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Archive for the ‘borderline mother’ Category

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Friday, July 21, 2017.  WOW that was a tough day’s work writing my 500-word responses to the four storytelling conference questions on their application (I mentioned in my previous post).  I decided that at best, I am truly a scrappy writer!  Oh well!  I did the best I could do, even though I am guessing I entirely missed the point of what this conference is all about!

I am posting these little essays here just in case someone wants to read them!

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*Tell us a little about yourself (500 words maximum):

My parents (born mid-1920s) were proper, strict and obsessively private.  At the same time Mother’s severe mental illness (undiagnosed) overwhelmed our family. Most destructive to me, she suffered a permanent psychotic break during her life-death fight to birth breech-me.

I believe terrorism used to control Mother from reporting abuse when she was young included her perpetrator threatening her into silence with, “If you ever tell anyone what I am doing to you the Devil will get you.”  During her difficult labor with me her broken mind told her I was not human.  The Devil had sent me to kill her while I was being born.  Hence the terrible abuse I suffered for the next 18 years began with my first breath.

In 1957 Mother motivated Father to seek a civil engineering job in the Alaska Territory.  While I believe she primarily needed to get me away from her mother’s ability to interfere with her abuse of me, Mother articulated her hatred of “houses made of ticky tacky,” suburban sprawl and the “keep up with the Joneses” mentality of the lower 48 as her reasons for our move to The Last Frontier.

We arrived in Alaska a month before my sixth birthday, and I loved everything about that land from my first step upon it.  Before I turned seven my parents staked claim to our 160-acre homestead near timber line up a mountainside.  We became members of the last wave of “free land grabbers” under the Homesteading Act created to “settle” the vast frontiers of America.

I spent the rest of my childhood both in an inescapable nightmare of hellacious abuse AND in cherishing an incomparable beauty that enabled me to fall in love with a nonhuman wilderness world.  While we had no electricity or running water or secure road or telephone or neighbors — and lived in a small dark portable Army surplus canvas Jamesway hut — our family dared to live, according to Mother, The Great American Dream.  Never mind the struggles.  Mother had found her Shangri-La!

Yes, we went to school, and moved up and down that mountain over the years more times than I can count.  Yet it was the spirit of the wilderness that saved me.  I shared its land, sky, wind, water, plants, animals and seasons as this world resonated with my own invisible essential being – the one that Mother could not touch.

Just after my 18th birthday, suddenly and without warning my parents “decided to put” me in the Navy.  A week later, having no preparation for life in the outside world, I flew five thousand miles away from home to boot camp.  Within a year I was introduced to drugs and became an unwed pregnant teen ejected from the Navy.

Then, as happened with so many of my generation, I made my way forward in life – alone – in the company of peers.  I’ve been doing the same ever since.  Like the mountains, we endure.

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*Tell us about a social or political issue you are particularly interested in seeing change today and how you are involved. (500 words maximum):

When I was in second grade, before Father figured out how to drag the pieces of the Jamesway hut up to our homestead, we rented an apartment in Anchorage.  I was able, for the only time in my childhood, to attend Sunday school.

We heard Old Testament stories in the fall. In winter we celebrated Jesus’ birth in a manger.  Then we learned about His life until Easter.

I knew in the spring our family planned to leave town for the mountain, so in the innocent way of childhood I told my Sunday School teacher that while I LOVED everything we had learned that year, we would be leaving in April so I couldn’t come back.  I eagerly asked her what book they would read next!  I’ve never forgotten the look on her face as she assured me there IS only one book.

I was so puzzled that these people had been reading this same book for 2000 years!  I KNEW there HAD TO BE more books!

My life took many twists and turns over the next 12 years before I found that those other books DO exist.  My psychedelic drug use ended as I realized no personal “high” matters.  We must work together to elevate the well-being of the entire human race.  We must serve humanity to make that happen.

This discovery changed the trajectory of my life.  I am one of only five million Baha’is (followers of the light) around the world at this time, 200 years after the birth of its founder, Bahá’u’lláh, whose Name, translated from Persian means, “The Glory of God,”  “The Lord of Hosts.”  Bahá itself means LIGHT, and with this light comes truth I hoped was accessible to those who searched for love long enough to find it.

Bahá’u’lláh’s Teachings for the age we are living in tell us that all world religions have been progressively revealed over time as humanity matured by divine Educators sent to us by the One unknowable Creator God; humanity is one race, one family; the independent investigation of truth is obligatory to all (clergy is no longer necessary); religion and science are in essential harmony; men and women are equal as two wings of a bird; prejudices of all kinds must be eliminated; universal education is compulsory; the solution to all economic problems is spiritual; we need to choose one universal auxiliary language so we can communicate clearly with one another everywhere; we will be creating universal peace upheld by a world federation.

My task for the rest of my life is to encourage all kinds of people to talk to one another about what needs to improve for humanity as we build a better world for all!  Our practical solutions will be as organic as life here is.  Everyone has their own unique talents and capacities, all needed as we learn as a unified yet diverse species how to work together to build an advanced, just global civilization.  This IS our destiny.

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*Tell us how you identify with the term “counterculture.” (500 words maximum):

I cried all the way through Forrest Gump as if my heart’s life-vein had been sliced and my tears were flooding out.  If I pair all the suffering I felt portrayed in this movie with my own during the 60s and 70s, I am left knowing that what matters to me is the potential for and the actuality of healing the terrible legacy of accumulated traumas that so heavily came to weigh upon the Baby Boomer generation.

Shortly after I married my second husband in 1974 I checked a book out of our small rural town’s library that so impacted me that I took the book out to read four or five times over the months that followed.  I remember nothing of title or author, but I do know that his statements about young people being so wounded by a lack of love in their childhood that they especially used LSD in a desperate search to discover what love might be felt profoundly true to me.

Oh, that was me, all right!  And while the circle of counterculture people I have met and known in my life is probably small, I never knew one of these people — sex, drugs, good intentions and all – who had not suffered heavily in their early years exactly from the absence of love.

While I wore a long simple hand-sewn cotton peasant dress and walked barefoot except when going to my prenatal doctor appointments when I was that unwed pregnant teen, I still really have NO idea WHY!  I was too young, too naïve, too innocent, too traumatized, too troubled and too lost to be honestly transparent with myself.  But I have worked hard to make progress in growing up.

I have known and still meet counterculture people who seemed to have been paralyzed somewhere along the line of their younger life so that now NOTHING new can enter the sphere of their existence.  They are like a needle stuck in a record’s scratch, unable to detect how pitiful their lives might be.

One can only paddle so far along a river’s narrowing tributary, refusing to turn back to meet some part of the mainstream, before becoming lost.  And yet I was raised in an obscure tributary myself, imprisoned and isolated in lengthy solitary confinements, prevented from ever having relationships with my siblings or any friends for 18 long years.  I was brainwashed into believing about myself what Mother believed about me.  What could I know about others or the world?

From the outside I would ask, were “those people” joining up with one another in a kind of anti-violence gang pattern that allowed them to be defined as much by what they were NOT as by what they WERE?  Yet the era when many believed if enough acid was dumped into the public water supply all would change and be fine is long, long gone.

So who are we now?  Are we who we started out to be?

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* Tell us what connects you to New Mexico, your community and what compels you to live here. (500 words maximum):

New Mexico is the land of my soul’s returning.  For all the times in my life of challenges to DO, coming to live in New Mexico feels like a transformation into a clear state of BE-ing — just being me.  For every return here something has changed at my core.

My first episode here happened just after my 12th birthday.  Mother left Alaska with her five children to “rest” in the southwest.  Evidently she INTENDED to go to Tucson, but as she told the story she had given the road atlas to my younger sister with instructions for her to read the required turns to Mother.

My sister “made a mistake” somewhere, somehow, which Mother evidently didn’t notice until we entered Santa Fe.  So we checked into a room at the Silver Saddle Motel and stayed four months.  I entered 7th grade and was happier than I had ever been or would be again in the 18 years of my trauma-filled childhood.

For the first time in my life classmates LIKED me!  I belonged!  Of course, coming from Alaska made me an entertaining novelty.  The warmth of their welcoming friendship was a new experience for me, adding something precious and vital to my life that I desperately needed so I could continue to endure the rest of my childhood.

Fresh desert air, brilliant pure blue skies, resonating warm earth tone buildings, temporary freedom from the worst of Mother’s abuse set my soul free so that, for the first time in my life, I could stand up straight, hold my head high, smile and stretch the palms of my hands as far into the air as I could reach – and higher.

And then – we were gone.

My return to New Mexico found me enrolled in the Art Therapy Masters’ program at UNM Albuquerque.  I did not WORK through that program, I THRIVED through it.  I even attended a week-long Storytellers’ International conference with workshops!  And then – again — I was gone.

