There is a memory. A memory that holds more power over me than anything else ever has. A memory that has been there for as long as I can remember. And beyond. A memory that taunts me. A memory that hides. A memory that I sense but don't see.
It is strong. It is elusive. It is haunting.
And I am going to battle against it.
Most of the time, it lies hidden. Tightly protected in its cage. Just out of my reach.
But right now it is exposed. And right now I am strong. And right now I have an army behind me.
I am frightened. But I am going to war.
Showing posts with label Power. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Power. Show all posts
Tuesday, October 29, 2013
Going to War
Tuesday, February 26, 2013
Why I Asked for Support
A few days ago I wrote a post explaining that I was in a dark and difficult place and asking for prayers and happy thoughts in my behalf. I am so grateful to everyone who responded and all those who offered prayers, happy thoughts, positive energy, and love. I believe greatly in the power of all of these. I have felt lifted in so many ways. While I do not believe I am out of the woods just yet, I am improved.
It was a rough month. Two back to back episodes of PTSD followed by a major depression, all while experiencing a new health struggle. It was a seriously dark place I was in. And, as is the nature of depression, it was a little too comfortable.
But there was a tickling in the back of my mind that said, "It doesn't have to be this way. You can be happy. You like being happy." All of those things are difficult to remember when I'm in that dark place.
And asking for help was hard. I grew up in a home where we were taught fierce independence. We help others. We don't need help. We don't discuss our problems with others. We don't complain. We suck it up and get back to work. We push through it. I lived that way for many years.
That way is a lie! I want to scream it from the rooftops. That is not what this life is meant to be! In our society, independence is praised and revered. But independence is only a stepping stone. True mental health is interdependence. This needs to be said more. This needs to be taught in our schools and homes and churches. True mental health (and spiritual health) is interdependence. Interdependence means we do everything for ourselves that we possibly can and ask for help when we need it. It means we know enough to see when we're over our heads or in unfamiliar territory. And we ask for help for those things we can't do for ourselves.
As a religious person, I believe that independence is a beautiful lie to keep us from relying on God and turning to each other. A lie focused on the importance of self. I believe we are meant to be interdependent with our fellow man AND with God, not just one or the other.
One strong person can do a lot. Many strong people, interconnected, can change the world! No wonder the powers of evil want to stop it.
Those are the underlying reasons I asked for help. Mostly it was because I was in such a bad way and needed to feel the strength of others. I needed to not feel so alone. I needed to see the goodness of the incredible people in my life (including my cyber-life).
And it was because I want to practice what I preach. I want to know when my friends and family are struggling. I want to be a support to them. I want to pray for them. I want to reach out to them. I want to tell them I love them when they need it the most. I want to hurt with them. I want to cry for them. And I can't do any of those things if I don't know they are not okay.
It would be hypocritical of me to ask others to tell me when their world is dark if I am not willing to do the same.
My world is brighter today. My burden is lighter. Because of the light and strength offered freely by others. Thank you so much for that. And thank you to those who open their hearts and share with me when they aren't okay. You are brave and strong and I am better for the time we have together.
It was a rough month. Two back to back episodes of PTSD followed by a major depression, all while experiencing a new health struggle. It was a seriously dark place I was in. And, as is the nature of depression, it was a little too comfortable.
But there was a tickling in the back of my mind that said, "It doesn't have to be this way. You can be happy. You like being happy." All of those things are difficult to remember when I'm in that dark place.
And asking for help was hard. I grew up in a home where we were taught fierce independence. We help others. We don't need help. We don't discuss our problems with others. We don't complain. We suck it up and get back to work. We push through it. I lived that way for many years.
That way is a lie! I want to scream it from the rooftops. That is not what this life is meant to be! In our society, independence is praised and revered. But independence is only a stepping stone. True mental health is interdependence. This needs to be said more. This needs to be taught in our schools and homes and churches. True mental health (and spiritual health) is interdependence. Interdependence means we do everything for ourselves that we possibly can and ask for help when we need it. It means we know enough to see when we're over our heads or in unfamiliar territory. And we ask for help for those things we can't do for ourselves.
As a religious person, I believe that independence is a beautiful lie to keep us from relying on God and turning to each other. A lie focused on the importance of self. I believe we are meant to be interdependent with our fellow man AND with God, not just one or the other.
One strong person can do a lot. Many strong people, interconnected, can change the world! No wonder the powers of evil want to stop it.
Those are the underlying reasons I asked for help. Mostly it was because I was in such a bad way and needed to feel the strength of others. I needed to not feel so alone. I needed to see the goodness of the incredible people in my life (including my cyber-life).
And it was because I want to practice what I preach. I want to know when my friends and family are struggling. I want to be a support to them. I want to pray for them. I want to reach out to them. I want to tell them I love them when they need it the most. I want to hurt with them. I want to cry for them. And I can't do any of those things if I don't know they are not okay.
It would be hypocritical of me to ask others to tell me when their world is dark if I am not willing to do the same.
My world is brighter today. My burden is lighter. Because of the light and strength offered freely by others. Thank you so much for that. And thank you to those who open their hearts and share with me when they aren't okay. You are brave and strong and I am better for the time we have together.
Labels:
Darkness,
Friendship,
God,
Light,
Love,
Mental Health,
Power,
Self-care,
Strength,
Support
Saturday, February 9, 2013
Any Man of Mine
For the first thirty-five years or so of my life I let other people do most of the choosing for me. They dictated the kind of person I should be. They told me the things I should like. They told me what behavior was appropriate and what wasn't. And I fell into line.
The reasons why are numerous. I wish I'd realized earlier that I had choices.
It was around age 35 that I first went to therapy. Again, the reasons why are numerous. It was a life saver in a very real sense. And it was there that I learned I can choose. If I don't like something about my life I can choose to change it. I can choose things that make me happy even if the people around me don't like it. It was a rebirth. I was deciding who I was for the first time.
It was an incredibly empowering time. But there were still difficulties. I had to learn and develop ways to get through those difficult times. Those people who'd had control over me for so long didn't give that up easily. My tendency to surrender to their will and be bullied into submission didn't go away after one session -- not even after many sessions.
New habits and thinking patterns are hard. It takes time and a lot of work to change who you are, whether you like who you were or not. And, unfortunately, I couldn't convince my therapist to travel everywhere with me and give me the little nudges I needed in the tough moments. The moments in between sessions were killers.
That was kind of the long way to tell you about my Power Songs. I found various things that kept me empowered between sessions, and my Power Songs were some of the best. Three cds of very personal songs that helped me remember what I wanted and why I was working so hard and that it would all be worth it.
One of those songs was Shania Twain's "Any Man of Mine." It felt very empowering. It felt full of self-determination. It was all about teaching people how you want to be treated, which is a big deal in therapy.
My husband mostly loved my Power Songs. He (eventually) supported the changes I wanted to make and the new person I was becoming. He would sing with me when I played my Power Songs. Except that song. He hated it.
I assumed it was because it was country. I'm a fan; he's not. But when I asked him why he said something along the lines of, "Have you listened to how it talks about men?"
I'm gonna tell you all the truth. How it talked about men hadn't ever crossed my mind. Those first stages of therapy were incredibly selfish times. They had to be. But it meant that I was so worried about how I was treated that I didn't consider how he was treated.
The song basically says a woman can behave any way she wants and the man better shut up and love it and behave the way she wants. He better tow the line.
It's often what our society teaches. It's what my mother modeled. I believe it's a leftover from the feminist movement of the seventies. It's the old story of the oppressed rising up and oppressing their oppressors.
But it's not healthy. It's not good for us as women either. It's just bullying in a different form.
Learning to treat each other with respect has been a steep, uphill climb for both of us. Neither of us was taught this growing up. It wasn't modeled in our homes. Sarcasm and emotional manipulation and bullying are the languages we learned. Teaching him how I wanted to be treated was only half of the solution. Learning how he wanted to be treated was equally important.
Over time I've learned that the most empowering relationship, the most healthy relationship, is one of mutual respect. One that makes each person feel valued. One that's not all about me or all about him but about us. As a unit and individually. We matter.
The reasons why are numerous. I wish I'd realized earlier that I had choices.
It was around age 35 that I first went to therapy. Again, the reasons why are numerous. It was a life saver in a very real sense. And it was there that I learned I can choose. If I don't like something about my life I can choose to change it. I can choose things that make me happy even if the people around me don't like it. It was a rebirth. I was deciding who I was for the first time.
