Wednesday Wisdom - DO YOU HAVE THE POWER TO CHANGE YOUR STORY? Vol 2

POWER

Do you have power? What is it? How do you get it? What do you do with it?

Power: The ability to do or act in a particular way to direct or influence others’ behaviors. 

I know in the mental health community, my experiences with power are not dissimilar to others. When I think of power, I am reminded how little power or control it seemed I’ve had over my life, particularly as a child.  Growing up, Birth Mother was more of a “my way or the highway”  type mom.  To say she was controlling and unyielding in her power over me is a generous understatement.  It is only now, decades later, that I am finding the nerve to take back my power and stand up to her.  Recently she told me to be quiet, and I responded to her in a respectful tone to never tell me that again, and immediately she told me to be quiet, and the cycle continued until I left.  As an adult, my mother has tried to take away my power of voice when it is inconvenient to her.  So it is quite understandable that when being abused as a child, I didn’t say no.  I didn’t try to stop it.  I didn't know I could stop it or use my voice to tell because I was taught I had no power. No power at all.

But over time, little by little, I DECIDED and COMMITTED to the belief that people will no longer take my power away from me. I firmly believe if you want to be powerful, if you want your voice to count, if you want to take recovery by the horns and let it lead you to a better life, you have to decide that you will take back your power.  Power is not something that you can acquire by osmosis or wake up one day feeling it in your soul. In order to take back your power, you have to realize to begin with that you are capable of using your power and can take it back by taking small risks, by believing in yourself, and realizing you have power, and so do I.

HOW WILL YOUR STORY END?

So when the quote tells me, “This is NOT how my story will end,” I know I am entitled to create a different ending than what my abusers handed me, and I have within me whatever is needed to implement a different ending to my story.  

My abusers created an ending for me, one filled with pain, desperation, helplessness, confusion, dissociation, and hopelessness.  I don’t want to live like that anymore.  So I’m taking my power back, the power that was stolen from me, and I’m screaming out loud, “This is NOT how my story will end.”

I've realized I have the power to fill my life with people I love and that love me.  I have the power to fill my life with happiness and peace.  I have the power to shed my shame and create a version of me that is compassionate and understanding, not just with others but also with myself.  I have the power to eagerly wait and see what great things will happen next. I have the power to make the changes that seem impossible. Most importantly, I have the ultimate power which is to take back my life and recover.

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With my power back where it belongs, my ending can be anything I want it to be, but it will NOT be, now or ever again, written by my abusers. Their show is over.

I'd love to hear from you.

What is your experience with power?

What would you use your power for?

What is one thing you have the power to take back from your abuser(s)?

Music Monday - All about RECOVERING! and FORGIVENESS? Vol 2

Welcome to another edition of Music Monday!  I'll be quiet now because I have a lot to say regarding the following song "Praying" by Kesha.  

Side note:   I don't know why it turned my background white.  All words are my own except when directly quoted.

I'd also love to hear from you.

What songs are you relating to right now?
How do you feel about forgiveness for those whom have hurt you?
What are you struggling with right now?

Kesha - "Praying"

While watching the video and reading the accompanying lyrics, I was all torn up and mentally chaotic. Breaking down and analyzing this song caused me to face my own ideas about recovery and forgiveness.  

"Praying" relates to the bitter legal feud Kesha had with her producer “Dr. Luke” and Sony Records over her claim of manipulation, along with mental, physical, emotional, and sexual assualt at the hands of Dr. Luke.  For four years, she was unable to produce new music until circumstances changed recently, unconnected with the law suit, but which allowed her to put out music again.  

I found myself vacillating over whether I liked or hated this song because I don’t necessarily agree with the totality of the song's premise or message.  But I don’t want  to only share with you my choices and my beliefs.  I trust you, the reader and listener, can do your own thinking and decide on the  message and the impact this song has on you. I definitely would love to get your reaction. The video is below, and afterwards I break down the lyrics and offer my analysis.

Partial lyrics to her song are listed below.

Well, you almost had me fooled / Told me that I was nothing without you

I begin with embracing her thoughts about almost being fooled.  Don’t we grow up with our abuser(s) lying to us, telling us to keep quiet about what’s happening because no one would believe us anyway?  But Kesha doesn’t fall for it when she says, “You almost had me fooled.”  

Oh, but after everything you've done / I can thank you for how strong I have become

Here comes my reluctance to accept her lyrics regarding thanking her abuser for how strong she’s become.  It’ is MY PERSONAL BELIEF that I don’t owe a thank you to any of my abusers.  Fuck them.  Plain and simple.  I was born strong.  THAT is how I’m still alive, not because of anyone else.

'Cause you brought the flames and you put me through hell / I had to learn how to fight for myself / And we both know all the truth I could tell / I'll just say this is "I wish you farewell"

Other than her politelness in “I wish you farewell” where I would have said “Get the fuck out of my life”, I can relate to these lyrics on the level where tells him that her hell is his fault, but she is stronger than he is because she learned to fight for herself.

