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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: 654931" data-attributes="member: 17461"><p>Each of us is different, Copa. For me, I needed to go back to the incidents I could remember <em>and cherish that little girl that I was as she was being hated and beaten and marked in that way by someone very big and powerful and scary.</em></p><p></p><p>I am still scared, when I really get present to some of what happened to me.</p><p></p><p>That is how scared I was, Copa. I need to protect that little girl I was taught to hate. In my imagination, I stand present during the assault, assuring her we do live, assuring her that I am her, that I will be there for her. Assuring her that I value her ~ that I know what happened, every bit of it, and that I am so happy she survived.</p><p></p><p>When we are little and our abusers are having at us Copa, <em>we have no way of knowing we will live through it.</em></p><p></p><p>That is how many times we have met our own mortality face to face.</p><p></p><p>That is why we have and are so easily subject to PTSD, now.</p><p></p><p>Facing our own mortality sucks. Someone our own size could smack on us, call us names, hate us all day long and it would not have the effect of even one episode of victimization by a mentally ill adult.</p><p></p><p>I am sorry, Copa. That little girl? That was you, honey. And it was me.</p><p></p><p>And it's still going on somewhere today, right this minute, to some other little girl or some other little boy. (My mother actually hurt my brothers worse than she did either my sister or myself. Some of my most traumatic memories are standing there being able to do nothing. That is where I labeled myself coward. Now, I understand that simply witnessing, simply bearing witness, did sometimes stop the beatings.</p><p></p><p>I think I might also be beginning to understand that the reason I labeled myself coward may have been because I did not attack the abuser and make her dead.</p><p></p><p>That could be.</p><p></p><p>What a terrible thing for a little girl to know.</p><p></p><p>Bloodlust.</p><p></p><p>Matricide.</p><p></p><p>Ahem.</p><p></p><p>Okay, so now you guys know who I really am, deep inside where it matters.</p><p></p><p>And so do I.</p><p></p><p>But you know what? There was no one to help us. And if I had attacked her, I would be proud, because I would at least know that I tried.</p><p></p><p>Cedar</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Scent of Cedar *, post: 654931, member: 17461"] Each of us is different, Copa. For me, I needed to go back to the incidents I could remember [I]and cherish that little girl that I was as she was being hated and beaten and marked in that way by someone very big and powerful and scary.[/I] I am still scared, when I really get present to some of what happened to me. That is how scared I was, Copa. I need to protect that little girl I was taught to hate. In my imagination, I stand present during the assault, assuring her we do live, assuring her that I am her, that I will be there for her. Assuring her that I value her ~ that I know what happened, every bit of it, and that I am so happy she survived. When we are little and our abusers are having at us Copa, [I]we have no way of knowing we will live through it.[/I] That is how many times we have met our own mortality face to face. That is why we have and are so easily subject to PTSD, now. Facing our own mortality sucks. Someone our own size could smack on us, call us names, hate us all day long and it would not have the effect of even one episode of victimization by a mentally ill adult. I am sorry, Copa. That little girl? That was you, honey. And it was me. And it's still going on somewhere today, right this minute, to some other little girl or some other little boy. (My mother actually hurt my brothers worse than she did either my sister or myself. Some of my most traumatic memories are standing there being able to do nothing. That is where I labeled myself coward. Now, I understand that simply witnessing, simply bearing witness, did sometimes stop the beatings. I think I might also be beginning to understand that the reason I labeled myself coward may have been because I did not attack the abuser and make her dead. That could be. What a terrible thing for a little girl to know. Bloodlust. Matricide. Ahem. Okay, so now you guys know who I really am, deep inside where it matters. And so do I. But you know what? There was no one to help us. And if I had attacked her, I would be proud, because I would at least know that I tried. Cedar [/QUOTE]
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I miss my sister...for the first time in say 55 years.
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