+THOUGHTS. A LETTER. “THE WORK THAT WE DO”

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Today’s letter to a friend:

Dear Sandy

 

As I begin my day I think about the gift of you arriving on the scenes of my life is to me right now.  I have this image in my mind as I contemplate my work on the chicken vault today, as I gather every old board I can find on the property to use to complete this thing – right.

 

I see a mountain so tall and wide that separates ‘the world’ from being able to see the real picture of what you and I KNOW exists – instinctively – in our soul, our gut, in our mind.

 

You and I are blasting a tunnel through this mountain.  Each of us in our own way has discovered parts of the truth – and we use each piece as we move forward – you and I – with our determination, with our unerring sense that there is more to ‘this picture’ of how early trauma changes people from the start of our life in our physiological body – and as a result in the way we live our lives.

 

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The links I sent you last night about the 2011 BPD empathy study – researchers (and all others who use their findings as guides, as little lights on their helmets as they peer into the darkness of the unknown looking for ‘answers’) – find pieces of the truth – and then they put them together in the wrong way – coming to wrong conclusions – or at best partially correct conclusions that are still wrong because they are not complete, do not account for the mismatches

 

because, in part, the are always building toward ‘new’ conclusions by taking what has been ‘discovered’ in the past as they assume these earlier findings are correct.  Never mind, also, that all the fields of study are limiting themselves in their field’s proprietary areas of study – looking forever into the reality of the tiny piece of the puzzle they have found – refusing to link these separate pieces together…..

 

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In that BPD empathy study – ignoring the fact that even very young preschoolers are already demonstrating difficulties in their empathy abilities based on the degrees of safe/unsafe and secure/insecure attachment patterns that they already have built within their body-mind

 

The researchers are still saying BPDs have ‘immature empathy’??

 

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What I know – confirmed after I read Dr. Allan Schore’s meticulously documented books as he described piece by piece all the changes – the ‘damage’ – that is done to a little person growing a body-brain in the midst of trauma (insecure attachments) — and then I found Dr. Martin Teicher’s work in which he AT LAST and AT LEAST was able to realize that all these kinds of physiological changes result in ‘an evolutionarily altered’ individual

 

that let me know all these changes that Schore describes ARE NOT RANDOM, they are not accidental, they are not coincidental, they are not MEANINGLESS — that the resulting evolutionarily altered person is DIFFERENT

 

and I know it’s for a reason.  Nature is not stupid.  Nature knows exactly what it is doing.  All these changes are for a PURPOSE

 

but not even Teicher talks (that I know of) that these changes (as Schore suggests) happen in the CNS, in the ANS, in the stress-calm response system, in our immune system — in our entire BODY — so that the resulting evolutionarily altered people are different IN ALL THE SYSTEMS of their body, which includes the resulting phenotype we arrive out the gate of our earliest developmental months and years of life with — as these trauma changes occur epigentically — and even in this way can pass the results of the trauma on down through the generations even if no abuse has been obvious through several of them

 

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I am writing about my severely BPD mother ‘assuming’ with everything I sense and intuitively know — that she was not BROKEN, she was CHANGED — and that the entire resulting phenotype of who/how she was happened by specific challenges that her physiological development accepted – as she was changed

 

I am looking for the patterns I can find in what I can see of my mother that supports my belief that AGAIN – her BPD was formed with specific structures that accomplished specific things to keep her alive

 

Her patterns were not random, accidental — or even ‘mysterious’ if we could understand what we see of who/how she was

 

I am getting lots of feedback from Helen in comments on the blog – she is BPD – she relates to everything Mother ‘is doing’ in her letters.  But Helen has no recognition that these are not random displays from some confused mess of a disease —

 

Yes, BPD can so change a person that we cannot recognize that there is anything other than ‘rampant’ insanity at the end — I believe if we could look at this ‘madness’ using the right information to inform our study – we would find an exquisite natural-reasoning about how all the pieces and patterns fit together.

 

NEVER can a BPD person be made to be ‘normal’.  I checked with Helen yesterday, who is herself a mother – though her children did not end up BPD — they are NOT healthy.  I asked her if she thought any BPD could raise their children healthily – her answer was a firm NO (this is important to me)

 

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Anyway – I don’t search and research assuming that I am looking at ‘madness’ that makes no sense by definition

 

I search and research assuming that there is a clear pattern that makes perfect sense – as nasty and sad and as unfortunate as the result can be – and usually is.

 

I give nature full credit for knowing exactly what it is doing.

 

It is not different than what I am doing to finish my coop – not having money to hire anyone to do this perfectly, not having $ resources to run out and purchase all kinds of MORE new materials — I will finish this job using every salvaged piece of anything I can find to accomplish the END RESULT of creating a safe coop for my birds.

 

Nature does exactly the same thing.  Given appearingly insurmountable obstacles, nature searches for every possible piece of supply/resource – on every level – to build for a little person a body-brain that will do the job of keeping them alive until they reach reproductive age.