It was an incredibly empowering time. But there were still difficulties. I had to learn and develop ways to get through those difficult times. Those people who'd had control over me for so long didn't give that up easily. My tendency to surrender to their will and be bullied into submission didn't go away after one session -- not even after many sessions.
New habits and thinking patterns are hard. It takes time and a lot of work to change who you are, whether you like who you were or not. And, unfortunately, I couldn't convince my therapist to travel everywhere with me and give me the little nudges I needed in the tough moments. The moments in between sessions were killers.
That was kind of the long way to tell you about my Power Songs. I found various things that kept me empowered between sessions, and my Power Songs were some of the best. Three cds of very personal songs that helped me remember what I wanted and why I was working so hard and that it would all be worth it.
One of those songs was Shania Twain's "Any Man of Mine." It felt very empowering. It felt full of self-determination. It was all about teaching people how you want to be treated, which is a big deal in therapy.
My husband mostly loved my Power Songs. He (eventually) supported the changes I wanted to make and the new person I was becoming. He would sing with me when I played my Power Songs. Except that song. He hated it.
I assumed it was because it was country. I'm a fan; he's not. But when I asked him why he said something along the lines of, "Have you listened to how it talks about men?"
I'm gonna tell you all the truth. How it talked about men hadn't ever crossed my mind. Those first stages of therapy were incredibly selfish times. They had to be. But it meant that I was so worried about how I was treated that I didn't consider how he was treated.
The song basically says a woman can behave any way she wants and the man better shut up and love it and behave the way she wants. He better tow the line.
It's often what our society teaches. It's what my mother modeled. I believe it's a leftover from the feminist movement of the seventies. It's the old story of the oppressed rising up and oppressing their oppressors.
But it's not healthy. It's not good for us as women either. It's just bullying in a different form.
Learning to treat each other with respect has been a steep, uphill climb for both of us. Neither of us was taught this growing up. It wasn't modeled in our homes. Sarcasm and emotional manipulation and bullying are the languages we learned. Teaching him how I wanted to be treated was only half of the solution. Learning how he wanted to be treated was equally important.
Over time I've learned that the most empowering relationship, the most healthy relationship, is one of mutual respect. One that makes each person feel valued. One that's not all about me or all about him but about us. As a unit and individually. We matter.
Friday, January 25, 2013
The Best Thing I've Ever Written
Not this post. A different post. In fact, several different posts. Because every now and then I write one of those posts. And someone comments or sends me a message or tells me in person that what I've just published on my blog is the best thing I've ever written.
Those are good days, I'm not gonna lie. I enjoy hearing that from people. But how can multiple posts be the best thing I've ever written?
When I first got that comment I tried to analyze my post. What had I done differently? What made this post better than other posts? How could I replicate that?
And I've learned that it's not all about me and what I put out there. That's part of it. But another part, maybe a more important part, is what's going on in the reader's life when they read what I've written.
Sometimes I write funny, although mine is generally a dry wit. Sometimes I write tragedy. Sometimes I write philosophical. Sometimes I write spiritual. I even occasionally write slap stick. And any of these could be the best post I've ever written -- for you, at that time.
My writing is most powerful when it touches something within the reader. Maybe I made you laugh about something you were taking too seriously in your own life. Maybe I answered a question you had. Maybe I helped you find the path you were looking for. Maybe I inspired you to make a change. Maybe I offered you hope or strength when you needed it most. Maybe I pointed out something so obvious that you've always known but have never told yourself. Maybe only one sentence from an entire post pierces your heart but was exactly what you needed that day. Or maybe so many other things.
The more I've blogged, the more I've learned that the best writing is a collaborative effort between the writer and the reader even if we never talk to each other about it. And I am so lucky when I get to know that magic happened because someone who read what I wrote told me it touched their heart.
I hope I have many more best posts in me. I hope you are moved by what I write. I am honored to experience the magic with you.
Those are good days, I'm not gonna lie. I enjoy hearing that from people. But how can multiple posts be the best thing I've ever written?
When I first got that comment I tried to analyze my post. What had I done differently? What made this post better than other posts? How could I replicate that?
And I've learned that it's not all about me and what I put out there. That's part of it. But another part, maybe a more important part, is what's going on in the reader's life when they read what I've written.
Sometimes I write funny, although mine is generally a dry wit. Sometimes I write tragedy. Sometimes I write philosophical. Sometimes I write spiritual. I even occasionally write slap stick. And any of these could be the best post I've ever written -- for you, at that time.
My writing is most powerful when it touches something within the reader. Maybe I made you laugh about something you were taking too seriously in your own life. Maybe I answered a question you had. Maybe I helped you find the path you were looking for. Maybe I inspired you to make a change. Maybe I offered you hope or strength when you needed it most. Maybe I pointed out something so obvious that you've always known but have never told yourself. Maybe only one sentence from an entire post pierces your heart but was exactly what you needed that day. Or maybe so many other things.
The more I've blogged, the more I've learned that the best writing is a collaborative effort between the writer and the reader even if we never talk to each other about it. And I am so lucky when I get to know that magic happened because someone who read what I wrote told me it touched their heart.
I hope I have many more best posts in me. I hope you are moved by what I write. I am honored to experience the magic with you.
Labels:
Blogging,
Connections,
Moment,
Power,
Writing
Monday, January 7, 2013
A Moment in Church
As I've begun this year trying to see more divinely, I've found that it has very little to do with my eyes and a lot to do with my heart. In fact, with my whole soul. I don't know why there isn't a name to describe what it means to feel something with your whole soul. I know I'm not the only one who's felt it. There should be a name for it.
Yesterday, as I sat in the chapel and the meeting began, I remembered to see. I paused a moment and had an inward conversation with God and asked Him to help me see these people around me the way He sees them. I opened my heart. And He began to open my soul. Just a tiny bit. And I was flooded. Intense and overwhelming love doesn't begin to describe what I felt in that tiny peek. It was so intense that I shut my heart. I had instantly started to cry and knew this was just a taste. I wasn't ready for the display I might cause if I kept my heart open and allowed Him to continue pouring.
God, being who He is, respected that. He found another way to teach me. To give me a bit of what I was yearning for but I was ready to handle. As the meeting progressed I was filled with the love the people in the room have for each other.
I am Mormon. We don't search until we find a congregation that fits us. Our church is divided into wards (congregations) based on boundaries. Areas are divided up and we are assigned to a ward. This means we go to church with our neighbors. As I've written before, my neighborhood is amazing! I wish I could explain it in a way that you could understand. Someone who has moved away read that post and remarked that she missed our neighborhood because it was as close to Mayberry as she'd known. That's a pretty good comparison.
The thing is, we are a family. Like any family there are some people who don't always get along. There are a few black sheep. But mostly, we love and take care of each other.
And yesterday I felt that love in a way I never have before. Instead of just feeling love for them, I felt everyone's love for each other. All of them. All at the same time.
In the Mormon church, the first Sunday of the month is Fast Sunday. We are encouraged to prayerfully skip two meals in an effort to draw closer to God and donate what those meals would have cost to the ward. This money is then used to help our neighbors as deemed appropriate by our bishop (pastor). And on Fast Sunday we have testimony meeting. Instead of our regular worship service where two or three members of our ward or stake (a group of wards) delivers a talk they have studied and prepared for, the pulpit is open to everyone. It is a time when anyone from the congregation can get up and share their testimony with us. Share what's in their hearts.
There were some beautiful testimonies shared. But more than that, there was so much love. It was the brave woman who talked about her recently broken home and asked for help. She asked that we bear testimony to her children to strengthen them. It was the woman who followed after her saying that if we'd been asked to give food to her family we wouldn't have hesitated; she asked that we not hesitate on this. Several who testified pledged to support her and testify to her children. It was the parents who bore testimony directly to their children so they would know their parents believe. It was the awe mentioned by many as a young man we've all watch grow up passed the sacrament for the first time. The love and pride we felt for him and his parents. It was my dear friend who talked about living far from her family and her husband's family and reminded us that we are her family. It was the dear sweet little six-year old girl who stood and testified that prayer is good and it will help us and make us happy. And so much more.
I cried and cried. The love my neighbors feel for each other is almost always evident. We are a tight group. But this day. This day it was more. It was palpable. It filled the room. My soul was swimming in it. And God said, "It's kind of like that only better."
One day I hope to be able to let Him teach me the whole lesson. For now, I'm grateful for the glimpse.
