Neuro-divergent and mental health labels serve two purposes: helping you find your people, and helping you find the right professional to aid you in building coping skills and/or healing from trauma and/or prescribing you medication.

So if you don't need to find your people, build your coping skills, heal from trauma, or take medication for your brain function, then there is no need for the label. But if you do need one of those things, finding the right label or set of labels is really important, and is often something a very self-examining person can do better than anyone else. Coping skills can mask symptoms and prevent correct diagnosis.

I have had medical professionals doubt whether or not I had ADHD because I made A's in school. It had to get so bad that I was distractedly driving through stop signs before they would medicate me, because my coping skills resulted in an outward expression of normalcy (grades). Never mind that my mental health and physical health was suffering terribly due to me using stress hormones generated by panic and not eating to help me focus.

I support people self-diagnosing, and will continue to do so as long as the psychology community continues to treat external markers of capitalist success as one of the most important diagnostic criteria. I will continue to do so as long as it is expensive and soul-crushingly difficult to find a therapist who isn't incompetent or abusive.

1. being triggered is literal torture, not mere dislike or discomfort.
   
2. your thoughts can get stuck in loops that take outside intervention to fix.
   
3. pressuring someone into a sensory experience (taste touch smell sound sight) may force people to relive trauma. don't.
   
4. The wrong therapist is a waste of time and it will wear you down trying to get help from them. if you don't click, move on as quickly as you can.
   
5. it can look like laziness when people are literally doing their best because people have different amounts of energy.
   
6. falling in love or experiencing lots of joy doesn't cure chemical depression. Not even if it is literally the best thing you have ever experienced.
   
7. after a depression crisis is over, the recovery starts, but it can be long.
   
8. survival stress is cumulative and causes depression. If someone is scrambling to survive, expecting them to be reliable and present at any given point is unrealistic and sometimes cruel.

Anika prompted me to share my experience with mental illness and how it has influenced [my] life or personality.

I don't know exactly when I first became depressed but it developed between age 8 and 12, and by the time I was 13 I was praying almost all day every day for God to kill me. I didn't feel like I had the right to end my life or I would have. It eased up somewhat when I finally got my first real friend at 13, but it was still a fairly constant state for me until after I got out of my parents' house, got married, and went through 2 years of therapy for the sexual abuse I experienced as a child.


--- trigger: fear of unknown men, panic ---
During that 2 years, I was deeply afraid of all male strangers. When the apartment sent men around with leaf-blowers, I hid in the bedroom to put 2 doors between us. I held the axe and my breath and waited until I couldn't hear them any more. I knew, logically, that these people were unlikely to attack me. But logic didn't enter into it because I was in a state of triggered panic. I use the word triggered only very deliberately. Each time I knew men were within 10 feet of my doors or windows I was in a state of utter unthinking panic until they left. Heart pounding panic like you might feel if a bear is that close and staring right at you and growling. I couldn't go out alone. For months even going to the mailbox was too terrifying. (when I finally did go that 200 feet alone, I felt so proud of myself!).
--- end TW about terror of unknown men ---



--- trigger: penetrative sex causing flashback-like thoughts ---
The worst part was the triggers that would happen every time I had sex, starting with the first time I tried to have consensual penetrative sex. My body reacted by closing up. It felt horrible and I felt so guilty for not being able to do it, but I literally could not, no matter how much I wanted to! It got worse from there -- I started having horrible intrusive visions of children being violated whenever I would try to have sex that involved penetration. It was extremely difficult to think of sex as anything other than a source of pain, shame, loneliness, terror, and guilt. And I was so disappointed because with my conscious self, I wanted it! but my subconscious was much stronger.
--- end TW about penetrative sex ---


Relatedly, memories attach to weird things so don't ever insist that someone watch, listen to, smell, or taste things! because maybe that makes them feel a violation again in their mind, and they shouldn't have to tell you about it to get you to stop. Sometimes mental avoidance is an absolutely necessary coping strategy and if someone has to tell you "that makes me remember [traumatic event]" then you may be breaking their ability to stay out of a horrible loop of trauma replay.

The fear and intrusive thoughts were my main issue in that period of mental illness, but the amount of work I had to do on those things was so much that it made me feel hopeless. I felt like I would never get better. I wondered why bother living if every future day was going to involve reliving the worst feelings I had ever experienced. I kept going because I had a supportive partner who treated my healing as an important contribution he was making to the world.

Then about a year in, after three failed therapists and one therapist retiring, I found a therapist that I actually clicked with: one who had experienced worse trauma than I had and was now so free of triggers that they could sit next to their abuser without fear. The fact that they had healed that much made me feel that surely I could too, but it still was a long journey with a lot of pain in it.

Eventually we worked through a lot of previous traumas and I started to feel less scared and I was able to control my thoughts again. I started to feel normal, back to my old self. I still was sensitive to certain words, and movies with realistic (true to the experience of a victim, not glamorized rape myths) sexual abuse or rape would trigger me and make it so that my mind was trapped in a loop feeling that experience over and over, but those instances happened less and less often. I was able to go back to work. I was able to interact with strangers and go places by myself. I was able to perform the minimum required, like I had been before I started therapy.


Then there came a day when I suddenly realized that doing things didn't feel like slogging through cold mud. I even had energy to spare! I could be cheerful in the face of grumpiness! I could be social with strangers for hours and still do stuff when I got home - LOTS of stuff! I suddenly realized that I had never been lazy -- it was actually that I had lacked the energy to do more. All my energy had been going to running coping programs for the abuse that I endured.

When I didn't need to spend energy coping because I had processed enough of it, all that energy welled up and sprang out of me. I was so magical, so loving, so creative. I was outgoing, as I always knew my true self was. I felt able. I was not-depressed from 2006 to 2010, then had 8 months of depression, then was not-depressed again from mid-2011 to mid-2012. I was so, so active and productive in those 6 years, to the point that it boggles my mind now.


So through all that I learned that sometimes a thing you think everyone can do is literally impossible for some people, and that when people say they can't, it's not just an irresponsible way of saying "won't." If you can understand only one thing about mental illness, I want you to understand that you can't tell WHY someone can't do a thing and there isn't always external proof. You just have to trust them.

Later, I went into depression again because I spent more energy than I had, day after day, without getting nourished. It sounds like nothing, but I was more depressed from that than I was about the abuse, because with the abuse at least I got a clear path to healing, I got reassurance that healing was possible, and all kind people were supportive. Even kind people are generally not supportive of healing from depression that has "no real reason" and the acceptable "real" reasons are very limited. The attitude is "get over it already."

Not long after I realized the cause of that depression, I fixed the cause and began the most nourishing and healing connection of my life -- the thing I had always yearned for since I was small. Even though I had this new source of brilliant joy, I couldn't really feel it because the pain had worn such a rut in my brain that I couldn't get out. I could not access the happiness I knew my experiences should be giving me.


Every day I thought surely this is the worst it can get -- and then the next day was worse. It was so bad that I could not access any feelings except despair; I could not even care about the suffering of others, which has always been one of my primary motivations. When I thought about injustice and suffering and had no emotional response, I felt I had died inside and was no longer a person.


Finally I got desperate enough to go to the clinic and get medicine, which formed a protective layer over the bottom of the rut and allowed me to slowly heal, layer by layer, until the rut was gone. But then the protective layer kept me from feeling things deeply which started to make me feel like life was pointless, so I weaned myself off against medical advice. I know my own brain and I knew I no longer needed it because it had started to cause me harm rather than good.

That experience taught me that even with a perfect situation, even in a time that should be your happiest, if the chemicals in your brain are messed up you are not going to be able to be happy. The chemistry of your brain is stronger than the strongest will. Just like you can't will yourself out of mono, you can't will yourself out of depression.

Even though the crisis-level depression was over after 8 months of medication, the depression was not gone. It's like after a long illness when it finally breaks -- the healing is not done because the sickness is over, because your body has to recover from the battle. My mind had to recover, and that process was slowed by the constant and massive amount of energy I had to put into surviving because my job didn't pay enough for me to live on. For a while that process was not just slowed but reversed by the exhaustion of scraping a survival on what I could beg from my biofamily while I tried to convince employers that I was a valuable person and they should hire me and pay me a living wage.


When your ability to feed and shelter yourself is in constant doubt, there is no rest from the emotional and mental drain. Even when you are not actively worrying, it takes so much energy to keep it out of your conscious mind. Daily survival stress is cumulative and from myself and others I have seen, it always creates depression. Extra energy exists in a world of unicorns and dragons, and to think that you can have it while fighting to survive is a laugh.

A year ago I finally found a job that is perfect for me and pays me a living wage. Since then I have begun healing again, very slowly. I have only just now started feeling like I can actually count on this job, despite always doing my best and often getting appreciative comments from coworkers. I have only in the past few months started feeling like I can count on being able to stay in the place where I live.


I also have SAD (seasonal affective depression) but I have mostly learned how to cope with this so that it doesn't affect me too much. The most important part is that I have to get enough sleep on a fairly regular sleep schedule, and I HAVE to get up at LEAST three hours before dark. I have to get outside every day even if it's just 5 min, even if there is no sun. I need to drink lots of hot drinks (coffee, hot chocolate, tea) and try to stay as warm as possible. I need to eat regularly. I need to use my sunlight lamp as close to daily as I can manage.

2011 was a whirlwind of growth and renewal; looking back, I cannot believe how much I've changed and how much my life has changed. I feel like I wouldn't even recognize my year-ago self. And yet so much has changed since the turn of the year... exponential change. I'm so much more fierce, nourished, confident, and aware than last year. I've created the sources for art, creativity, and intimacy that I want; I've found avenues for developing change; I've started stripping away the fear that blocked me from being a catalyst for equality.

In 2011 I gained a much deeper understanding of oppression, both historically and in its current manifestations; Kyle and I went through so many shifts, deepening our relationship and creating positive ways of managing conflict; Kyle became a feminist/equalist; I met lots of important new people; Kyle and I started doing energy work regularly on ourselves and each other; I was in continuous growth and needed rest which I didn't know how to take, so throughout the year I had several depressions and learned how to notice when I needed rest; I started hosting crafty parties! and now have a source of amazing creation in my life ♥; I met the Angel Oak, participated in a TreeSpirit shoot, and had so many incredible magical experiences with Kyle in Charleston; I realized my intersexedness in a profound way and began living it, though not sharing the details of meaning with folk (and it's still too scary to write about though I hope that will change soon); I experienced my first burn, Euphoria, and loved it -- then experienced my second, Alchemy, and did not like it; Aurilion and I had several bursts of intense connection; I fell in love with Abby and we started dating, quickly moving into a time-committed relationship; Arizona and I started dating again; Kyle and Adi started dating; I became part of the formation of a queer group on campus; I sortakinda dated Eanox for a short time; I had my first successful anti-oppression experience and felt thrilled with the possibilities of further action; I went to Transcending Boundaries with Kyle; I started forming tribe (a truly interconnected group of people all of whom were building connection with each other).