 

Nature carries this process no further than that – and this is where we need to agree to look at the facts and then accept the truth.  Our species has the capacity to do what nature intended – to take the offspring of these changed people away from the mothers at birth — and raise them correctly.

 

Nature cannot design these severe trauma survivors to make them adequate to care for their own young.

 

This is where we each isolate ourselves from the facts of the true and bigger picture.  Nature KNOWS, of course, that others COULD accept their end of the bargain — basically THANK the survivor, such as my mother – and nature for its part – in keeping her alive long enough to bear young.

 

And we would do this as nature intended — by then making sure the offspring were raised in a completely safe and secure, appropriate environment.

 

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All this said, Sandy – I am clarifying for myself the pathway I take in my thinking and writing.  I do not intend to add to the pile of used toilet paper-writings a single word that supports the idea that “Oh, well.  Your mother was a broken mess.  Too bad.  We simply cannot understand her – she was crazy.”

 

We CAN understand my mother.  At least I am doing my best to discover the underlying architecture, the structure, the purpose the patterns in her life had in the much bigger picture of how nature is REAL — has great POWER — and knows what it is doing.

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Borderline Personality Disorder – empathy study – background letter:

just read a blog article related to this new research on BPD and empathy —

 

http://www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/pii/S1053811911004939

 

—here’s the blog link

 

http://downwardspiralintothevortex.blogspot.com/2011/12/how-brain-sees-empathy-in-borderline_30.html

 

—in essence found what you and I talk about – the ‘something missing’ – they call the BPD empathy ‘immature’ – or anyone who doesn’t ‘do’ empathy ‘correctly’ – as per this preschooler empathy study, the differences were obvious when kids were very young – way too young for any of them to have ‘mature’ empathy

 

http://workspacestopthestorm.wordpress.com/book-beating-trauma/chapter-8-empathy/preschooler-empathy/

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+SCARING THE SUN UP

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I awoke way too early today.  Up at 2:30 I am pacing, trying to scare the sun up so I can get to work building my chicken vault.  This project has taken a lot of money and a lot of time as I try to build a safe structure for my little flock of new baby chicks that no animal can get into to destroy them.

I live on the Mexican-American line with the two tall border fences at the back edge of my property.  It’s a police state down here.  Two years ago Border Patrol aimed their stadium lights at our line of trailers and houses here, right on our trees, on our houses, into our windows.  That’s not bad enough.  They also have portable massive generator lights that roar with a metallic drone that sounds like a helicopter hovering over my house.  Two days ago they moved those lights even closer to my house and with my exquisite hearing – I cannot sleep.

Border Patrol has plenty of money.  They could put those lights on the grid.  They could sound proof those generators.  They do not care.  They will not return calls with my concerns.  I need to go over the head of the local bunch of bounty hunters to their Tucson sector chief.  So far, I don’t feel civilized enough to talk to them nicely.

Especially without sleep.

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I have other concerns, of course.  I am panicking inside as I approach ever more closely the publication of my first book.  A friend of me who lives a long ways from me called last night after the class she took about epublishing on Amazon.com.  I didn’t understand a word she said about formatting – about any of it – except for one thing.

Once I upload and publish a manuscript there the public begins to give the book STARS.  Good stars?  Bad stars?

Am I ready to have my work judged by a reading public who I doubt will have any idea about what I am hoping to accomplish with my work?

Oh, I don’t do well with criticism?  I got so much of that the first 18 years of my life I have no tolerance left for being judged.

I think of a book a friend of mine read me passages from so many years ago:

Drawing on the Artist Within: An Inspirational and Practical Guide to Increasing Your Creative Powers by Betty Edwards (Apr 6, 1987)

My friend read to me about ‘the crazy makers’.  Edwards wrote that no matter what our dream is, at the exact moment that we are ready to accomplish it a crazy maker will come.  Someone or something will be there to stop us right at the moment we are taxiing down the runway about to take off and soar.  If the crazy maker doesn’t appear from outside of us, then we can be sure it will appear within us.

I am scared of crazy making.  How could I not be?  My books will contain the words of my main crazy maker herself!  Trying to find my own voice to insert my own truth in the midst of my severely abusive mother’s own words is a challenge to me like none I have ever faced before.

And then my friend called last night with news about epublishing.  Can’t use BOLD type?  It won’t be formatted correctly when you upload your manuscript?  You have to use – WHAT?  ‘H3 header’ she said.  Do I have any clue in the known or unknown universe about what a HEADER possibly IS?

No.  I do not.

What I don’t know scares me.  I cannot write this book without being able to highlight in BOLD type the sections of Mother’s letters that I need readers to pay close attention to as they read her words.  Those BOLDED words are the ones that I write comments about at the end of Mother’s (and in this book, my father’s, as well) letters.

Not knowing what I need to know makes me feel powerless.  I am as powerless in my current state of limited knowledge about how to accomplish what I want to as I am powerless over whatever the massive bounty-hunting Border Patrol conglomerate chooses to do in our neighborhood.

