+POWER AND GRACE

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Monday, October 20, 2014.  My dearest friend who I am now 1700 miles away from is suffering.  He finally called me yesterday to tell me the reality of his condition.  No trying to be upbeat and cheery.  The truth is that at 77 following spine surgery he is bedridden and in great pain if he moves.  He cannot walk.  He cannot sit.  And, as he has been emphatically told, he cannot sue his surgeon:  “Did you read the three pages of fine print at the end of the papers you signed before surgery?  You are an old man.  Be patient.”

If good things come to those who wait — what lies in store for someone like this arrogant surgeon who promotes his abilities as a surgeon like he is selling used cars?

My friend is brilliant with a charismatic, powerful personality.  He has worked extremely hard all of his life.  What can he do — NOW?  I was unable to sleep much last night, unable to escape the magnetism of the sadness of his dilemma.

Yet after finally dosing for two hours I woke at dawn resolved to challenge my friend in any possible way that I can.  CHALLENGE him.

Humans are designed to arise to a challenge with all resources at our command.  What resources does my suffering friend have right now?  Well, other than the immense powers he has inside of his personhood he also has ME!  It took me some time before I could “go off the air emotionally” enough that I could tell that my friend shared details of his situation now that he has spared me for months because in his own way he is asking me for help.

I am recommending some things that can improve his quality of life — and by doing so down-regulate the amount of stress/distress he is experiencing.  Those states are not beneficial to his healing.  I told him to ASK for help from members of his large family so that he can get Netflix going and a “t box” set up so he can at least bypass a gazillion inane commercials.

Asking for help  is NOT my friend’s strong suit.

Well, stew about THAT my dear friend!  Get those obstinate juices flowing as you look at the very real bad situation you are in.  Are you willing to go outside what has, thus far, been your comfort levels?  Aging forces most of us to grow “outside” the boxes we have allowed ourselves to be confined within for most of our lives.  “There is a time and a season.”

It’s box-smashing time!

Next I recommended that he send another of his loving family members off to the Saturday Farmers’ Market there in search of a fantastic and gifted Reiki massage therapist and energy worker.  She is from France, has a heavy accent, is a retired RN and does chair massage at market.  I am certain she would come to his home to treat him.

Oh my, red lights will flash “DANGER AHEAD” for my “old fashioned” friend.  I DARE YOU I am basically telling him!  No fear should stop him now from pursuing what can actually HELP him heal.

If he WANTS to heal.

I haven’t challenged him with that question yet.  “Do you want to live or die?”

(As I found out 7+ years ago when I fought advanced, aggressive breast cancer.  Deciding NOT to die is not exactly the same thing as deciding TO LIVE.)

I will wait to see what fuses light and burn with what I wrote to him today.  Boy, I can sure come up with more ideas, if nothing else just so he can turn them down!  I know I want to give him hope — and some sense of power he can orchestrate through his choices.  Grace happens through action.  I will do my best to wake up his will and shake up his Warrior Within.

Just because he is in so much terrible pain he can barely move doesn’t mean he can’t move toward healing in new ways he’s never thought of before and certainly — until now — would never have considered trying.

Want to try some GREEN JUICE?  Want to try reading BOOKS?  There ARE library services and audio books.  Turn off the TV sometimes and listen to MUSIC!  Acupuncture?

My friend, a man of great pride and great accomplishment, needs to let people come visit and sit beside him.  Hard to let people see him in this condition?  OF COURSE, but there is no shame in being — human.

Get over it.

Get over ALL of it.

Get well!

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Here is our first book out in ebook format.  Click here to view or purchase –

Story Without Words:  How Did Child Abuse Break My Mother?

It lists for $2.99 and can be read by Amazon Prime customers without charge.  Reviews for the book on the Amazon.com site are welcome.

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Leave a Comment »

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+GOING OFF-THE-AIR — EMOTIONALLY

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Saturday, October 18, 2014.  I mentioned in a recent post that I was swallowed up whole in a swarm of hives last September 23rd as I read a text message from my daughter that morning about a terrible car accident she drove through unscathed the night before.  My hives are still here.  Still acting up.  Still communicating with me via the largest organ in my body — my skin.

I just had the idea of Google searching “hives chakras stress.”  Very interesting.  As I clicked a bit, also, through the list of links that appeared as additional search avenues on “hives anxiety” at the bottom of the first search page I had to chuckle.  Get control of my anxiety BEFORE a stress appears?  Sure.  OK.  Yeah.  I’ll get right on that!

If I don’t want to drown, stay away from water.

I get it.

But, having experienced very little that wasn’t extremely traumatic from the moment of my birth I had more than my fair share of stress-related alterations confining my developing physiology every step of the way as I grew into this world.  I essentially live in an anxiety (terror) built home-of-a-body.

I am yet again reminded of an article I read and took notes on back in 2007

*Preschooler empathy

The study described clearly shows the alterations in empathy processes that happen with early disturbances in safe and secure attachment for little people.  I endured the horrors of abuse consistently for the first 18 years of my life.  I am an “insecurely attached” individual.  I have a serious “attachment disorder.”  Call it Reactive Attachment Disorder (RAD).  Call it an “disorganized-disoriented insecure attachment pattern.”  It no longer matters to me one bit what I or anyone else might “call” the patterns my body-brain uses in its interactions with life in this world.

But I do know I will never have an optimally-operating attachment system OR a concurrent optimally-operating empathetic response system.