Yesterday, as I sat in the chapel and the meeting began, I remembered to see. I paused a moment and had an inward conversation with God and asked Him to help me see these people around me the way He sees them. I opened my heart. And He began to open my soul. Just a tiny bit. And I was flooded. Intense and overwhelming love doesn't begin to describe what I felt in that tiny peek. It was so intense that I shut my heart. I had instantly started to cry and knew this was just a taste. I wasn't ready for the display I might cause if I kept my heart open and allowed Him to continue pouring.
God, being who He is, respected that. He found another way to teach me. To give me a bit of what I was yearning for but I was ready to handle. As the meeting progressed I was filled with the love the people in the room have for each other.
I am Mormon. We don't search until we find a congregation that fits us. Our church is divided into wards (congregations) based on boundaries. Areas are divided up and we are assigned to a ward. This means we go to church with our neighbors. As I've written before, my neighborhood is amazing! I wish I could explain it in a way that you could understand. Someone who has moved away read that post and remarked that she missed our neighborhood because it was as close to Mayberry as she'd known. That's a pretty good comparison.
The thing is, we are a family. Like any family there are some people who don't always get along. There are a few black sheep. But mostly, we love and take care of each other.
And yesterday I felt that love in a way I never have before. Instead of just feeling love for them, I felt everyone's love for each other. All of them. All at the same time.
In the Mormon church, the first Sunday of the month is Fast Sunday. We are encouraged to prayerfully skip two meals in an effort to draw closer to God and donate what those meals would have cost to the ward. This money is then used to help our neighbors as deemed appropriate by our bishop (pastor). And on Fast Sunday we have testimony meeting. Instead of our regular worship service where two or three members of our ward or stake (a group of wards) delivers a talk they have studied and prepared for, the pulpit is open to everyone. It is a time when anyone from the congregation can get up and share their testimony with us. Share what's in their hearts.
There were some beautiful testimonies shared. But more than that, there was so much love. It was the brave woman who talked about her recently broken home and asked for help. She asked that we bear testimony to her children to strengthen them. It was the woman who followed after her saying that if we'd been asked to give food to her family we wouldn't have hesitated; she asked that we not hesitate on this. Several who testified pledged to support her and testify to her children. It was the parents who bore testimony directly to their children so they would know their parents believe. It was the awe mentioned by many as a young man we've all watch grow up passed the sacrament for the first time. The love and pride we felt for him and his parents. It was my dear friend who talked about living far from her family and her husband's family and reminded us that we are her family. It was the dear sweet little six-year old girl who stood and testified that prayer is good and it will help us and make us happy. And so much more.
I cried and cried. The love my neighbors feel for each other is almost always evident. We are a tight group. But this day. This day it was more. It was palpable. It filled the room. My soul was swimming in it. And God said, "It's kind of like that only better."
One day I hope to be able to let Him teach me the whole lesson. For now, I'm grateful for the glimpse.
Tuesday, September 11, 2012
If They Don't Mean to Hurt You, Is It Still Abuse?
As a teen it seemed like every show on TV had an abuse theme, either the main theme or secondary. I think the 80s were some kind of waking up period for the world. Here's this awful thing and you need to know about it. Like that.
And on TV, abuse was easy to recognize. You could always pick out the villain. He was charming in public and a monster behind closed doors. If he was nice to his victim, it was just to manipulate her into what he wanted. It was all so black and white.
But in real life it's not always like that.
Sometimes someone's behavior hurts you so much. You know they love you and weren't trying to hurt you, but they did. And when you know they didn't mean to hurt you it's easy to overlook it. It's easy to say it doesn't matter. It's easy to forgive and move on.
Sometimes you see their suffering and excuse their behavior because of it. If she weren't struggling so, she never would have said those things. She never would have called me that. She never would have made me feel so worthless.
And after a while it becomes the norm. It's just who they are so you accept it. You know you can't change them so you just take it.
But guess what? That's not healthy. Just taking it isn't okay. It will destroy you.
I'm big on identifying motivation. I try to look for why people do what they do. And I generally assume they didn't mean to. Maybe it's because when I am mean I don't usually mean to be. We tend to ascribe our motivations to others; it's human nature.
So if someone hurts you. A lot. Over and over. But they didn't mean to. Is it still abuse?
Yes, it is. Even if they're sorry. Even if they're not. You can try to reason it away. You can excuse it all you want. But it's still abuse.
Because sometimes abuse isn't about intent -- it's about results. It's about one person putting their own emotional needs above yours in an unhealthy way. It's about crossing boundaries. It's about using another person for your own benefit.
And it's about how it makes you feel. When you've spent years in abusive relationships, sometimes you don't see it. You sit and take it and later you crumble. The crumbling is a sign.
Sometimes you see the crumbling as a sign that you aren't strong enough. That you aren't kind enough. That you aren't forgiving enough. That's not what it's signaling.
You are crumbling because you are wounded. Because what was done to you wasn't right. And whether anyone else noticed it or not, it was still wrong.
And you can learn from it. You can learn to protect yourself. You can set boundaries. You can refuse to see people. You can leave. You can make excuses. You can even lie to protect yourself.
When you are young, you are sometimes helpless and trapped. When you are an adult, you aren't. Unless you are actually chained up, you can get out. It may not be the ending you were looking for. It may not be easy. In fact, it will probably be the toughest thing you ever do. But sometimes you have to leave.
But if you stay, it's your job to protect yourself. You can spend all the time in the world blaming the other person. Saying it's their fault. And you would be mostly right. But you won't heal. You won't heal until you see that little glimmer of power that you still have. You won't heal until you take back control of your life and your own emotional health. You won't heal until you refuse to be a punching bag. Ever again!
It takes time. It takes practice. And you might have to learn over and over again with multiple people. But each time you set a boundary and stick to it, demand that it be respected, you will be stronger. More whole. More healthy. Better able to face the next day.
And you are worth protecting. Say it over and over to yourself if you have to. If that's too hard right now, just remember that it's your job. You are the only person on this planet whose job it is to keep you safe your whole life. Sometimes it's easier to think of it this way.
Abuse isn't always easy to see. But if the same person keeps hurting you over and over, protect yourself. Whether they mean it or not doesn't matter.
It's not okay to hurt people.
And on TV, abuse was easy to recognize. You could always pick out the villain. He was charming in public and a monster behind closed doors. If he was nice to his victim, it was just to manipulate her into what he wanted. It was all so black and white.
But in real life it's not always like that.
Sometimes someone's behavior hurts you so much. You know they love you and weren't trying to hurt you, but they did. And when you know they didn't mean to hurt you it's easy to overlook it. It's easy to say it doesn't matter. It's easy to forgive and move on.
Sometimes you see their suffering and excuse their behavior because of it. If she weren't struggling so, she never would have said those things. She never would have called me that. She never would have made me feel so worthless.
And after a while it becomes the norm. It's just who they are so you accept it. You know you can't change them so you just take it.
But guess what? That's not healthy. Just taking it isn't okay. It will destroy you.
I'm big on identifying motivation. I try to look for why people do what they do. And I generally assume they didn't mean to. Maybe it's because when I am mean I don't usually mean to be. We tend to ascribe our motivations to others; it's human nature.
So if someone hurts you. A lot. Over and over. But they didn't mean to. Is it still abuse?
Yes, it is. Even if they're sorry. Even if they're not. You can try to reason it away. You can excuse it all you want. But it's still abuse.
Because sometimes abuse isn't about intent -- it's about results. It's about one person putting their own emotional needs above yours in an unhealthy way. It's about crossing boundaries. It's about using another person for your own benefit.
And it's about how it makes you feel. When you've spent years in abusive relationships, sometimes you don't see it. You sit and take it and later you crumble. The crumbling is a sign.
Sometimes you see the crumbling as a sign that you aren't strong enough. That you aren't kind enough. That you aren't forgiving enough. That's not what it's signaling.
You are crumbling because you are wounded. Because what was done to you wasn't right. And whether anyone else noticed it or not, it was still wrong.
And you can learn from it. You can learn to protect yourself. You can set boundaries. You can refuse to see people. You can leave. You can make excuses. You can even lie to protect yourself.
When you are young, you are sometimes helpless and trapped. When you are an adult, you aren't. Unless you are actually chained up, you can get out. It may not be the ending you were looking for. It may not be easy. In fact, it will probably be the toughest thing you ever do. But sometimes you have to leave.
But if you stay, it's your job to protect yourself. You can spend all the time in the world blaming the other person. Saying it's their fault. And you would be mostly right. But you won't heal. You won't heal until you see that little glimmer of power that you still have. You won't heal until you take back control of your life and your own emotional health. You won't heal until you refuse to be a punching bag. Ever again!