How do I move forward?  How do I silence my own internal crazy maker who tells me I cannot publish a book — for what reasons?

Mostly – I feel very alone.  This is my project.  I am the one that holds this 100-year saga inside of me.  I am the one that knows what this story is really about.

Dare I speak?

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Fortunately it won’t be too long from now before the sun scares its own self up over that eastern horizon to give me LIGHT so I can go work on my chicken vault.  No matter how hard the struggle is for me to build that structure of safety for my little animal friends to live in — that I know I CAN do.  And because I want to do it and because I CAN do it — I WILL soon have that structure completed.

But what about this book?  What about this whole series of books?

Sometimes anxiety just plain SUCKS.  Anxiety coupled with roaring droning generator sounds that threaten my tranquility because my anxiety will NEVER let me screen those sounds out.  Anxiety that does nothing but scare my own personal sun DOWN — when I so want to send myself upward!

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+ARTICLE LINK – “Attachment Security and Disorganization in Maltreating Families and Orphanages”

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I found this article today while I was searching online for “unsolvable paradox” as it relates to my mother’s early life – and mine – when a little one has no choice but to go on living in the midst of situations through which NOBODY should be able to survive.

Please give this a read:

Attachment Security and Disorganization in Maltreating  Families and Orphanages

By MARINUS H. VAN IJZENDOORN, PhD  and MARIAN J. BAKERMANS-KRANENBURG. PhD

Centre for Child and Family Studies,

Leiden University, NETHERLANDS

(Published online November 2009)

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+THIS ‘SAFETY’ PROJECT IS A WHOLE LOT OF WORK

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After I returned home from my travels north to see my family I hit a definite slump after learning the neighbors’ dogs had jumped over the yard fence, crashed through the roof of my chickens’ pen and slaughtered most of them.  Slowly, gradually, I am pulling my inner and my outer resources together to see what I can do to make absolutely certain no unwanted critter can ever again get into my animal yard.

I still do want to have a miniature goat or two, or possibly one big retired sweet nanny.  My 12 baby chicks are very soon outgrowing their box in my bathroom.  What if I decide I’d like to have a rabbit?  A pheasant or two?

What a JOB it is trying to remodel my original lovely goat pen area so I can keep ALL dogs, ALL cats, and ALL sparrows out of this area (sparrows consume massive amounts of expensive chicken feed!)

A HUGE job, a great investment of money and time.  I was too naive, I realize now, as I finished what I thought was a corral complete with small barn and shade shelter.  Now that I am in the middle of improving safety — I see how terribly far off in my assumption that what I had made last spring was ‘good enough’.

Not by a wicked long shot!

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And of course I am always thinking of the upcoming books to be published next year as I work outside.  I want pain to stop.  I want infant and child abuse to stop.  I want the world to be NICE!  But – if this teensy experience I am having in my own yard is any indication, it will take a LOT of work to make the world safe for babies and children!  A HUGE investment of capitol and human energy input!

Safety doesn’t seem to be automatic.  Safety is not a given in this world, no matter how ‘modern’ we might like to pretend we are in our society.  What, exactly, will it take to create a world safe for little people so that they can get their needs met – to grow up happy and healthy in every single way?

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I remain disappointed that I didn’t know last spring what it would actually take to do this job of mine right.  Remodeling is very unpleasant business as far as I can tell.  Having done this job right in the first place would have been such a better deal!

But I didn’t do my job right.  I still want little animal-people in my life.  I do not want them exposed to ANY chance of being harmed.  That is my responsibility once I choose to bring them into my life.  Nothing like raising children, of course — but safety and a life free from harm is just that!

Last spring I enjoyed every single moment of making the corrals and fences, barn, shade shelters.  I was making a work of art, which it was.  Which it is.  But this work of art is an absolute ZERO at accomplishing what it needs to!

Now I am at the stage of repair – a nightmarish job in my opinion – but one I choose to complete.  Having the little animals in my life is worth it to me.  And today I realized a little bit more about why this is so.

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I cannot return to the wilderness of my Alaskan childhood.  I am HOMESICK for the wilderness, my first true love, my only attachment, my friend.  Having small animals (I don’t have land or finances for big ones) allows me to have a tiny bit of ‘the wilderness’ near me.

So tomorrow – back into the hot dusty yard I go like a miner after hopes in the future, a treasure of small life — as I re-create this place of safety.

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+TRACKING THE SCENT OF MY RAGE

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Some part of myself is assuring me that I will not be able to publish books that contain my TRUTH without having to find – for the first time in my entire life — what my rage feels like.  This involves me becoming absolutely clear about WHO/WHAT am I REALLY ANGRY at?

Last week I thought for awhile that the beginning of my preface on this upcoming book to be published would be about the day around the 4th of July, 1977 that my baby sister (she was 21, I was 25) rode a bus from Edmonton, Alberta to my home in northern Minnesota (2 weeks before her delivery date for her firstborn).  I was going to mention at the start that when she said to me, “If you are not very, very angry at Mother for the things she did to you when you were growing up there is something REALLY REALLY wrong with you!” – I had absolutely no reaction.