( important events in 2011 )

a drawing titled "Adolescence" by Norman Lindsay
& a fractal titled "Conception" by sideoutman:



2010 was such a huge year that I'm intimidated by the idea of trying to sum it up, but combining "Conception" and "Adolescence" is a good start. The fractal is expressive of a coiled, freshly-created energy and purpose, which I certainly conceived in 2010. The drawing (oh Norman Lindsay I love you <3) is full of exploration and communication and relating. I see myself in quite a few of the characters, and the harpies and sphinxes with their worshipful open faces speak to me of turning lack and mystery into love and knowledge. The horned characters make me especially happy, as the presence of Pan in my life this year has been quiet but oh-so-profound.

Last January I declared 2010 the year of passion, and oh GOD/DESS yes it was! both good and bad kinds. It started off with a BANG -- hate (which I hadn't felt in years) and fury (over the ex-partner), followed by a few months of stress and worry (mostly over finances), then a few days of delirious happiness (in an almost-triad with strong energetic exchange), then depression and anger (break-up pain and mistreatment), then an explosion of sheer joy (Arizona!) which increased (Serendipity!) and increased (Chip!) and increased (Kyle!) for two months, then contentment and productivity (living & working with Serendipity), then stress and shifting (school again! culture shock, not dating justben actively), then horrible pain (herpes AGH), then exploring/adventuring inspired by Kyle (meeting more people, going new places, having more sexperiences), then an emotional breakdown as I finally reach my coping limit (so much change! so much intensity!), then my first burn-type event!, then breaking up with Arizona, then lots of intoxication with dancing and kissing, and lots of friendship exploration (mostly in Kyle's social group).

Or, most everything I expressed gratitude for at the beginning of the year. It was DEFINITELY "filled with all the love and sex and joy and passion and boldness" that I could handle -- and I was able to handle more than I thought possible. And I certainly met more people with whom I connect deeply, and learned more about sex and the role it is to play in my life. And for the first time, I've experienced being satisfied by the amount of loving touch I get, and for the first time since the Wynnes I've felt fully understood and appreciated and accepted and desired. And I've become more comfortable sharing my art (I did photoshoots! with people I didn't know well at the time!) and became healthier. The only thing that I feel didn't increase is my understanding of my spiritual connection with nature and having my lil sis live with/near me, so those move to my 2011 presumptuous thanks :D

( important events in 2010 )

"Curl and Tangle, Color and Thorn" by me:



This is a photo I took on a trip with Ben to Big Trees in November. It expresses the entire year to me -- the sharp pains and vibrant joys, and most of all the crazy tangled unforseeability of it. And the focus too -- not seeing far behind or much ahead. Oh, what a wild ride.

I dedicated 2009 to risk-taking (since the focus of 2008 became faith-building instead) and I feel that I fully met that goal. I practiced living in the moment, doing things because they feel right without concern for how they might turn sour; being with Viv, going to San Francisco, deciding to end my partnership with [ex], beginning a relationship with Ben, moving in with Ash, hanging out with people I didn't know well and didn't feel miraculously connected to, couchsurfing, driving a rental car. Those are all things I wouldn't have done a year ago out of a habit of thinking "but what if bad stuff happens."

This year brought me the greatest disappointment and the greatest joy I've ever experienced. It's been such a blend, every joy right next to suffering (and vice versa). This is the first year I have had local friends since I was 20, and the first time in my life I've had a sense of community, an actual CIRCLE of people whom I love and feel that I belong with. It used to be so rare that I spent time with friends that every single time was intensely noteworthy and now it has become NORMAL to me! I feel immensely rich. I get hugs at least every single week -- after YEARS of feeling like a leper because no one touched me. I speak and people listen and care and respond -- after years of having no one to talk with in person (well, no one who cared about the same things or was very interested in my thoughts). I am so profoundly grateful. Thank you Deity, thank you universe, thank you localtribe, thank you everyone and everything!

( important events in 2009 )

This time starting back to work has been so different. I got terribly sick on the FIRST day and have yet to have a truly healthy day at work, it's been WINTER-dark and dreadfully cold, I've had to get up early, I've been financially stressed, my car was acting up and I was worried that I might need to take zir in to get fixed, and my ex has been a shithead. And YET, and YET I've been able to live and enjoy life for times during this! Being at work with no way of distracting myself from my feelings for hours isn't torture! Even when I only get 7 hours of sleep I'm okay for a FULL DAY! Instead of nearly all joy being blocked out, I can actually receive it -- even when I'm upset!

Oh my God! It's so different to live without depression! It's so amazing to live without that weight on my shoulders! I still count my spoons pretty carefully because I do not want to get into a down spiral, but even when I think I've used them up I find more. God! It's so different! And looking back, I feel so validated. I was legitimately suffering, not just lazy or 'shy' or 'quiet' or unwilling to be happy. Not being depressed makes general-living so EASY and NATURAL, and recovery from hurt is so much faster. Wow. And if anti-depressants give people-with-depression a sample of this, medication suddenly makes sense to me in a whole new way! to have hope that one day you won't have to hoard every drop of your energy because the littlest things take so much out of you. I had no idea that normal people lived like this.

I am lucky, I know, with so many people who love me ♥ but I've been that kind of lucky before, and it didn't nourish me like this because depression was blocking it. Oh thank the universe for healing.

One of the most momentous parts of the visit was getting to know Nick. When ze visited last year, I didn't really get to know zir that well because Hannah and I were both in such a bad place, and ze was less open (I think) and I was less spiritually aware. Even then we got along really well, but this time I saw zir in a much clearer way. I realized that ze is a violet spirit, like Hannah and I, and I connected with zir so deeply! This is only the second time I have met another (open) violet spirit in person, and it is so different from when I met Hannah -- I knew Hannah really well before spending time in person, and I knew Nick very little. My connection with Hannah 'could' be explained away by our openness and honesty and the many many hours we've spent in conversation, but the connection with Nick was just there -- experiencing that really gave me a lot of faith.

After a few days of settling in, Hannah and Nick and I had this unity and understanding that was fucking incredible. It amazed me just to experience the near-telepathy with Hannah, but to experience it in a triangle, in person, added a whole new dimension. If one person was upset for any reason, both others would sense it and ask about it -- so validating! so loving! We talked constantly about both the deeply meaningful and the decidedly meaningless. (we have very similar humor: gutter-potty, I'd call it :D) I became open in a whole new way, experiencing the culture of their bond. They have a habit of asking "how are you feeling?" constantly -- I'm so unused to being asked that question that I had a hard time knowing what to say at first, but after a few days it became easy and I realized so much more about myself. I became so much more aware of my own feelings, and aware of the fact that I am used to ignoring them unless they are intense. I had no idea I repressed so much, though it makes sense when I consider the fact that my only nearby friend is my partner and (until recently) ze never asked anything about me. (Fortunately that has changed now ♥)

After about a week, Hannah told me that ze was finding it hard to balance zir time/energy/love between the two of us and said that ze thought it would be easier if Nick and I were also together romantically. Ze said the last part in a sort of playful way so I didn't take zir seriously then, just discussed ways of helping the balance. But my heart leapt at the idea, and a few days later a strange series of events (to be discussed in another post) led me to confessing that I wanted to be with both of them. They discussed it and decided that they wanted that also, so I talked with my partner (after a day of trying to reach zir) and ze said ze was fine with it. Then we had to wait another day because Hannah is not yet out as poly to zir mom, and at last we had a day just the three of us.

( I have never experienced anything so beautiful in my life )

I'm falling apart / I'm barely breathing
with a broken heart / that's still beating
in the pain / there is healing
in your name / I find meaning
so I'm holding on
I'm barely holding on to you

yesterday Hannah and I had this amazing conversation... We had never really talked about the stuff that happened during her visit, and somehow the topic came up. Suddenly I was overwhelmed with all of this pain which I had tried to explain away, but which of course had never really been dealt with. I felt so terrified and despairing, seeing all of these blocks between us that seemed impossible to remove. We discussed it and realized that one of the biggest hurts for me was caused by a misunderstanding: one simple word which we both understood to mean something completely different. Realizing this was such a huge relief, such a huge step towards closing the gap between us. Before this conversation, I was closing my eyes and taking a leap of faith in planning to visit her; now I'm still taking a leap of faith, but I have opened my eyes and caught a glimpse of where I will land. I feel very encouraged and much more sure that this is the right choice.

Next time I'm clashing with someone, I very much hope I remember to check definitions -- language is such a clumsy thing. The difference between the right word and the almost right word is the difference between lightning and a lightning bug. -- Mark Twain

( Missy Higgins -- Scar )

I see scars as very beautiful; they are proof of pain not only survived, but healed. Physical scars are beautiful to me, but the scars that can't be seen are the ones that truly awe me.

Scars are not wounds plus time. I don't know who came up with the idea that time heals all wounds, but that's bullshit. Time is a poor doctor; try using time to heal a broken leg. The wound might close up, but the leg will never heal properly, and will always hurt. Non-physical wounds are no different! Time can handle a minor scratch, but for a deep wound it can do no more than close the obvious gap. Allowing deep wounds to close on the surface does not bring much relief -- the slightest bump sends fresh pain searing throughout one's being.

Scars are healed wounds, hard-earned at the price of more pain than the initial wound. Cleaning it, stitching it, sometimes re-setting bones -- there is no emotional anesthesia for healing a wound. It's so much easier to leave the wound unhealed and just take emotional painkillers: work, alcohol/drugs, sex, entertainment, even caregiving. Scars are worn by those who are willing/able to suffer pain for the sake of wholeness, determined to regain the full life taken away by their wounds.

I still have unhealed wounds. Time closed them over and now they are not so easy to find, but when bumped against they make themselves felt. Some of them are so deep I am still afraid to open them up, but I will get there.

My scars are my greatest strengths. The weapons of sexual, emotional, verbal, and spiritual abuse left me with wounds of shame, self-hate, isolation, cynicism, judgment, deceit, and loneliness. But after healing -- with help from counselors who helped to cleanse and friends who helped to bind my wounds -- I am left with the scars of openness, freedom, self-love, connection, faith, compassion, honesty, and love. That which destroyed me now nourishes me. Perhaps I would have gained these things without the initial wounding -- who can know? -- but I don't think I could have felt the full scope of them if I had not started from the farthest point. I don't regret any of the wounds that gave me the opportunity to develop my beautiful scars.

LJ idol topic 9: "My Scars" ((if you liked/got something from this, please vote for me!))

I firmly believe that the only reason anyone ever hurts someone else is because they have been hurt. It's a cycle of pain -- we all have brokenness, and our brokenness causes us to hurt others. For this reason, I think it disturbing that we lock people away (which causes them MORE brokenness) and don't do anything to heal them before releasing them into society again. It's treating the symptom, not the cause. I understand that it would be terribly costly to give them help, and that it would be unfair to all of the broken people who have not committed crimes and cannot afford help -- but at the same time, the most compassionate, giving, wise people are the ones who have been deeply broken, done hurtful things to themselves and others, and then been healed. If we truly worked on healing the broken, we would have an incredible resource of wise people to learn from.

