Guest Blogger: Shaun Kell- He is in it with me and I am so grateful….
Nothing makes me smile as wide as I can to see loving honesty about what it means to be human. Such gratitude and Joy to share in Shaun’s life. Speak it my friend….Speak IT.
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Why Phoenix Rising? Ending the Silence of Shame and Shout Out to Local Sponsors
Starting a Courage Revolution
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Circle Back, Give Yourself the Chance to Circle Back Again
After posting the piece about the first time I spoke trauma’s name, (see: The Telling) many quietly told me about stories of fear, sadness and even anger towards my mother. You wondered if the world of our relationship had fallen a part.
For most of my life, I felt fairly certain I would not be able to embrace my truth until I had outlived most of my family. I have come to realize I would have cheated myself the opportunity to lean in and continue to grow, even if it did not turn out well……
This past fall, my mother lost her best friend and it led her to circle back to ask the question just one more time as to why our relationship struggled. I tried the typical bull shit, pat-pat answer.
Now that I have become clearer about my values, authenticity beckoned me to not armor up with petty lies and silly magic to distract from the truth. Even then, I did not give her the full answer, in part, because I had become so dishonest with myself I had forgotten the real reason for my lack of trust and distance.
Then as I remembered, I felt free for the first time to tell you about my story, one I had written many years ago. I also began a brand new conversation with her, one that did not attempt to distract or pretend. What continues to astonish me (and you should really wonder why it does) is that I believe I’ve seen around many dark, emotional corners….then, when I breathe, lean in and show up- I mean really show up- light makes its way through my blurry, stumbly darkness.
Rather than a bitter end, my posting the story was a new beginning. One that continues to unfold in meaningful ways. Today, I give gratitude to my mother for reading my letter, telling me she understood and sharing in my sorrow and allowing us to both heal a cancer that I thought would never end. It unfolds every day and I grow towards joy.
Here is what I wrote:
Dear Mom,
Recently, the loss of your best friend sparked you to ask me a very hard question. One that I honestly was not prepared for. You told me about the underlying feelings of distance and pushing away that you experience in most of our conversations. Although there are many reasons and some are not about me, I stopped and for the first time in our adult lives, answered you.
Our relationship is complicated and it has been since I was a little girl. When you silenced yourself about the sexual abuse I endured, you silenced us both. The shame I experienced was at times insurmountable and I can recall several occasions where I either attempted or wished to take my life. I believe the pain and shame grew rapidly until I left for college and finally got help. A close friend at home had taken his life and my closest friend in college temporarily left after attempting to take his own. He told me then, “Get Busy Living or Get Busy Dying.”
In truth, until we had this conversation, there was still a part of me dying. I still wanted to blame you and got some satisfaction out of keeping you the villain in my life. I wanted to discredit all of the beautiful things you do for me, my family and people around you that you love. I have wanted to make you hurt the way you made me hurt when my abuse was buried.
Today, although I will never agree with your past decisions, I understand and I forgive you.
As a therapist, I have witnessed many mothers experience intense grief when they learn of their children’s sexual abuse. The pain seems too excruciating to bear and given their lack of skill in coping with daily life issues, it is no wonder that this type of pain is avoided. Many swim in such denial they are not even able to see how their behavior is impacting their child trying to work through the abuse.
I wish you were there for me then, Mom. I wish I allowed you to be there for me. The abuse has taken away so much of our relationship and I am ready for it to stop now. I am ready to talk with you in a more honest way and let you know how what you say is impacting me, whether negative or positive.
You have the kindest heart and go out of your way to be gentle and kind to people that so many have forgotten. I know sometimes you give of yourself in the hopes of being liked yourself. We have even argued over you giving too much stuff, possibly in the hopes of making me believe that you do love me.
In other words, the unspoken big FAT pink Elephant in the room has been the sexual abuse. I believe there are things that have not been said, by both of us. For me, I am ready to talk about it openly with you in the hopes that it can stop ruining the relationship that we could have with one another. I realize now there are other things in our relationship that I dislike, but I have not clearly told you that I want it to change because I kept the barrier of the abuse between us.
