Lowcountry Survivor's Weblog

Archive for the ‘Spirituality’ Category

Beautiful. Warm. Safe. Womb-like. Purple, pink and ultraviolet currents and eddies. White Light pulling. Beckoning. Embracing. Pink Love Energy caressing. Soft liquid swaddling. Ever more urgent White Light tugging. A rod of White Light. Pure. Clean. Immaculate. Dim awareness of others. Connected. Calling. Beckoning.

Suddenly, a dream, an understanding, an experience of unprecedented import, clarity, and Power. Deepening colorful purple and violet liquid light texture. Two others bend in welcome and acceptance, peering down at him in his crib. He peers back, Awareness only. Well-being only. No judgment. No definitions. No words. No fears. No before. No after. Only Now. An ancient timeless, mythical, Nativity scene. Safety. Peace. Joy.

Suddenly (if there can be such a thing as “suddenly”) the scene erupts as if in explosion. Torn. Destroyed. Ruined. Gone. The Monster. No words to describe it. Only direct Being-shattering experience. Coiled for attack. Absolute certainty of victory and perverted amusement in its cold eyes. Ancient. Repulsive. Arrogant. Cold. Alien. If he had words to describe this alien being who had appeared uninvited, he would use descriptions like snake, cobra, cold blooded, evil, predator.

His whole experience is his imminent attack. “Knowledge” of the poisonous venom in its fangs, and the tension that shows its alien intentions. His entire Being is filled with Terror, and with themes of danger, flight, hiding, most of all, hiding. He takes a huge terror filled deep breath, and arrives back in his adult body, wracked with the most intense child-like terror, so intense, that it robs him of his usual intellectual capacity. Two Native Americans are with him, awake. The rest of the room is filled with the snoring of the shelter’s various temporary inhabitants. The man is behind him at his head, sitting on his cot. The woman at his feet. She smiles. Vestiges of the rod of white light persist, still tugging. He has a dim awareness that they have been chanting quietly.

“Who is it that you are?”, they chant quietly in unison. He tries to make sense of this, and cannot. “Who are you?” they softly ask, with import behind their words that made no sense to him. “Who are you?”, the elder male asks more insistently. An answer forms within him that he resists, but finds himself saying it, nevertheless. “I am Michael!” he answers, wondering why he is saying such a thing. “And we are Michael too!”, they chant in unison.

In Life, I notice that there is tension, and there is release. The tension builds and builds over time. The tension is need. Need for a change. Need for something to be created. Need for a fulfillment of some form. Need for action. Tension, tension, tension, tension. Then “Pow!”, the arrow flies to its intended target.

My life seems to operate this way.   Am I the bow? People tell me to be the Archer.   Am I the Archer, or the bow?

If I am the bow, who is this Invisible Archer, that wields the bow, applies tension to the string, then releases that tension to allow the arrow to fly to its intended destination. Who is the Archer?

I only find the Archer, and who He is, as I willingly allow myself to be the bow.

Morning

My Heart sings
At the Beauty of the Sunrise.
With great affection, He kisses my forehead
And says “Goodmorning, Son”.

My Heart sings
At the Beauty of the Clouds, white brush strokes
Upon the Canvas of the blue sky.
A touch, She says, “Goodmorning, Son”.

My heart sings
At the Beauty of the Melody of All the Voices of the Earth
They sing together, a chorus, The Beauty of the Earth.
A warm embrace, They say, “Goodmorning, Son”.

My Heart sings.
At the Beauty of My Life.
One part of Many parts.
One Life and many Lives, We sing
The Beauty of this Life.

Richard paced exuberantly about the room, as if he were pursuing a parade that was yet to be.   He looked and sounded like that British correspondent, with the same first name – Richard Quest.   You know, that boisterous and flamboyant, almost manic correspondent for CNN that all the other CNN anchors don’t quite know how to react to?   Teeth so big, that you just know they were made for smiling.   Even his own name describes him.   Quest.   Well, this Richard says to his family, “Let’s   go on a holiday!”   Grinning in amusement.   Eyes wide open.   His whole demeanor makes some folks laugh in amusement, other folks laugh in derision.   Still others just cringe, because they are in such unfamiliar territory.   “We’re going on vacation!” he sort of sings.   “A holiday!” he says, drawing out the words as if following a hidden melody that only he hears.   “And we’re all going to walk!” he says, as if it were the biggest, most pleasant, special present, that he had just opened for all to see.   He might as well have left a “steaming heap” in the middle of the living room floor, what with the looks he had just seen on their faces.