We might not be able to afford counseling, at least at first, but we could help heal the broken by giving them the chance to serve. It is such a healing experience to give, and I think many broken people feel that they have nothing to give, and so do not experience this healing. When you give to someone, you are opening the doors of your heart -- then those same doors are open to receiving gratitude and love. For a person who has been rejected by society and placed into jail (or detention), feeling a positive connection with people is absolutely vital. Someone who feels they are going to continue being mistreated and distrusted is not going to take the risk of growing, of finding better ways to live, but someone who feels that there is at least a chance of them being loved and accepted just might be willing to take that risk. We need to show people in prison that they do have a chance of being a productive, accepted, loved member of society.



"Juvenile offenders start life over with a crochet hook"

These people have attempted murder, destroyed people's property, sold drugs, etc. But given the chance to create and to give to others, something changes in them. It's not perfect, of course, but it is a large improvement over the norm: once released, 85 percent stay out -- far up from the national average of 50 percent. The article describes one person's experience in particular: "To see his eyes well up with emotion about the smiles his blankets have brought a needy elderly man and a toddler in a day-care center is to witness genuine tenderness." That person, Branden, was in for attempted murder, and for the first year and a half of his time there refused to join the program. Now he has created more blankets than anyone else, and speaks with real hope about his future.

I hope that people take notice and use the power of giving to change the lives of all inmates, not just the young ones. I believe all people deserve that chance.

((note: I found this article through the Good News Network, a site that collects positive news from other publications. Anyone can submit, so if you regularly read the news, please submit any positive news you find! You can also add the site's feed on LJ: good_news_net))

LJ idol topic 4: "Current Events" ((feel free to vote here if you get something from this post))

Bugs, snakes, and rodents don't usually bother me (though a certain bug grosses me out to the point of nausea, and I have a violent hatred of roaches); I've always liked bats; heights are a little scary but nowhere near terrifying; storms are exciting and invigorating; closed-in spaces are cozy; airplanes, tunnels, and bridges are fun; I love crowds; and speaking in public is something I've daydreamed about since I was a kid. I don't have what Forbes.com calls the most common fears, but I'm not fearless.

I have a fear that many people experience but few ever talk about. I fear rape.

( possibly triggering: not graphic, but sensitive )

I combat this fear by reminding myself that I have healed so much, and that others can heal too; that the wounds can be turned to scars and stop hurting. I focus on sending out love so that I can help stop the cycle of hurt people hurting other people, and I do what I can to increase awareness and eradicate apathy. I concentrate on my belief we all chose to come to this life, chose to go through suffering and destruction so that we could grow. Most of all, I remember that even though the rest of us can be wounded or even destroyed, the spirit is eternally incorruptible; it can be hidden away or silenced, but it cannot be harmed. The truest part of us is unbreakable.

LJ idol topic 2: "What terrifies me." ((please vote for me here!))

ugh. Yesterday I had a looooooooooooooong talk with SabR and Kazi. First we discussed the recent 'drama': ( cut for irrelevance ) and then we moved on to sacred topics, talking of spiritual things, and after much reassurance, much encouragement, I opened up about something I'd never told anyone (except Hannah) before. It broke something loose in me, and I've been dealing with a FLOOD of emotion since, mostly depression and pain. I don't understand it, haven't found the root of it, but OH my heart aches. If I start thinking about it I weep. What I don't get is that when I talked to Hannah about it I didn't have this reaction, maybe because my heart wasn't ready to really open the door yet? Whatever it is, it's made me WAY FUCKING DEPRESSED all morning, and I finally sent Kazi and SabR an email about it because they had seen I was hurt afterwards and were worried that it was their fault. I sobbed through the whole email and had to keep blinking hard in order to see the screen, but I think it helped. Then SabR IMed me and was so understanding, and I feel much stronger now. Still very fragile though. It's going to take more processing before I can share it here, but I definitely plan to.

And my girls TOTALLY lifted my spirits by adding pro-belenen to their interests lists!!! LOL!!! I LOVE YOU GUYS!!!!!! and I totally have it because I'm very pro-me, muahahaha!

Ben and I decided to go with cutting my hours and staying a cashier -- even though part of me wants the additional responsibility and money, I just don't think I could handle the stress of learning the ropes during the busiest time of the year. And I am totally burnt out. I feel dumb/weak/lazy for being burnt out on my job when Ben's is so much more demanding, in time and responsibility, and I feel like mine is EASY, what's wrong with me? But that is the way it is. I think part of it is that I genuinely give of myself, as much as I can, when I am working. I try to give a little positivity to every person, and it's become a habit that I don't want to break, but it's draining. Cutting hours should help that a lot.

And I think the other reason I'm burnt out is that I've gotten past my healing-waiting period and it's time to go back to counseling, delve into the next layer. Things are starting to come up again -- I think my dreams are a symptom of that. I've been thinking about it for months and actually contacted the office about a month ago, but the lady who was sponsoring me (God/dess bless her) has moved and is no longer sponsoring people. So when I go back I'll have to pay... and they'll probably help some, but eeshk it's yet another expense -- it may have to wait until Ben goes into the management training program in a few months.

I've been feeling things shift within me and realign, it's very odd. Yesterday I prayed in a way I haven't for... at least a year. I dropped all my questions and stepped out into air... I didn't even know that was possible. I've been trying to reach around my questions and find the Being that I know, the one who loves me, the only reason I survived my otherwise empty childhood. I used to be able to reach right out and feel Hir heart, with little effort. S/he was right there! I think I need to go back and reread my old journals and poems, see those paths that I somehow lost, and learn how to find similar ones now. I needed to leave them in order to work on my questions, in order to break off all the lies that had nearly strangled my love for Hir -- the lies that S/he is vengeful, harshly judgemental, distant, demanding, uncaring, all-powerful but unwilling to make any effort to protect me... all the things I saw my parents as.

I had a dream about Hir way back in January... so real, so sacred to me that I posted it privately -- I didn't understand it at the time but it gave me the deepest, most loving peace I have ever experienced. I'm still very insecure in my new vision of Hir as a genderless Being, so that post will probably stay private until I have a clearer belief. I have felt new energy just sensing this beginning. ♥

...Secret by The Benjamin Gate...
oh hold me and heal me
keep my heart in your hands

alariya already posted about this night here, and sabr here, and malignlibra here, but I want to add my own perspective (and only mutual friends can see those entries)...

alariya had just gotten out of a relationship -- after a long time of slowly gathering the courage to end it. I'd been waiting, hoping, waiting, hoping for it to end, after realizing some negative things about the guy she was with. The long and the short of it was, there was (unintentional but still extremely harmful) abuse, and they were mutually keeping each other from growth. I grew increasingly more disturbed by the relationship, but I knew that she wasn't ready to let go, so we'd have a talk about it and then I would tell her that she would do it when she was ready and then we'd avoid the subject altogether for a while... Finally, a few weeks ago I had one explosive wrenching conversation with her and she told me some things that helped me to understand why it was so hard for her to get out, and I think she just finally reached the point where she realized it needed to end, and realized she had the strength to do it. So the next day she ended it, but it didn't go down well with the guy and she was in a lot of pain and self-doubt.

So I decided that I wanted to do a cleansing ritual / celebration-of-Analariya -- to help her break with the past, realize the wonder of who she is, and be affirmed in the truth and bravery of her decision. I told her to invite whomever she would like, and so sabr and Kazi (malignlibra) and Cherise came over. ( about SabR and Kazi )

Spending time getting to know SabR and Kazi wasn't the original plan, but I think it was so meant to be. I'm really glad they came. After they left, Cherise lay down on the sofa and napped off and on, and I began the ritual. I would have been okay with everyone participating if they had wanted, but I think they'd have been too self-conscious and I was too self-conscious to 'perform' in front of watchers. It all worked out so beautifully.

I got a pillow for Alariya and had her lie down on my scarlet sheet on the floor, and I lit candles and placed them around her -- three clustered at her head, three spread at her feet, one above and to her right. I lit incense and began playing Michelle Tumes' song "Healing Waters": ( the end of a road that I have followed... ) As it played, I waved the incense over her, around her, covering her from head to toe, imagining the lies burning and going up in the smoke, imagining the truth wisping down and sinking deeply in. She absorbed it, but I sensed that she wasn't completely there, was still too afraid to let go. I almost did it all over again and then realized that I could instead do a series of three -- a sacred number to her.

So I had her kneel on the pillow, and set another song playing -- "Rest My Soul": ( be still my dreams, lay beside me ) This time I told her to concentrate on the lyrics, and I wafted the incense all around her, and chose to let her feel the change within herself when she began to cry, though I wanted to hold her -- I felt that I was an instrument and the real thing that was happening was just her spirit and God, and I didn't want to interrupt or be a distraction. When the song was over, she told me that she felt the broken edges of her spirit knitting together during the song... I was awed.

Finally, I asked her to stand, and I began a song which is to me an anthem of LIFE -- "Feel": ( free restraint and struggle no more! ) This song has incredibly deep meaning to me -- I want to sing it to every person and have them take the words in and LIVE, truly live. At the first chorus I lifted Alariya's arm, and she took my meaning and raised them both, defiantly, boldly, to grasp all that life has to offer, all the glories that God has given. To embrace emotion in all its terrible pain and all its healing, liberating power.

I had written words and phrases on slips of paper, intending for the four of us to draw them and copy the words/phrases from our slips of paper onto Alariya's body. After the cleansing, I went to get them and sifted them through my fingers, setting aside the last one to cling to my fingers each time until I had three. I then held them for Alariya to choose one at a time, and she chose them in the same order that I had drawn them (which I think was proof that they were exactly the right words). I had her lay down again and I wrote the words on her belly, the center of her body. They aren't the three that I would have chosen, but I think that God had special meaning in each of them for her. The words were:"Alive"
"Unashamed"
"Honest"

And I think she is more alive, more unashamed, and more honest in the time since then than she has ever been before. ♥

Finally I had her close her eyes and hold out her arms, and I placed in them the present I had gotten for her -- a purple body pillow. I know sometimes the most lonely you feel is when you are trying to sleep, so I wanted her to have a physical reminder that she is not alone, that she is loved -- which is why I got a purple one, to represent her closest friends (who all love purple). I told her to sleep with that and remember that we love her and even if we are not with her physically, we are always there, always loving her.

Ben and I had a major fight over something minor (which I now realize was triggering), and I way overreacted. And he got angry, and I got MORE upset because I can't STAND for men I'm close to to get angry, it frightens me and makes me act completely helpless, and then I hate them for making me feel like that and I hate myself for giving in. So we really didn't come to any conclusion, but he went to bed because he was exhausted... and I spent several hours iconing mindlessly.

ugh. I feel smushed.