++

Take a look through the information I posted at the above link.  “Rock-n-Roll” method of being in the world, and I am not talking about music.

I have so much pain, sorrow, suffering (etc.) built into me that I CANNOT escape feeling if I am within “contagion” distance of another human being that I become a living emotional backlash ocean of pained response.  Back to me comes all of my own only-slightly-masked pain.  I set to resonate with another person’s suffering as if there is no tomorrow.  And no yesterday.  Body memories related to suffering from trauma so easily becomes ALL THAT I AM.

++

How do I pull back from the edge of that brink once I find myself reacting-responding-resonating so painfully with somebody else’s suffering?  Where are my boundaries that define MY reality as being separate from another’s?  We are all connected.  Reality IS that one person’s pain is SUPPOSED to be another person’s pain.

Humans, as shareholders within a social species, are SUPPOSED to be connected to one another.  We are SUPPOSED to recognize another’s suffering.  We are SUPPOSED to care.  And we are SUPPOSED to ACT APPROPRIATELY in response to another’s suffering so that we can HELP THEM not to suffer any more.

In today’s world, certainly within American culture, the circle is broken in significant ways.

Independent US?

Who are we kidding?

Humans are not supposed to be changed in development through early attachment traumas so that they end up TOO MUCH ALONE — or TOO MUCH TOGETHER.

When I cannot stop my pain, my anxiety – which is pain and a response to the existence of my own pain and pain-in-the-world – when my “boundaries” are breached and I am swamped as in overwhelmed – I am being, as is not uncommonly said, “a part of the problem and not a part of its solution.”

++

Emotions and states of being are contagious.  Fear.  Anger.  Happiness.  (Yawning?)

Contagious.

I wonder why it has taken me this long to grasp a very simple fact?  Anxiety is CONTAGIOUS!

It takes an entire bank of resources, known and accessible, to create protection against being consumed by powerful, environmentally-profound levels of emotional cotangents such as anxiety is.

Or?

Well, certainly a very sophisticated body-wash of mobilized hives is not the WORST thing that can happen when “defenses” fail.  But my hives are certainly garnering my attention.  ZAP!  Hot poke at the very peak of my head.  Hot itches, too close to my eyes and flashing up my nostrils?  Flowing like red shadow patterns all over this body I call home-in-this-world.

My body is talking to me.  All “symptoms” talk to us.  We are designed optimally for optimal health.  Anything that comes to us that is NOT about optimal health is a twist of fate for humans.  A twist of consequence.

From what and for what reasons?

++

One of the first and most important (to me) facts I uncovered a decade ago when I began to study the physiological responses in development due to early trauma was that someone with an early abuse and neglect history will most likely ALWAYS feel DISTRESSED in response to environmental circumstances that would cause “ordinary” people to feel STRESSED.  There are complicated reasons why this is so and many, many of these reasons are presented elsewhere on this blog.

Yet while I can kind of grasp the difference between STRESSED and DISTRESSED, I am at a stalemate in trying to think of any amped-up word to describe how what I feel of anixety– as a trauma-altered-development (TAD) person — actually IS compared to what “ordinary” people might simply be able to call anxiety (aka stressed).

Is it “disanxiety?”  Could it more accurately be described as DYSanxiety?  Early traumatic stress changes our development so that emotional (and physical) DYSREGULATION is built into us.  Anxiety that we cannot regulate in “usual” ways is a direct manifestation of that dysregulation – rather than regulation – built very early on into our body including into our rapidly early- forming (birth to age one) right limbic (social-emotional) brain hemisphere.

++

It all comes down to being able or not able to downsize our discomfort and our experience of discomfort — and/or the discomfort of another person when appropriate (although we cannot literally alter somebody else’s own personal/inner experience of their own comfort/discomfort).

Trauma-built people have a nearly unbelievable, usually extreme disadvantage when it comes to being able to self-soothe.

What happened to us was the antithesis of soothing.

This absolutely DOES NOT mean that we can’t learn (A) when we need to comfort and care about/for our self, and (B) HOW to do this.

I think usually this process must begin with identifying when we are in an extremely uncomfortable state (my hives are doing this for me) and then finding healthy ways to create some kind of distancing for our self from any situation that is distressing us so much that our DYSanxiety is in full play.

We are aiming at a state of peaceful calm.

Most of us who were severely traumatized as infants and children BARELY know what this state feels like.  We have to LEARN how we know what it is, because we DO know!  We would not have remained alive if we had NO experience with this state.

We need to REMEMBER what this state of peaceful calm is and what it feels like.  This kind of knowledge was SUPPOSED to be built into our body as the natural point of rest, of balanced equilibrium for our nervous system-self.  Early trauma survivors DO NOT naturally have peaceful calm at the center of our life experience.

Or of our body.

There are times when we need to unplug from other people in ways that let us go off-the-air emotionally.  Being overwhelmed is not health-producing and is not helpful to anyone.  Survivors of early, devastating early trauma did not get a chance to form safe and secure attachment relationships that would have given us healthy, effective boundaries.  We have to LEARN what these boundaries are and how to utilize and sustain them.

My skin is “supposed” to be my natural boundary-defining limit of my physical body.  Yet Oriental healing processes powerfully recognize the error and limitations of this way of thinking.  We are FAR more than our body!  We are a complex of interacting networks and interfaces of which our skin might appear to be one surface that delineates us as an individual.

At this point I wonder if my body is actually doing a form of acupuncture on itself.  Yes, my body is trying to get my attention.  But more importantly I recognize that is trying to heal me.

