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Family of Origin
I miss my sister...for the first time in say 55 years.
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<blockquote data-quote="Scent of Cedar *" data-source="post: 654864" data-attributes="member: 17461"><p>Here is the beginning of a story, Copa. I have posted it here before, but you were not with us, then. Now, you are here with us.</p><p></p><p>I am glad you found us.</p><p></p><p>Here is the story:</p><p></p><p>Once upon a time in a faraway land where time and distance had lost all meaning, there was born to the peasantry a generation of female children whose task and whose talent it would be to unravel the tangled skeins of deceit, viciousness, and trickery that bound the hearts, the souls, and the bloodlines of those families into which each would be born.</p><p></p><p>The story goes on to describe how each of the souls who would elect to accept the challenge of the cursed genetic lines was chosen. Some of the little girls don't make it. They are caught in the curse of the line. Those who do break the curse and change the fate of the genetic line do so through exploring, and listening to, their own senses of shame.</p><p></p><p>That is where the secrets are.</p><p></p><p>Shame is a signpost.</p><p></p><p>Can you hear a story beneath the vulnerability, Copa?</p><p></p><p>Can you hear those stories and can you really hear me when I tell you <em>we are here on purpose</em>?</p><p></p><p>For whatever reason, my family of origin is dysfunctional. I am living proof of it. I buried all those things so deeply and created my life. Everyone always concentrates on the bad things that happen as the result of abuse. And there are so many hurtful things, I agree. <em>But to have survived a toxic upbringing creates a certain kind of strength and compassion and empathy and even, protectiveness. Choosing to free ourselves from the toxicity makes of us a kind of beacon. I did it. I know you can do it, too.</em></p><p></p><p><em>I am certain this is so.</em></p><p></p><p>You have the strength to do this or you would not be doing it. Anxiety is a part of it because all secrets are sealed in shame. Sealed. Threats, overt or covert, were made or assumed or presumed. It is oh, so easy to victimize those who have already been broken because they have been groomed, by whoever abused them as children, to service abusers ~ any abuser ~ in that same way.</p><p></p><p>That is what our abusers did to us, Copa.</p><p></p><p>Groomed us for a life of that kind of service.</p><p></p><p>When we were little, we understood we would die without the adult's care. So, we had to believe the beatings and etc made sense. It was our determined and courageous way of believing we had some control over our lives or whether we would be dead. <em>If we could just know what was the matter with us, we would correct it and our abusers would love us, not hate and revile us.</em></p><p></p><p><em>And we would live.</em></p><p></p><p>How sad for us that this is so, Copa. </p><p></p><p>We think everyone who abuses us knows that same secret, unknowable truth our abuser hated and hurt us for.<em> We allow ourselves to be judged and condemned and found wanting in a futile effort to learn what is wrong with us, to see it, finally and once and for all, for ourselves.</em></p><p></p><p>That takes more courage than most people understand exists.</p><p></p><p>But here is the truth: abusers abuse because they abuse. There is no secret. Abusers abuse everyone they meet as soon as they see an opportunity. <em>Not everyone was broken when they were little girls or little boys. Those whose pasts do not include the horrors of having been a vulnerable child targeted by an out of control adult recognize the potentially abusive person for what he or she is: a jerk, a pointless and clueless and mindlessly stupid bully pushing a way crummy agenda.</em></p><p></p><p>They say: I see you. I see who you are. Buzz off, you freaking bully.</p><p></p><p>We say: Hello, mom.</p><p></p><p>Often, we marry our abusers. If we are fortunate, if we have courage, old issues are exposed and addressed and healed. If we are not fortunate, or if we refuse to see, then we replay the same scenarios over and over again until we stand up.</p><p></p><p>That is what The Wizard of Oz is all about.</p><p></p><p>Standing up.</p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>They will. Relish those times for the opportunities they are. People hurt one another all the time. Those of us who have been abused believe it is something personal. Just as it was the first time we were targeted and hurt...there is nothing personal about it. If we had not been there to be abused, our abusers would have abused the next person who came along.</p><p></p><p>That is the core thing we do not understand.</p><p></p><p>And then, one day, we do.</p><p></p><p>The next betrayal occurs...only all at once, we see it for just what it is.</p><p></p><p>A game. </p><p></p><p>A bully who misjudged his or her mark.</p><p></p><p>And we are free.</p><p></p><p>And it keeps happening because in real life, people are tested by sociopathic types all the time. They are out there, loose in the world. <em>We are only vulnerable until we see them.</em></p><p></p><p>Peek a boo.</p><p></p><p>The shame is on them.</p><p></p><p>The coward was always them.</p><p></p><p>They are very good at naming us. They are so good at that that we believe their lies over the truths in our hearts. Then, one day, we don't believe them at all, anymore.