I bet part of this is because I haven't been to church in weeks, so I've had nothing to refresh my spirit. We actually went to church last weekend but never got out of the car because we were fighting. I don't even remember what I was so furious about... and today I found myself immediately repressing the memory of what he did, so the first time he asked me I couldn't even remember what I was mad about, even though it just happened. My mind has a will of her own, and she has a habit of hiding stuff. She really needs to stop doing that to me.

I haven't been posting much about my counseling sessions, because we have a confidentiality agreement in the support group and not much has been happening in my sessions with Patricia. It's not wasted time -- but it's not very productive either. We've been on a sort of plateau for a while now, for ( several reasons: )

So, last session, she told me that she wants to stop having sessions with me, at least for a while. And I had to agree that that was probably the right thing to do. She suggested that Ben and I meet with Richard and Virginia for couples counseling instead -- but I really don't like the mindset Virginia has about how wives should be. She's never rude or outwardly judgemental, but I get a very judgemental vibe from her sometimes. So I don't want to do that.

But I met with Lisa (another counselor in the same practice) for a theophostic session this week, and it was amazing. Actually it was far beyond amazing, but I can't think of a word emphatic enough. It was... deeply soul-cleansing.

I should explain what 'theophostic' is. The easiest explanation is that it's the Christian version of hypnotherapy -- instead of a human leading you into your subconscious, God does, with your full consent. Basically the counselor and I pray together, and then we ask God to take me to a memory that he wants to work with and heal. And he does.

( warning: some of this may be triggering for sexual abuse victims )

I began to feel an immense peace and a sweet lightness. I felt as if I was floating weightlessly, wrapped in a blanket of warm water. I felt this physically as well as with my spirit, and Lisa encouraged me to just rest in it. I saw God holding me in his lap, with my knees folded to my chest and his arms encircling me completely. I felt God's love, felt his presence! I don't think you can understand how amazing it is unless #1, you've experienced it and #2, physical affection means as much to you as it does to me. That's one of the reasons I've always had a hard time believing God loves me -- I need physical touch to feel loved.

I've felt it twice before. The first time was when I was on the brink of suicide because I could not climb out of the 'black hole of woe' that I lived in every day. That was shortly after I had begun to seek a friendship with God... it was by far my favorite experience. It felt like a waterfall of warm honey was flowing slowly over me, through me -- on the surface of my skin and in the core of my spirit. It meant so much to me, and that experience alone kept me going for a long time. The second was just a few months ago at church -- I was worshipping and I felt his presence, dancing with me. He was standing behind me with his arms wrapped around me. I tested it to see if I was just imagining it -- I switched rhythms and felt resistance, because he didn't change rhythms with me, so I delightedly went back, and danced with him.

Anyway, this time I sat there in pure comfort for I don't know how long, before slowly opening my eyes to look at Lisa, who was smiling at me. She told me to close my eyes again and ask God what he wanted me to know about that experience. So I did -- and he told me that I could feel his presence anytime I wanted, which confused me because I know I have wanted it many times and not had it. So I asked how, and he told me to take authority. I repeated this to Lisa, who told me to ask if there was more, so I did -- and he brought a verse of Psalms to my mind, "Enter into his presence with thanksgiving, and into his courts with praise." Lisa told me to ask again if there was more, and he told me to empty my mind -- not to pray for people or read the bible or pour out my heart, but just think about him and invite his presence (that other stuff is separate, at least at this point).

Then Lisa prayed a sealing prayer, and we hugged and I left. Exhausted, but peaceful and still light. So incredible.

( Lately I have been reaching out so much! )

( Yvonne )

And I invited Brie (also from work) to go to bellydancing with me. That's a huge step because I'm rather private about my dancing, I hate to dance in front of people, yet I was comfortable inviting her -- and before, I was way too afraid of 'intruding' on people to actually invite them to anything. I'd think that they'd be thinking, "Ugh, who'd want to do anything with her? She's so dull/dumb/quiet!" Now, I never think that. I actually consider myself a person who is fun/interesting/worthwhile to be with. Even to Brie, who is one of those people who obviously doesn't care what anyone thinks -- she's strong and fierce and funny, and I don't consider her out of my league.

And Dani, she is such an AWESOME person. She always wears non-matching earrings (all four holes), which tells you a lot, I think! And she has this intricately pretty criss-cross scar next to her mouth, which I would compliment her on but I don't know her well enough to know if she'd take it well. I'm like Angelina in that I find scars attractive. She's crazy and relaxed and her spirit is so open. Back in the day, I'd have heroine-worshipped her from afar but never dared to even talk to her, much less show her how much I admire her! But the new me, Krista, I asked her out! And she made me feel awkward by pretending to think I was hitting on her, but I got over that really quickly, and even joked back. We're supposed to go to the local coffeehouse on Friday. And I'm totally okay with being honest about how much I like her! I was openly happy when we got assigned next-door registers, and she was too. I used to be careful to hide my admiration/like for someone unless they showed that they liked me first -- a fear of rejection, fear of ridicule, I suppose. But no longer!

( Aubrey )

( Ingrid )

You'd think that dropping in on alariya would be easy for me, but it wasn't. I had such a perfectionist view of relationships -- if I couldn't do it perfectly, I didn't want to do it at all. But something changed in me recently, and I've come to the conclusion that all interactions are valuable, even the 'inconsequential' ones, like just saying hi, or spending an hour with someone just casually connecting. I've come to believe that my investments in people are never a waste, even if there's no noticable change in relationship.

With Cynthia, I know I wouldn't have had the guts to ask her why she seemed down, about a week ago, and she'd never have told me about her worries and the fact that she is in need of a car. And even though I felt dumb just saying that I'd pray for her, it seemed to be important to her because today she asked if I was still praying. And before, I'd never have had the confidence to tell her that anytime that our schedules ended at the same time, I'd give her a ride. I'd have worried that she'd judge my driving or my car, or think that I was being condescending to offer. But now, I offered without a second thought, and she gratefully accepted, and even though I did feel a bit embarrassed by the mess on the floor, I was able to dismiss it and be comfortable.

I've been deeply struggling for the past day or so, fighting to keep my head above water... I read something about an abuse that didn't trigger me (which is good, it shows progress) but did make me terribly terribly sad. And I keep trying to let it go... but I can't quite seem to do it. And Ben's been having allergy/asthma problems... so I feel like I shouldn't add any burden to him, and if I told him I know he'd most likely feel worse than I do. I'm lonely.

I'm really really lonely. And my spirit has fought so hard for the past two weeks... I'm exhausted.

I just want someone to hold me... someone stronger than me... and I want the freedom to weep, rather than dropping a few tears and stopping up the bottle again.

I haven't forgotten you, some of your comments and posts have touched me deeply and I will respond, but I just don't have the strength right now -- and I know that me not having gotten more than 5.5 hours of sleep per day for the last week hasn't helped.

Last sunday, I had a 'relapse' of sorts, emotionally and spiritually. This is what was going on inside me. It wore me out to the point where I called in the next day and didn't go to work... slept all day instead.

Then Tuesday I went to group counseling, and I happened to be last to speak. I poured out my heart, basically saying all I had said in that post. There was silence for a few moments, and then my counselor began to talk to me. She got very heated, telling me that I should give up self-pity and make the choice to trust God... she said it differently but that was the gist of it. Some of the other women got uncomfortable with her directness (she was rather irate) and defended me, and she toned herself down a bit but didn't change what she was saying.

Meanwhile, my inner cobra was flaring her hood. I was furious. I held up my hand, palm toward her, and said, "I reject your judgement. That does not fall on me." I know the inner workings of me better than anyone except God, and I know that self-pity has not been a battle I've had to fight. I can't stand the role of the victim, and I certainly wouldn't wallow in it.

As she 'accused' and I 'defended,' I found myself growing stronger and stronger. I had had those doubts about myself, and as she caused me to face them head on, I realized how untrue they were. As I explained myself to her, I began to believe in myself more.

I know I have never stopped believing in God. I have never taken the easy way out! It's far, far easier simply to put aside these torturous questions and accept what someone else tells you is true -- but I refuse to do that. That's not always 'faith' -- sometimes it's just laziness, or a lack of passion -- or even fear of the answer. I believe that God is truth, and I believe that he is big enough to handle all my questions and pain and fear. I don't need to drop my questions; I need to seek the answer and be willing to accept it when I get it. No, I don't trust that God loves me, not right now, as much as I'd like to -- but some part of me must, because I still believe with my whole self that he IS Love, that he loves every human, and that he works in people's lives in response to my prayers. I've seen it, over and over again.

I don't know what it will take to get me to where I can believe that God loves me personally, deeply, fully, passionately, unreservedly, unconditionally...

... but I know I will get there.

At the end of the meeting, we all prayed together, including a specific prayer that God would give me the answer and that I'd be able to accept it, and then as people started getting up, my counselor apologized for being harsh, and I forgave her. And I asked for everyone's attention, and said that I could understand how they might feel upset with my counselor -- I would have been very upset had it been someone else she was scolding -- but that I believe that she was doing what God wanted her to. The result in my heart was positive -- not the result she was pushing for at all, but exactly the right result. I said that I thought her methods might have been somewhat questionable, but she was following God. After I finished my little speech, my counselor and I hugged, and I totally let go of any negative emotions I might have had toward her. I know she did that because she feels a little like a mother to me, and because she very passionately wants the best for me. There wasn't an unclean motive in her heart. (and I know she'd NEVER have gone off on anyone else like that, she was so completely honest; I kinda take it as a compliment) Another of the counselors came up to me and hugged me and thanked me for saying that, which filled me with the certainty that I had done the right thing. Hopefully it soothed any worried hearts.

I tell you what, working 9-hour days after 5 months (almost half a year!) of near-total physical inactivity is kicking my ass! But in a good way. I have discovered that I developed one good habit over the summer -- I drink a lot of water during the day now, and my sugar intake has been minimal, so when I drink a soda it tastes cloying after the first few sips. When I was working before, I bought a coke and a candy bar every break, and I was oh-so-tempted to do that again, but I resisted, and had water and a granola bar instead.

I have so much more energy now! probably partly due to the sensible sugar intake, but I think mainly due to the fact that I used to be so incredibly depressed that it was a huge struggle just to live, much less work and smile and be friendly. I am continually amazed at how easy life is now -- it's like living crippled and then being suddenly healed -- things that were a huge struggle before are just so simple now.

But that has its downside. I don't want to continue healing, I no longer have the drive. The only reason I'm giving it even this half-hearted effort is because I want truth that will comfort and give hope to other victims. I'm so angry at everyone with their sanctimonious bullshit! I have been healed in the basic way, I suppose, but the deeper places are still just as furiously wounded. If I think about it for any length of time I get so pissed. I keep asking, "WHY? how could God not step in?" and all I get is "You have to find your own answer to that question." I don't want that to be true -- I don't want to have to tell victims that. So I hope that it's really just that they're being private about it -- I know I won't have that problem!