My next return was to Taos where I heard area stories over coffee of counterculture history too rich to forget.  I lived in an old adobe complex of a sheep rancher’s family.  My landlady Theresa graciously taught me how to build adobe, so I constructed an addition to her house I was renting as a gift to her, and then – yet again – I was gone.

I am blessed to have returned to New Mexico now!  I have resumed my spinning and weaving, and offer a free fun art clinic to adults weekly in my home.  I am hoping to offer my humble studio to families and children, as well.

I walk the streets of this inspiring town and visit about my time capsule ideas.  My car is being repaired so I can greet the wilderness.  I do not want to leave New Mexico – ever – again – but I do not know what my destiny holds.  Meanwhile, I intend to do what I do best here:  JUST BE ME!

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Here is my first book out in ebook format as it provides an outline of the conditions of my malevolent childhood.  Click here to view or purchase–

Story Without Words:  How Did Child Abuse Break My Mother?

It lists for $2.99 and can be read by Amazon Prime customers without charge.  A daring book – for daring readers – about a really tough subject.

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Tags: adult attachment disordersadult reactive attachment disorderanxiety disorders,borderline motherborderline personality disorderbrain developmentchild abuse,depression,derealizationdisorganized disoriented insecure attachment disorder,dissociation,dissociative identity disorderempathyinfant abusePosttraumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD),protective factorsPTSDresiliencyresiliency factorsrisk factorsshame

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Thursday, July 20, 2017.  It has been raining here for hours, a deeply soaking New Mexico monsoon rain.  I am living just south of the first designated national wilderness.  I can see the outline of the beginning of the mountains to the north from my little front porch of this 120 year old adobe house I am renting here.  Today I watched the great storm clouds of afternoon coming south toward me, bolts of lightning seeming to march down the streets of town.

Miracles!

I am beginning to heal here and I am grateful for yet another segment of my life, so different from others in many ways.  I can walk just two blocks to find people in shops and on the streets to have conversations with.  Today I spoke with many people and most often I hear what I want to hear – talk about hope.

Interesting to me is what seems to be the fact that while the majority of people I talk to begin by telling me they have no real hope for the world, it doesn’t take long for me to hear what they are really saying.  People seem to be losing touch with what hope might actually even mean.

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Every once in a while I encounter angry people.  I don’t visit very long with such people, but I hear their anger.  I can detect what I can “the hard edges” to these people.  I am, rather, searching for the people with “soft edges” to talk with.  I am always listening for the opportunity to point out hope is always with us as a species.  I think we need to know this.

What we need to know, if my worldview, is that together we can begin to TALK with one another about what really matters in the world, and together we can learn how to make different choices for a better world for all.  I think we are mostly doing this as individuals – yet I don’t think we recognize this about ourselves.

I believe we need to!

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Today I heard about a storyteller opportunity in New Mexico, and I am thrilled to apply!  You can read the outline of what this project is about HERE.  What is MY connection both to the “counterculture” of the 60s and 70s AND to New Mexico?

I will need to think deeply about this – but it’s exciting to me!  These are the questions I will need to write answers to:

*Tell us a little about yourself. (500 words maximum) –

*Tell us about a social or political issue you are particularly interested in seeing change today and how you are involved. (500 words maximum)

*Tell us how you identify with the term “counterculture.” (500 words maximum)

* Tell us what connects you to New Mexico, your community and what compels you to live here. (500 words maximum)

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I figure I qualify for SOMETHING relevant to this project!  I can’t be the ONLY person who cried as if my soul was bleeding tears ALL the way through my watching of the movie Forrest Gump!  How does that kind of deep sadness, a profound aspect of the Baby Boomer psyche, connect to my deepest connection to and love for the wilderness, my total love of the creative process, my deep commitment to a spiritual healing of the human race and therefore of the planet, and my profound belief that moving forward the human race will not only be HEALING the trauma that has accumulated for us throughout our history, but will be ENDING IT?

And STORYTELLING?

Oh WOW!  Don’t even get me started!

Well not tonight, anyway.  Tomorrow I will write my answers to those questions in the application for consideration as one of the ten people to be selected.  I really am curious to see what I will say!

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Healing our personal and our collective life narrative doesn’t end with us.  Our healing reaches forward further than we can begin to imagine!

One of the things I am out on the streets finding people to talk to about has to do with a strong idea I have to “create” two time capsules – one 50 year one and one 100 year one – to be held (I finalized this stage today) but this town’s museum.

These capsules are about more than hope.  Hope has to be part of our organic living process as human beings.  Hope is intimately tied to ACTION – to putting our highest and most practical ideas into action – together – all of our lives.

THIS is the process that will collectively create the world that the people who open these capsules will be living in.  It is this entire process that I am trying to become crystal clear about….

So that I KNOW what I am inviting people to be a part of.

Right now I am thinking the 50 year capsule will be dedicated to artwork, poems, words created by those (probably) under the age of 25.  Those people might still be around when THIS capsule is opened.

The other capsule?  I am not sure yet – I will keep you posted!  This isn’t about what any of us want individually.  Quality of life is created by the actions of ALL of us.  We need to become empowered enough to realize that if we think about it, the life we might write about to put in a time capsule to be opened 5 generations from now is most likely one that is BETTER than the life currently lived by the over 7.5 billion people sharing this planet with us right now.

HOW are we going to BEHAVE – ACT – to create this better world?

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Here is my first book out in ebook format as it provides an outline of the conditions of my malevolent childhood.  Click here to view or purchase–

Story Without Words:  How Did Child Abuse Break My Mother?

It lists for $2.99 and can be read by Amazon Prime customers without charge.  A daring book – for daring readers – about a really tough subject.

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Tags: adult attachment disordersadult reactive attachment disorderanxiety disorders,borderline motherborderline personality disorderbrain developmentchild abuse,depression,derealizationdisorganized disoriented insecure attachment disorder,dissociation,dissociative identity disorderempathyinfant abusePosttraumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD),protective factorsPTSDresiliencyresiliency factorsrisk factorsshame

 

 

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Tuesday, July 11, 2017.  Over these past months most of the posts I hand write, I throw away.  Today’s?  I WILL post it here!  Please keep in mind as you read this that what I am saying ‘between these lines’, so-to-speak, is that one of the most fundamental new things I have learned about myself in these past four years is that I have been created to be “on the autism spectrum.”  Hating this fact about HOW I am in the world, though continually tempting, is NOT a useful approach for me to take any more than it has ever been helpful for me to hate the horrors of the abuse that happened to me during the first 18 years of my life.

I also do not specifically mention in this post as I have written it by hand that LANGUAGE itself is NOT wired into the brain of an autism spectrum person in ordinary ways.  I am understanding for myself that most of my experience of life is processed through what can be called my right brain hemisphere — a region that, while indeed having capacity to work with language — does not do so in ways a predominately left-brained culture/society/civilization usually recognizes.

As I circle around ever more closely to my own truth about who and how I am in the world, I understand that the written word can often be as troublesome to me in its processing as is the spoken word.  This learning process is part of the reason why even writing blog posts has become sporadic.

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Today’s writing:

It happened a few days ago as I stood on one side of the sales counter visiting with the owner and her most pleasant employee standing on the other side of the counter of this interesting, large consignment variety store on the downtown strip of this small town.

I went blank.  (No longer an infrequent situation for me while engaged with other people.)

They noticed.  They watched me in what I knew was my “lock down” mode until the store owner laughed, “Wow!  Talk about a poker face!”

I have no idea what the conversation was about prior to my freeze.  Basically I am learning, finally, after these past 65 years of my life, that someone has said something I cannot understand — and by this I mean — I have no idea what a person meant by what they were saying.  The MEANING is missing.

When this happens to me it is like my ongoing experience STOPS.  But not entirely.  I simply leave the ‘regular world’ where other people seem to so comfortably reside as I switch to a kind of inner world where I search for — sense.  I have often wondered if people notice my ‘pause’ — and if they do, what does this feel like, seem like, to them?  Now I have a clue.

I realized quickly when I moved here some months ago that these two women in the shop were safe people for me to experiment around in terms of being ME in light conversation with THEM.  Having realized this I occasionally stop in for social contact that does not scare me.  Mostly these two people make sense to me.  And I have been correct.  When something in our conversation the other day overwhelmed by ability in-the-split-second-moment to comprehend, I DID learn something more about myself:  My autism does complicate my experience of being human — and always has.

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We did not return in any way the other day to whatever the topic had been in our conversation.  One of the women described how she and her father could understand one another while her mother could often not understand her husband.  So I know versions of complexity I encounter does appear for others.

But I hit a brick wall sometimes, like I did the other day.  I never see it coming, nor can I smoothly extricate myself from whatever has happened to me — triggered by WHAT?  I really cannot predict any of this!

