You don’t get to choose who to love.

You don’t get to choose who to love.
As an advocate of therapy, I often get backlash even from those in the field of helping us to heal, when I say society wont start to truly healing until we look at the entire problem.
We cant just allow the victims to “Heal themselves” alone. I was raped at the age of five and life before then was horrific. I did not get serious and commit to therapy until I was 50. My family did not inquire about my 3 1/2 solid years of therapy. I walked many miles alone taking a total of four busses.
I went to therapy no matter the weather. I walked in the snow, wind chills below zero and the thunder and lighting, because it was life or death for me. I could not bear the weight pain any longer. The stigma of the crazy label didn’t sting worse than the flashbacks and nightmarish symptoms of ptsd.
 
I don’t give anybody a pass or excuse. I just want us to mean what we say. We are quick to say “Hurt people hurt people” but we don’t help ALL of the hurting people. We talk about God’s love that supposedly resides in our souls, but we find it hard to forgive and love those that are the most needing of compassion.
 
I really don’t believe that everyone will make the commitment to heal but I believe if we support healing for ALL we can start to clean up this insidious sickness in our society. Our entire society is in need of healing.
 
Men need to accept responsibility for any behavior that hurts their mothers, daughter’s and all women.
We need to start raising our boys to NOT Rape instead of teaching our daughters how not to be raped.
Also as women we have been taught that it is always our fault and men cant help themselves.
My mother said the reason her boyfriend tried to get in bed with me was because he was drunk and high. I am sure there are completely evil people in our society, but there are also people dealing with the guilt of what they have done. I am not saying pardon them. I am asking to extend some compassion to encourage and support the healing for all.
I think of my three brothers, two of them committed suicide by drinking themselves to death before the age of 38. I tried many times to reach out to my youngest brother but the stigma was stronger than his will to accept my help.
My family referred to me as the crazy sister because I went to therapy. It hurt but I knew that I could only show instead of tell them about therapy. They have all witnessed what therapy has done for me. Many are now seeking therapy for themselves.

2-Edged Sword of PTSD

So, I sit, and I write

There are days when the words are the only thing I can trust. The words allow me to control the amount of trust given. When you have ptsd there are days when there is not one person that you can trust. They could be the most trust worthy person and deserving of your faith in their ability not to intentionally hurt you.

Because of all the many times people have deliberately plotted to take advantage of you it is with earnest effort that a person with ptsd extends any amount of trust to you.

I am intelligent enough to know that nobody is perfect. Being glaringly aware of my own frailties, makes me also aware of the reasons why people do what they do. I live between the logical knowledge of realistically knowing that people just need to be accepted for who they are and the fact that people committed horrendous acts against me when I was at my weakest and most vulnerable.

Craving physical touch but if I can’t trust you when I need compassion the most, how the hell am I going to be able to trust you at all. We are not meant to be alone and I have beyond doubt overcome the fear of being alone by living in this city without my family and friends. I have been able to prosper despite living in a shelter because my environment was hostile and I could no longer trust the very person I  had loved supported to have my back.

The fact is I did not come here to live alone. I landed on my feet. That is what I do. I am a survivor. One of the perks of having ptsd is knowing how to adapt to any situation. Even ones that may appear to be detrimental to you.

I want a partner. I want to make new friends but when I see that they will talk behind others backs and show no loyalty I don’t trust them and I believe that is a logical assessment.  I do wonder, though, if I am sabotaging myself because of the ptsd.

Anger is not far behind that question because then I must use my tools I learned in therapy to get me back to a place of love. Returning to the love space will allow me to trust God and more than that to trust the God in me.

Everyday lately I am wanting to go back home to the tried and true of my family and friends in St. Louis. Trust is so very important in all our interactions with people. I am aware of the different levels of trust, but when people show you who they are…….well you already know.

I am trying very hard not to end up old and alone. Being alone though is how I feel safe, but that is sometimes when I am most vulnerable. I know I need to get out more and make friends. I tried that already. I had to stop talking to a woman because she would put other women down and basically murder other women’s character. She would talk to me disrespectfully and was critical of some of the things that make me uniquely me. I did not feel accepted for who I am. It felt like she wanted me to change so she could be around me. I did not trust her for those reasons. I could no longer take her criticism.