And even deeper -- my relationship with God is so broken I can't even look at it. I know part of me never stopped loving and trusting him, but I have no idea where that part of me is hiding. Right now, my faith can't even be called faith. I absolutely believe that he exists and that the Bible is true -- I believe it mentally at least, but spiritually and emotionally, I just can't reconcile a God of Love to this image in my head. And I have no idea where to go from here. I kinda want to believe that he's trustworthy... but I kinda don't.

A kinda cool thing that happened at the support group -- I was sitting bored while everyone else was communing with God, and wondering why it was so hard for me to hear him speak. Suddenly I got this image of him coming up to me (spiritually) and starting to say hi, and my spirit jumping up with her hands on her hips and shouting, affronted, "Who dares talk to me?!?" It made me snicker. The best thing about it was that when he gave me that image, it was with a feeling of amused acceptance. Other people might see me as rude, obnoxious, arrogant -- but he sees me as, and I quote, "Fierce."

That did give me a bit of hope... but still no answers. I am so conflicted.

I just finished my 'homework' for small group counseling tomorrow, and I feel so drained. It's so hard to face... especially with me not knowing what really happened! At least, not knowing most of it.

Trust is the hardest thing to do when you've had someone violently destroy your most sacred self. I shake my head and think, no wonder I've always found trust a nearly impossible task. Even squeezing out just a drop is an exhausting process. I've learned to do it with most women fairly easily, but with males and authority figures (even worse, the two combined) I have made scarcely any progress at all. I trust Ben more than I've ever trusted a man -- but I hold back so much, stuff that I don't even realize.

I'm so full of rage. It saps my energy... when I finally let it out, what else is left?

I honestly cannot identify with my birth name at all anymore. I still think it's pretty, but it's so very un-me. Look at this thing:

( what my birth name means )

It's the most uncomfortable feeling, not knowing your own name. And poor Ben can only call me endearments.

I will be SO. very. happy. when I finally find it. It feels like a key to my soul. How can I get my inner self to respond if I can't even call her name?

counseling was horrible... I want to write but I don't have the words...

and it ended badly -- we had to end without closing any of the issues that were brought up, and I was angry and hurt -- I didn't hug her back when she hugged me bye and when she waved I just looked at her. I think I may have hurt her, I don't know. And yeah, I was angry at her, not just in general.

I was at least two different people -- one very angry and bold and strong and the other just a limp blob of pain. This was the first time I've ever actually felt the difference in my selves -- it wasn't just moodiness, it was a whole different person. And then there was the self that just watched, that self that I hate.

I need to be allowed to be weak, to mourn, to believe that I was wronged and I have a right to feel pain. Of course I don't want to stay mourning forever, but I cannot just skip that step... as it seems everyone wants me to do.

I have been in such a place of confidence and clarity (compared to my life before, anyway) for weeks, and to be plunged into confusion and frustration again is overwhelming. Since counseling, I've been exhausted and my body is reacting to my spirit -- I've felt nauseated and aching.

Oh yeah, and right after counseling I went and spent time with my dad, who was in town for the weekend. It's almost funny. It wasn't a bad time, exactly, just fraught with the usual feelings of frustration, disappointment, tension, and exhaustion.

I thought I would share my daily prayer/mantra for taking authority. It probably won't affect your life if you don't put your faith in Jesus, but for the Christians on my list, you should definitely try saying it out loud every day for a week -- it had such a powerful effect on my life. It wiped out so much of my confusion and frustration. And even if you don't put your faith in God, maybe you could try it -- I'm just curious to see if it would have any effect.

Basically, when we give our lives to Jesus, he gives us authority over ourselves ("For God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power and of love and of a sound mind" -- 2 Timothy 1:7; "I have given you authority to trample on snakes and scorpions and to overcome all the power of the enemy; nothing will harm you" --Luke 10:19). But learning to use that authority is never instant, and many people don't understand that and so they never seek to grow. It's even harder for people like me who have been through something traumatic. Our instinct is to separate from the pain and split ourselves into pieces, some of which we are aware of and some of which we are not -- some of which love God and some of which do not! That's how we survive, but it was never meant to be a permanent state. Anyway, for a long time my most broken pieces were the ones who controlled me, but as I have begun taking authority, my sheltered good pieces have risen up and begun healing, begun taking over. My confusion is so much less -- I no longer feel like I have static in my head whenever I try to quiet my thoughts. My fear is less; I don't have as much of a problem with flashbacks during sex; I'm not so afraid of people's disapproval... I'm coming into who I was always meant to be. And I think the primary reason for that was learning to take authority.

( so here's what I say )

Patricia actually gave me a simpler version, but I didn't want any part of my being left out, and I tend to believe that there are more than three parts to a person (I think the Ancient Egyptians were probably closer to correct in their belief of nine parts to a being, but I don't know what to call the other four possible parts), so I added bits. After I started taking authority over my body, I saw a huge difference in my dancing. Not that it's that great now, but compared to before it is amazing. I went from hopeless to actually learning.

Kristy was in town for a few days... Tuesday night we went skinnydipping, which was fun but would have been heavenly if it hadn't been for the fact that I was Unhappy with her. I don't really want to go into it, but basically I wasn't happy because she didn't treat me like family and she wouldn't be real (and I didn't even try to coax her, so no fault to me). I love her but I just can't connect with someone who has their heart locked in an iron box, and if I can't connect, what is the point? I had to fight with myself to even go skinnydipping with her, and that is one of my top four favorite things to do.

But yes, the skinnydipping was fun anyway. Rebecca kept her swimsuit on, but that's to be expected (silly modest girl). It was about 10:00, I think, so it was dark but not very, and we were swimming in the neighborhood pool (it's a lot more fun to skinnydip in a private pool, because then you don't have to worry about getting arrested). But oh, the feeling of freedom! There's nothing like it. If I had my own pool, I'd be so fit, because I'd do swim for at least an hour every night. *sigh*

Maybe I'll be able to convince Rebecca to go with me a couple more times this summer.

--------

I went to the first class in the restoration series (a group counseling thing for sexual abuse survivors), and I had a reaction that I totally didn't expect. I always look forward to my counseling sessions, but when I got to the class, I didn't want to be there at ALL. I felt raw and angry and confused. I wanted to go smash stuff to bits while screaming my head off. After the speaker finished, I just sat there (because our small groups won't be meeting until next week) and stewed. I felt rather nauseated and overwhelmed... so many emotions that I totally wasn't prepared for. They gave us a survey so that they could sort us into groups that have common ground, and when I was finished with the survey I just started writing, just pouring my feeling onto paper. Wonder what they'll think of that. Afterwards I went up to Patricia, who hugged me and asked me what I thought... and I talked to her a bit and suddenly got overwhelmed and started crying, hurting and not knowing why. So she prayed with me and I asked God why, and he showed me that I was hurting with loneliness -- that with my usual counseling it feels like we are working together for my healing, but in this setting it feels like I'm fighting a huge battle alone.

Patricia prayed with me... and then she felt led to give me a mother's blessing, and asked if she could, I stalled and she just hugged me and started blessing me. Unfortunately I wasn't paying attention, because my brain was still overwhelmed and I wasn't sure how I felt about that anyway... bah. I was very confused. But it soothed my spirit at least, I felt peace afterwards.

So we went to the Renaissance Festival with Ben's dad and two of his brothers and Rebecca -- but we really just rode with them, we split up once we got there. Rebecca's Trevor also went with his family, and poor Rebecca spent the whole trip there watching his car through the back window. Heh. (I remember what that felt like)

I wanted very badly to spend lots of money on a corset and undershirt, but alas, Ben made me see reason. I'm kinda glad I didn't buy them right now, because I'd like to shop around first... and also because I may be able to get my costume designer friend jedibubbles to make one for me, possibly for less than it would cost at RenFest. We'll see.

I did buy something fascinating and awesome, though. I went to one vendor and bought a vial filled with "fairy dust," which I then gleefully sprinkled into the wind -- it really did look like magic dust, puffing and swirling on the breezes. I took the vial to a man selling scented oils, and he filled it up for me with "Fire," a vibrant crimson cinnamon-cloves blend -- oh wow. I love love love that scent, even more than cinnamon alone. I put it on and wore it for the rest of the day, catching whiffs of the scent whenever the wind blew. And the vial with it's deep red oil is so gorgeous -- I am certain that it will be featured in future photoshoots. I'll post a photo of it pretty soon. If I had known how much I'd love it I'd have bought his whole bottle -- that was his last RenFest ever, and he was closing up shop. I wonder how long oils last?

I discovered that I have become more of my true self -- I'm shedding my old 'reserved' skin. Throughout the day I saw myself acting with more confidence and ease in speaking to strangers, which is such a relief to me. It isn't me to be quiet or standoffish, yet I've acted that way for most of my life because it was my coping mechanism. As I'm healing, I'm losing my fear of being seen as stupid -- the reason I was 'quiet' was because I lived by the old adage, "better to keep your mouth closed and appear a fool than open your mouth and remove all doubt."

One instance was at a glass artist's booth. I saw some dichrotic pendants that were incredible -- each one was like a tiny painting. I was awed, and told the lady "womaning" the booth how impressed I was (most dichrotic glass tends to be fairly random, while this artist obviously had a lot of skill), and asked if they had a website. She said no, they didn't, but would I like to meet the artist? My first reaction (my old self) was no, I'd be too intimidated, but I found myself saying yes, I would. So she called the artist over from a nearby booth, and told her that I admired her work. She said thank you, and looked at me expectantly. I tripped over my words at first, but then I got caught up in enthusing over her work, and we had a bit of conversation and I was relaxed. For me to be relaxed around a stranger that I consider to be superior to me is a completely new experience for me. It was also new to be able to gush about glass with someone who shares my passion. She mentioned that she is based in Savannah, and said that she could teach me how to do it in a day, though it would be a intensive session. I think she liked the idea of teaching someone as obviously in love with glass as I am. In the future I hope to buy some of her pendants for centerpieces for my necklaces.

The other 'new me' example was when we were headed home and stopped at a Subway -- without even thinking I struck up a conversation with the, um, sandwich artist? What do you call a sub-maker? Anyway, that was odd for me because before I started talking to him, he had a rather stand-offish demeanor, and usually I leave people alone if I get any hint that they'd like it that way. (and I used to have no interest at all in small talk -- I've been meaning to post about that) But he warmed up to me really quickly. Something about him seemed terribly sad... When we left I wanted to hug him, but I settled for giving him a real smile (not the polite little turning-up of lips that I usually dole out to strangers) and saying thank you in a very genuine tone. The most interesting thing about that small encounter was that I interpreted him more correctly -- before I would have not been so perceptive, and I would have thought of him as rude or snobby, but he wasn't, not at all. He was hurting, yet so brave. Now that I'm a bit more healed, I don't expect everyone to be mean to me, so I was able to see him more accurately. He made a deep impression on me, too -- I've thought about him several times since then.