I do know enough now, however, to guess that when I fall off of the inner cliff of understanding (meaning) my brain had automatically switched into a non-verbal mode.  At such an instant the thread that binds me to the meanings of others – the best I can connect to them — breaks.  When that happens my body/brain does NOT give me any detectable choice.  The “call” gets “dropped” without warning — and there I am standing, evidently, in my poker-faced mute silence.  (I hate it.)

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Part of the problem at my age, soon to turn 66, is that I AM a person now.  On increasing levels and in more and more complicated ways, I know at every nanosecond that I exist.  And now I am beginning to be able to look back over my life to see all the clues about how gradual this process of my “being born a self” has been.

The most simple way I can put this into words is that everything about the first 18 years of my life as captive in my mother’s psychotic abusive hell demanded that, in order to stay alive, I — as an individual person in my own right — could not live.  Could not exist.  (I could not fight, from my first breath, against my mother’s profound, pervasive, invasive maniacal madness that was psychotically targeted at me – see book at link below.)

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(I am noticing as I write these words here how much more difficult it is for me to write.  Tough.  It’s tough, and I do not know exactly why this is so.)

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I forever thus far have lived at the cusp of one nanosecond becoming the next one, and there was so rarely a moment without peril that there was nothing for me to do but endure and survive.  Becoming a person of self-hood evidently requires some downtime of safety when there are no survival-only pressures present.

I have evidently been left over the course of most of my life accepting — without conscious thought — that other people exist and I do not.  Not really.

Yes — as if I, as an individual entity — am completely invisible and without form or substance.

And now that I am ever more clearly becoming ever more aware that I DO EXIST I am lacking all the trillions upon trillions of human interactional learning (both due to autism and severe abuse from birth) opportunities others have had which gives them the ability to engage with one another in this world in any way that makes sense.

One way or another most people have built within their brain/body all the neurocircuitry required to determine to a functional degree what people MEAN when they are communicating.

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I am, then, at a double disadvantage.  My autism spectrum would have altered my communication abilities no matter how safe and secure my first 18 years could have been.  Reality gave me unremitting abuse, torment that included ostracization and extremely complex and bizarre patterns of solitary confinement and imprisonment.

Not only did I have no access to any adult to help me, I was also barred from having relationships with my siblings or with any peers.  Even when I was in school I was essentially fundamentally absolutely alone.

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For all these decades of struggle I have evidently crossed some invisible line of awakening:  I exist.  Not only do I take up space with this physical body I am connected to, I now know I take up some nebulous form of inward space that is, of course, as invisible as everyone else’s is.

I notice how others seem to carry the combined wholeness of their visible and invisible self around with them (or is it vice versa?) as if they are comfortable being in the world this way — because this way is FAMILIAR to them all.

It is a known.  A GIVEN.  This is an accepted way of being alive.

There is nothing familiar about this state to me.  The human-to-human interactions and TRANSACTIONS are not familiar to me.  They are not familiar and they are not known.

I look human and adult to others who have no clue about — not only WHO I am but more importantly to me — HOW I am in this world.

So I do not KNOW what most others know, and evidently now that I cannot instinctively ignore my reactions in favor of what others seem to continually want and expect from others, my invisible self bumps into others’ invisible selves nearly all of the time and I am experientially AWARE of this.

My patterns do not match others’.  I can sense their discomfort, surprise, sometimes fear, rejection, confusion, puzzlement, uncertainty and at times even astonishment when my existence jars against theirs.

Mostly I continue to sacrifice myself the best that I can for the comfort of others — as I always have tried to do.  There is no reason why others would CARE to know anything about me.  Yet I now know that I am missing that vast history of human givens — what they Do automatically know about one another without ever noticing consciously what they know or how they know it.

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Because my mother’s mind broke during her birthing of me, I may well have built within me one of the most comprehensive physiological systems of aversion to others’ frustration with, anger toward and rejection of me that anyone could create.

So while my ability to exist since birth has meant by default that I could not exist as a self at the same time I lived at all, I am finding now that my invisible self is HERE — that those options of using those patterns of interactions with people that have been familiar to ME — that have been the only ones I have ever known — are no longer available to me.

(I still, of course, have the same sensitivities to the reactions of others (true about all KINDS of things within and about them, as well), as many sensitive people have no matter what their background might be — autistic or not, abused or not.)

As a result of ALL I am describing here, I feel anxiety and grief “at my condition” that I have never felt before.

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As I see it, TIME itself is both my greatest ally and my greatest foe.  I need at times to STOP!  (Most of what goes on in the society I live in moves too fast ALL of the time.)  Now I know those times I seem to freeze look like a poker fact to others.  It takes TIME for me to try to understand within myself what other people MEAN by what they are saying — AND what they say MEANS no matter what — or why are they even TALKING about “it?”

(Of course, trauma, abuse and autism ALL alter the perception of time and of its passing.)

In my case, I have to nearly continually disassemble, assemble, reassemble the very semblance of order and therefore of meaning to what others simply rapid-fired with their words, expressions and gestures back and forth with one another.  While others possess a lifetime of experiences in the human world that always give them the advantage of having the meaning their shared backstory of familiarity gives them — I only have pieces and parts acquired almost entirely through conjecture and guesswork.

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Of course I would rather “keep up with the beat” so that interactions feel smooth and therefore coherent (and safe) to others in their reality.  I learned how to mimic doing this by not having my own “invisible real self” present.

I have no way to test my self-given hypothesis that most people do NOT CARE about hearing the reality of anyone else.  There are certain, specified game pieces on the board when “talk” is going on.  There are rules for how patterns proceed throughout the TIME it takes for people to “transact” their negotiations with one another.  (interesting:  online search for “Grice’s Maxims for Polite Conversation”)

So what I predominantly detect is that most people want — and may desperately NEED — to be listened to, heard and understood.  (They need to matter.)  Usually this means they need to be agreed with.  They need attention/attending to.  These patterns are not what I consider, actually, to BE true conversation.  They are “a something else.”

In this line, now that my invisible real self exists, I see that asserting the truth of real selves often creates discord and conflict and is to be avoided.  This entire process appears to be/is powerfully controlled through socially accepted mainstream culturally created, maintained and accepted patterns of verbal exchange between people in nearly all situations and settings.

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It’s a dance.  A dance I do not really know how to do.  I do know that I am not yet at inner peace with any of what I describe here.  To a large extent I am suspecting that the fact I find no one to talk with about any of this contributes to my pervasive sense of being alone.  Because no matter what I AM a member of a social species where being alone is tantamount to imminent extinction, whatever peace I might be able to come to seems always beyond my reach.

Yet I do consider my writing of this piece to be at least some step in the direction of attaining some sustained and sustaining peace.

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Here is my first book out in ebook format as it provides an outline of the conditions of my malevolent childhood.  Click here to view or purchase–

Story Without Words:  How Did Child Abuse Break My Mother?

It lists for $2.99 and can be read by Amazon Prime customers without charge.  A daring book – for daring readers – about a really tough subject.

++++

Tags: adult attachment disordersadult reactive attachment disorderanxiety disorders,borderline motherborderline personality disorderbrain developmentchild abuse,depression,derealizationdisorganized disoriented insecure attachment disorder,dissociation,dissociative identity disorderempathyinfant abusePosttraumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD),protective factorsPTSDresiliencyresiliency factorsrisk factorsshame

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Sunday, June 4, 2017.  Again I write from the perspective of being a severe early abuse survivor — whose perpetrator in my case was severely mentally ill.  Would the abuse have happened at all, or if so, in any way, form or shape as the way it did if Mother had not been psychotically mentally ill?  There is no way to know — so there is no way for me to know how MEAN my mother actually was as a human being.  She was sick – AND she was extremely MEAN to me – consistently so day and night in and out for 18 long years.

MEAN.

It’s not that I wish to debate with myself here about intent to be mean vs accidental meanness.  What I want to do here is simply write about a little something that happened in my life yesterday.  Perhaps I will have more clarity about SOMETHING connected to this once this little story is written.   I won’t know unless I write it, so here goes:

(I will call woman in town here #1 – Alice.  I will call woman in town here #2 – Betty.)

While I have met Alice around town a few times, I have never wanted to establish a friendship with her because it is remarkably simple to determine she’s quite bossy.

Betty, on the other hand, is sweet and gentle.  In the process of getting to know her better we walked together from my friend’s weaving studio over to the house Betty is renting a room in – and, yes, that’s in Alice’s house.

OK, so all is going according to plan.  Betty and I have a calm and friendly slow walk to the house.  Betty opened the door into the nice, large sun room whose floor is covered with very light tan hardy carpet – tough, evidently – because Betty told me it was fine for me to leave my shoes on in that entry area of the house.  “You have to take your shoes off to go into the rest of the house.”

OK.  I got that part.  I also knew that I did not plan to visit in this house at all – not at that time, and given the hesitancy I have always felt to “trust” Alice one single bit, probably not ever.  Without what I consider trust – well, what is the POINT?

No.  If at all possible, I do not pretend.

