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Family of Origin
Family of Origin (FOO) Support Thread Part 2
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<blockquote data-quote="Scent of Cedar *" data-source="post: 664352" data-attributes="member: 17461"><p>YES.</p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>I did, Copa.</p><p></p><p>Thank you.</p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>My mother was fat then, Copa.</p><p></p><p>She was sick, in her seventies, and lost an amazing amount of weight.</p><p></p><p>I was happy for her that this was so.</p><p></p><p>But when we were little, when the physical abuse was occurring, she was a heavy, healthy woman in the prime of her life.</p><p></p><p>Very strong.</p><p></p><p>Big teeth.</p><p></p><p>Our family had been to a drive in movie together. So it was a middle of the night thing for my brother. He must have done that in his sleep. Probably, he had to use the bathroom but no one brought him?</p><p></p><p>I don't know.</p><p></p><p>But that is the first thing that happened, when we got home. Hearing the beating in the bathroom; seeing him, seeing his eyes, when she dragged and pushed him out, making him face us with what she'd done to his face.</p><p></p><p>Strangely, there is hatred now, where there was shame, before.</p><p></p><p>But maybe it isn't hatred, Copa and Serenity. Maybe this is good, cleansing rage at the act of a despicable woman against her own son.</p><p></p><p>My brother is a handsome man. You would not believe it, if you could see him. I am tiny, fine boned. He is tall. Over six feet. </p><p></p><p>A beautiful man.</p><p></p><p>What in the world was she thinking. Anyone of us can be taken in a fit of rage and say or do things we did not mean and would change if we could. My mother did such things routinely. Or maybe, sporadically, and I remember them as having been routine.</p><p></p><p>It would make sense that I would remember the trauma.</p><p></p><p>I will never forget his eyes meeting mine.</p><p></p><p>Really, I hate her in that moment.</p><p></p><p>I forgot where I was going with this.</p><p></p><p>But you know what? I know where I am. "I will help you one day soon." I whisper that to him, now. To that little boy that he was.</p><p></p><p>F you, mom.</p><p></p><p>An internal change of perspective has been accomplished, here.</p><p></p><p>Thank you, Serenity and Copa.</p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>Oh Copa, you are right. <em>"...even to conceive of them."</em></p><p></p><p>I was only a child, too. I see the trauma now through adult eyes, through eyes that can and do conceive of some way to have changed this for all of us. I could not know the faintest breath of such things then, in the time it was happening.</p><p></p><p>Oh, just a small, small sliver of what is undeniable; of what is true, Copa. I can not only forgive, but bless myself, there.</p><p></p><p>There must be purpose. What more there is to come, is unknown. This was a pivotal trauma, relived almost continually, throughout my life. Those eyes; like a flash of something to great to incorporate.</p><p></p><p>You both would really love my brother. He is such a nice man.</p><p></p><p>I love him.</p><p></p><p>I would have protected him if I could have. What a marvelous, wondrous thing to understand about me.</p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>It won't even be a question, Copa. That is the difference between those who are present to their lives and those who, like us, have been broken to service the whacked out grandiosity of an abusive adult. Who should never, never have been allowed access to us, or to any child.</p><p></p><p>We survived that, you guys.</p><p></p><p>We are stronger, more courageous, than warrior soldiers who confront worse things, this is true...but who do it as adult males, with the strength and the certain courage of adult males, who knew they were going home. </p><p></p><p>We were home.</p><p></p><p>And I just have to say here, that stupid therapist of yours.... (Okay, <em>and mine; and my first therapist too and of course this is true and I don't know why I want to protect him or what I am protecting him from.)</em></p><p></p><p>They knew where we'd been. They knew we were walking wounded, tortured and broken and twisted and hurt by adults the therapists would not have prevailed against, had they come face to face with them, on an equal footing, in real life.</p><p></p><p>Oh. I forgot where I was going with this, again.</p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>Copa, you are so hilarious.</p><p></p><p>I love this.</p><p></p><p>D H said to me last night, as we were discussing my progress (which is a noticeable thing, now), that his sorrow for me, and for all of us, is that we had so much of our brain power and thought and lifetimes used up responding or reacting to or condemning ourselves over, the actions of terrible people. Women or men who, if the truth be known, we would not have had coffee with, as adults. That such people somehow had us in their power, D H said, shaking his head: "What a waste. There is no telling who you might have been Barbie, what you might have done. I wish it have been different, for you."