I did not respond to her — etc — but I was most certainly NOT angry with Mother – so therefore I guessed there indeed MUST be something wrong with me.

During all the years of therapy, recovery, research, etc etc etc that I have gone through since that day – I have NEVER felt angry at Mother.

That’s all part of my story – whereas TODAY – and yesterday – and the day before that I am feeling the rising of my rage as if it were a Tsunami coming.

I HATE RAGE – but so what.  In the interest of finally finding my own truth – so I can get this business done of publishing books – I am saying, “BRING IT ON!!”

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As of TODAY – I am quite singularly ENRAGED at the entire HUMAN RACE – well, at least those of my culture – which are the only ones I have ever been in interaction with.

Yesterday – as this rage-finding mission moves forward – I realized that because no human being ever took an interest in me or in my well-being during the first 18 years of my life in hell — NO WONDER I loved the Alaskan wilderness.

Humans were the LAST thing I needed.  My life taught me that!

Humans are the LAST thing the wilderness needs.

No wonder the wilderness and I were such friends, had so much in common, shared implicit understanding of what LIFE was really about.

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Humans.  Pitiful social connection seeking pandering pitiful (did I mention that?) – selfish persuadable useless parasites upon the earth?

What do I know?

But it is illogical to me that I will continue to track the scent of my rage without entering parts of my being that have NOTHING good to say about humans.

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+MY MOTHER WAS NOT BORN BROKEN

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People broke my mother:

On her emotions –

—– in my story, with that of Mother – and Father however that played out, still remaining in mystery for me –
—– emotions became weapons of war – held in the toxic arsenal of Mother’s mental illness mind and in her body
—– so that nowhere was anyone in her universe, her family, enabled to experience any emotion but hers – ours were extensions of hers and in direct reaction to hers
—– Her own social bonding abilities were removed from her – everything that actually went on in our home was about her being continually torn apart, rent asunder.
—– All she did was, at the same time, about patterns of hopelessly trying to create repair – the bond with self can be broken, at which point it might literally be that all emotions are a sign of the damage, coming from the wound
—– all we knew, certainly all I knew, came from her mortal wounds to self and between self and world
—– as if she said with her emotions, “All I know is broken, constantly, continually breaking am I with no way to stop it though I will give all that I have inside of my body toward remaining alive though in my essence all I had to give to the world from my own self has been taken from me.   Although I try forever in this body to repair my own self in relation to this world nothing I can ever do is able to help me.”
—– As far as I can tell nothing Mother did or felt came from a place of health, nor could it restore her to a place of health — she had never known since the moment of her birth.

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Please note:  I am not making any kind of blanket statement about people who suffer with Borderline Personality Disorder.  Mother’s illness was extremely severe!  She was, I believe, quite a rare case on the far, far end of a continuum of how BPD affects people.  It took a lot of people making very big mistakes, people harming her most greatly, to make her this sick.

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+MY THOUGHTS ON ‘PSYCHOLOGY’ – THE HOGWASH THAT HURTS US

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I need to get outside today to work on vicious-dog-proofing my chicken pen – but before I do I am going to post here a series of short emails I wrote today to a friend and fellow collaborator on researching the truth about what early insecure and unsafe attachment interactions do to change our early physiological development – and hence our body-brain’s development – and our lives.

I am not going to edit these or formalize these thoughts of mine on the subject of ‘psychology’ – I don’t have the time.  Yet I have never written on this top before – so here are this morning’s notes posted in the order the emails were sent off:

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(talking about my take on ‘psychology’)

to me this is the value of the AAI – and a recognition of earliest infant attachment that can also be SEEN and assessed by its patterns and how these patterns manifest in one’s life

these patterns ARE physiological – to me there – from where I stand as a trauma altered individual – there is no possible benefit to me of studying any single line of BS that lies under the umbrella of psychology
I would most closely fall under an umbrella of ‘physiological alterations in development’ that affect every aspect of my being alive in a body
the psych stuff comes from another place – where I do not live
even for my mother – yes, she was severely mentally ill – but in the end I do not believe there is anything psych could offer in explanation
her body changed including her brain – from trauma as a child – and VOILA!  look what came out of THAT
pscyh is to me nothing more than philosophy
even when it studies science – it remains philosophy unless the factual science takes central roles in conveying anything of value to us about ‘what’s going on’ 

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for the roughly 50% of our pop that come up to age 2 with safe and secure attachment body-brains (and nervous system, etc) – I have no pity for those who might benefit from the fairy tales of psychology – and CHOOSE to live neuroticallly