You were not the person who sexually abused me so I imagine, at times, it is confusing that I have worked through the abuse and let go of being angry with my step-brother, but not you. I needed you to be the person that protected me. I still need that now, just in different ways. I need to know that if the shit hits the fan, you will not hide or pretend there’s nothing wrong. I know it is excruciating to remain present when we feel raw and vulnerable. But together- we can do hard things. We just have no idea what life will bring us and I need to be able to share the joy as well as the sorrow.
Mom- I am scared. I am afraid that if I open myself up and it gets scarey for you- you will hide again. I am afraid of being hurt like I was the day I told you about the abuse. Even so, I will tell myself the same thing I have since my early twenties- ‘The worst thing that could ever happen, has already happened.’ Then, I am going to breathe, lean in and be present with you. Sometimes you may not like what I have to say. You may not appreciate me telling you to stop something, but I commit to you that I want the same kind of relationship you want. Right now, in this moment, I am not going to allow the sexual abuse I went through to take anymore time away from our relationship.
In truth, I have blamed many other things on why our relationship has been difficult. Perhaps you do not want to emphasize the abuse either. But, there was the truth- sitting on my tongue the day you asked me about why I am so distant. Even then, all I could tell you that it was “complicated”. The sexual abuse has created a lens in which I view life and I thought I had stopped using it to hurt myself, but I have continued with you and I am ready for that to end now.
Know that I love you and I believe we can change. I hope you will be willing to change with me. I hope you will be patient and remain present. Being vulnerable is our strength.
With Love, Your Daughter.
The F-word Rabbit Hole, Guest Blogger, Ashley Jiles
Love is Not Smothering…with a Pillow
I believe LoVe really is much like this……
People like to write a lot about love and romance. Not I. One of my goals as a writer over the next year is to write outside my comfort zone, no matter how awkward or sappy or…no, just awkward.
No one has ever accused me of being overly romantic or sentimental. And frankly, you just don’t know, when push comes to shove, if you will make it through the endless night of the man cold without rolling over and gently, but firmly pressing your memory foam pillow to his face, until the tuberculosis-like hacking and wheezing of snot becomes a blanket of comforting warm silence. You just never know.
I’ve spent most of my life getting this love thing wrong. I’m an impatient person, so I rarely waited to be asked out on a date. As soon as I spotted the most unlikely suspect for a love match, I was…
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Not Any Good At The Good-Byes: Remembering My Beloved while Meeting Brené Brown and My Brother
Let’s face it- I suck at the Good Bye.
Now, in my defense, my house hold has not had a “normal” week since January 5th when I returned from sweet-sweet paradise. Between the freeze, the flood, (see my piece about my attempt at Marilyn Monroe), a pouty-sick child and really- yes- the cat with a bit butt….I was kinda having a difficult time remembering that I had just finished packing my bag to leave after work. My husband leans in to kiss me good bye and says with those puddly brown eyes, “I will miss you.” I realized in that moment, I had successfully avoided with chaos and nerva-citement. I….was going to meet Brené Brown and my baby brother for the first time.
I wrapped all my loose moments in how fabulous I needed to look and what I was going to say. I toggled in my mind between thoughts of realizing how much I consider Brené my Guru in this season of life and worried about making small talk with my brother whom I know so little about. For me, I would really like to know both of these people and have a genuine relationship with them. But the fact remains that neither may ever happen. What is even more strange, I know more about, Brené, this person who in many ways is as elusive to me as the inner workings of the television I watch her on.
So day ONE of the Daring Way™ training begins and we all meet HER. She is as impressive and emotionally beautiful as I envision her in my mind. I am in awe (and a little embarrassed) when she asks us to be her safe place to fall. I want to swoon like a little girl and beg for her autograph Damn It!! But, in the end, I tell myself we are ALL human and seek out ways to balance out my vision of her with our common humanity.
Then like the crashing-smashing SHAME WAVE of Catherine, I get an email from my sweet puddle of a husband:
Thinking of you. Love.