So there I was standing on the carpet — Alice was sitting at a table visible from my point of view, evidently in a dining room – yes, in the ‘bowels’ of the dwelling.

Alice:  “Take your shoes off and come in.”

Me:  “I don’t want to take my shoes off.”  (In my universe, I didn’t want to go any further into this place than I already was – so, of course, I didn’t want to take my shoes off, nor did I want to explain myself!)

Alice:  “You’re lazy.”

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Yeah, that went over like a ton of something extremely heavy.

To me — that WAS a mean retort.  Did Alice MEAN to be MEAN?  Makes absolutely zero difference to me.

Yes, I have a truly horrible long torturous history of being abused on every level – and yes, Mother did – among a billion other things – accuse me of being lazy (at the same time I did the Cinderella work of the household).

That’s not the point here.  The point is NOPE!  NOBODY gets to treat me that way — EVER!  I couldn’t care less if someone means to be mean or not.  I don’t give a damn.

MEAN is MEAN – I don’t deserve mean, never did.  Nobody has the right to be mean to me.

I will turn 66 at the end of August, and yes, it has taken me this long to heal to the point I am THIS incredibly CLEAR about what feels and seems like what to me.

The problem is — I am usually too slow to be able to smoothly apply my new insights about my desires quickly enough not to stumble in some way — against myself and for someone else in cases where there is some kind of meanness present.  “Be nice.”  WHY?

Alice wasn’t the first to invite me to the potluck taking place that evening in that house.  At least 4 people invited me.  Nice.  But NO POSSIBLE way was THAT going to happen!

I wasn’t rude in any way yesterday, but I was disrespected.  My character was judged.  (Lazy connected to sloth connected to 7 deadly sins and all that jazz.  What mattered was that this was a mean slam against ME.)

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Evidently I’ve outgrown “Give them the benefit of the doubt.”  Finally.  There IS no grace in that attitude toward people who are either by basic design or sickness MEAN, or choose to be that way.

Yet, for all of this, it’s the fact that trust will never be present between me and Alice that makes the whole of this situation impossible.  I know that.  And the interweaving problem is that I KNOW we cannot discuss even this little tiny situation.  Without the ability to openly and HONESTLY discuss situations (like this and so many others), there is no hope for what neuroscientists describe about attachment relationships:  If there is a “rupture” between two people – most especially in the beginning between MOTHER and INFANT – that rupture must be “repaired” for safe and secure attachment – with its trust – to be present.  To exist at all.

Some people factually seem to LIKE asserting power and control over other people by subtle and/or not-subtle-at-all means.  Was there abuse present in that little snippet of one of the shortest conversations on earth yesterday?  Yes.  Yes there was.

Yet the real problem if I cared, which I certainly do not, is that there is no possibility of repairing any such rupture.  Alice does not care either.  I don’t care – because I am finally smart enough to at least SOMETIMES be quick enough to know in the moment exactly what I know.

Nobody – and that means NOBODY – will disrespect me and get away with it if there is supposedly a relationship present or supposedly possible, because there will never be trust.

And trust matters, because without it there is no safe and secure attachment relationship — and that is exactly what relationships are all about.  Repair in relationships is not hard, but it takes the ability to CARE about other people, to reach one another through honesty, humility, flexibility, patience, courage, kindness, often forgiveness and possibly even joy — and negotiation based on valuing one another’s perspectives, understandings and feelings.

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I particularly found this experience helpful to me yesterday because I was able to see that probably a LOT of difficulties that take place between people are connected to how FAST everything can move if we are not involved with consciously paying attention to letting more time into our conversations and interactions with one another.  I don’t think the speeding-up of human interactions is natural to us.  I think we evolved having TIME on our side – as our friend.

I also noticed that what is probably connected to my autism is not at all ‘a bad thing’.  Much of the ‘social difficulties’ I have is that people take so much for granted in their communication with others in this hyper-speed way I am describing.  I need TIME to begin to sort out the MEANING in interactions.  What do people MEAN?  What are they intending to communicate, trying to say, expecting in return, wanting that they do NOT say consciously in any way?

What do people MEAN for others to respond to?  What do they MEAN to slide in there in some secret way — hoping nobody will notice?  (Like inserting ANGER, resentment, fear, shame, guilt, sadness?)  If I could actually TALK with Alice, I would want her to be able to TELL me exactly what she had been FEELING at the moment those words to me came out of her mouth.

My problem might be that I refuse any longer to GUESS what people MEAN, or meant to say, or said and didn’t MEAN to say at all.  The social patterns with autism are different, I suspect, in that we REALLY NEED TO KNOW what people MEAN to say so that transactions can MAKE SENSE instead of NONSENSE = NO SENSE AT ALL!

My mother was PSYCHOTIC!  She REALLY made no sense most of the time, certainly when it came to her psychosis about me that came as a part of her mind that broke during her birthing of me (see book, below).  I now understand how impossible it would have been for me to understand anything about what Mother said about me or did to me because Mother was NOT rational.  She was nuts.  Crazy.  Insane.

And mean beyond belief.

So even if I had been a non-spectrum child, Mother could not have been made sense out of!  She hallucinated.  She saw things happen that did not happen.  I knew from the time I was very tiny that this was true – but I NEVER developed any ability to make sense out of what happened to me because I could make no sense out of Mother.  She MADE no sense!

So biologically and through a long, long tortuous 18 years of abuse, I missed out on any opportunity to make sense out of what happened to me OR to make sense of myself in the world.  I looked back yesterday and realized this fundamental need for me to make sense out of life is intrinsic to my life experience.  It is an essential part of who I am.  And, therefore, MEANING is critically important to me.

It’s a paradox for the most part because I am not sure humans make all that much sense to anyone very much of the time.  Yet my intrinsic need to make sense out of life slows me down so far and so often when I am in interactions with people, I very often end up experiencing anxiety and am left in a state of having absolutely NO possible idea about what they mean or how to respond to them!

I listen, yes, and often acquire all kinds of subtle information about people I seriously doubt I am supposed to know.  People can rarely hide their truth from me.

Yet I now realize my pattern of being in the world with other people is tiring beyond belief. I either can’t, or won’t, any longer expend the kind of energy it takes to respond to people in the way they WANT to be responded to.

Nope.  Not taking off my shoes or entering the house or offering any damn explanation about myself whatsoever.  Such explanations, by the way, I heard many years ago are definite and classic “co-dependency” patterns.  We owe nobody any explanation about anything.  Either people respect us or they do not.  It is not our job to be other people’s puppets, plain and simple

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Here is my first book out in ebook format as it provides an outline of the conditions of my malevolent childhood.  Click here to view or purchase–

Story Without Words:  How Did Child Abuse Break My Mother?

It lists for $2.99 and can be read by Amazon Prime customers without charge.  A daring book – for daring readers – about a really tough subject.

++++

Tags: adult attachment disordersadult reactive attachment disorderanxiety disorders,borderline motherborderline personality disorderbrain developmentchild abuse,depression,derealizationdisorganized disoriented insecure attachment disorder,dissociation,dissociative identity disorderempathyinfant abusePosttraumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD),protective factorsPTSDresiliencyresiliency factorsrisk factorsshame

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Tuesday, May 30, 2017.  It takes a life force to stay alive.  This is true from the instant of our conception.  Life force.  Living is a battle.  At the same time, having our personal needs met means that others are a part of this force – our combined life force.

There is certainly an aftermath to the battle.  Any battle.  Today the word “recuperate” comes to mind.  Yet even with this word, tied as it is with “recover” and recovery, I find myself having to look yet again into how severe trauma survivors from birth do not have the same ‘platform’ to recover – or to ‘go back to’ or ‘go back to get’.

How DO we restore ourselves – and to WHAT do we restore ourselves to?

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In the final battle over the birds (see previous post) last eve, I won.  The neighbors FINALLY realized that I mean business.  I need my peace.  The horrible racket from the pigeons they have evidently been feeding across the street for the past 13 years HAD to stop.  And, yes, if I had to contact the city to enforce their ordinance about not feeding those birds in town, I would have.

Angry neighbors on every possible level.

So what.

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What matters to me, other than the fact that in spite of what those people said – that the birds would not go away for a very long time once feeding stopped – the birds are GONE TODAY after missing one in-the-dark feeding – what matters to me is that my body is remembering the trauma of the hundreds of brutal beatings of my childhood.

I feel beat up.  The body never forgets.  It is best to try to live a life of protection and sanctuary so that those kinds of memories do not need to be remembered and are not awakened.  That is not always possible in THIS world.  That is for sure.  There is often very rugged terrain in this world.

Beyond feeling completely battered and bruised, I also having to deal with the more complicated issues.  Why do many people feel so entitled to just plain be selfish and mean people?