I need to calm down and find any way I can to participate in this process.  Off-the-air I go.

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Here is our first book out in ebook format.  Click here to view or purchase –

Story Without Words:  How Did Child Abuse Break My Mother?

It lists for $2.99 and can be read by Amazon Prime customers without charge.  Reviews for the book on the Amazon.com site are welcome.

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Leave a Comment »

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+WHAT DO I KNOW? LONGING FOR MY GRANDMOTHER

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Sunday, October 12, 2014.  I find myself for the first time in my adult life that I know of LONGING for the touch of my grandmother’s hand.  Longing for the sound of her voice speaking softly to me of NOTHING that has ANYTHING to do with the crazy abusive life I lived with her daughter, my so-sick mother whose illness made her so hate me.  I want my GRANDMA.

Long dead.  Since June 1971 when I was 19 years old.

Grandmother’s kindness to me could not reach me very often.  Mother did not allow it.  By the time we left Grandmother behind in Los Angeles when we tore off for Alaska when I was five there was very little Grandma could do to ever help or soothe me.  Yet I can imagine why memories of tenderness from her are surrounding me now.  Body memories, as most of our earliest most important memories always are.  Being a grandmother myself has blessings but it also has some very difficult challenges that I cannot write about here.  It has been a difficult week, a difficult day today as I try to sort out what it is I CAN do to live the love I have for my family.

Love is often a “working love.”  It is not passive.  It is not always soft and cushy and easy.  Tough love?  Yes.  Sometimes love IS tough.  Life can be scary without blueprints or road maps.  Insights and instincts.  Courage.  Knowing when to speak (what) and when to keep silent (about what).  How to encourage?  How to support without overwhelming?  How to remain true to self while allowing all others to do the same?

Where to shine the light?  How brightly?  How to help those we love increase their own light?  What do we do with the darkness when it appears?

Trauma on down through the generations.  Trying to spare the youngest, newest, sweetest, most loved?  What do we adults drag around with us that harms them even when we are doing our very, very best not to?

Who can tell the truth?  Who knows the truth?  Who looks farthest down the road searching for how what happens now is going to affect what happens THEN for these little people?

Sometimes life seems so very, very big.  I must feel small right now.  Small enough to fit onto my grandmother’s lap.  Her warm hand nesting against my cheek.  If she were here.  If I were small.  If she could get to me without Mother noticing.  Is Grandmother here near me now?  She COULD be!  She MIGHT be?

Oh, what would I say to her?  What would I want to hear back from her?

“I love you.  I have always loved you.  I will always love you.  No matter what.  I love you.”

But did she fight for me?  As hard as she could — FIGHT FOR ME?

Was she ensnared in a web she could not see, all tangled up, kept far, far from me?

How did that happen — exactly?

How did all that suffering HAPPEN?

Who could have stopped it?  How?  At what point?

How do I do my part now to stop the ripples, the aftermath, from moving one tiny inch into the future of my youngest family people?

What ARE our powers?

What price do I pay for the mistakes of my grandmother?  What price are my dearest grandsons paying for mine?

Oh, forgiveness.  Compassion.  Mercy.

++

Daylight is dimming.  Clouds too thick to see the sun.  There is no wind.  Rains today left a sweetest scent in the air I don’t ever want to go away.

There is no wind.  There are no shadows.  Darkness is coming.

There is a natural order to things.  I am always seeking my place in it.  Grandmothered once.  Grandmother now.

Always I want the best.

I want to remember the best always happens in the little things.  Things I might barely notice.  One pure note from a piano key.  Put together with the one before it and the one after it.  A certain pattern.  A certain rhythm.  And there’s a melody.  A song.

I want to listen….

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Here is our first book out in ebook format.  Click here to view or purchase –

Story Without Words:  How Did Child Abuse Break My Mother?

It lists for $2.99 and can be read by Amazon Prime customers without charge.  Reviews for the book on the Amazon.com site are welcome.

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Leave a Comment »

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+ROADS TRAVELED – PART 2 (a read “at own risk” warning attached)

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Tuesday, October 7, 2014.  This post is for me.  Someone reminded me recently that it is a spiritual truth that some things that can be said are better left unsaid, and that some things that have been said would have been better left unsaid.  As I mentioned in the post prior to this one

+ROADS TRAVELED

I struggle with what’s what regarding this “story.”

I told my daughter when I was able to first speak to her after she had sent the text recorded in the previous post that it’s natural to relive traumas, certainly when hardly any time has passed in between.  Her experience was including thoughts not only about what had happened — and it took some hours before it was really clear to anyone what that had actually been after police interviews with all witnesses — but was also including a large array of WHAT IF scenarios in her mind.

I assured my daughter that because traumas have so much to teach us about what we need to learn and know to PREVENT them from happening again much information is contained in EVERY kind of reaction people have during and after a trauma.

++

My first reaction to reading my daughter’s text message was to develop a serious case of hives.  I am writing now because in these ensuing days and nights my hives show no sign of leaving.  In fact, within my massively trauma-sensitized body my hives are becoming quite interestingly sophisticated.

The spots come and go in places.  Their itch comes and goes, as well.  But not arbitrarily, it seems.

I found myself thinking about the music-sound communicating space ship in the movie years back, Close Encounters of the Third Kind.  My body is using its hive communication system to remove from me any illusion that I am ever really free of fear (anxiety).  As the days pass, depending upon what is specifically calling my attention in my life, certain patterns of these hives erupt in itches in different places.  Sometimes just on my ankles and feet.  Sometimes just the top of my head.  Sometimes only the back of one leg, or the back of the other leg.

