+SIBLING LINKS

**Cindy’s Letter to Mother 1994

**CINDY’S BLOG POST on Mother (060409)

+++++++++++++++++++

**FAMILY TIME – by Brother (1965)

**SELLING THE HOMESTEAD

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Please refer back to this section of the blog as time goes on for future writings by my siblings:

MY SIBLINGS’ COMMENT PAGES

++++++++++++++++++++++++

+INNOCENT TARGETS FOR MY MOTHER’S RAGE

Trying to write the story of my childhood in a logical, chronological, coherent way is an almost overwhelming task.  As I’ve said before an inability to tell a coherent life story is perhaps the MAIN symptom of an insecure attachment.  This dis-ability to either live a coherent life or to tell the story of one’s own life in a coherent fashion manifests itself by degrees of damage in accordance with how insecurely attached a person is.

These degrees of damage move down the scale from being slightly insecurely attached to extremely insecurely attached.  For those of us like my mother and myself, the most severe insecure attachment pattern, that of disorganized-disoriented, means that we are not even securely attached in our fundamental relationship between our self and our self.  As a result, we cannot possibly either live a coherent life or tell a coherent story of our life.  That is what the disorganization and disorientation of our insecure attachment pattern, formed into our early developing brain, did and does to us.

Our condition is a direct result and manifestation of living through traumas at a very early age that built themselves into our developing brain, body and mind.  I understood very early in my own research about the reality of my condition that what is known as ‘peritrauma’ is key and central to my understanding of a disorganized-disoriented insecure attachment pattern.  Peritrauma is what happens in the middle of the experience of a traumatic event during what the experts call the Acute Trauma stage.

I suspect that we will gain far more information about how the experience of trauma affects us when we begin to connect what the medical profession knows about how trauma affects the physical body with what the psychiatric profession knows about how it affects us psychologically.  At this point in time I find that descriptions of peritrauma are mostly contained within the Acute Trauma medial realm as it relates to the physical body as if our physical body can be separated from what happens within the brain and mind.

++++++++++++++++++++

I always use the online Websters dictionary to find definitions for words I require so that my findings can always be consistently tracked back to this one main source of information for the Modern English I use in my thinking.  Yet not even Websters seems to contain the word ‘peritrauma’ or ‘peri-trauma’ within its data banks.  I see this as further indication that we have not yet as a culture put the most important information about what truly creates disaster in our lives into the collective data banks of our own thinking.

++

Dictionary: trau·ma   (trômə, trou-)

n., pl. -mas or -ma·ta (-mə-tə).

  1. A serious injury or shock to the body, as from violence or an accident.
  2. An emotional wound or shock that creates substantial, lasting damage to the psychological development of a person, often leading to neurosis.
  3. An event or situation that causes great distress and disruption.

[Greek.]

traumatic trau·mat’ic (-mătĭk) adj.
traumatically trau·mat’i·cal·ly adv.

From : http://www.answers.com/topic/psychological-trauma

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I discovered this link through my efforts to connect physical trauma to mental trauma.  I can think of no more of an accurate place to begin to think about the effects of peritrauma as it relates to child abuse than this one:

[PDF]  Psychology of Terrorism

File Format: PDF/Adobe Acrobat
pressure to define terrorist behavior in terms of psychopathology, and he clearly suggests …… peritrauma and posttrauma risk factors, are central …… Webster’s New Collegiate Dic- tionary. Springfield, MA: G & C Merriam Company.
bourbonandlawndarts.googlepages.com/Psychology.of.Terrorism-0195172493.pdf –

++++++++++++++++++++

Acute trauma is the physiological stage we are in while we experience any trauma.  Acute trauma affects every possible aspect of who we are as human beings with bodies — including our brain-mind.  Peritrauma is the ongoing experience of being in an acute trauma experience as we are enduring it.  Post traumatic stages are the result of not completing the acute trauma stage adequately so that it can be ‘passed through’ rather than NOT ‘passed through’.

In my thinking, it’s that simple.  Either we experience the acute trauma stage and come out the other end having completed the trauma cycle, or we don’t.  If we do not complete the trauma cycle this means that aspects of the peritrauma we experienced AT THE CENTER of the acute trauma stage are carried within us in our bodies, brains and minds.  We have not, therefore, re-stored ourselves to the state we were in before the trauma happened.  We have not re-covered our previous state.  We have not re-membered the being that we were before the trauma occurred.

