Living Openly Vulnerable

Elementary Memories of Thankgiving

These memories are from when I was really young 2rd grade or younger? My dad, sister, sister and I were picked up by the church van. I was beginning to grow dark out and the air was crisp outside. We were driven to a church we had never attended before. I remember our nice church’s pastor and his younger two kids being there when we arrived. It was empty, early, and everyone was unfolding the cold metal chairs and lining up the long heavy rectangle tables. We were all all in the large basement which had white tile floors (like you would have seen in a school). I played with the pastors kids and some other kids I knew, we all ran around in the darkish room while adults worked. I was happy to be gathering with others. We all lined up at the “buffet” and were served our meals. Turkey, mashed potatoes, canned green beans. I didn’t know many of the adults and didn’t think about it at the time. I mostly only really remember the scene. But, I remember thinking it was really cool that my church ate Thanksgiving all together as a family.

Funny how perception works; those were good memories for me. No shame, something I looked forward to. It wasn’t until many, many years later when I was the Caucus Chair in my Grad school Class that those memories came back to me. I was organizing, cooking, and volunteering to serve 75 people a Thanksgiving meal for a Mental Health Association Day Shelter when it dawned on me… that wasn’t our church getting together! We were eating at the free meal our church helped put together and the few members there were there were some of the servers and volunteers. It was the church assisting the one of the community’s free Thanksgiving meals for the homeless and working poor. That was us. Poor.

I’m thankful to those wonderful people who sacrificed their Thanksgiving evening to love on others, who didn’t treat us different but welcomed us as a great big family. With a traditional meal, a warm place to gather for food, thanks, and prayers. I carried lots of shame in other areas for having grown up “poor”. But, these memories were protected my innocence of misunderstanding. I saw that evening through a sweet child’s eyes of a loving church community and that’s what it was and those memories are still sweet. May your memories that you create on this Holiday no matter what the scenery, be as sweet. Happy Thanksgiving!

I need to read this everyday before I write:

“Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won’t feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It’s not just in some of us; it’s in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.”

by Marianne Williamson

A rewrite…from Halloween

Please note this post is not personally directed at anyone, it is not intended to shame or blame, it is intended to provoke thoughts and possible action. Many of us talk about loving one another however some times the easiest actions are hard when they happen to go against cultural norms…

In the middle of the night I woke up early from a nightmare of fire and gore. My heart was pounding so hard I could hear the blood rushing and pulsing in my ear drums. I used to run away from these thoughts but now I ask myself about the dream. Why did I have it? Better, what provoked it? I had just spent a pleasant evening catching up with out-of-town friends; time full of: good conversation, smiles, hugs, and well wishes to go around. On the drive home (Halloween Eve) I was laughing with my husband in the car and looked over to see a man with gunshot wounds to the head. I gasped in startle and after freezing for a second relaxed settling down stating something about costumes…

Every Single day approximately 5 children die from child abuse and neglect; and, about 3 million children in the United States are currently being abused. (National Statistics on Child Abuse, National Children’s Alliance)
30% of Men and Women who are deployed to war will return meeting the criteria for PTSD.

After already working 8 hours typing up paperwork and several sessions with Client’s and families I had received a call earlier. I hadn’t seen him in two months and something inside me told me to stay;” it’s important”. It was late and I wasn’t alone I had asked a co-worker who had agreed to work in another office until I was through and we would lock up and walk out together.

…I sat across from him as he described how he was going to kill someone…

My mind raced searching for protocol and trying to trace the steps. As I listened, I thought. “What do I need to do?” “To ask?” “Don’t leave, don’t leave,” my thoughts silently begged “let me do what I need to do, you came to me for help, so stay with me let me help you” these thoughts paced through my head as other words somehow came out of my mouth, calm, cool, collected. I spent what seemed like hours with him…but, it was really just two.

The evening ended with me throwing some humorous comment to my co-worker as we parted to our cars, “all in a days’ work” or some non-sense. But, this night set-off something different. I was shaken. Physically shaken. I literally felt my legs trembling as I spoke, I couldn’t stop them, in the moment I had wondered if he would noticeable.

I worked with violence: gang violence, violence upon children, violence against others, and violence towards self. I was surrounded by it. There were plenty of theories to explain away people’s behavior and even insights to inspect into a Therapist’s secondary reactions to what they hear. Yet, what theory matters in the face of fear? Fear isn’t fun. Death ISN’T fun. And, Halloween humors violence.

When I was in elementary school I remember being inside “someone’s” apartment while they were smoking drugs and watching t.v. it was in that room where I saw a man blow his brains out; as an adult I later learned the name of that movie: Full Metal Jacket. It wasn’t halloween, it was a normal day in myl life. I never told anyone and, that was just one of my “traumatic” memories from my childhood.

That is why my heart hurts for this Holiday. I do enjoy a good party, friends, food, and fun costumes. But, I don’t understand what pleasure there are in provoking fear out of people. I’m too sensitive to get it. It’s a form of ignorant terrorism. And, if it’s not ignorant then, it’s evil. It is one more wound. Salt poured on with added lemon juice. There are hurting people- lots of them and Halloween will remind them of the terrors and fears that have been their reality. How many children will go to bed terrorized from the movie, costume, or decorations they see which are all too real to their world. How many veterans will laugh it off, or try to drink it away but will suffer with haunting symptoms tonight.