Beyond that question lies my own struggle to NOT be a selfish, mean person.  If I were ABLE to – just BE MEAN – would I have come through this battle feeling differently than I do now – and having felt differently all the way through this battle – which began many weeks ago as it took me a long time to reach a point of utter exhausted desperation before I ever took on any attempt to STOP THE RACKET of those birds – which meant, of course, I had to tackle what I have been going through with the people who so gadfly-like have been feeding those pigeons?

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In their final angry email last night I was told that the 13 years’ of feeding took place not out of attachment to pigeons, but to keep them from eating the songbirds’ food.

So it took me less than ten seconds online to find out what the very simple solution to ‘that problem’ is: Build any sort of cage, chain link fencing is perfect and their yard is fenced with that material, so that small birds can get in and the big ones cannot.  Make the cage with a roof of some sort, big enough to also keep within it the tossed out seed mess the songbirds will make.

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So, really, I think it takes a helluva lot more life force to work to heal, to face the world as peacefully, kindly, reasonably, patiently, respectfully, compassionately with empathy, wisely and forgivingly as possible than it does to just FIGHT – FIGHT – FIGHT!!

And if we want to try to leave peaceably, we BETTER have somebody on our own ‘life force’ to help us.  Nobody helped me the first 18 years of my life stand up to the beast, stand up for my self (I didn’t even remotely know I was a self).  And now?

Not only do I need both inner and outer life force to take care of myself, I need it as I have to work (yet again) to RECUPERATE.  What a WASTE!  But – that’s life.

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NOTE:  Part of the constellation of my continual trauma healing process is that I know for fact that my mother HATED me.  I don’t imagine that.  It was fact.  Now when I stand up for myself and my needs to people who have opposite agendas, as with these neighbors, I end up believing that now those people hate me — and this process is completely entangled in the fibers of my being with the hatred my mother used as her weapon against me every moment of every day during the 18 years I could not escape her.  No wonder I have such trouble standing up to anyone, or being able to tolerate conflict.

Trauma survivors do not make these difficult conditions up.  They are very, very real.

So……  I just practiced my own advice and called a dear friend who is a member of my Life Force!  She immediately told me not to feel guilty in this situation, that I did nothing wrong.  In other words, in my inner universe I can recognize that I have RIGHTS, including the right to take care of myself when I need to, as I did in this situation.  I did NOTHING wrong — and whatever those people might think of me is not remotely of my concern.  I will focus on this.  I am aiming at recuperation that restores me to happiness.

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Here is my first book out in ebook format as it provides an outline of the conditions of my malevolent childhood.  Click here to view or purchase–

Story Without Words:  How Did Child Abuse Break My Mother?

It lists for $2.99 and can be read by Amazon Prime customers without charge.  A daring book – for daring readers – about a really tough subject.

++++

Tags: adult attachment disordersadult reactive attachment disorderanxiety disorders,borderline motherborderline personality disorderbrain developmentchild abuse,depression,derealizationdisorganized disoriented insecure attachment disorder,dissociation,dissociative identity disorderempathyinfant abusePosttraumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD),protective factorsPTSDresiliencyresiliency factorsrisk factorsshame

 

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Monday, May 29, 2017.  I am angry.  Really, really angry.  Not, perhaps, as angry as I was a couple of hours ago, but I would certainly NOT say that I am peaceful and calm.

I have neighbors kitty corner across the street from me who feed 50+ pigeons.  A month ago I posted a kind, clear note on their door requesting that this feeding stop.  The male rooster birds, at least seven of them, spend dawn to dark sitting on the power poles, power lines, roof tops right where I live making their noxious broken record broken record broken record unremitting car alarm car alarm CAR ALARM calls – and because with my autism spectrum EXTREMELY acute and sensitive powers of hearing I cannot – CANNOT tolerate their horrible racket.

I also cannot ignore noxious stimuli.  I cannot blanket sound, diminish it as irrelevant, banish it into the background in ANY way.

Over this past month I have not SEEN the neighbors throwing buckets of food on the ground every morning, but I also have not seen the birds leave this area of town – to grace the REST of this town with their presence.

Because out of my sense of fairness I put my email address at the bottom of the note – thinking it was I who was initiating confrontation so the least I could do was provide an avenue of contact to my neighbors other than forcing them to come talk with me – I left myself available for the email they sent me last night.

WHAT did they say?  That they are feeding the birds in the darkness now so I can’t SEE them feeding, that they have been feeding the pigeons for years, and that if I don’t like living with the noise – I can MOVE!

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Well, at least last eve I was able to courteously acknowledge their message.  TODAY?  RAGE!

Turns out I have several major portions of my life over which I am ANGRY!  But the immediate concern is that those birds LEAVE – which means neighbors cease from FEEDING THEM!

There is a city ordinance in my defense.  I can contact the city.  I would rather not be pushed to that point.

I sent an email today with the ordinance link in it.  I ALSO – well, I am MAD enough to do it – included links to the CDC ACE Study page and to one of Laura Porter’s ACEs videos.  I also mentioned that most people who prefer non-humans to people did not have safe and secure early attachment!  I also assured them that I am nobody’s enemy!

GO ME!

HA HA HA!!

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Now, the OTHER side of this very difficult coin is for me the lifelong learning it is STILL taking me to begin to glimpse a comprehension that personal FORGIVENESS has NOTHING at ALL to do with JUSTICE!!

This present threat to my sanctuary home and its sound area is all tangled up with my horrid 18 year early years’ torment, torture and abuse.  It is connected to the fact that I had NOBODY on my side, nobody who had my back!

And today?

Well, over the past month as these male birds continue to torture me with their presence and noxious noise, I have tried to “think kind thoughts” about my neighbors, knowing (HA!)  if they HAD not fed those birds they would not all 50 of them remain congregated within a block of my house.

Now that I learned the birds are STILL being fed, my compassionate efforts turned to hot cinders and vanished in today’s strong winds.

NOW?  This present moment NOW?  This issue was NEVER about forgiveness.  It was about me trying ‘to be nice’, trying to ……… do WHAT?

Avoid invoking the law for my own protection and in defense of my self and my home.

Justice has NOTHING to do with forgiveness!  There was no justice in my childhood to defend or protect me.  Oh – don’t even get me started!

Today?  If those neighbors continue to feed the birds the pests will not dissipate.  I will give this whole situation – how long – before I contact the city?

I am not sure – yet.

And, yes, forgiveness matters.  It is how, as I am trying to learn, the way we keep the hurts and the rage out of our innards.  It’s how we maintain right relations with our self, our Creator, and with one another.

Yet when one has nobody to do the work for them, we must access the justice available through the law ALSO.

As my friend here in town told me today in reference to her own history, there reaches a point where we simply are left knowing we have our limits.  Our boundaries.  Our rights.  As my friend says, when she reaches THAT point, that is the DON’T MESS WITH ME point.

Yeah.

That’s right.  That’s me.  Today.  And I am working to learn how my abuse history is tangled up in why it took me so long to reach this point!

(I mean, really, WHO would tell someone in this situation they were still feeding the pigeons – in the dark?  Who does something like that?  Perhaps the real question is WHY?  (Hence my sending them back the ACEs info links.)

Yeah, I am making progress.  This is now downright approaching FUNNY!  I mean – REALLY?)

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Here is my first book out in ebook format as it provides an outline of the conditions of my malevolent childhood.  Click here to view or purchase–

Story Without Words:  How Did Child Abuse Break My Mother?

It lists for $2.99 and can be read by Amazon Prime customers without charge.  A daring book – for daring readers – about a really tough subject.

++++

Tags: adult attachment disordersadult reactive attachment disorderanxiety disorders,borderline motherborderline personality disorderbrain developmentchild abuse,depression,derealizationdisorganized disoriented insecure attachment disorder,dissociation,dissociative identity disorderempathyinfant abusePosttraumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD),protective factorsPTSDresiliencyresiliency factorsrisk factorsshame

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Tuesday, May 23, 2017.  This post continues my thinking process from my most recent posts.  In this process of recognizing paradox, I can say that I both do not want thoughts about trauma to appear to me out of nowhere – at the same time I of course DO welcome insights into this kind of invisible work that I seem destined to do!

So, here I am this morning with an addition to the story of dear Rose and her humble, troubled family.

Rose began to be sick last Thursday.  Then came the hoop-de-da of one of her grandson’s high school graduation last weekend.  Rose managed to make it through the events without major stomach eruptions until Sunday – when, literally, her body returned to sick sick SICK.  Flu?  Duress, stress and distress?

Skipping a whole lot of details of the past few days in that family I need to mention that last evening the little 6 year old great grandson began to have a severe stomach ache with vomiting.  In the midst of that what did his mother do?  (Read post at link highlighted above – the mother of this little boy is Rose’s granddaughter.)

This mother turned around and walked out the door, leaving her pitiful, suffering little son (along with her 5 year old daughter who showed no signs of sickness) behind.