I'm feeling a bit better today because I ( wrote to Patricia ) and she ( wrote me back )

And no, I didn't go to bellydancing because I just didn't feel up to it... and I kinda wanted to but I had a hard time even getting out of bed, and I didn't want to push my body for 1.5 hours... lazy. And now of course I'm having second thoughts about it... when it's too LATE. What do you motivate yourself with when you can't see a goal? I'm disillusioned.

I was doing so well for a while, and now I'm sleeping for 10-14 hours a day and feeling drowsy for my waking time. I want to scream and flail about and kill and die. What is WRONG with me? Hm. I just remembered that I have been forgetting to take authority... and I think it also has something to do with Ben, but I'm not sure what.

*huge sigh*

my next counseling appointment isn't until July 9th. I'm very upset/discouraged/depressed... I can't even express. When will this end

My birth name no longer feels like it fits me. And that's sad, because I like the way it looks and what it means... but it doesn't fit. Ben can't call me that during sex anymore, it snaps me right out of the mood. He calls me the Edheledian word for "Dragon-rider" instead.

And Belenen... is close, but it doesn't quite fit either... I'm usually so good at finding names for things, but for myself I am completely lost. There is no name that I know of that calls to my true self. 'Bel' is closest, but that is only good as a nickname, not a truename, because it is too small and simple. I love to be called 'Bel' by others, but I can't call myself that... this probably makes sense to no one but me.

I'm lost, my self is lost, and I can't find her until I know her name... that is how I feel. I need a new name. I remember when I first read Revelations, I read "to she who overcomes, I will give... a white stone with a new name written on it," and I have treasured that in my heart and longed for it ever since. And I want a new name here, because I truly am a new person, and I want to live that.

How can I translate? How can I even understand my own heart?

Patricia (my counselor) got a new name, sort of. She was never called Patricia growing up, but always bits and pieces, Patty, Tricia, Pat, etc., and when she was healed God told her that she was now a whole person, and that her name was Patricia. Many times God gave new names to people when they began their callings... Abram became Abraham, Sarai became Sarah (from 'quarrelsome' to 'princess'!), Jacob became Israel, Hoshea became Joshua, Saul became Paul -- in the Bible a name represents the complete essence of a person and so giving a new name implies the beginning of a new life.

God gave me a nickname a few years ago, an english word that is not a name. It is the one thing that I consider too sacred to share openly. Perhaps that will change, perhaps not. But I want a name that means that adjective -- I want a name that makes me happy every time someone calls me by it, a name that reminds me of who I truly am. 'Bel' kinda does, but not quite...

P.S. I had a gorgeously fantastic evening out with my jedibubbles tonight... we went to the local coffeehouse and talked for a solid 5 hours, sitting on the green couch. Heh. I love the memories I'm making in that place. *happy*

Counseling this week was powerful, in a way that made me very uncomfortable. One of those "truths that you don't want to see" type things. So of course, I've been putting off writing it down... Bah.

I realized that I have idolized my intellect, used it as my identity and my protection. ( ... )

I don't know what to do. Patricia and I prayed, and I gave my intellect to God, but I'm still not sure what that means and it is making me very nervous. I don't want to have anything be more important to me than God, and I certainly don't want to continue to be trapped by fear of stupidity, but I'm just not sure how to change. Patricia was confident that God would show/tell me.

Saturday was exhausting... I'm still recovering from it. I got up early, went to counseling, then to bellydance, then came home and had sex, then went to church, and then went out with Del and Joe... And amazingly, I didn't lose energy until about 1 am.

So, this time at counseling, we realized that I had never broken soul ties with my perpetrators. I should explain that. I believe that every time you have sexual activity with someone, there is at least a small amount of transference, and a bond of some sort is formed. And that happens regardless of how meaningless the sex is... So basically, parts of my soul were wandering around with those people who molested/raped/whatevered me. So we prayed over it, and she took authority and broke the soul ties, and then prayed that God would gather those parts of me and bring them back to make me whole. I immediately felt lighter. It amazes me that we didn't do that a long time ago... it's such a basic step. I'm very glad that I'm no longer connected with those people, I feel like those connections had held me back many times... It was a short session, only 45 minutes or so (instead of the usual 90-120 minutes), but she felt God saying that was the point of the session, so we wrapped it up.

Before we left, I showed her my jewelry site on the computer in the office, and she oohed and ahhed, but she was at least as impressed with my html skills as my jewelry -- I wasn't sure whether to be flattered or miffed. ;-) (I chose to be flattered.)

She usually gives me a ride to bellydancing, but since it was a short session, she decided to go get lunch, and she asked if she could get me something -- she bought me lunch and a starbucks frapp, yummmmy. I always feel guilty though, accepting gifts like that. I wish I could just believe that the person offering is doing it sincerely, and accept it with ease.

On our way there, I asked Patricia how she got into dancing, and she told me that she had loved dancing ever since she was a little kid and she saw her first dancer -- a stripper at a burlesque show. The way she told that story convinced me that she would not have a problem with nude modeling and would quite likely be supportive. I didn't have the opportunity to talk to her about it yet, but I have definitely decided to.

( at bellydancing )

( sex )

( out with Del and Joe )

Yay! God so loves me -- I just got an email saying that Patricia's appointment Saturday cancelled, would I like to come in? Hell yeah!

I've been debating on whether or not to tell Patricia about my modeling and my journal, so I'm asking you guys for your thoughts. See, she's not at all Miss Prissy Fundamentalist -- she's been a bellydancer for 20 years, 15 professional; she's not one bit uncomfortable talking about sex; she uses 'vulgar' words without blushing or apologizing; and she just has a very open mind, from what I can tell. Still, she is around 50, and she might have hangups...

I feel that God is pleased with and proud of the openness of my modeling and journalling... but my belief in his joy in me is fragile, and if someone I very much respected as godly were to tell me that they think it's wrong/bad/whatever, it would give me doubt in God's support of me. (that is a temporary thing caused by my brokenness -- when I am healed, my faith won't be so weak)

Pros:
I would feel more myself, because I'd be open and honest with her. Right now I feel a little dishonest.
If she approves, I will feel so much more confident of God's approval.
If I feel more confident of His approval, I will feel more free to be honest and open with everyone, even Ben's parents and fundamentalist types.

Cons:
Tolerance is not enough. If she were to say it's okay, just borderline, then I'd doubt that God thinks it's beautiful, and that would be tragic to me.
If she disapproves, I'll lose a lot of confidence, for a while at least.
If she tried to talk me out of it, then I wouldn't trust her with anything that I consider possibly 'bad,' for a while at least, and that would make it difficult for me to learn from her.

[Poll #489005]

So Saturday I had counseling for the first time in three weeks that felt like two months. Blech.

I came in, told her all about what had happened the previous Saturday with meeting the lady at church and forgiving everybody, and then Rebecca and I forgiving each other... and she told me that God had told her that if I came in talking about forgiveness, to lead me step-by-step through a thorough forgiveness prayer, so we did that. It was a little emotional at times, but it didn't really faze me, and I didn't feel any different. She said she could see a difference in me already, and later Ben told me the same thing... mainly she said I have to walk it out, everyday refuse to pick up anger, resentment, all that shit.

I still don't feel different -- but for the past two days I've been able to go to sleep when Ben does and get up at 6:00am in the morning without a struggle. If you know me at all you know that is huge -- my whole life, even when I am happy I have a very hard time getting up before 10:00am. I don't know if this will stick, but it is a good change to not feel like sleeping from 7am to 7pm and then get up and want to take naps! I feel more alive.

I'm not happy that my next session is so far away -- the 21st. But I don't feel so much like I am wasting my life, because I'm not sleeping or drowsy all the time... and Patricia gave me some titles to look up to help me grow in the meantime. And starting June 14th there's going to be a restoration series held at the church that I will hopefully be able to go to... it's $125 but my 'scholarship' might cover it.

Oh yeah, I don't think I've said this before -- I'm going to counseling for free because one of the ladies at my church considers it her ministry to pay for other people's counseling; God points out people to her and she offers to pay for them. God was really taking care of Ben and I, because she gave us counseling for our wedding present, and we had to have it. I don't care to think about what we'd have done without it. We had couples counseling for about six months, and since then it's been just me. Ben had amazing parents and one of those families that you think went extinct 100 years ago -- they have a few small problems, but nothing like any other family I've seen. So he didn't need that much help. Me, on the other hand... I am so incredibly grateful to God for leading that lady to us (we don't even know her personally, she knew Ben's mom) and so grateful to that lady for following Him.

Wow... sorry I've been so anti-social, I just have so much to process, sooooo much has happened.

I've been wanting a mentor, someone who has been through what I've been through, is healed, and can help me like a friend (Patricia is great, but I can't call her up anytime and talk to her).
( well I found her, I think... and I forgave those who have wounded me )

and then we went over to Ben's 'rents house so he could play computer with his brothers (his dad is a comp. programmer, so they have three computers (or is it four?) that are just for gaming and homework (mostly gaming)) and so I could watch 'Calendar Girls' with Miss K (Ben's mom) and Rebecca and elya (who spells her name with a lowercase e). It was a cute movie... quite good at showing the different reactions people have to nude photography.

Afterward, Rebecca showed me an emerald ring, told me that Trevor gave it to her, and then said, "When he proposed." I was flabbergasted for a full ten minutes. What the fuckin fuckity fuck? I never even knew they were officially courting, though I did suspect as much from all the backrubbing and hair-petting.

And that made me really sad. Not so much because she might get engaged (she hasn't given him an answer yet) but because I missed it all. I missed all the 'ooo, boyfriend' stuff. (When Rebecca and I were friends, she had no interest in romance whatsoever, she was almost asexual.) Then I thought that I might not even be a bridesmaid, that elya would probably be her maid of honor, and I teared up a little. Our friendship was like a marriage -- our breakup was a divorce. Then Miss K came in and started talking to me, and I was already emotional from the forgiving everybody thing and the Rebecca thing, so I just talked and talked about how I've been feeling lately, how I can't get to sleep when I want to and once I'm asleep I want to sleep forever, all that kind of thing.

Then I remembered that I hadn't seen the dress Rebecca made for RenFest, and I asked her to show it to me... we went downstairs and she showed it to me, and we started talking ( about our used-to-be friendship )

And that isn't all that happened that night, an earthshaking change happened between Ben and I that resulted in wild sex, but good grief this entry is long enough already. I'll post about it later.

P.S. I'm pouting at you who didn't look at my earrings and fill out my poll. (but I'm very happy with all who did or will as soon as they get a chance!)

If you're wondering why I haven't commented on your fascinating posts, it's because I've been lazy and antisocial lately... also nervous about LJ in general. I will catch up though.

I hate the idea that someone can just waltz into my flat whenever the hell they want. That's basically what it says in the lease "during reasonable hours" which for me are unreasonable because I am in the habit of going to sleep at about 7am (when Ben goes to work) and waking up between 2pm and 4pm. And I sleep naked. And when I'm not asleep I'm usually naked (or in only bra & thong) unless I'm planning to go out. I hate clothes (unless it's cold). It makes me feel unsafe and spied-upon for the property manager to have a copy of the key to my flat. Ah, well, it's the downside to having a pleasant, cheap space to live in.