We are left fragmented within ourselves and will not be able to tell a truly coherent story — not even to ourselves — of what the experience was like for us because we are actually still in it.  When we are left with unresolved, uncompleted traumatic experiences within us — in the form of continued and ongoing peritraumatic reactions that originated during the acute trauma experience — trauma will continue to live itself through us.  We are therefore correspondingly robbed of our own ability to live our own lives free from trauma.  It owns us.  It possesses us.  And it can consume us.

++

If severe traumatic experiences happen to very young infants and children, the traumas so build themselves into the fabric and structure of the early developing brain-mind that the peritraumatic spectrum of these experiences can never be later extricated.  They instead determine how the survivor will process information about being in the world for the rest of their lives.  Dissociation, I believe, becomes the operating system of these brain-minds because the ongoing peritraumatic experience of the traumas were integrated into the brain-mind itself.

This is how a brain-mind built in, by and for a malevolent world continues to operate as it knows and is forced to always remember that the world is not only unsafe, but is also a disorganized and disorienting place to have to survive in.  It will never be able to re-member itself as having lived before in any state other than a peritraumatic one.  This kind of malevolently-formed brain, created in a severely traumatic early world, can never re-store to or re-cover back to a state it never knew in the first place.

As a result, the disorganization, disorientation, incongruity, and incoherence (and dysregulation) that is by definition a part of the peritraumatic experience during acute trauma will continue to operate through an insecure attachment system within the body and brain-mind of such a survivor for the rest of their life.  Organization, orientation, congruity and coherence, if they exist within such a brain-mind at all, will be limited to certain sections of a person’s life.  These separate sections might contain large fields of related experiences, but these fields of experience will not themselves be healthily connected to the survivor’s ongoing coherent experience of life.

++++

Trauma triggers create a shift in the ongoing experience of such a person’s life.  This shift is automatic and unconscious, and happens at the speed of light because the electrical communications between the cells of our bodies, including our brain-mind, happen that fast.  For severe childhood trauma survivors, both the trigger as stimulus and the automatic reaction to the trigger, directly stimulate their disorganized-disoriented dissociative core foundation of who they are in interaction with life.  We should not be surprised, therefore, that these people continue to surprise us.  If they COULD become conscious of their patterns, they would even surprise themselves.

++++

I want to give you a simple and seemingly innocuous example of how my mother’s self was so easily disconnected both from her self as a self and also from the reality of those around her.  My sister, Cindy, pointed this out to me after she read this part of my mother’s June 5, 1959 letter ( *1959 Alaska Letters transcribed 060309 (not filed)):

“Oh, we looked funny when we got to town – me with boots, levis etc and all of us looking – well just like homesteaders!!  I hadn’t been ‘out’ for a week and hadn’t had a real bath since then!  We took showers at the women’s dormitory on the base – and all got dressed up in summer cottons!  My, we felt good!!!

I had packed our things in a suit case but had forgotten soap, shower cap and bobby pins and comb!  I couldn’t do a thing until I had them and even refused to go to breakfast until we were cleaned up.  I went over to the shopping center on Govt Hill and he opened up the store early (he was cleaning it) and I purchased the things.  Oh, I hated to be seen that way.  Once you’re in the city it’s just like Pasadena or any city and you feel out of place not dressed up—

Anyways later I found my shower cap and wanted a refund of 39 cents on one I’d bought so returned it and I was sure he’d never recognize me BUT he did!”

As Cindy points out, my mother often described her country-woman self by using her first name, Mildred.  She described her town-woman self by using her middle name, Ann.  Were it not for the inside information that we have about the condition of my mother’s brain-mind, we could believe that these designations were merely playful.  Yet the words of her letter indicate that she honestly and genuinely was completely amazed if not shocked and stunned that an outsider who had seen ‘Mildred’ would recognize her as being the same person when she later met him as ‘Ann’.

