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Relationship Patterns / Dysfunctional FOO Issues
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<blockquote data-quote="Scent of Cedar *" data-source="post: 671004" data-attributes="member: 17461"><p>It's more like the story of the child forced to live in the dungeon in the center of the town. She is the sacrifice. She is the reason the others can be happy, the reason there is no crime, the reason the others walk in the sunshine. The shame and the ugliness of the sacrifice, and of the need of it ~ this is blamed on the child in the dungeon, too. The sacrificial victim, the Sin Eater. These are archetypes, Copa. The sacrificial victim is blessed to be the victim, goes willingly ~ even proudly ~ to the slaughter; to martyrdom. A very hard thing then, to choose life; to value life not to die for the others, but to live for the self.</p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>You will be stronger then, Copa.</p><p></p><p>Here again, part of a sequence that happened for Serenity and then, me. </p><p></p><p>And now, soon, for you.</p><p></p><p>You know the way a butterfly comes from the cocoon with her wings folded and wet, Copa? That is what is happening to us, now. Wings opening, the feel of the mosaic, coming together. Everything falling into place or opening into some beautifully whole thing because it is time.</p><p></p><p>There is nothing we have to do; nothing we can do.</p><p></p><p>Only integrity, and that you are doing.</p><p></p><p>Me, too.</p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>Copa, what would it be to see, not only the Sister, but everything, through your own eyes, and never through those of the abuser, again?</p><p></p><p>Her life is her life, Copa. </p><p></p><p>She cheats.</p><p></p><p>You cannot help her with that choice that she made because it was easier, then, or forgive her for choosing ~ really, Copa, for insisting ~ that this ugliness, required to survive childhoods which were so difficult <em>have validity in the Now.</em> Sister is an adult, Copa. She has not the bravery to step forward in honesty, or to acknowledge what you did for her in gratitude, and to thank you; Sister has not the courage of the whore in the sun maybe, Copa ~ naked and vulnerable and beautiful and whole.</p><p></p><p>You do.</p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>You are Germany, Argentina, Borges and Tango. You will incorporate the sister, Copa. She is magical now because of the roles. Because you are the little girl in the dungeon, raised to believe it is right for Sister to walk in the sunshine at the cost of the sacrifice of your life.</p><p></p><p>And to believe Sister has the right to despise and revile you as the dungeon dwelling, sacrificial creature you believe yourself, at her insistence, to be.</p><p></p><p>You never had to ask her permission, Copa.</p><p></p><p>Only your own.</p><p></p><p>This is the beginning.</p><p></p><p>:O)</p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p><img src="/community/styles/default/xenforo/smilies/emoticons/starplucker.gif" class="smilie" loading="lazy" alt=":starplucker:" title="starplucker :starplucker:" data-shortname=":starplucker:" /></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>I don't know, Copa. I am still in that part where things are unfolding in new ways. I am disgusted, but not shocked into disgust, anymore. I feel hurt, for myself. I feel gratitude, for my strength; for the right things I did and believed and refused to not believe. I am proud beyond the capacity for speech at the rightness of believing in that family dinner. It's not even proud, it's a feeling of rightness, whatever the outcome. There was a time when I was so surprised at what I ~ at how differently I was interpreting everything having to do with my family of origin. I had posted about it here saying that I liked myself, or that I found myself entertaining or complex or actually a fascinating, newly formed creature. This has continued, this feeling, this unfolding feeling.</p><p></p><p>We have lived such marginal lives, Copa.</p><p></p><p>Now, we find the center.</p><p></p><p>I am very sure that once we are healed, there will be room in the center for the sisters, for the sibs, for everyone. </p><p></p><p>I am not there, yet.</p><p></p><p>This will be an internal change; we may not see the sibs again and surely, will not see them in the same ways, again. I don't...my sister is not that little girl whose eyes filled with tears and whom I could not protect and who I saw hurt. She is like, sixty years old. I offered my heart, offered a truce, offered a chance, an opening, a place to make something real.</p><p></p><p>I did the right thing.</p><p></p><p>My self talk is less about her and more, about me.</p><p></p><p>Have I behaved with integrity, or is there something more I need to do.</p><p></p><p>The change involves reclaiming internal locus of control.</p><p></p><p>Nothing to do with the sibs.</p><p></p><p>Everything to do with us.</p><p></p><p>With integrity, somehow.</p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>I think as little girls they did not have a choice, Copa. But beginning with adolescence, they did. Coming into their adulthoods, the choice to blame and exclude and choose hate for the child in the dungeon would have become a more troublesome thing.</p><p></p><p>A more clearcut choice.</p><p></p><p>And this is where the sisters stumble into evil.</p><p></p><p>They know better.</p><p></p><p>They choose.</p><p></p><p>In so many ways, our choice was the easier of the two.</p><p></p><p>It is good to be the protector, to feel the courage and the fear and the bravery of it.</p><p></p><p>And the shame, when we could not protect and did not choose hatred. That is the difference I think too, Copa. While we could not hate the mother or the sibs we were charged to protect, our sibs could so easily choose to hate and blame and revile pseudo mom.</p><p></p><p>There are no winners, here.</p><p></p><p>We are reclaiming ourselves, true enough...but we should never have been imprisoned, should never have been taught to imprison ourselves, to begin with.</p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>Yes.</p><p></p><p>What we've done is take responsibility for the thing we spied on the bench, for the thing everyone else pretended they did not see. There it was, evil and radiating stink and wrongness. </p><p></p><p>It's like we've been carrying it in some hidden place to protect the mothers, to protect the fathers and sibs. Somewhere along the line, we have forgotten that though we spied it, we did not perform the act that resulted in that affront to decency, in that wrong and public ugliness.</p><p></p><p>Nonetheless, we are carrying it now.