I have decided that it’s best for me to fine-tune my attention so that I can detect exactly what kind of stressor causes which “section” of me to become aggravated.  In this process I have also decided to let myself see what I have to say about this whole situation.  This will not become clear to me if I don’t put SOMETHING into words.

++++

I came within at the farthest reach 60 seconds of losing my precious daughter to death.  My grandsons came that close to losing their mother.  If her car had arrived at this spot of hell first it would have been she and her driver that hit that moose and who would be dead.  That’s something to react to all by itself.  It is not something I can take lightly.  Too close.  A miracle.  Grateful.  Beyond words.

The first vehicle to arrive as the huge bull moose stepped onto the pavement of that dark highway was a semi-truck heading west.  When he saw the moose as he traveled 65 mph he instantly changed lanes.  Nobody was in sight in the oncoming east-bound lane.  The moose’s antler hit and sheered off the semi’s side-view mirror.  (Check a semi.  That was one TALL moose.  The driver in talking to police later felt terrible that he did not just hit the moose dead-on, thus sparing all that followed.  The police assured him that NOBODY would NOT react to spare the moose by instinct.)

The truck driver then slowed and parked on the shoulder of the east lane at least 100′ ahead of where the moose had been, got out, and witnessed the horror of what was happening behind him.  It was later determined that the neck of the moose had snapped at hitting the mirror, dropping the beast a little over the center line but mostly in the west-bound lane.  A car directly behind the semi could not see the hulk of the moose carcass lying like a massive wall in his lane in time to do anything but hit it at full speed.

This car flipped end over end over end over end.  Three more cars, all of them also traveling at full speed without time to stop or determine course except by instantaneous instinct, came up to the site of the crash and then drove through it.  My daughter and her driver Lori* were in the third car.

Lori is in her mid-20s, a North Dakota farm girl whose father made a determined point to teach his daughter to drive as safely as possible under any possible condition.  He made sure she knew how to drive through raging blizzards, storms of all kinds.  And this horrific “storm” this night found her instant reaction taking the path to the right of the wreck at nearly full speed without braking to send her car spinning out-of-control as she followed two cars ahead of her over scattered parts of the engine block, the front bumper, and every other strewn part of the smashed-off front end of the first car.  (It turned out there was only an opening narrow enough for these cars to whiz around the main wreck without hitting the dead moose thrown to the right shoulder.)

The only warning in the pitch blackness that appeared prior to being “on the scene” was a short section of shattered glass on the pavement.

These three cars pulled off onto the shoulder 100+ feet ahead.  Lori’s car lost its oil pan and was shaking badly by the time she stopped it.

Speeding through the darkness behind them came another semi and two other cars.  It was only determined by police inquiries later that these last vehicles, arriving on the scene without time to stop or even slow, ran over and killed the driver of the car that hit the moose.  Witnesses had seen the man standing there at his smashed car.  He did live through that crash.  How he could have survived that terrible tumbling, with no front end left of his car is completely beyond me (who knows nothing).  If he was cognizant at all he must have been desperately screaming for his children.

The 2nd semi coming along behind passed to the left of the wreck.  The two cars following him hit the wreck head-on.  They totaled their cars but were not injured.  Some one of these drivers did run over and kill the first car’s driver, a very difficult thing to live with, no doubt.  It was massively important to my daughter and to her driver to hear a mechanic report Tuesday afternoon that there was no blood anywhere on or under their vehicle.  The moose had been pushed off of the lane onto the shoulder by the car who smashed into it that no other car hit it.  Any blood found on anyone else’s vehicle would have been there from running over the man.

++

My daughter was the one to call 911.  She could not begin to see anything clearly at this point so could only  report that “something really terrible is happening out here on Highway 2…..”  The EMT arrival time was faster than anyone could believe.  It was only once they began walking the scene that a baby was heard crying somewhere down in the road’s ditch.

The man driving the first car and his children were Native American from Spirit Lake.  When the media reports that none of them were wearing seat belts and that the children were thrown from the car a dark smudge can be left where it does not need to be.  It is often against the lifeways of Native people to use those constraints.

Many people seem to have a very narrow range of vision about such things.  They do not want to accept the truth, which is never reported by the press, that in cases like this one if the children had not been thrown into the safety of the far edge of the ditch they would have been killed.  If not by the initial impact and car’s rolling then by the impact of the two vehicles that then hit the rear end of that car.

As it was, there were three children, ages 3, 5 and 10.  The younger children were completely uninjured while the older one suffered a broken leg.

++

Who is to say what fate or destiny is?  Do people have, as many claim, “a time to die?”  What is luck, serendipity, chance, divine intervention?  Are there guardian spirits and helping angels?

This man was planning to attend the same conference on Tuesday that my daughter was going to.  His brother was to chair the event.  And did, in spite of everything that had happened.  The children were in full custody of their father without a mother healthy enough to care for them.  Their lives had already been hard, and now their father has been taken from them.

Hopefully they were spared any knowledge of what took place at that wreck.  Hopefully they heard and saw nothing, as fast and brutally as everything took place.  Hopefully some loving, healthy family member will take all three of these children.  Raise them.  Heal them.  Help them into good lives ahead — no matter what.

If you find it in your heart, pray for them.

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Here is our first book out in ebook format.  Click here to view or purchase –

Story Without Words:  How Did Child Abuse Break My Mother?