It takes time. It takes practice. And you might have to learn over and over again with multiple people. But each time you set a boundary and stick to it, demand that it be respected, you will be stronger. More whole. More healthy. Better able to face the next day.
And you are worth protecting. Say it over and over to yourself if you have to. If that's too hard right now, just remember that it's your job. You are the only person on this planet whose job it is to keep you safe your whole life. Sometimes it's easier to think of it this way.
Abuse isn't always easy to see. But if the same person keeps hurting you over and over, protect yourself. Whether they mean it or not doesn't matter.
It's not okay to hurt people.
Labels:
Abuse,
Boundaries,
Choices,
Healing,
Mental Health,
Power
Monday, July 23, 2012
A Moment Out of Life
It's easy to get caught up living life according to a checklist. Get up. Get dressed. Eat breakfast. Clean yourself up. Go to work. Go to lunch. Go back to work. Go home. Make dinner. Eat. Brush your teeth. Watch TV. Go to bed. Repeat. Repeat. Check. Check. Check.
Or to just fall into the routine of flowing from one thing you always do to another thing you always do. With no empty moments to allow something powerful.
That's the way my day started. I got up. Ate breakfast. Did some stuff on the computer. Got cleaned up. Went to the movie. Thing after thing. Average.
And then there was a moment. As we drove home and it was quiet. I looked ahead and saw a flock of birds flying directly in my line of sight. Eye level, right across the road a few feet ahead of us.
I'm not sure why they caught my eye. It's not like I don't see birds flying around all the time. But this moment grabbed me.
Maybe it was because they were smaller than most birds I see. In perfect formation. Flying with such power and purpose.
And I was struck by their magic. I watched their wings and wondered at the power and mechanics involved. Flight is an amazing thing. Something we see so often we forget how incredible it is.
They were just so beautiful in that moment. So magical. So wondrous. It was a pure moment. Like time slowed down. Kind of like the birds and I were all that existsed and the rest of the world faded away. It filled me with peace and awe and a sense of the divine.
Pure moments are everywhere. Like when I overheard a child thank someone today without being told to. Or heard another child trying to think through why the escalator wasn't running.
They are just tiny moments. If we are just moving from thing to thing we miss them. But they are the magic of life.
Or to just fall into the routine of flowing from one thing you always do to another thing you always do. With no empty moments to allow something powerful.
That's the way my day started. I got up. Ate breakfast. Did some stuff on the computer. Got cleaned up. Went to the movie. Thing after thing. Average.
And then there was a moment. As we drove home and it was quiet. I looked ahead and saw a flock of birds flying directly in my line of sight. Eye level, right across the road a few feet ahead of us.
I'm not sure why they caught my eye. It's not like I don't see birds flying around all the time. But this moment grabbed me.
Maybe it was because they were smaller than most birds I see. In perfect formation. Flying with such power and purpose.
And I was struck by their magic. I watched their wings and wondered at the power and mechanics involved. Flight is an amazing thing. Something we see so often we forget how incredible it is.
They were just so beautiful in that moment. So magical. So wondrous. It was a pure moment. Like time slowed down. Kind of like the birds and I were all that existsed and the rest of the world faded away. It filled me with peace and awe and a sense of the divine.
Pure moments are everywhere. Like when I overheard a child thank someone today without being told to. Or heard another child trying to think through why the escalator wasn't running.
They are just tiny moments. If we are just moving from thing to thing we miss them. But they are the magic of life.
Wednesday, June 27, 2012
I WILL Change the World
As a kid, there were times I wanted to be famous. I wanted everyone to know who I was and believe I was wonderful. I wanted to make a grand discovery or create something breath-taking or just be so incredible that everyone had to know me.
I no longer have that desire. Partly because I have seen what fame is like. I truly believe most famous people are miserable. They are still searching for approval. They are still trying to fill that hole in their heart that says they're incomplete.
I'm not. I am complete. I am content.
But I WILL change the world.
I used to think I had to be famous to change the world. Or that if I changed the world it would make me famous. Neither of those things is necessarily true (although it can happen).
The best part of being sick (I call myself sick even though we can't figure out what's wrong; my body doesn't function the way it should -- to me, that's sick) is what I have learned. I have learned to slow down. I have learned to spend time with people. I have learned to look them in the eyes and listen. I have learned to hear the pain in their hearts.
And that's how to change the world. Touch one heart. Lift one burden. Comfort one soul. And the world is changed for the better.
I don't need to reach millions; I just need to reach one.
I no longer have that desire. Partly because I have seen what fame is like. I truly believe most famous people are miserable. They are still searching for approval. They are still trying to fill that hole in their heart that says they're incomplete.
I'm not. I am complete. I am content.
But I WILL change the world.
I used to think I had to be famous to change the world. Or that if I changed the world it would make me famous. Neither of those things is necessarily true (although it can happen).
The best part of being sick (I call myself sick even though we can't figure out what's wrong; my body doesn't function the way it should -- to me, that's sick) is what I have learned. I have learned to slow down. I have learned to spend time with people. I have learned to look them in the eyes and listen. I have learned to hear the pain in their hearts.
And that's how to change the world. Touch one heart. Lift one burden. Comfort one soul. And the world is changed for the better.
I don't need to reach millions; I just need to reach one.
Labels:
Compassion,
Healing,
Help,
Kindness,
Learning,
Life,
Listening,
People,
Personal Growth,
Power
Tuesday, November 15, 2011
My Scary Super Power
We all have things we're good at. Things we do better than others. Sometimes, lots better. We think of them as gifts, talents, abilities. And I have those, too.
But I think, every now and then, we discover something about ourselves that is so powerful that it scares us. It's just something we do. We didn't understand what it really meant. And then something happens which brings it front and center.
When this happened to me I freaked out. I panicked. I swore to never use my power again.
I have the power of persuasion. And it scares me.
I used to think it was cool to win an argument or get my way. I used to like using words to convince my friends to do what I wanted instead of what they wanted. I used to like using logic to disprove what everyone knew was true -- to the point that everyone was questioning what they believed before.
It's not cool. It's dangerous.
So many people don't want to make decisions. They don't want to think for themselves. They don't want to choose. And I have often had people try to put me in the position of making the decision for them (which I am actually not doing even if I tell them what to do; they are still choosing to do what I said).
Before I understood this I answered requests for advice. What do you think I should do? And I would tell them. I figured everyone else was like me and would seek lots of advice, do their own research, and follow their heart. I was wrong. People would ask. I would answer. They would do.
I remember the first time someone said they did something because, "Robin said I should." WHAT? No, I didn't. I just tried to give you more information. Just my opinion. Not a directive.
I don't want that kind of responsibility.
But, like King Midas and X-Men, sometimes it's tough to not use this power. I don't even know I'm influencing someone and then hear later that I changed their mind.
I can argue either side of most questions. I am quite analytical. I am logical. I am good with words. And I am a student of human behavior, so after a few sentences back and forth I can tell whether this person is arguing with their heart or mind and which area they feel strongest about and which attack will work. It's kind of like a sport I am naturally good at. It just happens.
I have learned to be very cautious when answering a request for advice. If I sense that this person wants me to make their decision for them, I try to give arguments on both sides. I'm good at seeing options. And usually people asking for advice aren't seeing options. I try to give several options without weighing any of them more heavily than the other so they don't think I'm telling them to do this or that.
Why won't I decide for them? Why won't I tell them what to do? Especially all those people who are obviously screwing up their lives that I can easily see the answers to? Because I did in the past and it was bad.
There is always information I don't have. They don't grow if they aren't self-determining. And because I believe to my core that each of us should choose for ourselves whenever possible.
And that is something I would like to persuade you of. That you should choose for yourself. I believe it with all my heart. Because that is what this power is truly for. To testify of truth in a way that allows others the chance to choose it for themselves. Because we are all more capable, more powerful, than we know.
But I think, every now and then, we discover something about ourselves that is so powerful that it scares us. It's just something we do. We didn't understand what it really meant. And then something happens which brings it front and center.
When this happened to me I freaked out. I panicked. I swore to never use my power again.
I have the power of persuasion. And it scares me.
I used to think it was cool to win an argument or get my way. I used to like using words to convince my friends to do what I wanted instead of what they wanted. I used to like using logic to disprove what everyone knew was true -- to the point that everyone was questioning what they believed before.
It's not cool. It's dangerous.
