Why do I question my need to give, to share, to not be alone, to contribute to the whole?  I wonder if I have a biological mandate to be a productive helper.  My abuse-trauma history has caught up with me.  While I don’t like to be alone my body needs me to be alone much if not most if not nearly all of the time.

I don’t believe the foundation of American culture is all that healthy, based as it is on the competitive struggle for existence.  This culture turns a blind eye to suffering in many significant ways.  It allows parents (and others) to harm children.  It has not bothered to create an adequate system to guarantee safe passage for all out of their early years of life. 

When people tell me that children are better off being left in their abusive homes because entry into the foster care system “is worse” I question the sanity of any culture that has created and sustains such an unsafe and grim reality.

I find no way to wake each day (in my trauma-altered condition) knowing that I can spend my life doing anything that truly makes a difference.  My “loneliness” is therefore tied not only into the competitive struggle for existence that never helped me or my siblings when we were in our horrible home of origin, but is also tied into the fact that I don’t know how to find a way to enter this same system now in any productive way that I can tolerate.

I am never satisfied by passing time — or rather by filling time — with pursuits that seem meaningless to me.  I seem to lack the requisite “selfish gene” that appears to me (as a virtual outsider to mainstream American culture) to be satisfying to nearly everyone else I encounter.

Being a mother of dependent children for 35 years evidently satisfied my deep, deep desire to contribute to the betterment of others.  My children grew up and now live a long ways from me.  They are independent and doing fine.  But living another life now alone and single does not suit my nature in important ways.

But then the way my body processes information, I would need a very orderly, kind and peaceful environment “out there.”  A sharing and caring environment.  A noncompetitive place — one I cannot find.

I think perhaps I have ancient genetic memory of tribal shared life.  Perhaps those genes were activated by the supreme isolation, abuse and trauma of my childhood.  Maybe those genes screamed for help from a social network of caring others.  I needed help.  There is no possible way to deny that fact.

I needed MY PEOPLE!  My people in the larger sense.  A people who would have been invested in my well-being and in the well-being of my siblings.  We desperately needed to be cared about, cared for, rescued, saved and cherished.  We needed to be noticed in our need.  We needed a community of caring others.

In our culture we are so often separated and divided, enclosed in individual houses, struggling in a competitive world to survive, not in one built of, by and for cooperation.  I often feel homesick for a different world that I am not sure even exists.

I do little things.  I am starting little rose plants from my climbers that can be propagated to give to a woman who comes to sell little plants at the farmers’ market faithfully every Saturday.  I grew jalapeno peppers last summer and made gourmet pickled relish from them that I donated to the booth that raises money to run the market itself.  I can give fresh eggs to a neighbor, bake cupcakes to leave off at the homeless shelter.  I can sew things, here at home, alone, to give to whom?

I don’t have the internal resources needed to volunteer or get involved unless I could find the most special situation that met my needs — my disabilities.  This saddens me.  All I can do is write, it seems.  I think of all this as I remain completely stalled in my book writing process.  I have always hoped those books could offer something of use to the greater good.

It is cloudy, rainy, very windy.  Stormy and gloomy outside.  The earth is being prepared for spring.  For new growth and life.  Nature is by nature productive and giving as is the earth itself.  Why do I question my own desire, my need to be a part of that kind of life?  It matters to me that my life matters, not in competitive ways but rather in cooperative ones.  My challenge is to find ways to make that happen.


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March 4, 2013




  1. Overhere some women knit for children in Rumania, or in third world countries. I once read about a woman quilting safetyblankets for children in cancerwards in the hospital.

    You are too far to visit for me, or i would, unscared for your many symptoms, knowing that when they would occur and terrify me, i could handle myself and live through it.
    I would love one of your roses. Although our gardencentres told me all roses can only florish when combined with the stem of a truely wild rose. No clue how you call that process in english, too tired to google it.
    Maybe the title of your blog says it all. You want to stop the storm, instead of facing the storm, knowing you can. Storms are an essential part of life and of our climate. Some can create havoc, some leave relatively little damage and life goes on as if nothing happened. We do not get to choose, whether the storms of life, turn into hurricanes or tornado’s, destroying all that we knew.
    But in my soul, i know my soul to be wise. I refuse to believe that my soul would be stupid to let be experience any other experience, then one that is most loving and in the best interest of my being, of my growing towards fulfilling my sacred destiny.

    In my angelcards it says, that parents project, that which they are incapable of handling, into their children. Possibly that just is as it is, the wisdom of the Universe, beyond our human understanding. Like understanding us is beyond most people’s understanding. Thus possibly it is good, it is all good and we are good enough as we are. Exactly as we are.

    Some people have bought into the hype of seeking continuous happiness and/or abundance, believing they can avoid suffering.

    I have chosen to believe, as is written in sacred texts, that all suffering are lessons to test one. And even when that seems ridiculous to our small minds, when looking at all the terrible senseless suffering in our world, there may be a different dimension, where it all makes perfect sense.

  2. Dear Linda,

    While I think I completely understand – and can say with assurance that even if my understanding isn’t as complete as I think, my resonance with the kinds of self-questioning you express certainly is…

    I believe you have already made an IMMENSE contribution to the greater good of humanity through your writing.

    If you were to find that you couldn’t complete the writing projects you’ve already expended so much energy on – and at such great personal cost – I maintain that what you’ve accomplished so far is already a major contribution to understanding the effects of trauma.

    And not from the usual academic, “Let’s look at this interesting problem that other people have” kind of perspective that so much academic writing consists of – but from a lived-experience point of view that is usually missing in such accounts.

    You are already quite an accomplished writer, IMHO. You have a gift for asking the tough questions that most folks dance around rather than engage with. And then you dare to formulate possible answers – while generating even more interesting and challenging questions…

    That is no small accomplishment, my friend.

    I am tracking your explorations closely…only a blind fool wouldn’t, IMHO.

    I am doing a lot of thinking about the dilemma so many of us are in – having had no choice in ending up with greatly compromised nervous systems – what the hell can we do to help ourselves and each other (speaking collectively) heal enough to make even greater contributions? We are a great untapped resource…

    Much love,


    • Dear Sandy – You, my friend, have joined the dancing and have done so with special flair and flavor. The children you are spending your day with must already know you are a man to be trusted greatly. To be such a person takes a lifetime of paying close attention to what calls the soul forward into the best light possible so that all can shine. I admire you, Sandy!

      And I know you admire me. What mutual giving is this? That together around the world we are recognizing these most special talents we possess? Never would we say, “Well, I am content. I have done enough. I have learned enough. I think I will quit now.”

      Nope. Not us. Not anyone who has found their way to this blog.

      I think I am resting now, like a seed held in time, held in shell, held until the time is right to burst forth fresh and new. That is my hope. I cannot say. Yet. Of course. But you always help me to believe in myself as I believe in you.

      Thank you, dear friend!!! Love always, Linda – alchemynow

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