His family sat stunned.   They had become enamored with Richard’s exuberance.   After all, they were his family, and he part of theirs.   His daughter Paprika, and his son Chipotle were the first, however,  to jump on his “bandwagon”.   His wife, Charlotte had, at first hated the names he had chosen, but curiously, they had grown on her in each case, and they had been in agreement when it finally was time for them to make the choice.   It usually took her some time to make decisions, she didn’t just jump right in like Richard was used to doing.   The names had turned out to be descriptive of their unique spirits.   Paprika was gentle, with a reddish hue to her blond hair.   Her personality had a tentative quality about it, and her approach to life was a subtle touch rather than anything more aggressive.   Chipotle was much more “fiery” than his sister, but tempered.   He loved the outdoors, campfires, and storytelling.   Eagerness showed on Chipotle’s face.   Paprika looked tentative and slightly amused.   Charlotte looked like she had just accidently swallowed a frog.

“Where are we going, Dad?”, Chipotle asked excitedly.   “I…don’t….knowww…!”, he disclosed, drawing each word out, as if he were savoring each one and grinning the biggest grin you ever did see, as if it was the biggest, most funny joke he had ever heard.   “It’ll  be an a..d..v..en..t..u..r..e!”, he said, once again drawing out that last word.

“But Honey”, Charlotte said.   “We’re supposed to be adults.   We have responsibilities.   What will the neighbors think, when we trudge by their homes, dragging our belongings with us, like some homeless vagabonds?!”   “I know, Love!   Isn’t that great!   It’ll be one big hoot!”, he said.   Silence.   His smile disappeared for just a moment, and then was followed by a different one.   This one carried the look of someone who had just discovered something that made him happy.   “Alright, Love.   We’ll go out the back door, and we’ll travel light.   No neighbors.   We won’t look like vagabonds to anyone who sees us, we’ll look like we’re off to the park for a picnic, and decided to walk.”   Charlotte looked unconvinced, but she no longer looked like she had swallowed a frog.   “Now get your things together”, Richard said.   “And don’t forget to pack light!”   “It’s off into the U..k..n..o..w..n!!” he sang, as he went downstairs, to retrieve their gear.   “Yaaahooo!”, Chipotle whooped, as he went off to his room.   Charlotte and Paprika looked at each other.   Paprika had an amused look, her eyebrows drawn way up on her forehead.   Charlotte looked like she had finally digested that frog, bones and all.

Absolute internal honesty eventually brings us to a point where we realize that Awareness is the experience of Life, and of ourselves, our True Selves. That is a primary truth. Getting there may take a number of “processes”, especially the process of “Letting Go”, which includes the “Grief Process”, which itself includes the sub-process of “Forgiveness”, and another sub-process of Letting go of “Control” and “Fear”. Practicing absolute internal honesty is part of each of these processes, or “paths”. Awareness is a primary Truth. Beingness. Receptivity. Acceptance. Love. Joy. Awe. Wonder. Knowingness. Truth. Compassion. Non-resistant experience of What Is. The Now.

To share our individual experience of the Now, we need a contextual framework to communicate that individual, or individuated experience to “others”. Logic is that tool. It is only a tool we use, a sort of “machine”. It is only a tool that we use, to express Truth, but the “fuel” for this “engine”of logic must be unadulterated Awareness, not a limited, less than truthful version of it. Otherwise that engine will sputter, spewing noxious fumes to the environment through which it “travels”. Absolute internal honesty is one of the “filters” we may use, so that the engine runs more smoothly. When it runs smoothly, we see it for what it is, only a tool to communicate Awareness with others. Curiously, when logic sputters, and nearly stalls, we are blinded by our and others’ logic “machines”. With all the noxious, blinding smoky fumes, the poorly running “machines” can no longer be seen for what they are. An emotional “Smog” also does the same thing to us. So Logic is finite, and limited. It is only a tool. Our thinking is only a tool. It is Secondary. It is not who we are, although many identify with their thinking, or with the “Emotional Smog” rather than Awareness. Awareness is independent of the “object” in “Its” field of experience, in a way. Logic is secondary. Awareness is Primary.