If violence is a memory that you are trying to press down; don’t press it down. Find a friend. Share your pain. It’s not a burden you are meant to carry alone. Fight the thoughts that lie to you. Find the truth and tell it to yourself. It was terrifying and you survived, right now you are safe, you are not alone, you are deeply loved and cared about. If you are not in a safe space, reach out for help, and keep reaching there is light that will dawn a new day for you. For everyone else, I implore you to be the change shed light on this dark night.

“Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things.” Philippians 4:8

-2010

Happy Halloween 2011

Writing is

Vulnerable. It exposes the inner workings of my soul. It shines light on the part of me that screams for perfection before I show myself to others. I don’t want to be seen because I am insecure. I don’t trust that you will stick around for the process. To me I want a fast fix. Think it and it is done. Pretty package.pretty bow. But this is about to get ugly and messy! I’m screwing all technical writing for here on. I’m going to be okay with 2 pages of one run on sentence that is spelled all wrong and has no grammar and punctuation. I’m going to say fuck a lot. I’m going to sound desperate and that I want to die but people try to remember that was just the child’s plea. I am strong. I have support. This is my writing is my worst form of trauma reenactment so you will see that. It wont alway end well but it is a process that’s what I have to believe. Shit

Did I ever tell you how much I hate writing?!!!

Needs to write this shit down! Okay, time for a resolution… schedule it. That’s the only way it’s going to happen. You will be privy to my painful writing process ie write.rewrite.write it again. Shit.shit.shit!

For the Child, for the Soldier coming home, for the frightened person finding there way…

Halloween isn’t funny.

I woke up early from a nightmare of fire and gore. I used to run away from these thoughts but now I ask myself about the dream. Why did I have it? Better, what provoked it? I had just spent a pleasant evening catching up with out-of-town friends; time full of: good conversation, smiles, hugs, and well wishes to go around. On the drive home (Halloween Eve) I was laughing with my husband in the car and looked over to see a man with gunshot wounds to the head. I gasped in startle and settled down stating something about costumes…

After already working 8 hours typing up paperwork and several sessions with Client’s and families. I had received a call earlier. I hadn’t seen him in two months and something inside me told me to stay; it’s important. It was late and I wasn’t alone I had asked a co-worker who had agreed to work in another office until I was through and we would lock up and walk out together.

…I sat across from him as he described how he was going to kill someone…

My mind raced searching for protocol and trying to trace the steps. As I listened, I thought. “What do I need to do?” “To ask?” “Don’t leave, don’t leave,” I begged “let me do what I need to do, you came to me for help, so stay with me let me help you” these thoughts paced through my head as other words somehow came out of my mouth, calm, cool, collected. I spent what seemed like hours…but, was really just two.

The evening ended with me throwing some humorous comment to my co-worker as we parted to our cars, “all in a days’ work” or some non-sense. But, this night set-off something different. I was shaken. Physically shaken. I literally felt my legs trembling as I spoke, I couldn’t stop them, in the moment I had wondered if it was noticeable.

I worked with violence: gang violence, violence upon children, violence against others, and violence towards self. I was surrounded by it. There were plenty of theories to explain away people’s behavior and even insights to inspect into a Therapist’s feelings. Yet, what theory matters in the face of fear? Fear isn’t funny. Death ISN’T funny. And, Halloween humors violence.

My heart hurts for this Holiday. I do enjoy a good party, friends, food, and cute / funny costumes. But, I don’t understand what pleasure there are in provoking fear out of people. I’m too sensitive to get it. It’s a form of ignorant terrorism. And, if it’s not ignorant then, it’s evil. It is one more wound. Salt poured on with added lemon juice. There are hurting people- lots of them and Halloween will remind them of the terrors and fears that have been their reality.

If violence is a memory that you are trying to press down; don’t press it down. Find a friend. Share your pain. It’s not a burden you are meant to carry alone. Fight the thoughts that lie to you. Find the truth and tell it to yourself. It was terrifying and you survived, right now you are safe, you are not alone, you are deeply loved and cared about. If you are not in a safe space, reach out for help, and keep reaching there is light that will dawn a new day for you. For everyone else, I implore you to be the change shed light on this dark night.

“Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things.” Philippians 4:8

Written in 2010

Birthday II

I allowed myself to feel sad last night and didn’t try to think on the bad memories but just accepted that there was reason to be sad. I woke up in a better place. It is raining and there is a peace about! I have loved ones now that reach out and just say a simple happy birthday which makes me feel special. I am accepting what the day is and giving myself permission to not put this day on others but, find ownership of expectations and plan things to enjoy. I think I will go enjoy some rainy day shopping!

Birthdays

Birthdays have been historically hard. Lots of sadness and painful memories. I’m sad right now. I hope for some good times enjoying friends but, don’t want to get my expectations up. It hurts and it’s hard. I’ll cry tonight and you’ll see me smiling tomorrow…maybe on the inside too; if I’m surrounded by friends.