So many people don't want to make decisions. They don't want to think for themselves. They don't want to choose. And I have often had people try to put me in the position of making the decision for them (which I am actually not doing even if I tell them what to do; they are still choosing to do what I said).
Before I understood this I answered requests for advice. What do you think I should do? And I would tell them. I figured everyone else was like me and would seek lots of advice, do their own research, and follow their heart. I was wrong. People would ask. I would answer. They would do.
I remember the first time someone said they did something because, "Robin said I should." WHAT? No, I didn't. I just tried to give you more information. Just my opinion. Not a directive.
I don't want that kind of responsibility.
But, like King Midas and X-Men, sometimes it's tough to not use this power. I don't even know I'm influencing someone and then hear later that I changed their mind.
I can argue either side of most questions. I am quite analytical. I am logical. I am good with words. And I am a student of human behavior, so after a few sentences back and forth I can tell whether this person is arguing with their heart or mind and which area they feel strongest about and which attack will work. It's kind of like a sport I am naturally good at. It just happens.
I have learned to be very cautious when answering a request for advice. If I sense that this person wants me to make their decision for them, I try to give arguments on both sides. I'm good at seeing options. And usually people asking for advice aren't seeing options. I try to give several options without weighing any of them more heavily than the other so they don't think I'm telling them to do this or that.
Why won't I decide for them? Why won't I tell them what to do? Especially all those people who are obviously screwing up their lives that I can easily see the answers to? Because I did in the past and it was bad.
There is always information I don't have. They don't grow if they aren't self-determining. And because I believe to my core that each of us should choose for ourselves whenever possible.
And that is something I would like to persuade you of. That you should choose for yourself. I believe it with all my heart. Because that is what this power is truly for. To testify of truth in a way that allows others the chance to choose it for themselves. Because we are all more capable, more powerful, than we know.
Labels:
Choices,
Opinions,
Power,
Self-definition
Tuesday, October 4, 2011
We Gladly Feast on Those Who Would Subdue Us
It's here! It's here! I can't believe it; it's finally here! It's the most magical time of year! It's Octoboween! Huzzah!
There aren't many things that get me truly excited, and I am usually very frugal in my use of exclamation points, but this is wonderful!
Octoboween is a tradition at our house, a time when we join together in our celebration of the macabre. And it makes me incredibly happy.
The gist of Octoboween is that we watch a Halloween movie every day. But there are so many great films to choose from that we frequently watch more than one. This year I was so excited in anticipation that I started watching a few mid-September.
I wrote about this tradition last year. As October approached and I felt inclined to write about it again, I started to ask myself why Halloween is my favorite time of the year. Have you ever tried to explain why you like something? It can be tough. But I'll try.
There's the glory of the cooling weather and the changing leaves. There's the fact that my grandmother's birthday is in October, and she was my favorite person in the whole world. There's football. But those things are just part of the spell.
To me, Halloween is a time to play. It's a time to be mischievous, to be sneaky. There is something about the ability to laugh at danger, and death, and things that are frightening that can make us feel powerful. Plus, there is something fun about doing things that make others shake their heads and doubt our sanity.
I'm not a big decorator. The only reason anything gets put up for Christmas is because my kids insist on it and do all the work. I don't even do much for Halloween. But there will be a few touches.
There will be a big, black swath of fabric draped above my front porch. There will be a stuffed, rubber rat the size of a large cat in my living room. And my living room is already pumpkin orange, so the mood is kind of preset.
I'm not sure why the macabre is so fun for me. It has been for as long as I can remember. I grew up on Edgar Allan Poe and Vincent Price. I grew up watching Thriller Theater every Saturday afternoon. I grew up telling horror stories. I grew up loving the strange and spooky.
I love scaring people and getting scared. Not the startling "BOO!" kind when someone sneaks up on you. I like the scaring that is like a beautiful dessert. It takes time. There is a recipe to it, many details. And after preparing it slowly and lovingly and carefully, I savor it!
No, we don't eat people. My title comes from Morticia Addams. It's the Addams' family motto. One that we have adopted for our own. Don't worry. We're just playing.
There aren't many things that get me truly excited, and I am usually very frugal in my use of exclamation points, but this is wonderful!
Octoboween is a tradition at our house, a time when we join together in our celebration of the macabre. And it makes me incredibly happy.
The gist of Octoboween is that we watch a Halloween movie every day. But there are so many great films to choose from that we frequently watch more than one. This year I was so excited in anticipation that I started watching a few mid-September.
I wrote about this tradition last year. As October approached and I felt inclined to write about it again, I started to ask myself why Halloween is my favorite time of the year. Have you ever tried to explain why you like something? It can be tough. But I'll try.
There's the glory of the cooling weather and the changing leaves. There's the fact that my grandmother's birthday is in October, and she was my favorite person in the whole world. There's football. But those things are just part of the spell.
To me, Halloween is a time to play. It's a time to be mischievous, to be sneaky. There is something about the ability to laugh at danger, and death, and things that are frightening that can make us feel powerful. Plus, there is something fun about doing things that make others shake their heads and doubt our sanity.
I'm not a big decorator. The only reason anything gets put up for Christmas is because my kids insist on it and do all the work. I don't even do much for Halloween. But there will be a few touches.
There will be a big, black swath of fabric draped above my front porch. There will be a stuffed, rubber rat the size of a large cat in my living room. And my living room is already pumpkin orange, so the mood is kind of preset.
I'm not sure why the macabre is so fun for me. It has been for as long as I can remember. I grew up on Edgar Allan Poe and Vincent Price. I grew up watching Thriller Theater every Saturday afternoon. I grew up telling horror stories. I grew up loving the strange and spooky.
I love scaring people and getting scared. Not the startling "BOO!" kind when someone sneaks up on you. I like the scaring that is like a beautiful dessert. It takes time. There is a recipe to it, many details. And after preparing it slowly and lovingly and carefully, I savor it!
No, we don't eat people. My title comes from Morticia Addams. It's the Addams' family motto. One that we have adopted for our own. Don't worry. We're just playing.
Labels:
Family,
Power,
Self-definition,
Tradition
Friday, May 27, 2011
The Power of Women
I have four daughters and one son. They range in ages from 12-20 years. We are talkers. We talk about almost anything. One of the things we talk about a lot is human behavior.
Recently we were watching a movie. One girl got angry at another girl for a perceived offense. She then began to systematically ruin this girl's social life. And so began our conversation.
My son didn't see it coming. My daughters were all able to predict what would happen each step along the way. It seems this is one way males and females are still different.
My husband taught me about how boys handle things like this. He told me a story about when he was in junior high. A boy had a problem with him, didn't like him. He told my husband so. My husband said that was fine because he didn't like the boy either. Soon the fists were flying. They both got in trouble. The police were involved. They learned their lesson. And before long, they were good friends.
As I've talked to men over the years I've come to understand that this is a common happening. Guys have a problem, they deal with it (not always with fists), and often they become friends afterward. If not, at least they are direct and know where they each stand. Then they just leave each other alone.
Girls, on the other hand, are not as direct. They often continue to act friendly in person but destroy each other behind their backs. They spread rumors, they steal friends, they poison the social waters in any way they can. And it works. It works because girls/women are of the heart.
We understand how people feel. We learn what is important to them. We understand that they are social creatures, that cutting off their social support is like suffocating them. We know how to hurt another person in a way that is so much deeper than a physical injury. And because we are of the heart, these wounds damage us. This attack works.
I wish I could say this ends in junior high. For some of us it probably does. I've known some incredible women who would never say anything bad about another person, who would never strike at another's soul.
I wish I was one of them, but I'm not. Sometimes I'm petty. Sometimes I'm jealous and self-centered. Sometimes I'm just impatient. And often I am critical.
As women we have an incredible ability to do good. We can use this same power to lift others up. Instead of seeing how those around us don't measure up, we can look for things they are doing well and praise them. We can encourage them. We can thank them. It's this same exact power -- the power of the heart -- that offers us this choice. We can do so much good or so much harm.
People don't need to be told what they are doing wrong; they already know. They need to be told that they are of worth. They need to be told that they are capable of better, that we believe in them. They need to be appreciated for what they have to offer, not told how they are lacking.
I am a woman. I have the power of the heart. I commit today to use this power more wisely and kindly. Because I can. I have a choice. I hope you will join me.
Recently we were watching a movie. One girl got angry at another girl for a perceived offense. She then began to systematically ruin this girl's social life. And so began our conversation.