Rose could NOT let this happen without comment – and yet ANOTHER horrible screaming, swearing fight between these two women took place.  The mother walked away anyway, Rose was horribly verbally abused, the little ones witnessed and of course heard this raging abuse – and we KNOW were damaged because of it.  (online search “teicher verbal abuse”)

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I am in a proverbial pinch.  I HAVE to explain to Rose how verbal abuse has been found scientifically to be the worse form of abuse for children to experience.  Exposure to it, even in the womb, sends the developing body/brain straight off into trauma altered development.  Verbal abuse, ALL KINDS of verbal abuse, not only that directed at children, is terribly harmful.

I asked Rose if she could AT LEAST pause last evening (she telephones me often as I ‘walk’ the path of life with her and those little ones) apologize to those children!  Just to even say something like, “WOW!  I am SO SORRY we yelled like that!  It must be so scary to listen to the people you love be so mad at one another!)

Nope!

Not a chance!

These patterns of harm to children through verbal abuse around and to them DO harm terribly, but in this real world, WHO is ready to recognize THAT?

These stresses/distresses are RUPTURES – as the neuroscientists explain – in the safe and secure continuum circuits – and if they are NOT repaired, the escalation of developmental harm from trauma compounds.  (It is an essential pattern in safe and secure attachment relationships that any RUPTURES be REPAIRED ASAP.)

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Rose needed to tell me that she is ALSO receiving “elder abuse,” a term she is obviously aware of along with its patterns.  She is correct.  The abuse happening in her home caused by her granddaughter is devastating to the peace and tranquility that Rose tries so hard to create and maintain for herself and the wee ones she cares for.

SO…..

Epiphany!  This morning it dawned on me that if we are going to truly learn about risk and resilience – protective factors and risk factors in combination and operation – along with (see recent posts) “Asset-Based Community Development” – new – and perhaps very strange patterns of thinking – are going to HAVE to appear among those of us who care to assist trauma healing.

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The father of these children is in prison.  I don’t know why.  Haven’t asked.  At this point I don’t care.  He’s gone.

Good riddance?  So….. Today I gleaned a strange piece of logic absolutely new to me:  The BEST that could be realistically hoped for in situations such as Rose is in would be for that totally and seemingly hopelessly lost granddaughter to be arrested and removed from the scene of this family by being “admitted” not to treatment – THAT isn’t an option, so tragically) – but to the “holding tank” of prison.

This is the real world.  This also means that although the CDC ACEs process is identifying as one of the top 10 Adverse Childhood Experiences ‘having a parent imprisoned’, there is MORE to the story.  Sure we in general know this, BUT!!

It may very well be that it is a social grace for families that these probably totally traumatized, high ACE and troubled, often abusive human beings, be removed from the trauma drama stage of children’s lives – and from the lives of the people who are trying to adequately care for children.

THIS mother of these children NEEDS to be in prison, according to the pattern of this thinking that appeared to me today.  Not only  HER, but also true probably for many, many mothers.  So it becomes in bizarre ways an asset for the men to be in prison.  It becomes a risk factor that women are so far less likely to end up in prison.

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As I have written years ago on this blog, DENIAL is a form of childish wishful thinking.  There ARE no magic wands!  There certainly are plenty of struggles.

I sure can’t see any possible way that any kind of useful, practical, GOOD intervention is going to come along to get this age-27 granddaughter of Rose’s out of that house.  I asked today if there is any chance she could/would contact social services – and of course – no.  That option was tried years ago about another child this granddaughter has, now age 8 and in permanent custody of her father in another state.

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In a different world?  Holding tanks of jails and prisons becoming complete ACEs healing centers?  Women who are equally as troubled as are the masses of incarcerated high ACE men – or more so?  Dynamics most often leave these women ‘our on the street’ – often having more children while not able to care for the ones they already have – not ending up in the ‘sort of short circuit’ prison might offer – what happens?

What CAN happen?

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Hours later:  Rose and I, with prayer and consultation, MIGHT have come up with at least SOMETHING we can tangibly do that MIGHT contribute something helpful to this situation.  Rose is the only person in the world, really, who knows the story of her grand daughter’s life — going all the way back to her beginning.

Rose and I are talking about making a life history story book for this so-hurt, enraged and lost young lady.  We would NOT give away an only copy of this – but I bet this summer Rose and I can put our hearts and heads together on such a project, and for all the pain and sorrow in the story, we can make the book beautiful.

This young mother has had a TOUGH life, and the only person safe enough to blame is Rose — safe enough to target the rage upon — and this must end, one way or the other.

NOTE:  I have written over the years in posts about the Adult Attachment Interview as it is used to assess adult secure or insecure attachment.  This narrative structure enables exposure of the incoherence present in adult life due to early trauma.  Making this ‘scrapbook’ story of life can help line everything up accurately, thus contributing to healing — coherence — of one’s life.

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Some prior posts:

+ENCOURAGING A READ OF THE ADULT ATTACHMENT ASSESSMENT INTERVIEW (protocol link here)

+WHAT IN THE WORLD IS ADULT ATTACHMENT?

+TWO SCALES IN COMBO ABSOLUTELY NEEDED! ADULT ATTACHMENT and ACEs

+FEELING FELT. HAVING STORIES TO TELL THAT CANNOT BE HEARD (not even by our self)

+MY MORNING’S THOUGHTS ABOUT “ATTACHMENT”

+SAFE? UNSAFE? HOW DO OUR STATES OF BEING RELATE TO ANCIENT JAWLESS FISH?

+RESILIENCY – ARTICLE LINKS ON FAMILY COPING STRATEGIES

*WOMEN’S ROLE IN ESTABLISHING WORLD PEACE

*RESEARCH LANGUAGE ABOUT RESILIENCY

+MANY LINKS HERE: BLOG POSTS ON ‘DISCLOSURE’ OF TRAUMA’ AND TELLING OUR STORIES

+OVERWHELMED BY TRAUMA, OVERWHELMED BY WORDS: LINK TO AN ARTICLE ABOUT TRAUMA DRAMA THAT CAN HELP US

+’GOOD ENOUGH PARENTING’ – SOME LINKS TO INFO

+WHY MY OWN CHILD ABUSE STORIES DON’T MATTER

+THINKING ABOUT THINKING (PART FOUR): SEVERE INFANT ABUSE SURVIVORS’ UNIQUE WORLDVIEW

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Click here to read or to

Leave a Comment »

++++

Here is my first book out in ebook format as it provides an outline of the conditions of my malevolent childhood.  Click here to view or purchase–

Story Without Words:  How Did Child Abuse Break My Mother?

It lists for $2.99 and can be read by Amazon Prime customers without charge.  A daring book – for daring readers – about a really tough subject.

++++

Tags: adult attachment disordersadult reactive attachment disorderanxiety disorders,borderline motherborderline personality disorderbrain developmentchild abuse,depression,derealizationdisorganized disoriented insecure attachment disorder,dissociation,dissociative identity disorderempathyinfant abusePosttraumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD),protective factorsPTSDresiliencyresiliency factorsrisk factorsshame

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Monday, May 22, 2017.  Part of what contributes to my writing so few posts for this blog over past months has to do with the fact that the blog was never created to cover aspects of Autism Spectrum Disorder information.  I haven’t wanted to write “off topic” for my own blog!

But I, as my own independent person, have always been an inseparable part of everything posted.  That cannot change no matter what the subject of a post is about.  For long term readers, and I know there are some who have been faithfully reading since the blog’s inception, I doubt there would be anything unsettling to them in anything I write.

My conundrum is MINE!

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Time is always marching every aspect of life as a whole forward.  That we all live at a time in the history of the evolution of our species when new information – even as it is accentuating massive difficult problems our species must face and learn to address – is an amazing fact all by itself.  We are in the midst of Niagara Falls type power of change itself.

Yes, these words spoken by Mahatma Gandhi – “Be the change that you wish to see in the world.” – will always be true, the PROBLEM I see in this world is that while so many people are willing to help create a better world for all life, we do not have the answer to this one simple, power, one word question:  “HOW?”

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I recommend to everyone an online search for all information connected to “CDC ACE study”; “N.E.A.R. science and ACEs; community building and related topics.  I try to take my own advice but find that I become super-saturated with information very quickly and have to take my time – however long it takes – before I can return to my quest for answers to the big HOW question.

This IS a quest.  Not for one of us.  Not for some of us.  It is a quest for ALL of us at this point in time.  Time?  It is time, I believe preordained by our Creator (the One Who has given humanity information through all of the world’s great religions – respecting the fact that humans have, over time, “messed with the messages” of these great Holy Ones – meaning each of us must follow our own independent investigation of truth outside of fantasies, false doctrines, idle imaginings, etc. that humans introduce where they do not belong.

We as a species WILL leave our trauma histories behind.  All the new information being discovered (truth coming from the One Creator), is part of building the tools themselves that we need to recognize we are truly one global family.  We are discovering our own operating system manual, how our body is designed to optimally operate!