++

Her interaction with the shopkeeper was not a significantly traumatic experience for my mother, yet her experience of the interaction demonstrates a key and central aspect of her brain-mind’s organization, or more accurately, of its disorganization.  At the instant she realized that this man actually DID recognize her, some aspect of her inner disorientation affected her.  This illustrates only a tiny drop in the sea of my mother’s ongoing disorganized, disoriented, incongruous, incoherent interactions within her own life.

++

I believe that my mother’s deepest taproot of being-a-self-in-the-world was embedded in unresolved early peritrauma.  On this day, today, I would add Dissociative Identity Disorder to the long list of suspected diagnosis I might attach to her.  This list would, in my thinking, run the range from paranoid psychotic, to manic depressive, through Borderline Personality Disorder, some form of schizoid personality disorder and Narcissistic Personality Disorder.  She was a very dangerous ‘piece of work’.

Yet all of these patterns nicely fit within a framework of disorganized-disoriented insecure attachment.  As untrue as it might be, and as hard as it might be to accept if it IS true, I would say that just as my mother did not choose the malevolent conditions that formed her early brain-mind including her connection to her own self or her connection to the world around her, I do not believe she had the conscious ability to choose her later reactions to anyone or anything that happened in her life, either.   That includes even her reactions to a shopkeeper’s reaction to her.

She was therefore no more capable of responding appropriately to the world around her, which included her mate and children, that would be a rapid dog.  Anything about her that might have ‘appeared normal’ was simply a part of one ‘larger field of related experience’ or another.  These ‘related fields’ were glued together, organized and oriented around particular patterns and themes such as ‘looking good in public’, ‘taking care of the house’, ‘having well behaved children’, and/or ‘homesteading in Alaska’.

These ‘fields’ were only tenuously and fragily connected to the taproot of one version of her self or another that had managed to form in her early childhood and to survive into her adulthood.  These fields were not solidly and coherently either bound to one another or to her ongoing self-in-the-world.  This allowed ongoing triggers of early traumas to evaporate, on any given occasion, any semblance of ongoing order (or of reasonality) that her fragile psych might periodically be able to construct and maintain.

I imagine these fields as they might exist on floating islands, separated from one another and from the self that creates them.  They are incomplete dissociative realities, but in most cases they are the best that a survivor manage to create in their lifetime.

++

Life with our mother occurred in the same active peritraumatic mine field that existed within her own self.  None of us were able to know ahead of time exactly what would trip the wire that resulted in one of her mines exploding.  Her various states of mind and states of being were dis-organized around the ongoing peritrauma that filled her.  There was no healing of these toxic-filled gaps and no way to predict their explosions or to protect ourselves from them.

What I do know is that whatever happened to my mother during her early childhood, she came out of it mad as hell, full of uncontrollable hatred and rage, mean and fighting.  In some cases, ‘hell has no fury like a scorned child’.  Unfortunately my mother’s children were targets of her madness.

+++++++++++

+HIDE NO LIE FROM BEFORE OUR EYES

Eerie.  That is the feeling that surrounds and fills me as I sit at my computer deciphering and transcribing my mother’s letters that she wrote during the time of my childhood.  The letters came into my hands after her 2002 death.   They were in boxes, stored, moved around, and stored some more for nearly 50 years.  They are still in their original envelopes with post marks, written by my mother to her mother with the request that they be saved for the ‘Alaska homesteading book’ my mother planned to someday write — and didn’t.

There are letters here from my father to my mother as well (many are already posted on pages under MY MOTHER’S ALASKAN HOMESTEADING WRITINGS ), and more will be added as I resume my work on them.  There are also letters written by my grandmother to my mother, but I have a very hard time reading her handwriting and will probably save those to work on last.

++++

The following words are among the few that I have found so far that directly touch upon the source of the eeriness of my task.

In the PS at the very bottom of this letter June 15, 1957 letter (posted  in *1957 Letters Added (not filed)), these words were written by my mother to my father:

““Out of all bad comes some good” or “Everything is for a reason.”  You know, I believe this – I really do, now.  I also feel washed, cleaned & know I’ll feel more & more that way as time passes.  Darling, the mask is slipping & soon will be gone.  I feel more like the girl you married than I have in a long, long time.  I feel pity & compassion for all the neighbors left on Walnut – fussing, bickering, quarreling, jealous – I want no part of it & they are.  I told Kathy F. they’re like the tigers in black Sambo & soon will all turn to butter.