My concern is with the other half that have body-brain built from patterns of (and degrees of) unsafe and insecure attachment
this is entirely physiological – whatever neurosis these people might display (along with those who display ‘psychopathology’) must first be recognized as it exists in their trauma-affected physiological development during their most critical stages of growth
neurosis is a luxury safe and securely built people participate in.  Whomever wishes to spend their time being deeply concerned with those people’s problems – well, educate them, teach them to GROW UP and recognize the CHOICES that they make – because they CAN
For the rest of us – we need to know what unsafe and insecurely attached physiology has DONE to us – including how that physiology robs us of the ability to CHOOSE on many important levels – critical levels – such as Dr. Teicher’s article describes
because we have a very differently-built body-brain the old rules, made by the safe and securely attached people who run the ivory towers – do not apply to us the way we are being told that they do
hence our instinctive recognition that the true info we need is not being made available to us.  In effect, we are being lied to and misguided by those who do not YET know what they are doing.
In the smallest of nutshells – and I mean molecularly — when we are born, even before we are born, opioid systems in our body are regulating how we develop – and they guide all attachment-related responses/changes our body-brain makes
for a newborn, for example.  when infant’s needs are met opioid receptors are full.  As infant experiences a need that tips the balance in an uncomfortable shift from a state of homeostatic equilibrium, the opioid receptors empty.
in a healthy environment no matter what the infant’s immediate need is, it is met by its caregivers.  infant returns to homeostatic equilibrium because its opioid receptors are full again.
the opioid system is designed to keep us all HAPPY – if things go right.  If they don’t go right, this is the level, the molecular level, where the trauma altered development changes direction in adaptation to an ENVIRONMENT that is less than benevolent –
we anthropomorphize humanity.  Nature is concerned firstly with the survival of the BODY to ensure a person reaches reproductive age.  No longer, in the worst cases of adaptation to the most traumatic early unsafe and insecure environment
it is a communication through chemical signals between a human being from conception that is telling this body what kind of world then are IN, so the body can develop in interaction to prepare for the SAME KIND of world to reproductive age
this has nothing to do with psychology.

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the Dalai Lama periodically holds those ‘conferences’ where he gets groups of monks together with the world’s top scientists who present their research findings

I never remember what these meetings are called
but I suppose it’s been about 8-10 years ago – he called in neuroscientists studying early development
who described research in essence:
a calm mother rat has a litter.  she raises them.  the babies all grow up calm
a neurotic mother rat has a litter, raises them, the babies all grow up neurotic (super anxious, etc.)
switch the babies at birth, take the calm babies, give them to the neurotic mother, babies all grow up neurotic
take the neurotic mother’s babies, give them to the calm rat, they all grow up calm
in the ensuing discussion someone asked the Dalai Lama if with humans neurotically-raised humans (in essence unsafe and insecurely attached-built) had an equal chance to reach enlightenment with the ‘calm folks’ in this lifetime.  The Dalai Lama fell silent – and finally responded, “No.”
In my universe this has nothing to do with psychology

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this is clarifying for me this morning – if these books generate enough $ that I can channel toward nonprofit – even though all I would hope to encourage toward getting this info to the lay public – parenting classes, early developmental charts of brain development through attachment interactions with mother – etc

in the end the single most important piece of work we could support would be to get a version of the AAI OUT into the public – if parents do not understand their own attachment patterns they will be stopped BY THEM in some way for every effort they make to change
same with ‘neurotic behaviors’ – the underlying attachment has to be assessed clearly and easily –
yeah, like I am going to have enough $ and power to argue this out with Berkeley?

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As far as I know Berkeley developed the adult attachment assessment tool, the Adult Attachment Interview (AAI).  The AAI remains to this day ‘held hostage’ in the Ivory Tower and has never been worked on in order to come up with a lay-friendly tool that can be used by all of us to begin to understand our own degrees of safe and secure versus unsafe and insecure attachment.

Just as our entire underlying attachment physiology determines how our body-brain develops in the first place, it seems that an accurate assessment of our attachment patterns is the very first place we have to start in understanding our self in our life.

Having this very accurate and very specific information is essential to us defining the truth about everything we know about being a human being.

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+OK. ON THIS PAIN THING –

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My brain gets me up with streams of thoughts running in all directions about these books I intend to publish.  I have spent the better part of the past 72 hours in conversation with friends and with family about the parameters of this project.

This morning my ‘first thoughts’ centered on this:  When people say so blithely, “The greatest journeys always begin with the first step,” – well – in my world of thought this statement is NOT telling me the most critically important point.

I can’t begin until I first determine exactly where I am and exactly where I want to go!!

In my world, that’s a HUGE step all by itself!!

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My daughter used two words last evening in our conversation about ‘the project’ that have great significance to me.  She explained that it is her hope that whatever words of my own that I end up placing within the books dedicated to allowing my very sick, abusive mother to speak in HER own words — come from a place in my being that completely describes to my great grandchildren what this entire epic is about.

The epic includes all I know of my great grandmother, my grandmother, my mother (and my father), myself — and THEN there are my three children, my two grandsons — AND THEN there’s the Seventh Generation, the children that these precious little boys might choose to have of their own.