All the ACEs information, the N.E.A.R. science application options, all the positive global community building patterns, are parts of this process.

HOW will all of us work together to put all this information together and into practice to bring justice, peace and plenty to this world?

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Now, returning to my thought about Autism Spectrum Disorder (ASD) – which I now know powerfully impacts by physical reality, I can comment upon my experience of watching/listening to the powerful video I posted a link to in a short post last evening.

Sustainable community development: from what’s wrong to what’s strong  by Cormac Russell

Well, this speech is connected to — www.nurturedevelopment.org

= absolutely incredible!

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Now, with background on my own info-learning absorption and processing – it is simply to Temple Grandin’s info-packed video (one of many on YouTube) I turn in my thinking to:  My Experience with Autism – where Grandin describes with ASD there’s nothing wrong with a person’s hearing, yet although words might be heard they can have no meaning whatsoever.

The full details about the insane abusive trauma of my first 18 years from birth are in the book (below) – suffice it to simply mention that although I have known for a long time I do not process ‘social information’ in ordinary ways, and that much of communication is difficult to me, I have long believed this was so BECAUSE of the abuse from birth.

Mother, who psychotically could NOT do ANY part of what an infant needs from birth – I mean NONE of it – no attunement, no joy, no reflection of me, no mirroring, no empathy – ZERO love, replaced by psychotic hatred………. (etc.)

NOW I am understanding that of course I have been “on the ASD spectrum” since I was conceived.  NOW I can begin to understand that when I listen to the video — Sustainable community development: from what’s wrong to what’s strong   — the reason I cannot HEAR it is because of the way my autism brain is arranged, designed, and operates.

This information – while actually and finally setting me free to be me – at the same time requires of me an exhausting amount of inner processing to make use of.

What Do We Know about Noise Sensitivity in Autism? | Interactive Autism Network

As I listened – in my evidently very special way – to the community development video – I worked on one of my in-progress weavings (so soothing, orderly, predictable, focusing, calming, etc.).  At the end of my intense (version of) listening I realized…..

I DID NOT REALLY HEAR HEAR HEAR A SINGLE THING SAID!

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Now, I don’t believe the rest of this information is really relevant to this blog in any way except that I am certainly a completely severe torture/trauma abuse survivor — and — “This is my blog.”

Yet if I consider this NOT my blog but a blog that is meant for this blog’s READERS?

= quandary

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I am at this point going to not only bridge the chasm between my trauma history and my ASD patterns, I am going to close the gap completely.  In this unification process I am allowing myself to “use my words” in any post I wish to about my ASD experience, probably most often in a bottom-of-the-post designated space that non-fascinated readers can simply choose to ignore (not read)!  So here goes!

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Before this blog was ever a glint in my mind’s eye I voraciously pursued a study whose backbone is listed at the REFERENCE tab at the top of this page.  I intuitively and instinctively knew how to pursue this vast study to my own advantage.  There are thousands of pages on this blog, tucked away where even I would have to work to find them, of my personal reflections combined with the trauma-related development facts I found.

I outran the edge of the proverbial research envelope at the same time this blog was created.  I knew what researchers were going to find.  I knew that in this time lapse process what I knew was true.

I have moved on.

I do not remember when, where or how I first encountered the CDC ACE Study findings.  I did feel vindicated, happy, and hopeful that this information was available.  Yet, as Dr. Nadine Harris Burke states, what is happening with this information is in the form of a “Movement” that NOBODY understands fully – if at all.

This is where, in my thinking, critical information such as what the above community development talk is about, matters at this juncture in time equally with the scientific patterns of trauma healing.  HOW humans will use the information they acquire is up to THEM!  In their “backyard revolutions” as the video expert describes.

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So everyone will co-create these healing changes in their own time in their own way.  Unlike how I could intuitively predict the research coming down the pike post-2009 would confirm what I knew was truth, it is now true that NOBODY can predict what happens next!

So, the ASD part for me?

I would not so much use the word NOISE as I would use the word SOUND in describing my version of the ASD experience.  I think all humans are basically “assembled” in similar, but not in identical ways.

When it comes to SOUND – obviously listening to these so-important topic videos requires SOUND.  BUT there are, within my experience, unfathomable layers and levels to the experience of language (as Grandin mentions).

Words in all cases that I can imagine exist because of the sound they make.  This means that for all of us, the way we are assembled in common means that the words in our THOUGHTS, OF our thoughts, have SOUND.

Words are made of sound, an inextricable factor in my world that combines with the fact they MAKE sound every time they are brought (again and again) into existence, into appearance, into use.

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Now at present now….  I am considering that ASD might be “the place” where human experience is actually able to experience paradox in living action.  This is a BOTH AND world.  As the article above about ASD and noise speaks about, the ASD experience with sound is not predictable – probably in any way.

So with my extremely sensitive and sensitized ‘hearing’ abilities, I cannot, for example, make any kind of annoying environmental sound vanish.  I cannot vanquish sounds discriminately.  I hear them all – and if they are not within what I NEED for peaceful calm experiencing – my “anxiety” becomes painful within my body as it overrides all hope of calm.

Where others might be able to ‘control’ patterns of sound through habit or choice, I have to be able to “manually override” noxious sounds.  And in today’s virtually polluted-on-every-level world = good luck with THAT!

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Information has levels of ramifications.  Ramifications and the complex interactions of meaning presented to me along with the “ordinary bandwidth” of what the speaker provides in the community development talk, prevents me from being able –at this point in time – to KNOW that I understand a single “word” said.

So one must consider – WHAT IS MEANING?

What did that speaker MEAN?  What does the information he presents MEAN?  What does it mean to me personally, to any of us, to all of us collectively – within WHAT span of time – and for what REASON?

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Now HERE is one of the places where I suspect my ASD and my severe trauma history overlap and intersect.  It is obvious in the descriptions of developmental neuroscientists such as Dr. Allan N. Schore, early severe trauma prevents ‘the body’ from creating its ‘resting point of balanced equilibrium’ at peaceful calm.

As I have written on this blog in the past, early trauma survivors – those who never had any safe and secure early attachment experiences with their primary caregiver – have a very different set-point.  Calm is NOWHERE within us a natural state.

We have to learn.  We have to work for calm.  Which is its own paradox!

My body does not give me a natural place to rest without sound/noise.  (Neuroscientists know that a living brain is always turned to noise – even our brain’s resting state is noisy.)  So I would go with “quiet enough” – which basically means, for me, that I have to be in an inner place WHERE I AM NOT THINKING ABOUT ANYTHING because thoughts-in-words are ALWAYS making a sound!

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I was, as ole timey readers know, very fortunate to have lived on a wilderness Alaskan homestead during much of my growing-up years.  I therefore KNEW occasions of silence – and very nearly silence.  Part of me both carries THAT silence within AND craves it ‘out there, back there in time’.

Yeah – at age 65 this is all kind of an exhaustive process!

I do have creative gifts that can allow me to stop thinking entirely.  Weaving is doing that peace-building-within for me now.  Creating my massive garden “once upon a time” did that for me. Yet ‘being in the inner quiet’ does not help me, for example, to move toward comprehension of material that is very important to me – such as that contained in the community building video.

I would PREFER to be working with some kind of a local team of people on relatively the ‘same page’ so that THEY who COULD understand that video would be able to explain it to me in real-time, face-to-face, in storytelling fashion!

Short on that possibility right now, I will try and try and try again to HEAR what this “backyard revolution” has to teach us about finding ways to bring ACEs and N.E.A.R. science info into our communities.

(I listen to this river soundtrack a lot.  I would prefer silence, but there are noisy horrid evil male pigeon roosters outside, traffic, NOISE!  This is the best I can come up with in my negotiations between myself and the environment I live within (which is a billion times better than the horrible apartment I was stuck in up north for three years!).

All these words.  Tiring.  There are ways of both knowing and not knowing at the same time; of understanding and not understanding; of hearing and not hearing at the same time.  I do wonder, “Are those within the autism spectrum range living in a more paradoxical world than “usual” for others?”  (Once we pass out of toddlerhood we are certainly able to FEEL more than one feeling conflictual emotion at a time!  Are we not all both living and dying at the same time?  What IS paradox, really?)

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Click here to  Leave a Comment »

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Here is my first book out in ebook format as it provides an outline of the conditions of my malevolent childhood.  Click here to view or purchase–

Story Without Words:  How Did Child Abuse Break My Mother?

It lists for $2.99 and can be read by Amazon Prime customers without charge.  A daring book – for daring readers – about a really tough subject.

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Tags: adult attachment disordersadult reactive attachment disorderanxiety disorders,borderline motherborderline personality disorderbrain developmentchild abuse,depression,derealizationdisorganized disoriented insecure attachment disorder,dissociation,dissociative identity disorderempathyinfant abusePosttraumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD),protective factorsPTSDresiliencyresiliency factorsrisk factorsshame

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Sunday, May 21, 2017.  Now THIS is POSITIVE and well worth a watch (video)!!!  Use our GIFTS to change the world – beginning in our own community!  Start a “backyard revolution!”