Darling, we must believe in ourselves & the power of our own conviction, even if in time we’re proven wrong.  There’s so much, so very much I would like to tell you.  but most of all is that we have a million dollars.  No wonder people are inclined to be jealous of what we have & they don’t know anything about.

LOVE, LOVE.

Love for each other, our children & trust in God & love for the good things in life.”

++++

These words in particular stand closest to being the true words of the woman who was my mother that I have discovered in her letters I have been working with today:

I also feel washed, cleaned & know I’ll feel more & more that way as time passes.  Darling, the mask is slipping & soon will be gone.

She is writing about all the people in southern California whom my mother and father counted as their dearest friends before they moved to Alaska.  Even after the move these people were referred to as their ‘California friends’.  Yet in these words as she wrote them in her letter we can see that strange twist of ‘paranoia’ and ‘delusion’ that enabled my parents to really be one another’s co-conspirators as they supported the fable that was our homesteading family.

These people she is referring to are ‘real people’.  I have no reason to believe that any of them ever abused their own children the way my mother abused me.  Nor did they create and maintain a chaotic reign of terror within their homes that caused my siblings to experience a childhood nearly as bad as my own.

If my mother, and in some strange way my father, also, as he came to increasingly participate with my mother in their strange ‘individualism’ (as she also talks about earlier in this same letter), could form a wall and a barrier between themselves and ALL other adults — they could carry on their own bizarre life and lifestyle with impunity and justification.

My mother seemed to believe that she was different from and therefore better than, anyone else she knew.  While she seems to talk at times about her Alaskan acquaintances in a ‘normal’ way, when the letters are read closely enough the daggers appear.

My mother — and my father by association with her — justified their choices and their actions by the rules that pertained only to them in their ‘special, different, unique and individualistic’ world.  They created a universe all their own, one that did not include anyone else but us.

In so many ways the move to Alaska and the chaotic persistent illusion-delusion that the mountain was our ‘home’ basically left us as homeless wanders (even though we always had some roof or another over our heads) without ties to family, friends or neighbors.  Homesteading became the impenetrable ‘blanket’ that covered our family in secrecy and seclusion, that hid the truth of what went on for us as victims within our family, that prevented anyone else from ever knowing the insanity that was our life.

Being ‘Alaskan homesteaders’ became the giant rock under which all the creeping, crawling bugs hid, festering and multiplying out of the light of day, the light of reason, or the light of accountability.  Nobody ever lifted up that rock.  Nobody ever even SAW my mother — the mother behind the mask she is referring to in this snippet from her writings.

Nobody saw her, and nobody stopped my mother.  Homesteading was her perfect cover, keeping even the truth from making its way to her.  There was nothing in our lives but change, chaos, turbulence, trouble, and stress and distress of unimaginable creation.  The homesteading facade was what the public could ‘know’ about our family, though none found us.  Within its fable every difficulty could be accounted for, justified, explained and therefore ‘understood’.

When my mother writes about how their California friends did not ‘understand’ our family’s decision to move to Alaska, nobody had to look at the fact that they could not understand Mildred, period.  While she was, herself, beyond reason, the reason was contained in participation within the fable itself.  The family and the homestead-homesteading could not be disentangled.

And for all the burdens that the ‘Alaskan adventure’ created within our family, those burdens were hiding the worst of all possible worlds, and at the center — so far out of sight that there was no hope of anyone ever finding ME — was Linda.  I appear in a few words in a few lines of a few of her letters.  (I will be highlighting those in my pages at *CONSTRUCTING TIMELINE OF MY CHILDHOOD).

What happened to me was like pressure at the core of what was wrong with my family, wrong with my mother, wrong with my father.  What happened to me was invisible.  I was invisible.  The eeriness of working with my mother’s letters comes from the fact that I am searching for the invisible within her words.  My younger brother says of my own writing that I am working on a forensic autobiography.  He is so correct.

That is what identifying the realities of the crimes of child abuse is all about.  It is about making the invisible visible.  We have to name the invisible crimes.  We have to name the invisible criminals who commit those crimes.  We have to let something appear into visibility that lies hidden behind closed doors, that lies hidden under the great stones all abusive parents use to cover up what they do to their children in private that they would never do to them in the light of public view.