My daughter included these two words:  FAMILY LEGACY.

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OK.  Right here I began to detect a very subtle shift beginning as I turn, turn, turn, turn in my heart, my mind, around in the direction that begins to more closely let me know where I am beginning this project, the direction I intend to go, and what I intend/hope to accomplish in this work.

Family Legacy.

Who wants to tell of a family legacy that includes mental illness and extreme abuse?

Any kind of abuse?

What if I forget — simply erase entirely from my own mind as if I never heard this thought to begin with — that there is any possible stigma attached to mental illness?  What about trauma of neglect and abuse in families?

OK.  Progress.

That allows me, then, to unfold a saga that is a slice of stories of being alive as humans that has been – and is — played out in my family.  These patterns are played out in MOST families if we are all honest – and with the stresses of modern life in our nation (and in consequence to the national choices we are making) — the patterns of continued stress to mothers, fathers, infants and children is increasing by the day.

The legacy.  I did not abuse my own children, but neither were they exempt from suffering ‘the spill over’ of the horrors that happened to me.  All of this belongs in the family story – and will not be detailed here.

The point my daughter is making is that it is in the lives of HER SONS that the great difficulties in the lives of those from whom she is descended have been lessened to the degree that they barely exist at all.  By the time HER grandchildren are born, my great grandchildren, the hope is that the intergenerational transmission of unresolved trauma will NOT EXIST AT ALL.

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There is then one more extremely important step to make in my thinking – and my daughter and her husband understand this:  Anyone who is raised from conception forward with safe and secure attachment in their lives will NOT suffer from the kinds of devastating lifelong difficulties that those who do not have safe and secure early attachment are nearly guaranteed to have.

In order to create generations of truly safe and secure attachment humans we MUST each be committed to the well-being of everyone else.  There is no US AND THEM.  There are no stigmas.  There is no condemnation heaved by the ‘lucky ones’ upon those who have not been ‘so lucky’.

In the healthy generations there will be built into them from conception the fullest knowledge that humanity is in this business of being alive ALL TOGETHER.  Each and every person is obliged to care about everyone else and to be committed to doing the job of making sure avoidable PAIN caused by humans hurting one another STOPS.

(This process will always include an open, honest, fair, truthful look at all we can find in ourselves and in our family legacy of all that went right along with all that went wrong.)

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Which brings me to the turning-around thinking about pain I have been doing in recent hours.

I found myself saying to someone in conversation, “The point of my healing is that I be able to remove the pain I experienced within any abuse experience from the experience itself.”

Well.  What on earth did I mean by this?

Pain.  The experience of pain (Google search “stop the storm Substance P”) belongs to LIFE itself.  It is not exclusive to humans, it is not exclusive to individuals.

The massive ‘pool of pain’ in which I would say over 90% of my reality resides within is unavailable to me because I consider it unwise and unsafe for me to ‘go in there’ after certain pieces of information I know.

I found myself saying, “I cannot do this work alone.”

OK.  How about doing the work NOT ALONE?

Not alone must mean to me that I take what I know of my own pain — and then of the pain of my mother — and then of the pain of anyone else I can think of — and then realize that ALL THAT PAIN belongs to ALL OF US as humans.

THEN?

My next series of thoughts I recognize very quickly as I turn, turn, turn to find my place of beginning for this book publishing journey crystallized in this statement I make to myself:  “I WANT THE PAIN TO STOP!”

NOT just my pain, not just the pain of my mother…..  Of course we cannot go backwards in time and change the beginning of life for those who have already suffered from their conception forward — suffered unnecessarily from hurt that could have been prevented and avoided.

No.  I want ALL PAIN TO STOP for everyone — and most importantly I want it to stop NOW!!  Is there anything I can contribute in any small way toward making this happen?

Stop all human caused pain to everyone on the planet NOW??

Well, I admit I list to the naive side.  I DO believe that humanity can do ANYTHING WE WANT TO!!  ANY TIME WE WANT TO!

So if we do not protect all infants and children from the start of their life to guarantee that their needs be met in safe and secure attachment relationship to the world they are born into — it’s because we don’t want to.

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Here I begin to glimpse the far edges of the threshold I intend to stand on one side of – and then cross – as I most seriously and effectively begin my book writing work.

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+INTOLERABLE PAIN – LEAVING IT ALONE

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I feel so sad today.  I do not want these tears —

TOLERATE

1: to endure or resist the action of (as a drug or food) without serious side effects or discomfort : exhibit physiological tolerance for

Origin of TOLERATE

Latin toleratus, past participle of tolerare to endure, put up with; akin to Old English tholian to bear, Latin tollere to lift up, latus carried (suppletive past participle of ferre), Greek tlēnai to bear

First Known Use: 1524

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Am I an Icarus, ignoring even my own warnings and instructions, flying for the thrill of it, too close to the sun, melting my own wings, falling to drown in the sea?

No.  There is no thrill of flying for me.  There is no flying.  There is no sun.  There is pain, intolerable pain.  There is danger.  I could drown in my pain.