My son didn't see it coming. My daughters were all able to predict what would happen each step along the way. It seems this is one way males and females are still different.
My husband taught me about how boys handle things like this. He told me a story about when he was in junior high. A boy had a problem with him, didn't like him. He told my husband so. My husband said that was fine because he didn't like the boy either. Soon the fists were flying. They both got in trouble. The police were involved. They learned their lesson. And before long, they were good friends.
As I've talked to men over the years I've come to understand that this is a common happening. Guys have a problem, they deal with it (not always with fists), and often they become friends afterward. If not, at least they are direct and know where they each stand. Then they just leave each other alone.
Girls, on the other hand, are not as direct. They often continue to act friendly in person but destroy each other behind their backs. They spread rumors, they steal friends, they poison the social waters in any way they can. And it works. It works because girls/women are of the heart.
We understand how people feel. We learn what is important to them. We understand that they are social creatures, that cutting off their social support is like suffocating them. We know how to hurt another person in a way that is so much deeper than a physical injury. And because we are of the heart, these wounds damage us. This attack works.
I wish I could say this ends in junior high. For some of us it probably does. I've known some incredible women who would never say anything bad about another person, who would never strike at another's soul.
I wish I was one of them, but I'm not. Sometimes I'm petty. Sometimes I'm jealous and self-centered. Sometimes I'm just impatient. And often I am critical.
As women we have an incredible ability to do good. We can use this same power to lift others up. Instead of seeing how those around us don't measure up, we can look for things they are doing well and praise them. We can encourage them. We can thank them. It's this same exact power -- the power of the heart -- that offers us this choice. We can do so much good or so much harm.
People don't need to be told what they are doing wrong; they already know. They need to be told that they are of worth. They need to be told that they are capable of better, that we believe in them. They need to be appreciated for what they have to offer, not told how they are lacking.
I am a woman. I have the power of the heart. I commit today to use this power more wisely and kindly. Because I can. I have a choice. I hope you will join me.
Friday, April 1, 2011
A Princess Story
Once upon a time there were three princesses: Gwendolyn, Donatella, and Genevieve. They lived in an enchanted realm, in neighboring kingdoms.
One day a new princess, Princess Bobbie, moved to the realm and brought her kingdom with her. Only she didn't know that she was a princess. You see, that's something about being a princess -- sometimes you forget.
As she was out exploring the realm, Princess Bobbie met the three princesses. (The three princesses were often together; it helped them remember that they were princesses.) She was mesmerized. These princesses glowed. And they glowed because they were magic! They weren't the ordinary kind of magic, the kind where everyone can do the same things. They each had their own special magic and it was exactly the kind of magic needed for their own kingdom.
Princesses aren't what most people think. They aren't superior and unkind. They are welcoming and inclusive, and Princess Bobbie was thrilled to be invited into their circle of friends. As she spent more and more time with them she began to remember who she was. Her magic began to return. And that was a very good thing because an evil spell had come over her kingdom; they needed her magic. So Princess Bobbie left to protect her kingdom. Things got better and she returned to find her princess friends. And they were happy together again.
But the evil spell isn't ever fully conquered, it is just cast out of a kingdom. And over time it was evident that when the spell left one kingdom it would eventually find its way to another. Sometimes it found its way to one of the other princesses' kingdoms.
If it attacked a kingdom while the princess knew who she was, she was able to defeat it. But if she was a little unsure of herself, if she couldn't see her own magic anymore, the evil could overwhelm her.
And one of the laws of magic and spells was that each princess had to defeat the evil in her own kingdom. The other princesses couldn't do it for her. All they could do was cheer for her. And try to remind her of who she was and to help her find her magic again.
But the evil tried to keep the princesses apart. The evil knew that the princesses were stronger when they were together, that their magic grew as they spent more time with each other.
The evil also knew that being a princess is hard. It can be a very lonely thing. Especially when a princess forgets who she is. That's why the evil worked to make each princess feel like she didn't belong or wasn't good enough to be with the other princesses.
But the princesses love each other. And they are strong. And they will keep fighting their battles and strengthening each other. And although one may get lost every now and then, the glow from the others will always lead her back to them. And the princesses will welcome her back where she belongs and help her remember who she is and the power she has. Because that is what princesses do.
One day a new princess, Princess Bobbie, moved to the realm and brought her kingdom with her. Only she didn't know that she was a princess. You see, that's something about being a princess -- sometimes you forget.
As she was out exploring the realm, Princess Bobbie met the three princesses. (The three princesses were often together; it helped them remember that they were princesses.) She was mesmerized. These princesses glowed. And they glowed because they were magic! They weren't the ordinary kind of magic, the kind where everyone can do the same things. They each had their own special magic and it was exactly the kind of magic needed for their own kingdom.
Princesses aren't what most people think. They aren't superior and unkind. They are welcoming and inclusive, and Princess Bobbie was thrilled to be invited into their circle of friends. As she spent more and more time with them she began to remember who she was. Her magic began to return. And that was a very good thing because an evil spell had come over her kingdom; they needed her magic. So Princess Bobbie left to protect her kingdom. Things got better and she returned to find her princess friends. And they were happy together again.
But the evil spell isn't ever fully conquered, it is just cast out of a kingdom. And over time it was evident that when the spell left one kingdom it would eventually find its way to another. Sometimes it found its way to one of the other princesses' kingdoms.
If it attacked a kingdom while the princess knew who she was, she was able to defeat it. But if she was a little unsure of herself, if she couldn't see her own magic anymore, the evil could overwhelm her.
And one of the laws of magic and spells was that each princess had to defeat the evil in her own kingdom. The other princesses couldn't do it for her. All they could do was cheer for her. And try to remind her of who she was and to help her find her magic again.
But the evil tried to keep the princesses apart. The evil knew that the princesses were stronger when they were together, that their magic grew as they spent more time with each other.
The evil also knew that being a princess is hard. It can be a very lonely thing. Especially when a princess forgets who she is. That's why the evil worked to make each princess feel like she didn't belong or wasn't good enough to be with the other princesses.
But the princesses love each other. And they are strong. And they will keep fighting their battles and strengthening each other. And although one may get lost every now and then, the glow from the others will always lead her back to them. And the princesses will welcome her back where she belongs and help her remember who she is and the power she has. Because that is what princesses do.
Labels:
Darkness,
Friendship,
Identity,
Isolation,
Lost,
Love,
Power,
Princesses
Thursday, March 3, 2011
My Power Songs
I can admit it. When I started therapy a few years ago I was lost. My life was a mess, everything from my past was catching up with me and holding me hostage, and I had no idea who I was. It was an ugly time.
While I think we all routinely redefine ourselves, some of us have more trouble with it. If you've ever been in an abusive situation, where you had to be the person your abuser wanted you to be in order to be safe, it is so much more difficult.
As I worked through some things I began to discover who I was. I began to choose who I would be. Part of this process for me was putting together some power songs. I put together three cds of music that help me center myself. Connect with my soul. Find my power core again.
Each song was chosen for a reason. I wanted to accept and represent the many facets of who I am. It would take too long to explain them all, so instead I broke them down into basic categories.
I provided links so you could check out the song if you wanted to. Please remember to be wise in your time management. I am not responsible if you start clicking and find yourself wasting an hour (or more).
Also, I'd love to hear about any power songs you might have.
I am strong all by myself:
*I Will Survive
*Independent Woman
I am in charge of my life - I set my rules - I deserve respect:
*Boss of Me
*We're Not Gonna Take It
*It's My Life
*Any Man of Mine
*Video
*Appletree
*Nasty
I am powerful - I can change the world:
*Wonder Woman Theme
*Man in the Mirror
I am a sexual being - I can be bad if I want to
*Need You Tonight
*Hot Blooded
*Hurts So Good
*It's Raining Men
*Like a Virgin
*Hungry Like the Wolf
*Devil Inside
Self-definition - PMS songs:
*Bitch
*Cold as Ice
*Witchy Woman
*You Gotta Be
Gallows humor - Irreverent - I want to inflict pain
*Dirty Deeds
*Dirty Laundry
*Little Black Backpack
*Bark at the Moon
I hate men - men suck - daddy issues:
*Bugaboo
*Perfect
*Where Have All the Cowboys Gone
*Wonderful
*Voices Carry
*Spiderwebs
*When Doves Cry
*No Scrubs
*I Kicked a Boy
*There You Go
Just love the song - fun to sing:
*Lovefool
*Major Tom
*Lady Marmalade
*I Like it Like That
*This is Halloween
*Girls Just Wanna Have Fun
*Popular
*I'm Like a Bird
*What I Am
*Scar Tissue
*Ugly Girl
*Bad Moon Rising
*Try Again
*Juke Box Hero
*Renegade
*Zombie (dance mix)
*El Tango de Roxanne
*Whip It
While I think we all routinely redefine ourselves, some of us have more trouble with it. If you've ever been in an abusive situation, where you had to be the person your abuser wanted you to be in order to be safe, it is so much more difficult.