++

That is what my mother is describing in the above writing from her letter.  She is letting the mask slip away that she had to keep handy as she interacted with this social group of ‘friends’ before we left for Alaska, my grandmother included.  Once she was ‘out of their sight’, separated from their field of vision and their watchful eye, there was no more possible protection for her children.  The mask was no longer necessary to her, but it had been necessary for us, for me.

We must never forget how devious my mother’s kind of mental illness is — and was for us growing up with her.  Only the most trained eye, the most patient observer, the most skilled assessor of human behavior will ever be able to detect the kinds of lies families such as mine are capable of living.  Our parents were ‘lucky’ in being able to participate in one of the greatest fables of our nation, that of homesteading a frontier piece of land to make a home.

WHAT A JOKE!  What a terrible, tragic, malevolent joke.  When the ‘wool’ can be ‘pulled over’ the public’s eye all manor of insanity is left to torment innocent children and nobody even knows it’s happening.  How do we identify these lies?  They are carefully crafted, as within my family, and run from the light of day.  They take disguises and hide themselves.  We are tricked.  And some of us are tortured.

+LINKS TO MY MOTHER’S NEWLY TRANSCRIBED LETTERS PRE-ALASKA AND ALASKA

Link to letter my mother wrote to my father while we stayed at my grandmother’s house prior to mother and kids joining my father in Alaska.  My mother and my grandmother were evidently NOT getting along!

*1957 Letter to Dad from Grandmother’s House

*1957 Letters Added (not filed)

Link to Alaska letters my mother wrote to her mother:

*1961 Alaskan Letters from My Mother to Grandma

Link to newly transcribed letter my mother wrote as she drove alone with little money and 4 children south to an unknown destination.

*1963 Al-Can Highway Letter (Alaskan Highway)

+DON’T MISS THESE 3 COMPLETED PAGES

These three pages are now complete:

*COLLINS ON RESPONDING TO NEED – Part Five

*COLLINS ON RESPONDING TO NEED – Part Six

**Attachment Styles and Caregiving from Collins Article

+Links to new pages on attachment patterns

The only way not to have an operating attachment system is to be dead.  Our attachment system is supposed to be able to be deactivated appropriately so that our other systems of exploration and caregiving can be activated in their own turn.  When we have an insecure attachment rather than secure attachment system, this ‘shut off’ ability may be lost to us.  As a result, all of our behavioral systems are negatively affected.

Our attachment patterns are formed into our brains during our experiences with our mother and other important early care givers mostly before we are a year old.  They operate behind the scenes of our life much as a computer’s operating system is hidden from our view.

Whether we look at an infant’s developing attachment system, or look at an adult attachment system as it operates in romantic and other relationships including parenthood, the more we understand these systems the more conscious power we can have over our own lives.

*COLLINS ON RESPONDING TO NEED – Part One

**Attachment Styles from Collin’s Article

*COLLINS ON RESPONDING TO NEED – Part Two

*COLLINS ON RESPONDING TO NEED – Part Three

*COLLINS ON RESPONDING TO NEED – Part Four

*COLLINS ON RESPONDING TO NEED – Part Five

*COLLINS ON RESPONDING TO NEED – Part Six

**Attachment Styles and Caregiving from Collins Article

+LINK to *THE DANGERS OF MEMORY RETRIEVAL

The following link will take you to the page I wrote today about my experiences related to re-membering traumas within my own life:

*THE DANGERS OF MEMORY RETRIEVAL

+MOTHERING: WHEN IT’S RIGHT, WHEN IT’S WRONG

I feel at this instant like a dancer might who is poised behind a curtain of a stage, breathing those last breaths before the music starts, before the curtain rises, about to dance a dance before an unseen but present audience.  This dancer would have performed the dance before, would have practiced it step by step, part by part, before this evening’s performance.  Not I.  I have no idea what I am going to write here before you.  I know not one word before I begin.  All I can do is take that last breath and step on out, hoping.

Hoping that I know what I want to say, what needs to be said.  Hoping that I can say it right, leaving nothing out but adding nothing in that does not belong within this dance of words.  What is it that I will say first?