The warnings?  The instructions I have discovered for myself?

“Leave you pain alone.  Do not approach the shores of your pain.  Do not go near it.  Do not do anything that would bring you close to where it lies at the core, at the center, in your body, in your being, where this pain resides.

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What am I doing?

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I am trying to, actually both hoping and intending to, find a way to tell my own truth – in my words – that belong within the confines of these books I will publish that contain the words of my abusive Borderline Personality Disorder mother as she wrote them in her lifetime and as I have organized and transcribed them.

My own truth.  My own TRUTH IS PAIN.  I tolerate being alive in my body in this lifetime because I was graced with an ability to endure being alive IN SPITE of my pain.

How close can I get to the level of my own truth and not drown in my own pain and sadness?

I am pushing toward my own answer to this question.

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My instructions to myself (and therefore to others) is to always honor the existence of our pain at the same time we stay away from it.  The only time – THE ONLY TIME – I would advocate to others or to self a closer approach to our pain is if it can lead to our healing – and in my case, to the possible offering of something useful that can help others to heal, to increase their level of well-being in their lifetime.

But ALWAYS I would say, “Don’t you DARE go near this pain ALONE!”

Do not dare……

It is not safe…..

I am too close…..

How can I write what I need to, wish to, want to, intend to say?

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I have obviously already gone too far in this project.  I didn’t know this until I evidently GOT THERE!  Here’s the sadness.  Here I am in this enveloping could of sadness that moves out in front of me, above me, below me, surrounds me on all sides.

Here I am feeling this sadness that is a part of my larger body, my body that extends in all directions out from my skin.

I will not even mention what must be going on INSIDE of me that at this moment I can block from my awareness – because I STOPPED!  Right here!  I STOP!

I stop until I can find someone to help me because I cannot do what I need to do ALONE.  (I have made the contact with the person I requested to help me and am awaiting a certain reply.)

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Some of us were born into pain as we were born into this world.  We have never really known anything else.

I am one of those people.  My mother was one of those people.  (My guess is that my father was one of these people, as well.)

The books I will publish are entirely about what this pain is, where it came from, and what being born into this pain did – in the first books – to my mother – and in the next books – what she, in her pain, did to me.

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Our body finds ways in its earliest development to continue to remain alive IN SPITE OF this pain.

The only way Mother remained alive was because her body took a detour into severe mental illness that effectively blocked from her awareness that this pain existed at all.

I remain alive even though I know perfectly well that my pain exists.  I continue to live as effectively as I do BY LEAVING MY PAIN ALONE!  My pain has never – yet – completely overwhelmed me past by ability to find other ways to tolerate it that do not break my mind.

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The weight of my pain as I can feel it right now – as I have ALONE approached it too closely, asking something of myself I cannot do ALONE, allowing myself to FIND where my limit of tolerance actually is – the weight of my pain requires that I back away from it NOW – in the safest way that I can.

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This backing away means that I separate myself now from the reality of my own truth.  I will do this in very practical ways.  I will drink lots of water, take all of my vitamins, eat a huge chunk of watermelon after I drink milk with protein powder mixed in.

I will put on my work clothes and go out into the life-giving fresh air and sunshine.  I will begin to take the lumber and horse fencing supplies out of the back end of my old ’78 el Camino and begin to build reinforcement to my little goat pen I made in my yard last spring.

I will then go find some friends to visit for awhile until I am feeling better.  When I come home I will begin my different kind of work.

I need to make a home for the rapidly growing 12 golden chicks living in a box full of straw in my bathroom.  I found and bought these replacements for the hens my neighbors’ dogs slaughtered while I was up north visiting my family.  I intend to find a way to both have what I need – my little ‘service’ animals that grant peace to me when I need it most – and to keep them absolutely safe from predators who wish to tear them apart.

I will wait for reply from the person I have asked to help me move further in my writing by standing with me in full awareness of the essential pain we both carry.

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There IS PAIN that is not tolerable.  Yes, those of us still living and enduring in spite of our intolerable pain pay a great price to do so.  It is only for the greatest personal cause that I can think of that I am working to find a way to get closer to mine.  But for today these books will have to remain vaulted away from me and me from them.

For today I will go back to leaving my pain ALONE.

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+IN THE (BIG ENOUGH) ABSENCE OF LOVE

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The sun has set but it’s not dark yet.  The air is cooling with the nearing of fall in this 5000 ft elevation high desert small Mexican-American town where I live.  My old house sits right in the middle of the 10 trailers in this park on the border line.

There are at least fifteen children between the ages of 6 and 12 who live in this park out having a noisy joy-filled game of basketball.  Their hoop stands on the edge of the tarred street on its plastic base with crumbled cement blocks holding it down, pole at a little angle, but the backboard and hoop are at least stable enough that they can play and play and play.

It warms my heart to hear them.  It’s part of what I love about this humble place I live.  Everyone here is poor financially – but socially these children are loved – and they can play.