With this video attachment (watch it now):
Holy CRAP! I start sniffling as I try to listen to the music next to one of my group members during a break. In that moment, I was called back to what really matters in my life. Brene who? Brother- what?
Brené told the story of the lantern, a signature piece of visual material for The Daring Way™ process. While we work endlessly at keeping the flame in our own lives lit, it is those that have truly earned the right to know our story that will cup their own hands around our light to ensure it continues to shine.
Of course, what I wanted to do was fly upstairs, pack my bag and run- literally- all the way home from San Antonio to his arms. I wanted to tell him I hoped he would forgive me for making other people and cats with bit butts more important than him. Sometimes, when my light feels dim, and even in a time of the high flame of nerva-citement, there he is- cupping his hands around my light. Consistently. Endlessly.
I might want either of the people I came here to meet to be in the circles of my life, but there will always be just a select few that sustain the flame.
So, to all my lamplighters- you know who you are- you are way awesomer than any celebrity or any person who does not know my story. And the one person who gets to see me, every day, as the tender-hearted little girl that I am….is ~MY D.
The Telling: The First Moment the Universe Heard the Story of my Sexual Abuse
It is honestly difficult to remember the first time I spoke the words, “He hurt me” with out the memory being encapsulated in a snow globe. I watch it play itself out; nothing exists except for my house on Mosswood Drive, me, my mother and a Strawberry Shortcake suitcase. It is not uncommon for a trauma victim to have memories that can only be remembered as if you are a third party, a ghost, entering into the memory watching your physical self play it out while you loom overhead. Your emotional Self hangs out above, floating and separate from you. For what ever reason, this particular memory is even more distant, yet at the same time, in a snow globe’s tomb, immortalized in my mind.
I was eleven or twelve years old. We had moved from a condo in my home town to a rental house, now renting with my…
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The Fuck OFF Fairy Rocks!!
Everyone Deserves their Marilyn Monroe Moment: The Freeze, The Flood, but Not without The Blessings
I know I am not alone in the debacle that has happened to many peoples homes with the recent freeze that spread across most of the United States. And fortunately (or unfortunately) the events that led to our house damage are apparently not unique. Despite the struggle that continues at this moment, I am attempting to find some honest humor and grace. Difficult times call for drastic measures. For me, it was an honest moment to pull my friends closer and search for joy while the winds of hell swirled in our house- for FIVE FUCKING DAYS!! But, look, I am already digressing. So let me tell you…..what ha-happened was…… A comedy of errors where the only destination was death.
The oddest blessing begins our story. It was an ice skating rink in the parking lot of my office. I thought for a moment while pulling up that I would take up my usual space only realizing that I would likely bust my ass if I choose that option. Not long after, my most amazing land-lord Sherri shows up and begins the process of elimination to take care of what ever caused the problem. I inform her that I ran water, had turned off the hot water and had water the day before when it was 11 degrees…IN GEORGIA!! Turns out, the pipe broke in the front bathroom and a parade of plumbers were likely on their way. We gather the troops and make an executive decision to cancel the rest of the day not knowing what noise may occur. Therapy requires a great deal of concentration. Sound proof doors and sound machines were not going to cut it.
SERIOUSLY- 30 minutes later, the one plumber is done and went home. (I had a big W on my forehead for WHATEVA! at that moment). I used the time to start getting ready for the big race we host raising money for our local sexual assault center. This is my part in giving back to my community and my personal part as a sexual trauma survivor. Ya would think I was building on my good karma…..but. -NO.
Cuz, when I get home……..IT IS RAINING IN MY KITCHEN!!! I am expecting to hear sounds of thunder and lightening while I try to comprehend how in the HELL was this happening.
Oh, but now for the comedy. Really, this is NOT funny. But who in the hell will ever be able to tell you the same story, I just don’t know?