++

Do we, as a species, want to replace the kind of mothering that built our species from the beginning with medications that alter our brain chemicals and that might mimic what we used to be able to accomplish within our own brains without any other assistance? After all, we used to be prepared for the task of living as members of a social species in such an exact way that all the programming needed to accomplish this mothering was biologically given to mothers, and given to infants, so that in the end infants grew up to be balanced children and adults who knew the possibility of well being.

What happens to infants when the ability to mother adequately is removed from the people-growing equation?  What happens to the adults that these infants grow up to be?  How far back in my own family can I look in order to discover where the diversion of mothering abilities began and where mothering began to be altered and removed from the ongoing patterns particularly of how mothers raised their daughters?  I can’t see back there very far, but far enough to know something passed down to me was very, very harmful.

++

I must tread carefully here, if treading across a public stage can be considered dancing at all?  I wish I could say what needs to be said exactly, specifically so, as if the dance has already been danced before and I can follow in some earlier, preexisting invisible footsteps.  If I knew ahead of time what the dance was and how to perform it, this writing would be so much easier to do.

++

I do not wish to alienate mothers.  I do not wish to harshly condemn any mother’s efforts to raise her own children.  Those of you who have been reading my posts already know that something was so wrong with the way my mother raised me that it could hardly be called mothering at all.

But she was my mother and she did mother me.  Inadequately, but she did mother me.  Taken from that far extreme of mothering like my mother gave me, across an entire range of possibilities of mothering, all the way over to the most perfect mother we could even collectively imagine — somewhere along this line every mother could place her own.

It is not that I am deliberately eliminating men from my writing here due to some inner bias of my own.  I very specifically consider that mothering is something only women can do.  Men father.  They cannot mother, no matter how nurturing they may be toward their infants and children.  Everything we know and can imagine about the biological, physiological differences between women and men apply here.  How men father is not the topic of this post.  How women mother is.

++

With that clarifying step taken, I will turn in another direction and take yet another step.  What we might consciously know about mothering will always be only a tiny part of the story unless we today begin to think very clearly and carefully about ourselves as a species, and particularly about being American members of our species at this point in time.  We cannot leave the context of culture and society out of our discussion about mothering.

I can report facts to you about my own experiences of mothering as I consciously understand them, but I also must state I know really nothing of substance about the generations of women in my family that preceded me as mothers.  I make guesses based on guesses.  My guess is that my mother’s grandmother — who came into my mother’s home when her own husband died, and very closely in time to when my mother’s mother divorced her own husband — was as important to my mother as she grew up after the age of 5 or 6 as her actual mother was.  I do not believe that my mother was healthily mothered by either one of these women.

It is here that my dance must take another step, a sort of flying leap into the air with a shift of the body above the stage floor, so that some distance is covered and the dancer lands in a surprising spot — of sorts.  This step includes what any of us women might know or imagine about all the grand mothering in our families.  What is grand mothering compared and/or contrasted to mothering?  We cannot leave the grandmothers out of our mothering equation.

How my mother’s grandmother mothered my mother’s mother had to have had — my definite guess here — a major influence upon how my mother developed not only as a person, not only as a mother, but specifically as my mother.  How my mother mothered me had a powerful impact on my ability to mother my own children, and backward and forward throughout the generations we see that mothers never do their own mothering in a vacuum.

++

Now I, as the dancer within my own mind, must take yet another step.  This time the step moves into a spin, both feet close together twirling above the floor, ending with me landing into a forward fold, down on one knee, both arms stretched in front of me, palms together toward the sky.  It is here I must talk about our evolution, how if we move far enough away from the kind of mothering that nature intended us to practice within our species we are running the risk of endangering ourselves — and I use this word ‘ourselves’ in both the most singular and most collective way.

I, singularly, suffered the consequences of my mother’s psychosis that was focused specifically on me.  I know that all of my siblings suffered from growing up with my mother as their mother.  Yet we all know that I was forced from birth to be the one chosen to grow up in the center of her storm.

I have said and I will continue to say it again, that my mother’s psychotic break and her overriding mental illness was influenced by conditions of her childhood that damaged her developing brain-mind.  This next step I am taking is more like a jumping up and down firmly in one place.  It is not a step of grace, it is a step of emphasis.  No matter what the men may be doing in the early lives of children, it is ALWAYS to the mothers that I will look for ultimate accountability.