I know none of them probably remember and never think about the day months ago I took my wire cutters and a bunch of wire coat hangars with me to resurrect that basketball outfit the best that I could so at least the backboard didn’t flop all the way down when the pole stood up.  Until I did the repair the whole thing leaned pathetically against an old abandoned car in the nearby parking lot where it had been for months since a strong February wind had toppled it down.

I never played with free abandon as a child.  Abuse prevented that.  I have never played with free abandon as an adult, either.  That ability seems to have been removed from me by my experiences of severe trauma in this world.

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This leads me to my other comment.  I told a dear male friend of mine very clearly today – I felt he needed to know and that even at his age of 75 it is only now that, through 12 years of deep friendship with me, he is finally able to hear me and have a clue what I mean.

I told him, “I do not have the ability in me to EVER believe anyone loves me.  I don’t believe anyone when they tell me.  Even my children and my siblings understand this about me.  This is what happened to me by what was done to me when I was a child.”

He responded, “Your children know this?”

“Yes.”

I am not quite certain how to even express the depth of what I mean when I say this.  I have written here before that I lack the ability to ‘feel felt’ (Google search those terms).  From there I also lack the ability to FEEL what it feels like to be loved.  Knowing this fact, how COULD I believe someone loves me when I can’t ever FEEL that?

Then I got to thinking about my use of the world ‘believe’.  Do I mean I cannot TRUST anyone who tells me in any way that they love me?  Of course I never got trust built into me beginning before I was 2 months old – which is certainly the age an infant is when they begin to build trust or not-trust into their growing body-brain.

My mother was a dangerous predator to me from the moment I was born. No possibility of trust there.

I could trust my 14-month older brother.  He loved me.  But……

I have often also said that I suspect it was my attachment within the Alaskan wilderness and on our mountain homestead that allowed me to build enough love-attachment circuitry into myself that, along with the love my baby brother gave me, enabled me to love my children, to love those others I love.

But in thinking about this – my ‘relationship’ and my ‘attachment’ with the wilderness was NOT a give or take thing.  It was a ‘oneness’ thing, a ‘one-thing’ thing.  I had no separation between myself and the wholeness of the wilderness environment I loved with my entire being.

(See – *Age 15 – MY ‘VISION’ – ALONE NAKED IN THE WOODS SINGING)

But how can I ever trust what I cannot FEEL?

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I mention this in part because in considering what a terrible whiny abusive pathetic manipulative severely mentally ill human my mother was — even as a severe Borderline Personality Disorder human — underneath all the changes her body-brain went through in the midst of the neglect, abuse and trauma of her early years — in the end she DID NOT probably have the ability to feel loved, either.

But in her case her entire mental-illness-created reality conspired to permanently bar her from knowing this consciously.

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Over and over again we can ‘ask’ people for affirmation that they love us because we cannot FEEL what it feels like to be loved.  We can ask clearly in words and discuss our condition – as I was able to do today with my friend.

But most people probably are not consciously aware of this great, great wound that happened to them during the first months of life — in unsafe and insecure attachment conditions.  I believe the inability to FEEL LOVED is what broke my mother and drove her mad.

This is what the farthest end of the continuum of Trauma Altered Development, caused by failure of safe and secure early attachment primarily to the MOTHER, does to a person.  This is what happens to ‘evolutionarily altered’ people as Dr. Teicher describes:  They cannot FEEL WHAT IF FEELS LIKE TO BE LOVED.  That inability is built into their (my) body.

In cases like my mother’s, the patterns of her entire life, her reality, as spawned, created and perpetuated by her locked-in mental illness, in the end drove everyone away from her.  She was not so much, then, in desperate need of BEING LOVED.  She was desperate because she NEEDED to be loved — and never could FEEL LOVED — without knowing this consciously – EVER.

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In considering the 43 points in this post

+DID MY MOTHER SUFFER FROM BORDERLINE PERSONALITY DISORDER (BPD)? (this is eerie)

I think about this one, and about how it is worded –

(5) – Have a hard time recalling someone’s love for them when they’re not around?

Feeling this way DOES NOT make a person Borderline!  Feeling this way happens because of very or completely failed early attachment – mostly with the mother – during the earliest months of life.  That these kinds of malevolent environments usually guarantee that all kinds of neglect and trauma and abuse remain in the little one’s life just adds ‘insult to injury’.

How can we ‘recall’ that a person loves us when we lack the physiological ability to FEEL loved in our body – fundamentally and permanently?

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Does my friend really comprehend the reality and the tragedy of what I expressed so matter-of-factly to him today?

If not, this will come up again.  It has to.  Talking about this, naming it, verbalizing it, communicating it as a fact — like a person would say “I can’t hear you because I am deaf” or “I cannot see you because I am blind” is the ONLY way I can think of to keep the tendency of communicating the needs that underlie this state — as they stem from the physiological inability to FEEL LOVED —  from creating repeating and very troublesome trauma drama in a person’s life.

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