I want to tell you a little about what I know about letting go.  When I first heard about this process, (and for me, it does seem to be a process), I was terrified by what I was told.  In retrospect, I see that fear was not really warranted, but certainly understandable.  I was told about this process, first in a 12 Step Group, flavored with its particular philosophy and agenda, later by various individuals who saw letting go through the lens of religion, native American teachings, new age teachings, probably even other ways that I don’t now recall.  Certain ways of seeing this process were less scary to me than others, but all of them attempted to describe something that is very real and natural.  I will attempt to tell you about letting go, without those prejudices, or diminishments, as much as I can.

This morning I went for my morning walk.  My morning walks are exercises in letting go, in relaxing into the NOW, into forgetting for a few brief moments, all the ways I can see myself; you might say that I’m taking off all the different “hats” I wear at various times.  I followed our dirt road out into a very open area.  On the way, different things would catch my attention – a squirrel here, a bird there, each vegetable area in my garden, a brief glimpse of blue sky and puffy cloud through the trees, the texture of the gravel under my feet, wild grapes hanging from the live oaks, each holding my attention for a moment each time, while I was still aware of the totality of this setting through which I walked.  I walked as slow as a little kid who had much shorter, weaker legs than I have.  I didn’t force that, it just came natural.  I quit thinking about all that was going on in my life, pulling my attention back gradually to just take in my surroundings.  Gradually I settled into the NOW.

I arrived at the field, where I usually “say” my morning prayers.  Displayed before me was a beautiful Robin’s egg blue sky, clean pure white puffy Cumulus clouds, that entirely wrapped the scene before me in every direction above.  Below that was a still well defined layer of fog, thick, textured, grey, and soft looking.  Below that I could see a denser landscape – an uncut summer hay field, horses staring back at me from a farm on the far side of the field, far off farmhouses, barns, fences, the entire landscape wrapped in tree lines of live oak.  Depending upon where my attention was, I could say that it was overcast, foggy, or clear with a few puffy clouds.  Each would be correct, but only a part of the reality that was true.  I experienced the whole scene without prejudice or dissection, just taking it in, seeing the beauty, feeling myself within that landscape, and experiencing a wonder that I cannot quite put into words .  For me, all that is part of the experience of letting go and entering the NOW. Along with my sense of wonder, was the knowledge, that the landscape before me represented the Truth about this Life we live.

One might say, “That’s beautiful!  It feels like what you say is true, but how could I live my life that way?  I have responsibilities!  I have a job, and a mortgage, and bills!  People will think I’m a loon!  I can’t do that!  I’m too screwed up!  I don’t have time!  People depend on me!  I wish I could do that, but I can’t!”

I have said all those things, and asked all those questions, and felt all those fears.  I was looking at a final destination, rather than a journey.  I saw it as something I had to do; something that I couldn’t do, rather than a process I was entering.  In truth, “not letting go”, is what we have done to ourselves throughout this Life; that is where “the doing” is.  “Letting go” is not about “doing”, although within the process, we may have lots to do.  It is more about accepting, awareness, absolute honesty (even about the layers of deception within ourselves that we and others put there), a process of grief for our losses (even the loss of how we have been seeing ourselves), and contact with others going through the same process.