It lists for $2.99 and can be read by Amazon Prime customers without charge.  Reviews for the book on the Amazon.com site are welcome.

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Leave a Comment »

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+ROADS TRAVELED

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Tuesday, October 7, 2014.  I am being haunted by a trauma that both exists and does not exist.  I evidently don’t know how to tell the difference.  As I now decide to write a post about this I realize that I am dealing with the difference between a minefield and a different kind of mine.  One that holds something of value.  Something desirable.  Something useful.

One of the significant problems with traumas is that while I continue to believe they hang around after their actual occurrence in time and space in large part because they contain information we need to know and make use of for the future.  Learning from the past in order to create a safer, better future is a good reason to mine the minefield of a trauma.  At this point in my thinking, then, my two images begin to merge and overlap.

There is always far greater danger for people who have been, as Dr. Bruce Perry suggests it, SENSITIZED by trauma.  We are the people with the long-term lingering and often overwhelming difficulties caused by how previous traumas altered our physiological make-up.

Perry also describes the far more desirable and advantageous response to trauma of increasing our TOLERANCE so that we can flexibly and positively respond to past and present traumas without being sideswiped or overrun by them when they happen or later as we heal from them and/or ever face another trauma that resonates with our past experience.

++

I cannot deny that my extreme sensitization to trauma — because I suffered so much of it and because it began as my body was developing in this world post-birth — is hyper-active now.

I woke Tuesday two weeks ago to find the following text from my dear daughter waiting for me on my phone.  She had left late evening on Monday the 22nd in a fleet car from the university where she works, driven by her research assistant Lori*, to get an early morning head-start on arriving at a Tuesday morning conference on Spirit Lake Reservation.  They were 35 miles east of their night’s motel destination at Devil’s Lake when the unthinkable occurred as they drove through the pitch blackness of a moonless middle-of-nowhere west on a remote North Dakota (speed limit 65 mph, high quality two-lane paved) highway.

1:27 am September 23 – “Part of a major multicar accident on highway 2 on way to devils lake.  we are OK but there were fatalities.  Waited 3 hours for tow truck.  Now taking us to DL and will get car tomorrow so can go home.  Feeling very grateful, but sad.  No more travel in the dark for us.  Love you xoxox

++

Man Killed, 3 Children Hurt When Car Hits Moose on North Dakota Highway

Fort Totten man killed, 3 children injured when car hits moose

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I pause in my writing at this point to consider a decision I will make here.  If I choose to protect readers of this post from exposure to horrifying facts about what happened in this accident I will write very little if anything past these words.

If I choose to give myself permission to write whatever comes to me past this point I risk exposing readers to TMI – Too Much Information.

Hummmmm……  Fork in my blog post road.  What path will I take?

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Here is our first book out in ebook format.  Click here to view or purchase –

Story Without Words:  How Did Child Abuse Break My Mother?

It lists for $2.99 and can be read by Amazon Prime customers without charge.  Reviews for the book on the Amazon.com site are welcome.

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Leave a Comment »

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Next post:

+ROADS TRAVELED – PART 2 (a read “at own risk” warning attached)

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+CLAIMING. PART OF A LETTER….

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Sunday, October 5, 2014.  I spent most of today clearing out the 8′ x 8′ closet in this small apartment to make a room for my 26-month-old grandson to take his naps in so I can have the only bedroom here for my sewing while he is sleeping and I have some time to myself.  My long handled bags are selling well and seem to finally be something I enjoy making that actually make enough money to pay for my materials!  The sewing is very therapeutic for me.  I need this creative outlet.  The room is draped with fantastic colors and patterns of fabrics from sale clothing I discover each week (while weather holds and I can walk there) at our new Goodwill Store.  I call this very full room my 3-D textured palette.

Before I began my work today I was writing a letter to my 89-year-old Alaska homesteading neighbor from my childhood.  I found myself writing some things that surprised me with their words:

++

A butterfly transformation is in process.  Those stages can be difficult and painful.  Still vitally necessary.  (As in all aging.)

I am OK with being alive at this moment and unboundingly grateful for your being in my life, dear friend!  I worte a blog post last eve about my “last” drum lesson entitled Drumming My Spunk Back.  I have lost my self- confidence!  In many ways that part of me left when my dear friend passed out of my life nearly 2 years ago.  Then I outran all I knew in Arizona last fall that fed, nurtured, and sustained me — home and all.

Now here I am transforming a closet into a baby haven so I can have “a room of my own.”

Having our book in Dr. Perry’s hands is magical to me!  He is our best hope.  For this work to sprout I NEED him to take me and this whole story seriously.  Will he?  Time will tell.

I feel so fragile these days, in this strange land — dare I say writing to you today I almost feel OK?  Parts of myself, ME being a tree — these parts or aspects are like birds — all sent into a terrible flutter — some falling to the ground unable to get up — when I uprooted what I could and was hauled — lock/stock/barrel — hook/line/sinker — on that awful trip up here — up here — seem to perhaps have re-alighted themselves in my branches.

The part that writes you is here.  The one who loves plants and beauty and the sound of falling water are here.  A part of me took charge of my drumming yesterday.  Not to leave it behind or in the hands of another — but to bring it home HERE where I live.

I am taking charge of my vital need to create as I rearrange my space here — small as it is.  Bring home to roost these creative birds of my self.  These thoughts come to me as I change the built-in shelf in soon-to-be-baby’s room — four running feet of my odd (to me beautiful, bound hope) collection of old piano books and music.  I “love” those books — yet thanks to my connection with Brett [drumming teacher] I keep out only the one new one he suggested that I buy.