As I worked through some things I began to discover who I was. I began to choose who I would be. Part of this process for me was putting together some power songs. I put together three cds of music that help me center myself. Connect with my soul. Find my power core again.
Each song was chosen for a reason. I wanted to accept and represent the many facets of who I am. It would take too long to explain them all, so instead I broke them down into basic categories.
I provided links so you could check out the song if you wanted to. Please remember to be wise in your time management. I am not responsible if you start clicking and find yourself wasting an hour (or more).
Also, I'd love to hear about any power songs you might have.
I am strong all by myself:
*I Will Survive
*Independent Woman
I am in charge of my life - I set my rules - I deserve respect:
*Boss of Me
*We're Not Gonna Take It
*It's My Life
*Any Man of Mine
*Video
*Appletree
*Nasty
I am powerful - I can change the world:
*Wonder Woman Theme
*Man in the Mirror
I am a sexual being - I can be bad if I want to
*Need You Tonight
*Hot Blooded
*Hurts So Good
*It's Raining Men
*Like a Virgin
*Hungry Like the Wolf
*Devil Inside
Self-definition - PMS songs:
*Bitch
*Cold as Ice
*Witchy Woman
*You Gotta Be
Gallows humor - Irreverent - I want to inflict pain
*Dirty Deeds
*Dirty Laundry
*Little Black Backpack
*Bark at the Moon
I hate men - men suck - daddy issues:
*Bugaboo
*Perfect
*Where Have All the Cowboys Gone
*Wonderful
*Voices Carry
*Spiderwebs
*When Doves Cry
*No Scrubs
*I Kicked a Boy
*There You Go
Just love the song - fun to sing:
*Lovefool
*Major Tom
*Lady Marmalade
*I Like it Like That
*This is Halloween
*Girls Just Wanna Have Fun
*Popular
*I'm Like a Bird
*What I Am
*Scar Tissue
*Ugly Girl
*Bad Moon Rising
*Try Again
*Juke Box Hero
*Renegade
*Zombie (dance mix)
*El Tango de Roxanne
*Whip It
Labels:
Power,
Self-definition,
Therapy
Wednesday, September 8, 2010
Dressing for my Moods
It seems like my mood determines my life. Like it is something out of my control that pushes all the buttons. Like my moods are the man behind the curtain.
I do not believe that my moods are in charge. I believe I have the power to change them, to subdue them. Sometimes.
My moods are like an ever changing beast. A metamorph that can change into any shape at will. And can do so instantly.
And when there is a beast in your life your options are limited. Fight it. Find a middle ground. Be devoured. I vacillate among these three.
One of the ways this is evident in my life is in the way I dress.
When I am feeling strong I can fight. I am willing to spend extra energy to win the battle. I go the extra mile. I shower. I do my hair. And I pick clothes that make me feel like I can tackle the world. Usually it helps. Sometimes the beast and I both know I'm fooling myself and it's not long before I'm craving my pajama pants.
On those days when I'm willing to compromise with the beast, things are a little different. I don't shower, but I do brush my teeth. I don't curl my hair, but I do brush it. I don't dress up, but I do get dressed.
Then there are the devour days. The days when I'm just out of bed long enough to give someone a ride or go to the bathroom. No effort at hygiene. I don't change out of whatever I fell asleep in. And because I look so horrible, I avoid people as if I were contagious.
But a funny thing can happen on those devour days. There's power in staying in my pajamas or my worn out flannel shirt. The power that says the beast may be setting the agenda, but I still choose the wardrobe. And I choose to wrap myself in comfort. I choose clothes that serve as a hug for myself.
And that little bit of defiance keeps the beast from swallowing me. Until I can claw my way out of its gullet and back out into the sunshine.
I do not believe that my moods are in charge. I believe I have the power to change them, to subdue them. Sometimes.
My moods are like an ever changing beast. A metamorph that can change into any shape at will. And can do so instantly.
And when there is a beast in your life your options are limited. Fight it. Find a middle ground. Be devoured. I vacillate among these three.
One of the ways this is evident in my life is in the way I dress.
When I am feeling strong I can fight. I am willing to spend extra energy to win the battle. I go the extra mile. I shower. I do my hair. And I pick clothes that make me feel like I can tackle the world. Usually it helps. Sometimes the beast and I both know I'm fooling myself and it's not long before I'm craving my pajama pants.
On those days when I'm willing to compromise with the beast, things are a little different. I don't shower, but I do brush my teeth. I don't curl my hair, but I do brush it. I don't dress up, but I do get dressed.
Then there are the devour days. The days when I'm just out of bed long enough to give someone a ride or go to the bathroom. No effort at hygiene. I don't change out of whatever I fell asleep in. And because I look so horrible, I avoid people as if I were contagious.
But a funny thing can happen on those devour days. There's power in staying in my pajamas or my worn out flannel shirt. The power that says the beast may be setting the agenda, but I still choose the wardrobe. And I choose to wrap myself in comfort. I choose clothes that serve as a hug for myself.
And that little bit of defiance keeps the beast from swallowing me. Until I can claw my way out of its gullet and back out into the sunshine.
Labels:
Choices,
Comfort,
Depression,
Power
Tuesday, May 4, 2010
I Choose the Burdens I Carry
I sat in a psycho-education group, a class full of women. It was a rare day on which the class was being taught by a man. He was talking about choices. He told of a friend who had been raped. In talking to her, he'd said that she'd chosen to be raped.
The room went silent. I felt several women around me bristle. I felt myself bristle. But I knew this man. I knew he had a good heart and a wise mind. I was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt and listen to what he had to say. I was hoping he'd give me something to grab onto so that I could comment and clarify what he'd really meant to say to the group.
He'd said that she'd had a moment when she knew that if she didn't allow the rape she would be killed. That she'd chosen life over death in the only way available to her in that moment. It was about the power of knowing that we have choices even when we think we don't. It was about not letting ourselves think of ourselves as victims forever.
This is an extreme case, to be sure. And, choice or not, I don't think I would ever say that she chose to be raped. I would say that she chose to survive.
Maybe our burdens are large. Maybe they are small. We don't choose which burdens enter our lives -- but we do choose which ones stay.
I offer a couple of mine as an example.
I did not choose to get a headache that would last forever, nearly five years so far. But I have chosen what to do about it. I did everything I could to treat it. And by making other choices, I choose to keep it. I could choose to be heavily medicated all the time so that I can't be a mother and wife and friend. I could even kill myself. Both of these are options. But they are not options I like. I would rather keep the pain and enjoy my life.
I did not choose for my husband to leave our faith. Having him leave the church was incredibly difficult. And living with someone of a different faith is tough every day. For both of us. I could divorce him. But that is not an option I like. So we stay together. He's too important to me and my children. He's my best friend. It's a lot of work trying to figure out how to respect each other and be true to ourselves, but it's worth it to me. I would rather argue about it every so often than not have him in my life.
I am not a victim of my life.
Every day I choose to keep burdens. We all do. Maybe it's weight. Maybe it's where we live. Maybe it's our job. If there is something that feels like a burden, ask yourself why you keep it.
Maybe you don't like the other options. Maybe the other options seem harder than just keeping what you've got. Maybe you don't see the other options. But there is always another option.
Knowing that I have a choice is empowering. It's not something I've always known. But it's something I've always had.
The room went silent. I felt several women around me bristle. I felt myself bristle. But I knew this man. I knew he had a good heart and a wise mind. I was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt and listen to what he had to say. I was hoping he'd give me something to grab onto so that I could comment and clarify what he'd really meant to say to the group.
He'd said that she'd had a moment when she knew that if she didn't allow the rape she would be killed. That she'd chosen life over death in the only way available to her in that moment. It was about the power of knowing that we have choices even when we think we don't. It was about not letting ourselves think of ourselves as victims forever.
This is an extreme case, to be sure. And, choice or not, I don't think I would ever say that she chose to be raped. I would say that she chose to survive.
Maybe our burdens are large. Maybe they are small. We don't choose which burdens enter our lives -- but we do choose which ones stay.