I take another step here away from center and follow with another and another and another until I have traveled in a wide full circle.  At the center of this circle I place the young children.  For every step from that center in any direction I would want another woman to be standing there.  This wide movement I am taking in my dance is meant to point out that for the millions of years our species spent evolving itself, never until recent times and under the guise and the burden of so-called ‘civilization’ did we women EVER mother alone.

We can all talk until we run out of breath about the rights of women.  I am not opposed to women pursuing what they may think is best for them in their lives.  But I am NOT talking about women here.  I am talking about mothers.  I am talking about women’s fitness to mother in the first place.  And ultimately, I am talking about the children we bear and bring into this world.  These children not only need mothers (and fathers, not the topic of this post), they need adequate MOTHERING.

I have to let other dancers onto the stage now.  This is no longer a dance I choose to dance alone.  With the flurry of movement of multiple dancers I see in the patterns they create in their dancing that when women who are mothering are cut off from one another all manor of ill being replaces the well being that we always knew before.

++

The color I remember from stories my mother told of both her grandmother and her mother were that they were brilliant women.  Each in their own way were educated career women.  I hold no false belief that either of these two women were adequate as mothers.  My mother paid a price for this.  I and my siblings paid a price for this.  My own children paid a price for this, even though I was a stay-at-home mother.

Just in looking at the influences in five generations, from my great grandmother to my own children, I see that it wasn’t the mothers themselves that were missing.  No, not us.  It was the necessary QUALITY of mothering that was missing, and that lack and loss is what has created the ongoing pattern of disaster.

If you read my June 1972 writing in +LEAVING NO CHAOS BEHIND – PART ONE, you will be able to instantly know what I am talking about.  That writing reflected the state of dysregulation within my brain-mind that was a direct result of the trauma and terror that formed by brain from the beginning of my life.  How could I, or anyone else, ever expect me to be able to adequately mother children with that brain?

True, except for the incident I described in THE DAY I ABUSED MY OWN LITTLE SON, I did not blatantly or overtly abuse my own children.  But I did harm them.  There was no possible way that I could not have done so, no matter how much I tried not to.  That is the nature of trauma when it is not resolved.  One way or the other, it passes itself on down the generations.  We can whine and moan, curse and spit, but there is little we can do about it — unless and until we find the right information and the resources we need AT THE RIGHT TIME.

Dance over.  I’m deadly serious now.  I do not have any grandchildren.  This may change in the future.  What matters to me most is that my children have broken the pattern to the best of their ability.

If I could magically go back and offer to my own self when I was 18 what I know now, I have no doubt my children would be the beneficiary of radical positive changes that I would have been able to make in myself as a result of the knowledge I now have.  True, there is a probable chance that they would never have been born in the first place.  I cannot find it in myself to wish for that.

All I can do is what we all can do — move forward.  We can learn.  We can change.  We can heal, each according to our abilities.

Before our species so changed our world, back before the coming of ‘civilization’ began to disconnect mothers from mothers, we did not mother alone.  Grandmothers were also part of the cycle of mothering.  Not isolated grandmothers, but connected grandmothers.  Women breast fed one another’s children.  They held them and cared for them as if they were their own.

The birth mother was not left with the full burden of caring for her child alone.  She was always accessible in times when her infant could not be solaced by other women.  The infant could always be returned to its birth mother (if she were alive) when necessary.  But in between these times the birth mother had the ability to ‘get away’ and to work at her other tasks, but the infants never suffered for lack of mothering.

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I take the stand that in today’s world of American culture we are hurting our mothers by isolating them from other mothers and we are hurting our offspring.  We have gone so far away from what nature gave us in the beginning I am not at all convinced that we can ever find our way back.  But I also know that if we never identify problems that exist we have absolutely NO HOPE of repairing the rupture we have created within our culture — and in increasingly wider circles within other ‘advancing’ cultures — as we interfere with mothers’ ability to adequately mother their young.

I will describe in future posts that the damage we are causing directly affects our brain’s ability to regulate itself.  Adequate mothering is designed to build a regulated human brain that can experience well being as its center point of balanced equilibrium.  The more mothers don’t and can’t mother their young the way nature intended us to, the more dysregulated our brains become.