</p><p></p><p>We might have chosen too, to pass it by; to pass on it.</p><p></p><p>We will know the time to bury it, will know the time to work it into the soil of self for the nourishing richness in it.</p><p></p><p>Another source of strength.</p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>You are the child in the dungeon, Copa. You are not supposed to have nice things lest it take away from the happiness of those whose lives have been lived in the sun.</p><p></p><p>Part of us believes that, too.</p><p></p><p>That is the part we are healing.</p><p></p><p>Cedar</p><p></p><p><img src="/community/styles/default/xenforo/smilies/emoticons/starplucker.gif" class="smilie" loading="lazy" alt=":starplucker:" title="starplucker :starplucker:" data-shortname=":starplucker:" /></p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Scent of Cedar *, post: 671004, member: 17461"] It's more like the story of the child forced to live in the dungeon in the center of the town. She is the sacrifice. She is the reason the others can be happy, the reason there is no crime, the reason the others walk in the sunshine. The shame and the ugliness of the sacrifice, and of the need of it ~ this is blamed on the child in the dungeon, too. The sacrificial victim, the Sin Eater. These are archetypes, Copa. The sacrificial victim is blessed to be the victim, goes willingly ~ even proudly ~ to the slaughter; to martyrdom. A very hard thing then, to choose life; to value life not to die for the others, but to live for the self. You will be stronger then, Copa. Here again, part of a sequence that happened for Serenity and then, me. And now, soon, for you. You know the way a butterfly comes from the cocoon with her wings folded and wet, Copa? That is what is happening to us, now. Wings opening, the feel of the mosaic, coming together. Everything falling into place or opening into some beautifully whole thing because it is time. There is nothing we have to do; nothing we can do. Only integrity, and that you are doing. Me, too. Copa, what would it be to see, not only the Sister, but everything, through your own eyes, and never through those of the abuser, again? Her life is her life, Copa. She cheats. You cannot help her with that choice that she made because it was easier, then, or forgive her for choosing ~ really, Copa, for insisting ~ that this ugliness, required to survive childhoods which were so difficult [I]have validity in the Now.[/I] Sister is an adult, Copa. She has not the bravery to step forward in honesty, or to acknowledge what you did for her in gratitude, and to thank you; Sister has not the courage of the whore in the sun maybe, Copa ~ naked and vulnerable and beautiful and whole. You do. You are Germany, Argentina, Borges and Tango. You will incorporate the sister, Copa. She is magical now because of the roles. Because you are the little girl in the dungeon, raised to believe it is right for Sister to walk in the sunshine at the cost of the sacrifice of your life. And to believe Sister has the right to despise and revile you as the dungeon dwelling, sacrificial creature you believe yourself, at her insistence, to be. You never had to ask her permission, Copa. Only your own. This is the beginning. :O) :starplucker: I don't know, Copa. I am still in that part where things are unfolding in new ways. I am disgusted, but not shocked into disgust, anymore. I feel hurt, for myself. I feel gratitude, for my strength; for the right things I did and believed and refused to not believe. I am proud beyond the capacity for speech at the rightness of believing in that family dinner. It's not even proud, it's a feeling of rightness, whatever the outcome. There was a time when I was so surprised at what I ~ at how differently I was interpreting everything having to do with my family of origin. I had posted about it here saying that I liked myself, or that I found myself entertaining or complex or actually a fascinating, newly formed creature. This has continued, this feeling, this unfolding feeling. We have lived such marginal lives, Copa. Now, we find the center. I am very sure that once we are healed, there will be room in the center for the sisters, for the sibs, for everyone. I am not there, yet. This will be an internal change; we may not see the sibs again and surely, will not see them in the same ways, again. I don't...my sister is not that little girl whose eyes filled with tears and whom I could not protect and who I saw hurt. She is like, sixty years old. I offered my heart, offered a truce, offered a chance, an opening, a place to make something real. I did the right thing. My self talk is less about her and more, about me. Have I behaved with integrity, or is there something more I need to do. The change involves reclaiming internal locus of control. Nothing to do with the sibs. Everything to do with us. With integrity, somehow. I think as little girls they did not have a choice, Copa. But beginning with adolescence, they did. Coming into their adulthoods, the choice to blame and exclude and choose hate for the child in the dungeon would have become a more troublesome thing. A more clearcut choice. And this is where the sisters stumble into evil. They know better. They choose. In so many ways, our choice was the easier of the two. It is good to be the protector, to feel the courage and the fear and the bravery of it. And the shame, when we could not protect and did not choose hatred. That is the difference I think too, Copa. While we could not hate the mother or the sibs we were charged to protect, our sibs could so easily choose to hate and blame and revile pseudo mom. There are no winners, here. We are reclaiming ourselves, true enough...but we should never have been imprisoned, should never have been taught to imprison ourselves, to begin with. Yes. What we've done is take responsibility for the thing we spied on the bench, for the thing everyone else pretended they did not see. There it was, evil and radiating stink and wrongness. It's like we've been carrying it in some hidden place to protect the mothers, to protect the fathers and sibs. Somewhere along the line, we have forgotten that though we spied it, we did not perform the act that resulted in that affront to decency, in that wrong and public ugliness. Nonetheless, we are carrying it now. We might have chosen too, to pass it by; to pass on it. We will know the time to bury it, will know the time to work it into the soil of self for the nourishing richness in it. Another source of strength. You are the child in the dungeon, Copa. You are not supposed to have nice things lest it take away from the happiness of those whose lives have been lived in the sun. Part of us believes that, too. That is the part we are healing. Cedar :starplucker: [/QUOTE]
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