I worry that I'm just wasting time. My counselor is very busy for the next two months, which means I only have two appointments for the next month and a half. Maybe that's all I can handle, I don't know. I just want to dive in and get it all over with! I need to contact her and ask her what I can do so that the in-between time isn't wasted.

And I am desperately lonely.

But on a happy note! I have been so in love with Ben lately, so uninhibited in comparison to before! This taking-authority thing is amazing. Ben is amazing. Sex is amazing. That part of my life has been slowly and steadily improving, in such a sweet and steamy way. I hate condoms though, we need to get me on the patch again. (I take that back-- condoms can be fun, but not for sex 'cause I'm allergic to latex) Which reminds me -- my period was almost two weeks late, and when it finally arrived I was so delighted I shouted "Hallelujah!" Pregnancy would mean postponing counseling, and I do not want that.

so, I've been lousy at comments lately, sorry. I'll try to go back and respond some tomorrow...

Friday was my last day at work, but I don't feel like I've actually quit yet... Yvonne asked why I was quitting, and I explained, and she told me that she was also abused as a child... (this is everywhere, a widespread devestating disease that no one ever talks about. WHY?) She was very kind, she stayed and talked to me for a while until I got a steady flow of customers again. She also has been totally healed, she was able to sit through a thanksgiving dinner with her abuser (a relative) without fear or anxiety or anger... I have even more hope now that I know two people have been totally healed.

I had counseling Saturday, it was very very stressful. I don't feel like it was progress, but at the same time I do -- I was more open than before, I almost felt trusting enough to tell her about my modeling and my journal -- I feel sure she would approve, but that 5% doubt is enough to make me want to keep it from her. She's no 'religious' person, just someone who loves and follows God, but everybody has their hangups and her opinion matters a lot to me, to use drastic understatement, so I'm afraid to tell her. I feel like God thinks that both my modeling and my journal are fascinating and wonderful, but again, I have slight doubt, and I'm afraid to ask him, afraid to ask anyone who represents his voice in my life.

I think my heart is slowly pulling away from Paula and Spencer. ( ... )

And of course, we talked about forgiving my dad. She told me that a wound that deep is too much for us to forgive on our own, that I have to let God do it through me, with me... it's too much for me to understand, right now. She said it is simple, just that simple, a one-time decision, but hard to do. I want to forgive him, just so I can be free from all the pain my unforgiveness is causing me, but at the same time I don't want to forgive him, because in many ways he thinks he's just fine and I don't want to support that belief in any way... I'm very bitter when it comes to him, I've faced that and it's true. I don't like being bitter and untrusting when it comes to authority figures. But she forgave her perpetrator, and I'm 99.99% sure that my dad never touched me in any impure way (he was always very careful and cautious about NOT doing so), so don't I have it easy in comparison? I'm not even forgiving my abusers yet, whoever they are. Why is it SO HARD to forgive him? I think partly because I don't feel like my pain has been validated, I feel like I can't forgive something if I'm not even sure if it's wrong or not, and of course my parents would tell me that I'm overreacting and that I'm imagining things. But I want to get it over with. Yet I want someone to say, "that's terrible, I understand why you are so hurt, that was wrong." There are so many many things... mostly just how he treated me like less than a human. And told me repeatedly that my feelings and thoughts didn't matter, "I don't care how you feel" -- that exact phrase, many times. And now he wonders why I don't want to talk to him.

"Where do I take this pain of mine
I run, but it stays right by my side
So tear me open, pour me out
There's things inside that scream and shout

So tear me open, but beware
The there's things inside without a care
And the dirt still stains me
So wash me, 'till I'm clean...."

When I said that my day (saturday) was life-changing, I meant it, I wasn't being flippant. Okay, long day, lots of spirit changes -- first at counseling, then bellydancing, then church.

At counseling, Patricia and I started by picking apart the dream that I had after the last session, about three different houses, the open, breezy, beautiful one where I was naked and open and utterly content in my hispanic family; the house I lived in with my parents where ALL the memories pretend to be, even if they happened at a different time; and the skeleton of a house with an evil foundation. ( ... ) She explained that not all the parts of me want what I want. Some parts hate the fact that I didn't die (and still want to die), some parts hate God, some parts refuse to enjoy life, etc. And she said that God has given me authority over all parts of me, and I need to take authority and use it. So she gave me a thing to say, not a prayer or a mantra but similar, where I take authority over all parts of me and command the parts that don't know God to be silent and not interfere in my life. It's not a permanent solution, just something to keep me from warring against myself until I am one person. I said it, you know, but I didn't expect much of a result.

We also talked about my wish for parents ( ... )

Then I went to bellydancing, and oh-my-gosh. There was such a huge difference in my body's ability to connect with my spirit/mind. I mean, last time was horrible, I could see and comprehend but could not do. And part of it was this time I gave myself permission to fail, permission to not do it perfectly the first time -- but the huge difference was because of taking authority over myself. There was part of me that interfered with everything I did, and that part was forced to be quiet and stop blocking my dance. This time I danced in the in-between times, totally not caring if I was doing it wrong or if the other girls were looking. My body, my spirit, was so much more free, so much more alive.

And after that I went to church, and PJ gave an awesome sermon -- my favorite part was when he validated my feelings and current goal in life -- transparency. He said, point-blank, that transparency is something we should all strive for. That privacy is not something we should strive to protect. I was so excited, I clapped and cheered (no, I ain't kidding -- in my church nobody turns and looks at you funny if you do stuff like that). I think I was the only one thrilled with that declaration, though. Even the other "high I's" (extroverted hyper personality type) just kinda took it in -- but then I wasn't really paying attention to everyone else, so maybe some others were excited too. I'm so sick of the religious mindset that we're all supposed to hide most of ourselves and only share the 10% that we think others will consider 'worthy.' I'm delighted with PJ for saying otherwise.

I am strong, I am beautiful, I am true.

There's a room in my soul that's filled with pain. I've kept it locked up because pain makes me weak, and I can't bear to be weak. When pain happens to me now I deal with it rather than shoving it into the room, but there are years and many horrible experiences in that room, many that I never even processed enough to realize that they exist.

I've always been the strong one. ( ... ) I've never allowed myself to rely on anyone else, not really. Relying on someone means that if they don't come through, something is amiss -- I rely on people, but keep enough distance that if they don't come through, I say to myself, 'oh well, you knew better than to trust them, let's build an invisible wall.' Because I am so much more open than most people that I can build walls that they can't see -- I feel distance, but they don't. And then I either slowly paint the wall so that they're blocked out, or I tear it down again.

I'm at a crossroads now. I can either continue to yank the door open, snatch out a bit of pain, slam the door shut and work out that one bit... or I can open the door and not shut it and be overwhelmed and drowned and crushed by the pain, until I've felt it all and there is nothing left to fear. I can either spend the rest of my life trying to do it gradually while it slowly kills me, or I can be weak, let my guard down, and be useless for a time. And I know I will be useless. I don't know how long, but I know it will break me down.

I sound matter-of-fact, but this is the most painful ambivalence I've ever experienced. I've gotten past fear of the pain itself -- now all that's holding me back is fear of being useless, broken, and unreliable for a time. Fear of trusting in God and Ben to take care of me. It seems so puny and silly a fear as I write it down. I want so badly to not have to be a responsible adult; I want to be the one that gets taken care of... I'm sick of being responsible for everything, but I'm deathly afraid of letting go.

I had counseling this morning, and it didn't seem like we went that deep. Mainly because she's not sure that I am committed to getting healed (because of all the pain that comes with opening that stuff) and she's not going to push me. Yet when I got home and relaxed, I suddenly felt like my heart was breaking, and I cried and cried and cried because I felt... used. And Ben comforted me, but that was hard for me to accept because he's a man, and I really can't trust men right now. So I had two battles going on -- the struggle between accepting or shoving down the pain, and the struggle between accepting Ben's love or pushing him away. I actually won both battles though, now that I think about it. But good grief, every touch scared me, and the only place that he could touch me without me freaking out was my back. And at the same time I wanted the comfort of sex, only a little bit though. Good grief, the pain felt like I was being... abused. Like it was happening. But there were no thoughts with it, just the feeling. I couldn't get in a safe position either, didn't feel safe on my back or my tummy. But Ben was so careful. And I'm proud of myself for not shoving him away. I know I need to trust him, even though it's hard, and I know he's trustworthy.

I used to be ashamed to cry. I'm still kinda ashamed to admit it here, in front of other people. I feel like it's weak, like I'm going to be judged as a wimp who can't handle life. But that is a LIE taught to me by people who didn't want to deal with the guilt and discomfort of me being unhappy; they wanted me to stifle my feelings so that they could feel like everything was fine. Crying is just as natural as laughter, dammit, and it is necessary for processing pain. I refuse to believe that it's weak; I choose to believe that it is a honest expression and worthy of as much honor as any other display of emotion. (of course, crying for reasons other than strong emotion is different)

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Ashley and Kevin (a maybe-to-be-catholic and a born-catholic) went to my (very non-denominational) church today ( ... )

While at church, I had Spencer and Paula pray for me about this counseling stuff, and they both prayed passionately, and I felt their love. It was healing for me, I rested in it and felt stronger. And I feel sure that Spencer (at least, probably Paula too, but she's very busy and kinda forgetful) will continue to pray for me, and that is encouraging. Oh, and one of those little things that delights me -- I hugged Paula when I saw her today, and she said, "Hey! I missed you last week!" and I knew that she was referring to when I tried to catch her attention but she was preoccupied -- Spencer saw though, and he must have told her.

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PS. WHERE THE HELL DID flyupward GO?
PPS. If you haven't, please fill out my would-you-listen-to-an-entire-mix-CD-of-my-favorite-bands poll and my necklace design poll. It'll only take you a few minutes and a couple of clicks and it would make me very happy.

I went to counseling with Patricia this morning, and we didn't get specific this time either; just addressed the issue as a whole (by the way, she's so wonderful. She actually did her homework and read my entire file, and she wants to read my life story). I got very angry and afraid, was so emotional that I was shivering.

She told me that God showed her that I had built a wall around myself, and I could no longer see out. When I thought I was looking at God, I was looking at my own reflection in the wall, and essentially I had become my own god. So since I didn't have any love for myself, I saw God as having no love for me. After she said that I realized that when I was counseling with John, I was bringing up all these woundings that I had no clue how to handle, so I built a wall around myself -- the same wall that I wore from 4th to 10th grade, which God and I tore down together 5.5 years ago. Now it's back, and stronger than before, but this time it's between me and God instead of me and people. And I have to go through the dismantling again. And I have to trust and believe to even begin. Yet her seeing that gave me hope -- because I had proof of a sort that it wasn't that God didn't love me, but that I was blocking out his love. And I felt the truth in it.