This is an invitation!

Sustainable community development: from what’s wrong to what’s strong | Cormac Russell  

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This is a fantastic list of FEELINGS!

by Center for Nonviolent Communication |  Website: http://www.cnvc.org |

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Click here to read or to

Leave a Comment »

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Here is my first book out in ebook format as it provides an outline of the conditions of my malevolent childhood.  Click here to view or purchase–

Story Without Words:  How Did Child Abuse Break My Mother?

It lists for $2.99 and can be read by Amazon Prime customers without charge.  A daring book – for daring readers – about a really tough subject.

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Tags: adult attachment disordersadult reactive attachment disorderanxiety disorders,borderline motherborderline personality disorderbrain developmentchild abuse,depression,derealizationdisorganized disoriented insecure attachment disorder,dissociation,dissociative identity disorderempathyinfant abusePosttraumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD),protective factorsPTSDresiliencyresiliency factorsrisk factorsshame

Read Full Post »

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Sunday, May 21, 2017.  Well, it seems I need to go back to read CDC ACE study basics.  I also need to locate the ‘fleshed out’ version of the ten study questionnaire is not good enough to capture the complex, difficult reality of what is going on in this world around us.

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Relationship of Childhood Abuse and Household Dysfunction to Many of the Leading Causes of Death in Adults:  The Adverse Childhood Experiences (ACE) Study

Vincent J Felitti MD, FACP Correspondence information about the author Vincent J Felitti, Robert F Anda MD, MS, Dale Nordenberg MD, David F Williamson MS, PhD, Alison M Spitz MS, MPH, Valerie Edwards BA, Mary P Koss PhD, James S Marks MD, MPH

American Journal of Preventive Medicine, May 1998, Volume 14, Issue 4, Pages 245–258

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I also need to locate information about possible expansions of the basic questionnaire – if there are any in progress – that might include sibling abuse and death of a sibling, abuse of fathers, and suicide within families as these experiences can also severely traumatize children and families.

I am also wondering how ‘separation and divorce’ are being addressed in today’s culture where the commitment of marriage is missing all together while parents pop into and out of their relationships dragging all combinations of offspring along with them through their immature and conflictual chaos.

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As I struggle with being what I call “a carrier of solutions” (as someone might be a carrier of a disease) I seem to run around in circles.  I think of the common recycling image of arrow pointing to arrow pointing to arrow – and ‘round and ‘round I go.

What and where are the problems?  What and where are solutions?

Now, I know an incredible woman here, I will call her Rose.  She’s 74, low income/poverty but grateful for everything in her life.  Her antique trailer has wiring problems she cannot afford to fix.  The beat up replacement door someone put on years ago is too small for the door frame, creating large drafty spaces.

Long ago the roof leaked, and although a pitched metal roof was added on top of the original flat one, nobody ever replaced the mostly ruined large ceiling tiles.  Stained, warped, sagging, patched with tape and plastic bags, it’s still a roof over her head, for which Rose is eternally grateful, as she is for every part of her home, including the totally worn and torn kitchen linoleum.

Rose does not drive, has no car, walks up and down very steep hills and miles between to take her 5 year old great granddaughter to HeadStart – and back – every day – winter and rain included — her pitiful shoes literally in shredded threads.  She is also raising her 6 year old great grandson, while these children’s birth mother, Rose’s grand daughter, offers absolutely nothing (but heartache) to her little ones’ care (their father is in prison).  She ‘lives’ with her grandmother, Rose, though disappears for nights, for days, no word to her children, to ‘hole up with’ her abusive boyfriend….

Who has in HIS custody his two little ones — ages 1 and 3 year – with THEIR mother also absent – running around from one abusive man to another one.

(This grand daughter reported to Rose last Friday that she ‘wants to have a baby’ with her abusive boyfriend — who, evidently, is again cavorting around with the mother of his children although she does not wish to have a thing to do with raising them!  I don’t think anyone sane enough to be able to WRITE could possibly be crazy enough to invent stories as nuts as the trauma lives that some people are actually living!)

So – in Rose’s history….  She was an only child whose father was killed in a mining accident when Rose was 12.  Her mother was wise, kind, quiet, an expert seamstress who worked hard and lovingly raised Rose with strong values.  Rose’s mother’s mother over a century ago ran away with her two children from her terribly abusive husband in Mexico north to New Mexico.  The warrior woman is in Rose’s blood.

So where, I muse, did things seem to take a direct turn toward hell in Rose’s life?  When Rose fell in “L-O-V-E” as a young woman, she did not remotely heed her mother’s warnings that her choice of a mate was at best a rotten scoundrel.  Rose married in spite of her mother’s resistance, and YES!  Her husband was an abusive, womanizing drunk – who eventually divorced Rose, leaving her penniless to raise their children alone.

Rose’s youngest son, a terrible alcoholic, shot himself in the head in his bedroom when he was 20.  His age 15 sister was outside, heard the shot, ran into the house and found her brother dead.  When this girl ran out of the house that day she never went back home.  She moved in with her boyfriend, and……  Well, this mother was TOTALLY incompetent to raise her own children, and is the grandmother of the two little ones Rose is raising.

Rose worries terribly that there is no one in this family competent to raise her two little beloved great grandchildren if/when something happens to her!  True!

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And, then there is Angelica and her family.  This grandmother has been raising her 5 grandchildren since their mother, Angelica’s daughter, who was in her mid 30s, was murdered five years ago by her drunk, insane, violent boyfriend, who, after shooting his wife in the face, tossed their 2 year old son on his dead wife’s bloody body, ran out of the house in horror at what he’d done, and blew his own brain out in the front yard.  The dead woman’s 13 year old daughter is the one who found this death scene.  Anyone wonder why this now 18 year old is deeply addicted to drugs, involved in a truly insane, abusive relationship life?

Still, Angelica sallies forth and carries on like any warrior grandmother would.  Yet she lets sneak out of her mouth once in a while, “This is NOT what I wanted for my life!  I wanted to travel……”  And the thoughts disappear along with the words that might describe some other life…..  (This woman’s son hung himself when he was 16.)

I mentioned to Angelica the day I listened to her spew out the entire story of the mayhem in her family’s life if she might wish to attend a mothering support group if one was started in town.  Her response?  “Oh, no.  I couldn’t do that.  My husband wouldn’t like it.”

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So……..  Where does anyone start with this CDC ACE information?  I have been writing above about Hispanic women I have met in this small town.  Last week I also heard about another woman I haven’t yet met – who is “Anglo” on “this side of town” — who has several friends, evidently (and this is within the aging baby boomer population), who are in horribly abusive relationships and will not listen TO ANYONE or do ANYTHING to extricate themselves from their hell-lives.

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Meanwhile I run in those arrow-pointing circles from hopeful through hopeless back to hopeful.  I realize as Dr. Nadine Harris Burke asserts, that ACEs healing in the N.E.A.R. science paradigm is a MOVEMENT – and movements take time….

I am currently working around THIS idea – ANY place to begin this critically important healing work in this area!

STOP THE STORM

Changing inter-generational trauma drama into patterns of peaceful calm

An open consultation group for positive community change

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> EVERYONE WELCOME <

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Ongoing discussions based on the Centers for Disease Control’s Adverse Childhood Experiences Study (CDC ACE Study) and the global grassroots’ work to apply N.E.A.R. Science to individual, family and community healing (N = neuroscience; E = epigenetics; A = ACEs; R = resilience).  Information about the critical role of Safe and Secure Attachment relationships will also be included! (search topics online for background)

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Tuesdays at Two

TRANQUILBUZZ Coffee House

112 West Yankie St., Silver City, NM  88061 (NE corner of Yankie/Texas)

Info:  FaceBook message One Global Family Little School of Creative Living

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Where WILL those arrows lead?  If there is a place where people get ON to these cycles of horrendous inter-generational trauma — is there a way and a place to get OFF of them?

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Click here to read or to

Leave a Comment »

++++

Here is my first book out in ebook format as it provides an outline of the conditions of my malevolent childhood.  Click here to view or purchase–

Story Without Words:  How Did Child Abuse Break My Mother?

It lists for $2.99 and can be read by Amazon Prime customers without charge.  A daring book – for daring readers – about a really tough subject.

++++

Tags: adult attachment disordersadult reactive attachment disorderanxiety disorders,borderline motherborderline personality disorderbrain developmentchild abuse,depression,derealizationdisorganized disoriented insecure attachment disorder,dissociation,dissociative identity disorderempathyinfant abusePosttraumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD),protective factorsPTSDresiliencyresiliency factorsrisk factorsshame

 

 

 

 

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