I spent many years in group therapy.  I was looking for answers, looking for resolution, looking for a way to be “okay”.  I changed and healed more in that group, than I had in all my previous years of “one on one talk therapy”, or all the years of my own effort.  The two leaders set boundaries to help us feel safe, but they controlled nothing.  That environment helped some of us to practice “letting go”.  “Letting go” was necessary to get to our injuries in ways that were experiential rather than just intellectual.  Miraculous things seemed to happen on a regular basis.  By “letting go”, I was able to find a lot of resolution for my many injuries.  Others doing the same, helped me to let go.  My “letting go” helped others.  Our injuries as well as our indiscretions scream at us for attention, for resolution.  They grab and hold our awareness, and pull it from the NOW.  In my case, my “Caretaker” role (one of the many hats I wore), and my role as “The Black Sheep” in my family of origin, enshrouded my True Self.  Attending to those needs and dishonesties that were vowing for my attention, has allowed me to have a quieter internal environment.  It’s easier to let go now, after that practice.  I attempt to continue to do what I learned in my group. In a nutshell, I relax enough to let go of my need to understand, and follow my spirit.

I remember during my “crazy days”, where I was most out of control, my friends and I would smoke pot, and listen to an improvisational comedy group called “Firesign Theater”.  We’d laugh like loons at their silly antics, and crazy sayings.  I’m sure most of us remember some of those episodes.  One saying that stuck in my mind, in an odd way was “Everything you know is wrong.”  Everything in our culture or society, praises “not letting go”.  We are expected by family and friends to “not let go”.  We praise control, and see “letting go” as giving up.  They are not the same.  Jesus said that we must lose our lives to gain them.  There is wisdom in those words, because the lives we have built, are based on “perceptions” that are not true.  Those “perceptions” are not perceptions at all, but constructs that have been taught to us.  They interfere with true perception, true awareness!  “Everything you know is wrong.”

You might say, “how can I do this “letting go thing”, when I am married?  My wife and I fight, and I don’t want to give up my marriage!”  I only have answers within my experience, which work for me.  I’m sure you will find those answers that work best for you.  However, let me tell you a story.  Sometimes my wife and I have difficulties.  We get lost in stuff that just isn’t true, despite our best efforts to remain honest and caring, and non-blaming.  Relationships are difficult.  We have had many ups and downs.  During the “down” times, I’m sure we have each wondered if it is worth it, and have despaired.  During the “up” times I’m sure we both don’t question whether it is worth it at all.  We both were abused terribly when we were young, so we have had significant issues, to say the least.  Recently, each time I have experienced one of those “down” times, I have felt some pretty intense feelings of despair, despite a part of me knowing that my experience of despair would pass.  I strove to see what we were doing, what each of our reactions was, what was really true, to the best of my ability to know, noticing anything petty or untrue within me about our difficulty.  I also saw I had NO ANSWERS, other than my  understanding of our interactions.  I did not know how to fix what was wrong.  I can change what I do, but not others.  Many options lay before me, but which one was the “correct” one?  So I prayed to choose the “right” way of handling the situation. To my surprise I received no answer.  Or so I thought.  Each time, I sat with my wife, relaxed, knew I had NO ANSWERS AND WOULD HAVE TO JUST WAIT AND SEE HOW IT ALL CAME OUT (perhaps it wouldn’t come out the way I might choose, and I had to be willing to allow that!).  I’d keep my attention on her, not on solutions, or my fears of finding none.  My mind would be a blank, until the words were there.  The most honest words.  The most honest feelings.  The most honest unpolluted awareness of us and our situation, because it was all there in the NOW.  It all was just there.  I don’t think I can find any words to really describe it.  It has “happened” many times.  It has developed over time from all the little things that I have done along the way, and also, because of all the things that have happened to me along the way as well.

I told a friend recently, that during the “hard times” we let go more, and during the “easy” times, we let go less.  Those of us that choose this path of “letting go” may recognize the truth of that.  I have noticed in me, that I do that, but I also notice that there are far more areas in my life that I do not control anymore, and am allowing more areas of my life that are like that.  I also see that sometimes we will suffer, when we DON’T let go.  Suffering is optional.