On a personaI note, I believe we can fight for ourselves.  I don’t need an apology from an abuser to make me feel better, bring me peace, or provide closure for me.  I can fight my own battles, and a contrived apology doesn’t count.

Kesha also writes, “And we both know all the truth I could tell.”  Because she says this before she bids him goodbye, it almost seems to me that this is part of her letting it go, forgiving him and wishing him peace.  I believe she is saying, "I’m not going to rehash it anymore; I’m done with it.  I’m moving on."  

This sentiment of Kesha’s possible forgiveness works nicely into the next lines when she writes,”

Cause I can make it on my own / And I don't need you, I found a strength I've never known / I'll bring thunder, I'll bring rain, oh / When I'm finished, they won't even know your name

Again, I can make it on my with my strength.  And I suspect she’s saying regarding bringing thunder and rain that this is a metaphor for her power. Perhaps she is saying she has the power to bring him down.

And after all this empowerment, she fails and writes what is below,

I hope you're somewhere prayin', prayin' /  I hope your soul is changin', changin' / I hope you find your peace /  Falling on your knees, prayin'

Alot of survivors would debate me on the issue of forgiveness, and that is okay.  Each to his own.  Some feel forgiveness is necessary to move on, some say not so much.  I side with the “not so much.”  I don’t feel forgiveness is necessary to heal.  How can you forgive something or someone that stole your life, your potential.  

I can already hear others telling me forgiveness is about you, not about the other person.  I can understand this line of thinking and even agree to some extent.  However, my convictions on forgiveness are not in line with that.  So when Kesha is singing,” I hope your soul is changin’, changin’, / I hope you find your peace”, I just want to scream, “Oh, hell no!”  While I wouldn’t want my abusers to hurt others, I want them to stay the same evil people they are; I don't wanting them finding peace because they don't deserve it. I haven't even found peace, why should they. In addition, my feelings are partly due to reactions I have that if they did change and repent, I might feel obligated to forgive them, and that’s not something I want to deal with.

Kesha has said in an open letter on LennyLetter.com that “this song is about coming to feel empathy for someone else even if they hurt you or scare you.” Empathy is the ability to understand and share the feelings of others.  No way will I try to understand the evil of an abuser.

On a positive not, Kesha has found inside her the ability to fight her way out of her depression and mental anguish.  She has been through something anguishing and come out the other side, and, as she has said, has found her strength.

While I do have issues with some of her message, I also find it inspirational because there are still issues in my life to overcome and when I see others rising above their personal demons, it makes me think that maybe I can too.

I'd also love to hear from you.

What songs are you relating to right now?
How do you feel about forgiveness for those whom have hurt you?
What are you struggling with right now?

Call me a poet.  What can I say?

Anxiety's Amusement

Once upon a time there was a paradox called Missing in Sight whose anxiety was so rampant and uncontrolled that ten minutes after waking on Saturday morning,  she took her usual cocktail of a Clonazepam and a muscle relaxer to chase the anxiety away.  Meanwhile, she felt she was going insane.  She would hit her head with her hand repeatedly to chase away the crazies.  When that didn't work, the wall took the brunt of her head.

Soon her medicine assumed her, and she went to sleep for about an hour.  When she woke, the same anxiety was expectantly waiting for her, licking its lips, eager to pounce on her.  She tried to think of other ways to deal with the misery, but to no avail.  She couldn't concentrate, so she wasn't able to read or color.  She had taken medications that left her tired and drained, so she couldn't take her dog for a walk.  She couldn't be still, so watching t.v. or a movie wasn't an option.  

She felt if she could just cry then she might be able to calm down, but a tear could not be found.

Once again, she took more medication to put her to sleep so she would not have to deal with the anxiety.  This time she slept a little longer, but when the meds wore off and she woke to reality, the monster of anxiety woke with her, and she could not escape the roar of its meanness.

She tried to last it out.  She thought maybe if she put on her favorite movie then she could endure the panic; however, the movie turned rancid to her eyes.  She did not know why, but she could not tolerate her best movie.

All this while, Husband was home, but he was asleep off and on.  He didn't know what to do for Missing in Sight.  She suggested to him that he go to the store and buy beer because she knew it would take the edge off.  So off he went.

While he was gone, she took round three of meds, but this time she tripled the dosage.  The possibility of accidentally overdosing broached her mind, but she could not comprehend what this actually meant.  Childlike, she only wanted the anxiety to go away, away, away.  So she swallowed the pills and fell asleep.

Husband eventually came home with the beer and later woke her to tell her goodbye.  It was mid-afternoon, and he had to leave for work.

She fell back asleep for another hour, and when she woke she was all alone in the early evening hours.   Stunningly, it seemed her anxiety had lessened.  Her breath found its way back to her chest, the butterflies in her stomach shushed, and her heart quit slamming between her thoracic walls.  The hurricane of anxiety had weakened to a small thunderstorm.  The beer did not seemed to be needed now.

She tried to do relaxing tricks that she could not do earlier in order to keep the angst away: color; music; movies; dog.  However, she could not get rid of the residual anxiety.