</p><p></p><p>(D H is quite curious to know, every day, whether you are out of bed yet. He roars about those ashes in your closet. It has actually opened discussion as to what he wants done with his. (Or, will do, with mine.) "Get rid of them." he says. "Set me, and yourself, free. What we will have had is set in stone. Let go."</p><p></p><p>This is Maya; she recited this poetry this morning on Oprah Super Soul. She is still on. I recommend for all of us, learning about Maya.</p><p></p><p>[MEDIA=youtube]VeFfhH83_RE[/MEDIA]</p><p></p><p>Cedar</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Scent of Cedar *, post: 664352, member: 17461"] YES. I did, Copa. Thank you. My mother was fat then, Copa. She was sick, in her seventies, and lost an amazing amount of weight. I was happy for her that this was so. But when we were little, when the physical abuse was occurring, she was a heavy, healthy woman in the prime of her life. Very strong. Big teeth. Our family had been to a drive in movie together. So it was a middle of the night thing for my brother. He must have done that in his sleep. Probably, he had to use the bathroom but no one brought him? I don't know. But that is the first thing that happened, when we got home. Hearing the beating in the bathroom; seeing him, seeing his eyes, when she dragged and pushed him out, making him face us with what she'd done to his face. Strangely, there is hatred now, where there was shame, before. But maybe it isn't hatred, Copa and Serenity. Maybe this is good, cleansing rage at the act of a despicable woman against her own son. My brother is a handsome man. You would not believe it, if you could see him. I am tiny, fine boned. He is tall. Over six feet. A beautiful man. What in the world was she thinking. Anyone of us can be taken in a fit of rage and say or do things we did not mean and would change if we could. My mother did such things routinely. Or maybe, sporadically, and I remember them as having been routine. It would make sense that I would remember the trauma. I will never forget his eyes meeting mine. Really, I hate her in that moment. I forgot where I was going with this. But you know what? I know where I am. "I will help you one day soon." I whisper that to him, now. To that little boy that he was. F you, mom. An internal change of perspective has been accomplished, here. Thank you, Serenity and Copa. Oh Copa, you are right. [I]"...even to conceive of them."[/I] I was only a child, too. I see the trauma now through adult eyes, through eyes that can and do conceive of some way to have changed this for all of us. I could not know the faintest breath of such things then, in the time it was happening. Oh, just a small, small sliver of what is undeniable; of what is true, Copa. I can not only forgive, but bless myself, there. There must be purpose. What more there is to come, is unknown. This was a pivotal trauma, relived almost continually, throughout my life. Those eyes; like a flash of something to great to incorporate. You both would really love my brother. He is such a nice man. I love him. I would have protected him if I could have. What a marvelous, wondrous thing to understand about me. It won't even be a question, Copa. That is the difference between those who are present to their lives and those who, like us, have been broken to service the whacked out grandiosity of an abusive adult. Who should never, never have been allowed access to us, or to any child. We survived that, you guys. We are stronger, more courageous, than warrior soldiers who confront worse things, this is true...but who do it as adult males, with the strength and the certain courage of adult males, who knew they were going home. We were home. And I just have to say here, that stupid therapist of yours.... (Okay, [I]and mine; and my first therapist too and of course this is true and I don't know why I want to protect him or what I am protecting him from.)[/I] They knew where we'd been. They knew we were walking wounded, tortured and broken and twisted and hurt by adults the therapists would not have prevailed against, had they come face to face with them, on an equal footing, in real life. Oh. I forgot where I was going with this, again. Copa, you are so hilarious. I love this. D H said to me last night, as we were discussing my progress (which is a noticeable thing, now), that his sorrow for me, and for all of us, is that we had so much of our brain power and thought and lifetimes used up responding or reacting to or condemning ourselves over, the actions of terrible people. Women or men who, if the truth be known, we would not have had coffee with, as adults. That such people somehow had us in their power, D H said, shaking his head: "What a waste. There is no telling who you might have been Barbie, what you might have done. I wish it have been different, for you." (D H is quite curious to know, every day, whether you are out of bed yet. He roars about those ashes in your closet. It has actually opened discussion as to what he wants done with his. (Or, will do, with mine.) "Get rid of them." he says. "Set me, and yourself, free. What we will have had is set in stone. Let go." This is Maya; she recited this poetry this morning on Oprah Super Soul. She is still on. I recommend for all of us, learning about Maya. [MEDIA=youtube]VeFfhH83_RE[/MEDIA] Cedar [/QUOTE]
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