Hanon – The Virtuoso Pianist in 60 Exercises.

True, I’ve been practicing 20 minutes every day intensely on one of the keyboard exercise Brett gave me from this book three months ago to strengthen and speed up the last three fingers of each hand — drumming fingers — and only now am I seeing good progress.  But this winter I can add another 20 minutes a day practice session beginning at the start of the Hanon book.

Not to take away from drum practice but to bring home another bird of me to roost in my tee of self.  Those books on my shelf are about what I was told once by an astrologer:  The biggest issue of my life is about “reasons to keep the seed alive through winter.”

I am also focusing/claiming my main winter diet.  I have 25 pounds of organic quinoa I bought online and keep buffalo meat patties in my freezer along with frozen green vegetables for juicing — and of course, a supply of Snickers.  A bit more will come and go.  I found out about a local grocery store where I can order online and they deliver to the door.  [I am not driving and have no car to drive.  Can’t afford one.  Have no inner resources left within me to drive.  As Dr. Perry describes in his book:  Too many changes.  Nothing in my life is currently ordinary.  I am on high-stress alert.]

Key and central things matter.  The homesteading daughter in me knows many things. — Perhaps more than anything else I was born and made to be a damn good survivor!

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Here is our first book out in ebook format.  Click here to view or purchase –

Story Without Words:  How Did Child Abuse Break My Mother?

It lists for $2.99 and can be read by Amazon Prime customers without charge.  Reviews for the book on the Amazon.com site are welcome.

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+IGNORANCE IS NOT OUR FRIEND

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Tuesday, September 16, 2014.  I used to have a lot of tolerance for the truthful stuff about what early abuse and neglect does to change the physiological development of infants and children.  There are thousands and thousands of background pages on this blog about this kind of Trauma Altered Development processes.  Yet during the years I spent post 2004 studying neuroscientific development along these lines not one of the experts’ writings I pored through ever had the emotional impact on me that Dr. Bruce Perry’s does.  (see previous post)

There are dry scientific facts.  Then there are damp, moist, earthy facts that belong to the body itself.  To its emotions.  To its storehouses of memories.  To its blood and to its tears.  These kinds of facts, the kind that Perry works with and writes about, lie at the heart of matters of infant and child neglect and abuse and cannot be denied although they can be ignored.

Yet Perry himself did not live through the levels of life-changing early traumas he writes about.  I did.  Truth is, I hate that fact.  I hate harm to defenseless little ones.  Does hate ever heal?

My guess?  No, not by itself.  I have previously written about denial as a kind of immature childish magical thinking that allows humans to bypass the truth of circumstances they are not ready to face.  And certainly not ready to change.  Not ready to accept response-ability for.  “Somebody else’s problem.  Too messy for me.”  These patterns allow the taboos cultures hold about harming little ones to find their way into higher-level taboos against KNOWING the truths that tear apart the heart once they find their way — home.

Some things are too painful to contemplate.  So culturally we maintain taboos against accepting upon ourselves what adults need to care about because little ones are totally powerless to change what needs to be changed.  By vastly ignoring the truth about terrible harms done to the youngest among us we are showing our ignorance by ignoring what we don’t want to face.

I am finding that process operating within myself as I struggle to read Perry’s words.  The difference for me and for many of this blog’s readers is that I/we already know about this subject from the inside out.  Perry’s words hot-wire my reality between traumatic past and current “better” present.  Any hope of a buffer against the pain of abuse and neglect evaporates.

That kind of pain little ones being harmed feel is too big for them.  That kind of trauma is supposed to be healed by a whole society that HATES harm to young ones and stops it.  We don’t live in that kind of world.

Not yet.

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Here is our first book out in ebook format.  Click here to view or purchase –

STORY WITHOUT WORDS

It lists for $2.99 and can be read by Amazon Prime customers without charge.  Reviews for the book on the Amazon.com site are welcome.

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Leave a Comment

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+THE LIFE LOST

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Tuesday, September 16, 2014.  I am trying yet again to read The Boy Who Was Raised as a Dog: And Other Stories from a Child Psychiatrist’s Notebook–What Traumatized Children Can Teach Us About Loss, Love, and Healing (2007)by Bruce Perry and Maia Szalavitz.  I again fell into the depths of my sadness while reading page 25 just as I did when I stopped reading Perry’s book in 2007.  My slide again began while reading forward from page 22.  Why am I trying again?

Dr. Perry will be speaking here in Fargo, North Dakota in a little over two weeks.  My daughter will be there to hear him.  I have continued to think that the one person I would want to read our book, Story Without Words, and to write a “blurb” for it would be Perry.

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I am grieving for my life.  Obviously not for the one I have as a survivor of 18 years of severe (psychotic) abuse from the moment I was born.  I grieve for my OTHER life.  The one I was robbed of.  I also grieve for my mother.  For her suffering.  For the life she lived and for the life she lost.

I cannot read Perry’s work without being swallowed by this grief.

How productive is THAT?

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Or, how tolerable?

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I don’t think there is an early neglect and abuse survivor reading this post who will not resonate with what Perry writes beginning on page 22.  (If that link becomes inactive Google search for “perry boy who was raised as a dog they would unravel and forget” and begin reading on that page by clicking on the first link the search provides.)