Far more frightening, I realized that I had become convinced that God wanted me to go through what I went through, because deep down I believe that he doesn't care how I feel, but merely how he can use me to get his work done (because duh, that's how my dad treated me -- he told me repeatedly that he didn't care how I felt, he just cared that I did what I was told). And I'm somewhat convinced that after I'm healed he's going to want me to sacrifice myself for the sake of others, because he doesn't consider my body important. Now with my MIND I know he's not like that, but my feelings are independent of my mind on this subject.

Patricia actually cares about me. She's so patient, and I'm so real with her. I don't try to withhold my feelings for fear of offending or irritating her, and she accepts me and continues to treat me with kind honor; she never skips over any statement I make, but treats everything I say as important. She never wavers in her belief that God loves me (and herself), and that helps me to come closer to believing. And she says the word 'shit' with nary a stammer nor blush. Now that is the kind of counselor I want to be when I'm healed!

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She's making me read this book that I don't like though. It's about a woman who was abused and healed -- and forgave her parents (dad abused her for 15 years, mom knew about it) BEFORE THEY REPENTED. What the fuckin fuckity fuck?

I'm totally a Jonah on this right now. (Jonah was a man whom God sent to tell a city to repent or He'd kill them, but Jonah didn't want them to repent and be saved. Jonah wanted them to get what they deserved for being such wicked horrid people, so he ran away. God had to shipwreck him and have a whale swallow him before he agreed to go -- and he spent two days in the whale's belly getting convinced. When Jonah finally went and told them, they all repented immediately, which REALLY pissed him off.) I don't want victimizers to be forgiven. I don't want anyone to show them love ever. I want them to live horrible miserable lives and die and be tormented forever and ever. But God doesn't want that. I think I'm in the whale's belly right now, just got swallowed. It's gonna be a looooooooong two (or more) days.

P.S. sorry about the no comments lately -- I'll get to it tomorrow hopefully.

Tonight was my first counseling session with Patricia, so we didn't dive too deep, though I think we touched on just about every pain in my life. I felt very stirred up inside... BUT.

Patricia told me that she was abused from very young until she was 17, and she used to get panic attacks when she knew that the perpertrator was in the same city... but two years ago she was able to go to a reunion where she sat next to him, so close that their knees touched, and she wasn't at all afraid or angry or upset. All she felt was a little sorry for him.

DO YOU KNOW WHAT THAT MEANS? It means that there IS healing for us. We victims CAN get there. It isn't unreachable (she reached it in four years, and her abuse was much worse than mine) and it is possible for me to become the person I was designed to be, that "real" me that I daydream about. I can have my sexuality redeemed and be the fucking nympho that my true self is, I can get past all fear, I can learn to trust God (which is actually the hardest part), and maybe, just maybe, forgive my parents for not protecting me like they were supposed to (I don't really mean maybe, but that's hard for me to believe). And I know beyond any doubt that if healing is possible, I will get it. Probably not as soon as I'd like, but you better believe I will get there!

Of course, I have to dig up every single memory and work through it for that to happen, so this isn't the most gleeful thing in the world... but I have been given hope again. We can be healed, and when I am, I will actually have hope to offer to others like me. That was the worst thing for me, to think that God could allow one human to completely destroy another, that he could resist stepping in -- but now I know it's not complete destruction, healing is possible. Oh, almost as much as I long to be healed for my own sake, I long to be healed so that I can offer hope to others!

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...and I had always secretly thought to myself, 'So he was crucified and beaten, but that's mere physical pain; how can he know what rape victims feel?' Tonight Patricia told me that Roman soldiers are historically reputed for sodomizing their prisoners... so he did know what it's like. And he did go through what I went through. I feel closer to him, somehow.

This time we pinpointed the event that split me into the cobra and the waif... oddly enough, it wasn't one of those sexual abuse events. What I can remember is being about four years old, and telling my dad "no" for the first time. I can't remember what it was, probably something like he told me to put my toys away, but he got so angry... His face turned red and he pinched his lips together and told me something like "You're not allowed to say no." The effect of this was that from then on, I believed that there was nothing I could count on, and if I didn't perform, I might get kicked out, with nothing to eat and nowhere to sleep... and in every relationship I've ever had, I am afraid that if I do something wrong, then they will cease to care about me.

John says that when I am able to forgive my dad for all the effects he's had on my life, then my cobra and waif will be able to join. But before I can forgive my dad I have to have healing from all those things. My assignment, during the next two weeks, is to write down all the things that I need to forgive my dad for. Dayum.

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Essentially, my childhood ended at age four. From then on, in my way of thinking, I earned every bite I ate and every moment I spent under my parents' roof; I've never felt any obligation to them at all. I felt like I had employers, not parents, and I just don't have "family" feelings like most people. The bonds were broken before I even went to kindergarten. It makes me feel weird to hear people talk about how they love their parents or siblings -- mine were just housemates. I don't understand feeling secure in a family relationship, I don't understand feeling fuzzy about one's siblings, I don't understand wanting to spend time with one's family.
And of course Ben has a family that is unlike any you've ever seen -- absolutely the most functional family in this generation. So he wants to spend time with them, and I just don't get it. One at a time I like them... but all at once they frustrate me, because the family concept frustrates me. Yet sometimes I enjoy them all together... And any flaw in their family screams at me, because in my family I was the one in charge of fixing the problems, and I can't get myself out of that role; and everybody else just doesn't see it or ignores it. That, above all, is why I don't like family situations -- I feel like I need to make the kids behave and make the parents respond correctly, and it's incredibly frustrating. Not just in Ben's family or mine, but in any place where I'm around a parent and child. Apart I enjoy their company -- together I want to yell at them or run away.

To just give a quick summary this time, I learned:

1. If I feel guilty and I don't know why, it's false guilt, and I'm to throw it out. The purpose of my conscience is to let me know that, at my level of maturity, a certain action is to be avoided. Its purpose is NOT to make me feel worthless and deserving of punishment. (that sodomizing memory was apparently inflicted as 'punishment' without any explanation of what I did, leading me to believe that if bad stuff happened to me, it was because I did something wrong. Not true, God said.)

2. If I have an image of God as anything other than loving, it isn't a true image and I can/should throw it out. The Bible says God is Love.

3. God is NEVER mad/angry/etc. at me; when he looks at me he sees perfection, he sees Jesus; and how can he be angry at or disappointed in Jesus? God reminded me of the caterpillar; although it cannot yet fly, by all scientific tests it is nonetheless a butterfly. That's me; though I am not yet all I will be, in every important way I am already my future wonderful self -- and that it what God sees.

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Also, my Cobra self accepted my scapegoat self, and when they blended, the formerly-white Cobra turned violet and emerald, still with the same shimmery sheen. That took a lot of convincing -- my Cobra self had to learn that it was okay to fail, and that I needed to own my failures in order to stop being afraid of failing. My little-girl self had to overcome her intense fear of the scapegoat to allow it to join.

I'm writing this from a week and a half after it happened, and I have been much stronger since the blending of my Cobra and scapegoat selves.

Theophostic again -- and an awesome thing happened. We went through ( a memory ) which planted in me the lie that what was sacred to me was silly to others, and asked Jesus what he wanted to say to me about that. He (Jesus) said that what people don't understand seems silly to them, but that whatever is sacred to me is sacred to him. He added that I am sacred to him. ( ... )

Here's the awesome part: I asked Jesus to wash me -- and I saw living water curl around my naked spirit-self, starting at my feet and swirling around my legs, around my belly, and finally flowing off my arms, and I felt cleansed. Then Jesus stood in front of me and reached out his right hand, palm toward me, and placed it over my heart. When he pulled his hand back, there was a beautiful, glowing silver brand on my chest. I couldn't see it very clearly -- it shimmered a bit -- but it was ovalish, with a delicate design -- so glimmeringly fascinating. When I die I'll be sure to look at it more closely. ;-) Then he pulled me into his lap and held me.

I'm not sure if I've mentioned it before, but when we pray through these things the sting is gone from the memory -- the first time I open the memory it brings up all those feelings, but after we pray through it I think over the memory and its power to make me feel violated is gone. If it isn't gone after the first prayer, we pray over the part that still bothers me until it's gone. I can flip through these memories and not feel any yuckiness: but until we go through ALL of them I'll still feel that tinge of dread at opening my mind.

More good news: there is a new part of my mind that I think is the beginning of a healed me, 'cause she looks like me. Today she told the beautiful cobra that she needed to stop hiding my memories and let me go through them, and the cobra agreed; so today was much less inner fighting and more actual healing. I've been dreading theophostic 'cause it has been such hard work to pry the memories out, but it will be much easier now. The cobra was very impressed with how Jesus handled the first memory, and very impressed with how much better the four-year-old looked; she actually smiled today.


The second memory was much harder; it was about my friend Karen. ( two-fold ) I've always been very connected with the spirits of those I love, so I felt much of her feelings as my own. We had opened this memory last time but not had enough time to go through it totally, so we went back into it today, and I think there must be a closely related memory still to go through, 'cause I'm not through being bothered by that one.

The most potent thing about that memory was my helplessness. I didn't know what to do (I was only seven) and my whole being cried out, "Do something!" but I was trapped by my youth and belief that older people were always right. So when we asked Jesus to talk to me about it, he stressed again that age/authority is not always right, and that truth is more important than authority. I asked how I could live that way, and he said for me to question everything I do with why, and if it is for authority other than him (or him speaking through others in a way I see as truth), not to do it. He also told me that he may have let me experience terrible things, but he never left me or looked away; he always had his hand over my heart. After he said that I felt a shield over me; when Karen's brother laid on top of me, I couldn't feel it, and I no longer felt helpless; instead I felt protected.

I also was terribly angry -- oh, I would have delightedly slaughtered Karen's brother had I had the chance. Last time John had asked if I would give my anger to Jesus and I said, "No." Today he asked again, and since Jesus had just built my trust I said yes, figuring that he's more powerful and can do more damage to Karen's brother than I could. Some of the anger began to slip, and I protested to God, "but it isn't fair that he should get away with it!" and he said quietly that no one ever gets away with it -- that doing such things destroys the soul more surely than AIDS destroys the body. Thinking on how merely being the victim can eat at a soul, my anger eased greatly; he may try to drown it in porn or drugs or whatever, but he'll experience a lot more hell than I ever will. After Jesus said that, I went through the memory again, and instead of seeing Karen's brother as a fearsome aggressor, I saw him as he really was -- a skulking, miserable creature, full of fear himself. I didn't feel pity, mind you, but I didn't feel hate either.

Lastly, I had to give up carrying Karen's burden. I can pray for her, but holding her wounds in my heart will do no good and cause me pain. That was difficult, but I'll start praying for her. I think she was actually my favorite friend, but as I grew up my mind hid so many memories of her that she has been a haze in my mind. She is a beautiful person -- I wonder if I will see her again.