Is it a good thing that we now have, as the end result of very expensive and extensive research, all kinds of prescription drugs to regulate more and more and more brain and nervous system dysregulations than ever before?  Or do we look at the bigger picture and accept as fact that inadequate mothering of infants and young children is creating these dysregulations in the first place?  Are we more afraid to ask the questions or to find out the true answers?

We are becoming dependent as a society on the powerful drugs we take — as adults and feed to our children — to regulate brain chemistry because we are creating the problems by building these brains that cannot regulate themselves in the first place.

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I could ask, “What are we willing to know about this problem?”  Or I could ask the much harder and more helpful question, “What are we NOT willing to know about this problem?”  Maybe we are so acceptant of the fact that ‘everyone’ takes brain-regulating medications that we don’t even think it’s a problem in the first place.

Are we so absolutely stupid and foolish that we ‘thank our lucky stars’ that we have all these wonder drugs available to us in our super advanced civilization to fix us?  Does it ever occur to us that we are creating these same problems that need these medications and that the conditions are PREVENTABLE?

Do we refuse to see harm in anything we are doing or have done to our own children that meant they had no choice but to develop brains that could not adequately regulate themselves for the task of being humans who are healthy and have well being — naturally?  Just as women birth the children, they are designed to be the builders of infant brains.  That job is not done at birth.  If mothers cannot adequately build brains within their infants that can healthily regulate themselves, the job will not get done.

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I do not ask any question that I am not willing to ask myself, no matter how difficult it might be to look at the truth.  We might not need to use the word abuse in reference to how we parent our own children.  But if we have our own histories of trauma we cannot help but pass this trauma down to our children, no matter how much we try not to.

There is a wealth of new information available to us about the brain development of infants and young children.  Until we access this information at the ground level where we all live and struggle, we cannot make the kinds of changes within ourselves that will truly allow our children to escape what we never meant to do to them in the first place.  There is no bliss in ignorance.

We HAVE to know what happened to us.  We have to become crystal clear about the changes in HOW mothers mother because we are damaging our children and the future of our society.  This isn’t about feeling badly.  I give the example as clearly as I can that how my mother mothered me does NOT need to be an emotional issue on any level other than in my memories of the actual abuse experiences themselves.

What we need MOST are the facts.  The simple clear facts.  We can change nothing for the better without them.  I do not believe that we can continue to bear and raise children in our present and advancing technological world without knowing the facts we need to know about how to build a healthy human brain from birth.

Interactions within inadequate daycare environments, infant isolation from lengthy quality time with healthy mothers, ongoing lengths of time interacting with electronic media, lack of exercise, lack of time outdoors, lack of quality play, are all contributing to a demise of the human brain resulting in an increased need to consume medications to regulate the brain — whether we want to admit it or not.  We are social beings designed to build a social brain through powerful positive human attachments that begin most importantly with our mothers.

If we continue to choose not to pay attention to the reality of our human condition within our ‘new world’, our proverbial dance will be done.  We are a specific species with specific needs during our infant brain developmental stages.  How well we are mothered determines how well our brains work for the rest of our lives.  There are no exceptions.

+DEPERSONALIZATION LINKS

My previous two posts were difficult to write and ‘took a lot out of me’.  They reminded me of myself.

I am only going to give a little information on depersonalization today, which is one aspect of dissociation, in case some readers are not familiar with it.

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Depersonalization (or depersonalisation) can be referred as a malfunction or anomaly of the mechanism in which an individual has awareness or perception of his or her own self. It is a feeling of watching oneself act, while having no control over a situation.[1] It can be considered desirable, such as in the use of recreational drugs, but it usually refers to the severe form found in anxiety and, in the most intense cases, panic attacks. A sufferer feels that he or she has changed and the world has become less real, vague, dreamlike, or lacking in significance. It can sometimes be a rather disturbing experience, since many feel that, indeed, they are living in a “dream”.

More at http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Depersonalization

DEPERSONALIZATION SUPPORT COMMUNITY

http://www.dpselfhelp.com/forum/

“STRANGER TO OURSELVES”

http://www.depersonalization.info/overview.html

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See also link below on veterans and suicide

http://www.cbsnews.com/stories/2007/11/13/cbsnews_investigates/main3496471.shtml