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I asked my published brother who is also a highly successful used bookstore owner about how to approach Perry for a book “blurb.”  He immediately responded with his humorous suggestions which included the following example:

Dear Mr. _______

I have followed with great interest your research on delectable shrimp recipes for wild-caught Alaska prawns. Your book 101 Ways to Boil Shrimp has been an inspiration to me in my own work on the subject of making healthy, tasty meals for my family. I was privileged to hear you speak last year at the National Crustacean Symposium, and your responses to audience questions at the Q&A that followed your presentation highlighted your unique and innovative approach to the field of seafood preparation.

I am a former vegetarian and recovering vegan, whose journey to preparing shrimp has carried me through many years of cooking classes, cookbook study, and first-hand research upon the oceans of the Pacific Northwest. I have written a book (complete in manuscript form) that I feel addresses a need among home chefs who are struggling with their own feelings of prawn apprehension. Life Lived Backwards: My Journey Across the Ocean Floor tells the story of my own travels through the culinary world of scallops, crabs, oysters, shrimp, and other delectable members of the crustacean nation that your own work has made so accessible. It would be an honor for me if you would consent to previewing a copy of my book and, if you like it, contribute a few short words that I could use on the cover of the book, and on my web site and other promotional venues marketing this important work.

May I sent you a copy of Life Lived Backwards?

Please contact me via email at ____ or by phone at ____ with your postal address, and I will send a copy out promptly to your attention. Thank you in advance for your kindness, and thanks again for your outstanding work in this field!

    Yours Sincerely,

 

    Wanda B. Anauthor

Me again. I haven’t tried it, but I bet with some creative Googling you can find lots of tips about this from online writing/author/publishing web sites that will further describe approaches you might consider.

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I thanked my brother and decided that in order for me to write anything like a genuine request letter to Perry I better read the two books of his I have here.  My plan has gone as far astray as my OWN REAL life has gone due to the severe trauma and its changes to my physiology that I experience.  I am “land locked” in my frozen Silence.

This grief has no words.

Obviously.

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I am trying.  I have now read to page 37.  Will I be able to finish Perry’s book?  Time will tell….

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I am thinking about being this blunt with a subtitle for this book – Did Child Abuse Break My Mother?

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Here is our first book out in ebook format.  Click here to view or purchase –

STORY WITHOUT WORDS

It lists for $2.99 and can be read by Amazon Prime customers without charge.  Reviews for the book on the Amazon.com site are welcome.

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Leave a Comment

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+2-D PARENTS

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Friday, September 12, 2014.  Sent to me by a dear friend this morning (hope this posts OK) —–

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“BTW, Psychotherapy Networker’s email to me today included a VERY interesting article:
I’m excited about it because is shows that the writer (Ron Taffel, whom I’ve seen in some of PN’s previous webinars) has realized that something is really screwed-up with our culture, attachment-wise. Nice to know that Gordon Neufeld is getting some company and isn’t going to remain virtually the only voice in the wilderness crying out about this!”

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Take a look.  Print FREE!  Dr. Daniel Siegel’s rebuttal to “Attachment theory is dead.”

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Here is our first book out in ebook format.  Click here to view or purchase –

STORY WITHOUT WORDS

It lists for $2.99 and can be read by Amazon Prime customers without charge.  Reviews for the book on the Amazon.com site are welcome.

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Leave a Comment

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+FOUR DAYS OF MUSING ON THE NATURE OF ….

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Tuesday, September 9, 2014.  Today is Day 4 of a collection of thoughts as I will post them here in the order they were handwritten:

DAY ONE

I think a lot about depression, both my own and that of those around me who are “medicating” theirs.  I know mine has been a part of me since I was a very young child.  The only way I could survive the trauma of Mother’s continual abuse was to do nothing else but — survive it.  Now I know she was psychotically mentally ill.  This made her insanely unpredictable and insanely violent and dangerous to me.

From birth any response I could have had to utilize the energy of any “fight” reaction to her was forced into inactivity or else she would have killed me.  Of that fact I have no doubt.  I was alone in a hopeless, horrible situation — helpless in my own defense — for the first 18 years of my life from birth.

My depression has always been directly due to the situation of trauma that built itself into my developing physiology.

Yesterday the term “situational depression” appeared in my thoughts as if it were a massive tree planted in the center of my reality.  My response was, “Yes.  That’s what this is that I live and breath nearly all of the time.”

Most of my current “situation” amplifies the depression I already lived with before I left Arizona to move back to Fargo, North Dakota last October.  Poverty.  Tiny cramped apartment with completely inadequate windows and light.  City which has never been good for me.  Noise.  Light pollution.  Lack of privacy and of natural beauty.  Not to mention the horrible long winters and the cumulative, disabling consequences of the severe early trauma.  None of these things HELP me feel better about anything.

DAY TWO

One can only step forward into each day making choices care-full-ly with good intent and then try one’s best to carry through.

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I also think a lot about anxiety.  (Depression itself is an anxiety disorder.)  One can certainly be born with a body that contains more than enough anxiety within it, even so much so that the best safe and secure, loving attachment from birth cannot create a calm, tranquil, peaceful reality for such a young one.  Attachments cannot, then, necessarily provide the safety necessary for the entire progression of “best possible” emotional regulation or social interplay to develop in such a child.