I have good friends and not one has told me to tone it down, so they would be comfortable around me. I admit I am not the usual woman. I don’t believe in fairy-tales. I was raised by some very strong, self-sufficient, and fiercely independent women. So, for some I may come off as harsh. I don’t sugar coat anything.

If you are not straightforward I find it hard to trust you. Being perfect is not what I expect. I just need people to keep it real.

Maybe I need to work on accepting people just the way they are, but I need people to be who they say they are. You must know yourself if want to know someone else.

Anyway, having said all of that. It is hard to trust people. I trust only God and the God in me. Right now, being alone is the safest place to be. A victim is something I refuse to ever again be.

 

Emerging Beautifully Free

Your mother is the closet person to you. Her heart beat is your rhythm. Her blood flowed through your veins or you would not be here.
Even on a cellular level it is mama’s womb that cradled us and the umbilical cord was our life line. Energetically no one will ever be as connected to us as our mama, even if we have never been in her presence after birth.

I feel closer to my mother than I ever have. She exists in the very fiber of my being.
She has transitioned and I am transitioning. I am now the Matriarch. I am the oldest in my generation. My mother was the last of her generation. My soul is grieving what was, a letting go is happening to make room for the new that transition brings.
I am growing and a change is occurring. Wisdom is being earned. Swinging between gratefulness and grief is exhausting but I am not rushing the process because everything is beautiful. It is in the darkness that life is created.
Like a butterfly we emerge from the darkness freely beautiful.

Agony

my groans are unutterable

the pain is too deep

the cries have no sound

and yet I weep

the soul is bound

with love nowhere found

not one person to connect with

“I am bound”

not one person to understand

that my suffering is my own

conceived by a wicked plan

if you say you love me

why can’t I feel it

why is your touch non-existent

am I alone in this great big world

will there be healing for this little girl

How are you supposed to feel about yourself when  accused of trying to kill your little brother at the age of three or four.  You know the truth although you are only three years old.  You know that your mother is lying to cover her own ass.  She knows damn well she left a three-year old and a two-year old in the apartment by themselves.  This is my very first memory of childhood.

Again, please let me say that I do not want pity.  I truly believe my soul chose the circumstances of my life.  All of these traumas were mine to experience to get the lessons I needed to evolve.  But, that does not mean I did not feel, or endure the effects of the traumas.  I am telling my story because I feel compelled to do so.  Maybe it is just for me to finally purge this crap.  Or, it might be someone needs to know they can make it and see that it does get better with time and hard work.

Yeah, it sucks that you have to fix your self.  I know there are people who have experienced things more horrific  but if my soul chose this, then it is safe to say that this is all I could handle.  We all walk our own path.

I would hear “yo mama did not want you, if it were not for me aint no telling where your little high yellow ass would be”  This may have been true but the delivery of the message was brutal.  I grew up feeling like I owed everybody something.  I felt I did not deserve love.  Come on, if I were worthy my mother would not have left me, right.  I could not see that them taking me in and protecting me was Love. My grandmother was correct, if she and my auntie and great-grandmother had not took me in only God knows………….

Fear was my everything.  It helped me survive when I was a child but as an adult it stopped me from having healthy relationships.  Through therapy I have learned to not take my mother’s neglect (leaving me in apartment alone for at least 2 days) personally.  I was caught up in her drama or sickness and it had nothing to do with me except this was what my soul chose.  She would have been what she was even if I had never been born.  Knowing that has freed me so much that words can not explain.  It wasn’t my fault.

I still had to heal from the side effects of her does not remove the effects of her boyfriend raping me when I was five years old.  I have abandonment issues, trust issues and fear was a part of my   Anger was my armor.  It kept people away from me so they could not hurt me.  Anger made me powerful and in control but nothing could be further from the truth.  It was controlling me because my anger was always inappropriate to the situation.

I really would not trade anything for my journey.  Everything is Everything and it all has a purpose.  It took me a while to get here but all that matters is I am here.  Love

p.s.

My brother survived only to die at the age 36 from the effects of alcoholism and drug addiction.  I don’t believe he ever healed from the abuse and neglect.