</p><p></p><p>It happens just like that.</p><p></p><p>Peek a boo.</p><p></p><p>I don't get the win in what they do. But I see them, now.</p><p></p><p>And I suppose they don't like that very much.</p><p></p><p>I suppose they don't like me very much.</p><p></p><p>But I do.</p><p></p><p>And here I am.</p><p></p><p>Standing.</p><p></p><p>Cedar</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Scent of Cedar *, post: 654864, member: 17461"] Here is the beginning of a story, Copa. I have posted it here before, but you were not with us, then. Now, you are here with us. I am glad you found us. Here is the story: Once upon a time in a faraway land where time and distance had lost all meaning, there was born to the peasantry a generation of female children whose task and whose talent it would be to unravel the tangled skeins of deceit, viciousness, and trickery that bound the hearts, the souls, and the bloodlines of those families into which each would be born. The story goes on to describe how each of the souls who would elect to accept the challenge of the cursed genetic lines was chosen. Some of the little girls don't make it. They are caught in the curse of the line. Those who do break the curse and change the fate of the genetic line do so through exploring, and listening to, their own senses of shame. That is where the secrets are. Shame is a signpost. Can you hear a story beneath the vulnerability, Copa? Can you hear those stories and can you really hear me when I tell you [I]we are here on purpose[/I]? For whatever reason, my family of origin is dysfunctional. I am living proof of it. I buried all those things so deeply and created my life. Everyone always concentrates on the bad things that happen as the result of abuse. And there are so many hurtful things, I agree. [I]But to have survived a toxic upbringing creates a certain kind of strength and compassion and empathy and even, protectiveness. Choosing to free ourselves from the toxicity makes of us a kind of beacon. I did it. I know you can do it, too.[/I] [I]I am certain this is so.[/I] You have the strength to do this or you would not be doing it. Anxiety is a part of it because all secrets are sealed in shame. Sealed. Threats, overt or covert, were made or assumed or presumed. It is oh, so easy to victimize those who have already been broken because they have been groomed, by whoever abused them as children, to service abusers ~ any abuser ~ in that same way. That is what our abusers did to us, Copa. Groomed us for a life of that kind of service. When we were little, we understood we would die without the adult's care. So, we had to believe the beatings and etc made sense. It was our determined and courageous way of believing we had some control over our lives or whether we would be dead. [I]If we could just know what was the matter with us, we would correct it and our abusers would love us, not hate and revile us.[/I] [I]And we would live.[/I] How sad for us that this is so, Copa. We think everyone who abuses us knows that same secret, unknowable truth our abuser hated and hurt us for.[I] We allow ourselves to be judged and condemned and found wanting in a futile effort to learn what is wrong with us, to see it, finally and once and for all, for ourselves.[/I] That takes more courage than most people understand exists. But here is the truth: abusers abuse because they abuse. There is no secret. Abusers abuse everyone they meet as soon as they see an opportunity. [I]Not everyone was broken when they were little girls or little boys. Those whose pasts do not include the horrors of having been a vulnerable child targeted by an out of control adult recognize the potentially abusive person for what he or she is: a jerk, a pointless and clueless and mindlessly stupid bully pushing a way crummy agenda.[/I] They say: I see you. I see who you are. Buzz off, you freaking bully. We say: Hello, mom. Often, we marry our abusers. If we are fortunate, if we have courage, old issues are exposed and addressed and healed. If we are not fortunate, or if we refuse to see, then we replay the same scenarios over and over again until we stand up. That is what The Wizard of Oz is all about. Standing up. They will. Relish those times for the opportunities they are. People hurt one another all the time. Those of us who have been abused believe it is something personal. Just as it was the first time we were targeted and hurt...there is nothing personal about it. If we had not been there to be abused, our abusers would have abused the next person who came along. That is the core thing we do not understand. And then, one day, we do. The next betrayal occurs...only all at once, we see it for just what it is. A game. A bully who misjudged his or her mark. And we are free. And it keeps happening because in real life, people are tested by sociopathic types all the time. They are out there, loose in the world. [I]We are only vulnerable until we see them.[/I] Peek a boo. The shame is on them. The coward was always them. They are very good at naming us. They are so good at that that we believe their lies over the truths in our hearts. Then, one day, we don't believe them at all, anymore. It happens just like that. Peek a boo. I don't get the win in what they do. But I see them, now. And I suppose they don't like that very much. I suppose they don't like me very much. But I do. And here I am. Standing. Cedar [/QUOTE]
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I miss my sister...for the first time in say 55 years.
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