I am just now learning this.  Such a child would end up with all of the “symptoms” of an insecure attachment disorder because the body can never bypass that super-built-in anxiety.  Nor could the best attachment ever alleviate the anxiety.  Attachment systems would essentially fail as surely as if there was trauma in early relationships themselves.  This “trauma in the body” would leave such a little one perpetually living in a dangerous world because the anxiety “says” this is so.  There would never be any safety or security.

What then?

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Patterns in the nervous system and in the stress response system:  Underactivation.  Overactivation.  Meet in the middle?  Where is the true peaceful calm?  Without this, where is there ever an opportunity for true playfulness?

DAY THREE

Failed attachment is failed attachment, no matter the source or cause.  There is too much we don’t currently know about causes and consequences of alterations in how our attachment systems and all their related physiology form and operate.

I would simply say that all experiences in our environment forward from conception are forming the physiological selfhood of everyone prior to the conscious autobiographical remembering self’s appearance.  By the time we can consciously trace our self in our life the physiology that does this experiencing and its remembrance has been created.

At the same time it is critical to realize that every change from what is an optimal safe and secure attachment of the growing self impacts all development as an ongoing process.  We do not escape the forces that form us even though the most important ones are owned in and by our body out of range from consciousness UNTIL WE LEARN as much as we possibly can about those forces as they probably existed for us from the earliest moments of our life.  It may then be possible to mitigate some of the attachment failure physiological influences as they profoundly complicate our lives.

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The kicker, I suppose, is how we respond to stressors.  That includes how we detect them in the first place.  Life is about change.  Change ques systems in our body to attend and assess.  How much of what kind of attention is in our response?  I suspect this information passes for most of us as emotional reaction.

What do we notice and how?  What then happens to any equilibrium we may have achieved before a detected change occurred?

Then what?

As I age as a long-term early severe trauma survivor my thinking becomes simpler.  Serious insecure attachment repercussions for me are so intimately connected in my physiology to PTSD I have begun to wonder if there is any earthly part of me that is ever NOT under the seemingly identical discomfort of a reaction from both of them to all change I experience.  I therefore have to be very, very careful of what influences me.

My life simply is this continual battle to try to find some kind of equilibrium as I live in a world of constant change.  Very little in my physiology except for basic operations ever finds rest.  True rest is about safety in the world.  I never had enough of that as my body formed to even really know what it is.

I have a trauma formed body.  My self does not have any other body to experience life with.

I live with chronic, continual anxiety.  It interferes with every aspect of my life.

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A chronically “ON” attachment system operates in a kind of infinity loop with a chronically “ON” stress response system.  Some combination of survival emotions of anger>fear>sadness are nearly always in motion.  There is so little rest.  Little peace.  Little playfulness.  Little true joy.

We are enslaved to our body as it has been created, changed through severe early trauma, as it knows one thing and one thing only:  DANGER threatens SURVIVAL.

Continual application of the powers of the mind in attempt to counteract this “mess” are TIRING!  Always the other signals compete for our attention.  And always some version of survival emotions and their demands upon us are present.

This all combines to make our being alive — WORK!!

DAY FOUR

What keeps a seed alive?  They don’t LOOK alive.  Take any dried bean you can buy from a bin or in a bag.  There it is.

Pass the bean down through the generations.  Five hundred years from now if the bean has been stored properly it could be planted and up will rise another crop, same as the last.

I don’t know scientifically what the secret is inside a seed.  Inside something as simple as a plain old bean.  But whatever lies encased in mystery and miracle must be inside of me.  No claim to fame.  Humble of origin.  Yet here I am.  And I am viable.

Every day I have to remember this.  No matter what storms of feeling or thought swirl and tumble me along through life I hold within me something intangible.  Some kind of hope.  Some kind of miracle.

And it keeps me going because I trust that.  I AM that.  I am so much more than what I appear to myself or to others.  I am a part of something so much bigger.

To ask why any of this matters is to ask why I matter. I guess right here is where, for me, the line of faith lies.  It’s where I have no answers.  My faith is that there ARE answers.  Gone ones, too.  Ones that would make perfect sense to me if I knew them.

And then my faith — which must be very elastic — stretches further as I stand across from myself and say, “Just be patient.  More will be revealed.  If not in this lifetime then in the next one.  Hang on.”

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There are those of us who have lived through hell and beyond it.  Even with what Dr. Martin Teicher says — formed in a malevolent world for life in the same — we DID find our way into a more benevolent world.

And yes, we are a mismatch as Teicher states, for this “other” world.

But what world, I ask, is a seed’s best world?  Once it sprouts — where is its “seed self?”

Dead and gone?  Or transformed?

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This article contains the most important information that survivors especially of INFANT-TODDLER maltreatment need to know:

The neurobiological consequences of early stress and childhood maltreatment.

Neuroscience and Biobehavioral Reviews 27 (2003) 33-44

Martin H. Teicher, Susan L. Andersen, Ann Polcari, Carl M. Anderson, Carryl P. Navalta, Dennis M. Kim

“In our hypothesis, postnatal neglect or other maltreatment serves to elicit a cascade of stress responses that organizes the brain to develop along a specific pathway selected to facilitate reproductive success and survival in a world of deprivation and strife.  This pathway, however, is costly as it is associated with an increased risk of developing serious medical and psychiatric disorders and is unnecessary and maladaptive in a more benign environment.  [page 39 – found by clicking on article title above]

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Here is our first book out in ebook format.  Click here to view or purchase –

STORY WITHOUT WORDS

It lists for $2.99 and can be read by Amazon Prime customers without charge.  Reviews for the book on the Amazon.com site are welcome.

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Leave a Comment »

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