She decided to drink a beer.  Then another.  And another.  She thought all the meds she had taken over the course of the day would have left her system by that time, and nothing bad, whatever that might be, would happen.

She fell asleep again.  Or more accurately, passed out.  One knows not how long she would have slept if not for the hallucinations of voices and noises that kept waking her from what felt like vivid but aggravating dreams.  

So, half awake but completely drunk, over-medicated, and anxiety's amusement, she stumbled off to bed, and fell face first into the blackness of the night, anticipating in her dreams of the anxiety that would startle her awake the very next morning.

Thanks for nothing

i really don't know what will become of me. The anxiety is so so bad that i was so close to D. taking me to the medical hospital. i coulnd't walk, the room was shaking, I wanted to jump out of my skin. And no matter what I did I coudln't get better. Today, no matter how many tranqs. I took I was still seeing double.

I can feel the buildup because I've been crying during these attacks. and please, someone, realize how far gone i am. i can't do this anymore. and things go though my mind and my last skydive is prepared for. it's easy to do. i just have to do it. and there has to be another way. this is more than my everyday general misery. this is the height of it. and i don't know how to stop it. the shrink finally called back and I'm starting to get to know her style. no wonder randy recommends her...they are both scattered and don't listen.

i'm having hot and cold flashes and i haven't felt this bad since last summer. enough said.

Julie likes Ryan Gosling, but we will not discuss Julie tonight. We are too far gone. This will be a short...even final blog. I'm concerned about my classes. I cannot do the work as long as the anxiety is like this. out of all the work i have to do, i've done none it. didn't even work out at the gym and that is clear indication that we don't feel well. i've been in bed today except to drive out to the tattoo parlor to get my cartlidge pierced. most people would say ouch, but when I was living with D. and B. I pierced my cartlidge myself. It hurt like hell, but I got off on it. I may have a millionm piercing by the time all this is through. i don't give a fuck. i may pierce that other piece of ear before...lost the thought.

i want to move to Charleston so bad i can take it. the only thing is that i can start a Masters program if I stay right where I am and not teach. it's a delimna because I love to write and i would love to get a Masters in writing, not that I would ever publishing anything. my currrent professor loves my work although i don't know how much he'll like the next piece.

i wish i was a teenager in the fourties. i wouldn't have to deal with all the shit i deal with now. life is so complicated and so unforgiving. it is so painful and there are no answers. i need simplicity and love and tradition. my life is devoid of that. i hate my life. i can't breathe. this anxiety will kill me before i can kill the anxiety,so to speak. one has to give. the hot and cold flashes i can't bear, and i can't bear the visual ticks, the visual disturbances, the way the room rocks back and forth.

i had a memory earlier i wanted to share. i remember it now. it wasn't anything big. it was based on music. I miss the Music Maiden. Once I get the music back I'll remember. I believe it was a trip I took to Florida by other families who could read the unhappiness etched on my face. I had a psuedo friend. My former best friend, I'll call her D.C., has been written off my list. The last time we talked, I confided in her some of the trouble I was having. I only just now heard from her. She left a message on my VM. I'm hurt by that and at least ought to give her the benefit of the doubt, although part of me believes I ought to see how interested in our well-being she is by when and if she calls again.

all i can do is ask for help, and when i'm denied, no one can blame me.

she's so dark and black, but she speaks for the rest of us. the one thing we wish to fantacize about is the one thing for which we can't speak. and we wonder, if we live, what happens to our classes? they're gone. We get a "W". I dont' care if the circumstances are "understandable." But then you don't worry when you skydive. you just enjoy the freedom that type of life gives you. skydiving is another way to escape, but the final way. and when you shore yourself up with the necessary equipment, no one can take the feedom away from. D. doesn't know I want to skydive, so I've hidden all my equipment. He was remarking in the car today about how he feels he failed us, hasn't taken good of us. He bought the littles the graham cracker bees from Honey Maid but it pisses the bigs off because some of us have weight to lose and we can't be tempted with that shit.

He doesn't know how to buy a gift for his life. just do a god damn gift certificate. i don't want lingerie, i don't want food. i don't want what you think i want. so cut some slack. what a waste not to make it to the half year. what a waste anyway. the waste is what types. somewhere deep inside i know he loves us. but what different does it make. i've argued with Randy over and over that people shouldn't live for other people. why i would make D. happy is irrelevant, why I be a good teacher and have a positive impact on my students doesn't translate into a reason to live. but something hasn't. there has to be a reason to live and unless we find one soon...

i was watching "The Notebook" and the beginning of the love scenes. I would be able to tell from a million miles away what Noah was after and if I were Allie I would have run a million miles. If caught and trapped, I don't know if I could have pretended like I enjoyed it as much as she did.

How do people stand it when someone else's hands are on them, only to gratify themselves, not the person whose body they are groping. How can people be naked beside each other. I just dont' understand it. the more questions I don't understand, the more of life I miss it, the more I realize I different I am, the more skydiving throught the beautiful cloudless sky seems real and probable.



i hate life!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!