going to stretch my trusting muscle farther today.


Remember. Love. Learn. Hope.