A great rain and wind storm found its way to our southeastern Arizona region last night.  We needed rain so badly!  It was too wild and noisy to sleep much so by early morning I was back at work – writing.

For the most part I think most of the slow and tedious work I am doing right now on the 7 volumes of my mother’s writings I am preparing for publication would be done by a publishing company — if I had one — which I don’t.  I have mixed feelings.  Good that now with epublishing and self publishing I can put books out there without a publisher.  Bad that none of this work is in the least bit pleasant!  Oh.  Well…..

My overall feeling this morning after finishing what’s at this link (not sure if I already posted the first part – if you have read it before scroll down to the second part) – is a kind of hopelessness I’ve never felt before today –


For levels of abuse such as I and so many others experienced, is healing ever possible?  What IS healing for people like us?

I don’t know – and I don’t know.

Maybe what I’ve always thought was healing until I wrote the second have of my commentary for the third volume of the series containing my mother’s words this morning was NEVER actually healing.  It was education.

Is education the same thing as healing?  If the answer is ‘yes’, does that mean ALL education is actually healing?  Are the words for these processes interchangeable?

The way things look to me at this moment I see that for the last half of my life I have been searching to understand what happened to me, and what that did to me.  This is education.  Never in the first 20 of these years did any therapist, any person, ever even intimate let alone suggest or tell me that my mother was mentally ill.  I found that out accidentally on my own 10 years ago when I read the book “Stop Walking on Eggshells.”  Through the information in that book I understood – finally – that Mildred was mentally ill with Borderline Personality Disorder.

I could long ago say that Mildred suffered a psychotic break while birthing me — but it is only in these past 2 months of work on these manuscripts that I have come to understand (as I mention in this commentary) that the same psychosis that caused her to so abuse me also caused her to homestead in Alaska as she was driven both to keep me in her all-bad hell — and as she was driven to search for and acquire her literal all-good heaven on earth up on the side of her mountain.

As I have discovered this fact I have also discovered that when Mildred SAW me do something when I was a child that I knew I had not done – that I knew had never happened – her psychosis actually MADE her see exactly what she saw!

I am feeling VERY DENSE that it has taken me this long to figure this fact out!!

I simply never had the WORDS until now that were needed to describe what in fact Mildred was doing – why – and how she did it.

Before now there was dead space where the right information was missing.  Without this right information I could not THINK about the truth of myself in my childhood.  I recognize this dead space!  I was entirely filled with the silence of it for the first 30 years of my life — before I even found the word ABUSE!  I did not know I had even been abused!

Another 30 years – and great – time to celebrate?  That I have the next most important word so that I can now put these two words together?  I was PSYCHOTICALLY ABUSED!

Hardly seems like a big thing to celebrate.  Hardly seems like a significant victory or achievement of healing.

All this is belongs to the category of EDUCATION.  I see no ‘healing’ in this process whatsoever.  I do now understand what BEING AT A LOSS FOR WORDS can do to anyone who has been psychotically abused by a psychotic person!!  Our abusers were nowhere near being in the mainstream, and because of this we as their victim-survivors did not come into our adulthood having mainstream words to even begin to THINK about what has happened to us.

Maybe I will come up closer to the surface after I finish my work on these manuscripts.  In the meantime I have to go through Mildred’s words as I have transcribed them with a ‘fine toothed comb’ looking for typos, spacings, all the teensy details that need to be corrected in order to publish a quality book – no matter WHAT it’s content.

Then I need to comb through the collection of photographs to label each one as to the place each will need to be inserted into EIGHT manuscripts counting my introductory book for this series, “Story without Words.”  If I thought tolerating the WORDS that run parallel to my own story was hard, tolerating the images in the pictures is harder!  But I am determined.  And with the Christmas deadline I am facing I better quit whining and get back to work.  Thanks for reading!  It helps me feel not so alone in this work.


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