Okay, soooooooo (in my best Cali-Girl accent), my parents are going home on the day before the flooding fiasco and Dad informs me that he has dry tooth brushed (don’t ask me how you do that) and has dressed because there is no water working anywhere upstairs. My BFF says I made the pipes freeze just to make sure my parents would go home. Later that day I check in with a savvy handy friend on FB and he says I should let the water drip to release pressure if in fact there are busted pipes from the freeze. The idea of letting water drip with no useful purpose beyond dripping made me cringe. Naturally, I place a cup to catch the water in so I can later water my well named plants, Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dumb.
Here is the kicker of it all and really, kids, don’t try this at home unless you want the wrath of Noah upon your house.
Place a cup on top of the sink stopper, because well, what else is a tree huggin’ girl to do? You must pair it with a stopper that is currently not attached to the lever below that holds it in place. Get a drip from your frozen faucet pipe that looks like a drip, but will become a gush later on when the pipe thaws out. Voila! There you have it; water fills cups with magic gusto, pushes down sink drain (with no emergency overflow) and let the flooding begin! Now, how many of you just wiped your hand down your face? I promise my efforts were sincere. Destination Death was apparently the only possible outcome.
The folks at Servpro return to demolish our mess and dry us out. Love ya Servpro, really…Shout out to YA. I am, however, certain the wind machines and loud-ass dehumidifers are a special level of hell the pre-Cannon Catholics did not know about. I think it is meant for those people that are really good, but used up WAY too much of their karma in their lifetime. Oh, I forgot to tell you that we are two-timers. Yup- he even said it himself when he showed up at our house- A.G.A.I.N. He said,”I thought you already did our time with us.” Ugh- eyes rolling in the back of my head.
Our previous disaster with water led us to have pseudo-NASA under our house to keep the water out. Having a spouse with a PhD means sometimes waiting weeks on end before a complete decision is made on big purchases. After researching all the latest information, including looking up what the Department of Energy had to say on this subject, he choose encapsulation with a fancy water drainage system. It’s so pretty and cobalt blue under there that my seriously NOT OCD husband wants to get under there and clean the red mud that is Georgia out of it. Shout out to the B-Dry system- we actually think this choice has limited the extent of the damage we have right now.
Nothing change the madness of right now. But like all messes…..there lies real, genuine, blessed beauty.
My friends text me to ask about bringing us dinner. I, of course, agree because there is way too much chaos to remember to eat, except perhaps it really should be easier since the refrigerator is literally an arm shot from the kitchen table at the moment.
Everyone comes and they bring their joy and chaos without flitting an eyelid at trying to walk around the tented kitchen or looking for the garbage can that has been moved over and over because we all gravitate to its usual spot. We all laugh while telling the juicy story that has now become this madness and laugh more when I tell them how my diva Self immediately was trying to figure out how to navigate an up hair-do day while passing by the wind machine. It does give me the idea that this is the perfect opportunity to have my Marilyn Monroe Moment. It goes something like this…..
If you can believe it, there was a second nugget of utter glory in this madness. Apparently my sister planned a most delicious surprise for me (and I LOVE surprises). She cooked up something special with the help of my friends. My BFF Georgia (the most bad ass Rock Star of a jewelry designer you will EVER know-Gray Jewelers) and my new really awesome friend collectively decided on a piece to give me as a gift. Just imagining my beautiful sister conversing with them about what I may enjoy just made my heart smile.
So, just imagine that fan you run to make a little white noise while you sleep decided to go on a meth binge. That is what is now running in the back ground. See it….Even the toilet paper was waiving the white flag.
All the while, the blessing of my sister and a meeting of the kitty committee hover on the bed together. We talk about everything and nothing. Goats some of the time, but really it was pure lovely. Now it may be true that these moments do not have come sliding in quite so muddy and dirty, but for some reason, I seem to encapsulate them in my mind when the blessing runs in while wild madness is swirling all around.
So thank you to my sisters in spirit and in life. I will remember this ungodly beautiful moment every time I wear my treasure.It just gets easier and easier to remember gratitude with YOU present in my life. Sharing in the struggle whether directly or taking the time to read my writing makes my life worth living.
Transformative Trauma 