I offer a couple of mine as an example.
I did not choose to get a headache that would last forever, nearly five years so far. But I have chosen what to do about it. I did everything I could to treat it. And by making other choices, I choose to keep it. I could choose to be heavily medicated all the time so that I can't be a mother and wife and friend. I could even kill myself. Both of these are options. But they are not options I like. I would rather keep the pain and enjoy my life.
I did not choose for my husband to leave our faith. Having him leave the church was incredibly difficult. And living with someone of a different faith is tough every day. For both of us. I could divorce him. But that is not an option I like. So we stay together. He's too important to me and my children. He's my best friend. It's a lot of work trying to figure out how to respect each other and be true to ourselves, but it's worth it to me. I would rather argue about it every so often than not have him in my life.
I am not a victim of my life.
Every day I choose to keep burdens. We all do. Maybe it's weight. Maybe it's where we live. Maybe it's our job. If there is something that feels like a burden, ask yourself why you keep it.
Maybe you don't like the other options. Maybe the other options seem harder than just keeping what you've got. Maybe you don't see the other options. But there is always another option.
Knowing that I have a choice is empowering. It's not something I've always known. But it's something I've always had.
Labels:
Choices,
Decisions,
Mental Health,
Personal Growth,
Power
Wednesday, April 21, 2010
Sex. Yes, Really.
Last week I posted an entry with Getting Intimate in the title. Yes, it was a tease. It lured some in with the belief that it would be about sex. Of course, it wasn't. And if you think sex is the only way to be intimate, you are really missing out.
But one of my friends called me out as a tease. So I said that I would write a blog about sex. Yes, it was kind of a rebellious, I can be bad, comment to him. But I said I'd do it -- so here goes.
Now let me say that I have given this a lot of thought. I have some teen readers. I have some single readers who are more nervous reading this than the teens. I pondered how and what I would write. I don't want to offend anyone, but I also don't want to pull any punches because of my audience.
This will not be R rated. But if you are under 18 and your parent or guardian would not be okay with you reading this, then it is your responsibility to respect that. I will write this in the same way that I would address it with my kids. However, I am more direct with my kids than most parents are, so I can't promise that you won't blush.
I could write salaciously, he touched her here and she felt this way. But I won't. Not only is that very much not my style, it's not how I feel about sex. I want to write about sex as I see it.
Just the word makes many people uncomfortable. It makes people giggle. *nudge, nudge, wink, wink* If you are one of those people, get it out of your system now.
Sex is not something base. It is not ugly. It is not bad. It is not dirty. It is important. And not just for procreation.
Sexuality is a vital part of human nature; it's part of who we are. Who we are meant to be. And it is an important part of a couple's relationship.
Sex is not something you owe someone. Not anyone. Not ever. Not when you are dating. Not when you are a couple. Not when you are married. Not because they spent a lot of money on you. Not because it's the next step. Not because it's your job as a spouse. Not because it's what they want.
Sex is giving yourself to another person. If it is taken from you or you give it unwillingly it will affect you negatively; I believe it will injure your soul. It's more than physical. It's more than mechanical. It's psychological. It's spiritual. It's a part of you.
Sex should never be demanded. It should never be coerced through force, manipulation, or guilt. Persuasion, maybe sometimes. Coercion, never.
Sex can be an incredible thing. It is the ultimate physical bonding, becoming one. When two people choose to be intimate in this way, it can be a spiritual experience. It is powerful.
But like all power, it must be used wisely or it can be dangerous. It must be respected. Because it is a part of you.
And you are worth it.
But one of my friends called me out as a tease. So I said that I would write a blog about sex. Yes, it was kind of a rebellious, I can be bad, comment to him. But I said I'd do it -- so here goes.
Now let me say that I have given this a lot of thought. I have some teen readers. I have some single readers who are more nervous reading this than the teens. I pondered how and what I would write. I don't want to offend anyone, but I also don't want to pull any punches because of my audience.
This will not be R rated. But if you are under 18 and your parent or guardian would not be okay with you reading this, then it is your responsibility to respect that. I will write this in the same way that I would address it with my kids. However, I am more direct with my kids than most parents are, so I can't promise that you won't blush.
I could write salaciously, he touched her here and she felt this way. But I won't. Not only is that very much not my style, it's not how I feel about sex. I want to write about sex as I see it.
Just the word makes many people uncomfortable. It makes people giggle. *nudge, nudge, wink, wink* If you are one of those people, get it out of your system now.
Sex is not something base. It is not ugly. It is not bad. It is not dirty. It is important. And not just for procreation.
Sexuality is a vital part of human nature; it's part of who we are. Who we are meant to be. And it is an important part of a couple's relationship.
Sex is not something you owe someone. Not anyone. Not ever. Not when you are dating. Not when you are a couple. Not when you are married. Not because they spent a lot of money on you. Not because it's the next step. Not because it's your job as a spouse. Not because it's what they want.
Sex is giving yourself to another person. If it is taken from you or you give it unwillingly it will affect you negatively; I believe it will injure your soul. It's more than physical. It's more than mechanical. It's psychological. It's spiritual. It's a part of you.
Sex should never be demanded. It should never be coerced through force, manipulation, or guilt. Persuasion, maybe sometimes. Coercion, never.
Sex can be an incredible thing. It is the ultimate physical bonding, becoming one. When two people choose to be intimate in this way, it can be a spiritual experience. It is powerful.
But like all power, it must be used wisely or it can be dangerous. It must be respected. Because it is a part of you.
And you are worth it.
Friday, April 16, 2010
Life Lessons from my Playlist
A while back I was having a lot of difficulty feeling in control of my life. Not just in the normal ways. It was primarily emotional. So I started looking for things that would fill my well. Give me emotional energy. Make me feel empowered.
I came up with a list of songs, specifically for singing along with at high volume (me and the music). I call them my Power Songs and they fill three cds. Yes, I understand this is a little cheesy; but it works! Each song was chosen for a different reason. And there are many lessons in them.
So tonight I put my playlist on random and noted the first six songs.
Possible lessons:
1. Cold as Ice -- Foreigner: It's important to consider the things we sacrifice when we turn cold, when we turn our backs on the world. Pride costs.
2. Where Have All the Cowboys Gone -- Paula Cole: We get our minds set on an ideal, something we think we want. It doesn't always pan out the way we thought it would.
3. Appletree -- Erykah Badu: Pick your friends. If someone doesn't respect you for who you are then they aren't worth your time.
4. This is Halloween -- Nightmare Before Christmas Soundtrack: Children of all ages can enjoy the magic of Halloween. Everyone has a role to play in life. Maybe something or someone that scares you at first will turn out to be important in your life, or just fun.
5. Spiderwebs -- No Doubt: Some people are like spiders. If you don't pay attention, before you know it you're caught in their web.
6. Man in the Mirror -- Michael Jackson: The best way to change the world is to change yourself. You're the only person you can really change.
There are many possible lessons in each song; these were just my first thoughts. I didn't choose them as power songs for these reasons, but each of these lessons is important.
Basically they are all about being responsible for the direction of your life. And what could be more powerful than that?
I came up with a list of songs, specifically for singing along with at high volume (me and the music). I call them my Power Songs and they fill three cds. Yes, I understand this is a little cheesy; but it works! Each song was chosen for a different reason. And there are many lessons in them.
So tonight I put my playlist on random and noted the first six songs.
Possible lessons:
1. Cold as Ice -- Foreigner: It's important to consider the things we sacrifice when we turn cold, when we turn our backs on the world. Pride costs.
2. Where Have All the Cowboys Gone -- Paula Cole: We get our minds set on an ideal, something we think we want. It doesn't always pan out the way we thought it would.
3. Appletree -- Erykah Badu: Pick your friends. If someone doesn't respect you for who you are then they aren't worth your time.
4. This is Halloween -- Nightmare Before Christmas Soundtrack: Children of all ages can enjoy the magic of Halloween. Everyone has a role to play in life. Maybe something or someone that scares you at first will turn out to be important in your life, or just fun.
5. Spiderwebs -- No Doubt: Some people are like spiders. If you don't pay attention, before you know it you're caught in their web.
6. Man in the Mirror -- Michael Jackson: The best way to change the world is to change yourself. You're the only person you can really change.
There are many possible lessons in each song; these were just my first thoughts. I didn't choose them as power songs for these reasons, but each of these lessons is important.
Basically they are all about being responsible for the direction of your life. And what could be more powerful than that?
Labels:
Energy,
Personal Growth,
Power
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