When thinking about losing Jane, I don't feel crippled by it. I feel bad about that because it's almost like I should be out here falling apart, but I'm not. I feel bad that some reached out but she died anyway. I feel bad about that but I hope they realize they did make a difference. Reaching out always makes a difference.
There's a huge hole where Janie used to be. The house isn't the same at all, but it's still better because she was once here. I think that's what I still feel the most, very grateful.
My heart is heavy concerning my brother. I heard him play the cello, my favorite instrument. I thought I was going to burst into tears. I've never heard him play the cello before, just the violin, so watching and hearing him was rather moving. A long time ago I said I never got to tell him how proud I am of his accomplishments with music and with the children's orchestra. You could see in his face that he loved his job. ...continue reading "Cats and Violins"
Today Dr. D and I discussed saying "no" to my mother and the consequences of doing so. My teeth began to chatter. I was rocking back and forth. I had to get a hold of myself.
Last night I was in the bedroom and instinctively turned to verify she wasn't in the doorway but for just a second I saw her. Obviously it was my head playing games, but for a second I thought I saw her standing there, which is why I turned to look. I had a scarf hanging over the door which created a figure in my peripheral vision. Turning to look isn't new. I have to force myself to not look at the door. I have to tell myself there's no way she's in the house, stop worrying, remember I'm safe now. But that's not enough, I have to look at the bedroom door to ease my mind. ...continue reading "Therapy Review: Control. Gaining confidence."
I often sound like I hate her. I don't. I sound like I haven't given an ounce of forgiveness. I think an important point about giving my mother forgiveness is knowing she never asked for it or acknowledged needing it. She never knew she'd received it.
Several years ago I said I give my mother full forgiveness. What that means is I asked nothing back from her crimes against me. Her debt to me was dissolved. This personal step wasn't an over night process. It was/is a personal understanding and has only to do with what was done to me. What was done to others is a totally different story.
What do I mean when I say I forgive my mother? It's clearer to explain what I don't mean.
Forgiveness doesn't erase guilt or payment to society for crimes against me and them.
My pain hasn't ended, it's been redirected and eased.
Even after forgiveness there is still a lot of work in therapy to complete.
It doesn't mean there's no anger or mean that the abuse doesn't matter.
What does forgiveness mean for me? It means and meant:
I stopped asking for justice in my case.
It meant I didn't want to kill her anymore.
I didn't want to see her suffer or die the way she died.
If ever the law decided she must be charged, I didn't want to be the one on the other end of handing down sentencing for what she did to me. That's the key right there. I didn't want to be the one to hand down sentencing.
There were only two of us but we had a nice time. We didn't do anything formal, just tea and cake. One can make tea and cake sound stuffy if important facts are left out. I had the tea already and she brought Little Debbie's. It was a nice visit though with some catching up as well as learning about one another.
I'm just now getting to know her. Interestingly enough, her mother was my foster mother making her a foster sister when I was a child. Small world isn't it?
It's sometimes difficult to be in the same room with someone who knows way too much about me, especially since I didn't get to pick and choose what she knows. My sister decided this exposure for me which I find unacceptable and disempowering. I don't know what preconceived ideas she has about me, I only know she seems to like me...and yet I don't trust it. Why? In general I don't trust women. That is first and foremost but there's also the concern of being judged. ...continue reading "Tea, Chat and Trust"
I noticed there are new journal entries from blogs I read. I'll be over there soon.
I made turmeric and ginger chocolate bars which I thought wouldn't be that good but as it turns out, they are. Today I purchased Cacao powder so I can make some more. If you like golden milk, you'll like the addition of chocolate. It's not hard to make the leap to a small chocolate square spiced up. The Cacao powder is for more than just spicy candy squares or truffles. I want the other things it's good for. I try to take in a variety of vitamins, minerals and valuable combinations to help with my physical and mental health.
She takes her trip to the Netherlands and for what, to add it to the countries she's visited. I wish she could visit reality. I wish she could see her true self in the mirror and then fade to nothing from the gravity of her errors, her crimes. I wish she could be crushed by it. She hurt my mother. She really hurt her.
I hate your faces. I hate the way you walk and the way you drive and talk on the phone at the same time as if you're someone we should stop and ask, who is that?
Today you told me I'm worthless, useless. I didn't skip a beat. I didn't strike back. I didn't back down, I just kept on going, as usual.
One of my favorite movies the girl is crying on her knees and says, I'm not worthless. I'm not worthless. She worked so hard to wipe the dirt from herself, to be respectable, but she still fought stigma and the times. Times have not changed, women are still the object valued in dollars and cents, or with our clothes off.
I am not worthless. I've wiped the dirt off my face. I've paid for crimes I didn't commit. Don't say I'm worthless. Don't say anything at all. Slip into the cloud of reality, smell it, taste it. It's going to break you. Reality is going to break you, something should.
The Netherlands. You're going to the Netherlands. Conquer that, too.
I shouldn't wish anyone dead. I shouldn't check to see if her name is listed among the obituaries, hoping she has finally claimed her spot in the morgue, but my heart is angry right now. I am angry. I woke angrier than when I went to sleep.
Death is cruel to those who are left behind. It tears at us, bites down and doesn't let go. What should have been goes to worms and flies. Death robs us, yet I wonder why she should continue living.
This anger of wishing them dead for what they've done isn't healthy, not even a little bit.
Funerals have a way of making you think about life in deeper terms and with focused eyes.
At the funeral I ran into 6 of kids that come here. They're going to be at the Hall for my first talk. I'm so happy they're going to be there. The oldest girl is going to record it for me.
I don't think I've been hugged so much in one day. Yes, it hurt and yes I required pain meds after, but I wouldn't have traded those hugs for anything or passed them up. They moved but they are still able to come here and to come to my Hall. That makes me happy. ...continue reading "Adjusting positive focus"
I turned 46 today. I'm not bothered by the age but my heart still desires what it can't have, family connection. Birthday's anymore are difficult. On this day, I feel the ache of not having family to grow old with.
Dr. D and I discussed what it would be like if I had any of my family in my life. The first thing is that they'd refuse to call me by my chosen and now legal name. They'd call me by the name I was given at birth which is totally unacceptable. The second thing is that I'd be asked to accept their reality as opposed to factual reality.
I know all the things that would be emotionally damaging if I were to connect again with my family. We don't have to list them off, I know them. What I can't seem to let go of is the need. I need something from these people that they can't and won't give. I need to belong to a family, without one I feel so ....I feel like I'm just out here floating around. I feel foreign and isolated. I'm a tree without bark, naked. I feel like a woman on an island alone and no one is coming to claim me or take me off this island.
I know this part is morbid but, what family member will claim me at death? Will an abuser come claim my body? How much talk will there be about why this person can't do it and why that person can't do it? Who gets the short end of that stick? ...continue reading "Therapy Review: Skinned. Let her go."