I had a wonderful Christmas holiday. My son, Shawn and his girlfriend Rebecca visited from California, where Shawn goes to Stanford University. Actually they had visited for part of the week before Christmas, and had to leave right before the actual holiday. I couldn’t shut up the whole time they were here! I found myself more enthusiastic and boisterous than usual. I couldn’t seem to contain myself! My son played the guitar and sang one evening, and I was moved by how unbelievably good he was! It had been years since he had last played for me. Rebecca is an opera singer. That same night she brought us all to tears, so beautiful was her rendition of “Oh Holy Night”! I have never heard a voice like that! We all talked about “real” things, you know, those things that we care deeply about, are deeply moved by, etc. We allowed space and safety (lack of any judgment), so each of us could be fully authentic, playful, and open. It was wonderful! Read the rest of this entry »

“The New Testament is always calling us to do what we cannot do. No, we ourselves cannot forgive, but as we strive to forgive we are given God’s forgiveness as a gift. We are not called to create forgiveness; that is beyond us. We are called instead to participate in a forgiveness given to us as a gift. … Do not ask the wounded to forgive.

Do not ask them to completely heal the relationship, to withdraw all of the painful memory and to extract any lingering poison. Civility is within our grasp; but forgiveness, true, deep-down, New Testament forgiveness, is not a human possibility.”

An except from Thomas G. Long, “To Err is Human; to Forgive?”  in Forgiveness, Christian Reflection (Fall 2001): 29-35. Copyright © 2001 by The Center for Christian Ethics at Baylor University.

I wrote this in response to a minister’s newspaper column in which he promoted the view that people shouldn’t listen or seek out therapists, that all they need to do is read the bible.

“Be afraid, be very, very afraid”. That is the “mantra” of folks who want to control us, to have authority over us, for us to “stay in our place”, and to think “inside their box”.

I have often said that I am a voice of experience, rather than one of authority. What I mean by that is that I write about my direct personal experiences, what I”ve learned by my experiences, rather than what other people have put inside me. That does not mean, that I do not listen to what others say, or read what others have written with honest appraisal, or to take in the gift of their experience. Nor do I automatically disregard tradition, culture, or religion. I am a very good listener, and do not automatically discount what anyone else says, nor do I automatically believe what I hear either. I have faith. I believe in God. I believe God, and this journey I am on, have made me a good listener. My history of experience far outside normal experience gives me a unique perspective. For many years I have struggled to develop a rigorous honesty that questions what is inside me, how it got there, and whether it is true or not. In truth, I do not do this alone, but ask God to guide me, because quite frankly, alone, the task would be too daunting and lonely. I started on this journey many years ago, for my own survival and sanity. My trust in God has grown exponentially over the years, but also, surprisingly, my trust in myself. I do not mean that in an egotistical or narcissistic way. What I mean is that I accept that I know what I know, feel what I feel, and am starting to accept myself as I am at this point in my journey, knowing that there are still many miles ahead on this journey. I do not want power, or riches. I simply want the truth.

I”m sure you have heard of the term “thinking outside the box”. Often those who “think outside the box” accomplish great things for our human family. Sometimes they see what others don”t see, or have a unique perspective or approach to problems that we have that helps us solve those problems. Sometimes they come up with completely new explanations, inventions or theories that shake up the prevailing culture, and its attitudes and beliefs. I believe that this is part of God”s great plan for us. I believe that change is one of the only constants in our experience here, yet we want to hold onto things so tightly out of our fear of change, a fear that is intrinsically dishonest. To be able to think outside the box, we must find our True Selves, that part of ourselves that is underneath what others have put inside us. This part of ourselves is honest and perceptive, beyond what we usually experience in daily life. This part of us lives within the moment, absolutely embedded in the present moment, receptive, and without fear.

Fear is a great thing when it makes us run from a fire, or keeps us from falling off the edge of a cliff. However, too many of us are stuck in our fear, and don”t even know it. The fear that we are stuck in is a dishonest fear. It tells us that God has no power, that He does not protect us, or provide for us, or guide us. It fuels our black and white thinking, and takes us out of the present moment. Black and white thinking sets us apart from each other. This person is good, while that person is bad. Democrats or Republicans are bad, while their counterpart is good. Baptists are good, while Mormons are bad. Rich people are bad, while poor people are good. The more we see this group as bad, while the other group is good, the more we lose our perspective of the vast majority, the shades of gray between the black and white. We limit our empathy, our compassion, to the limited few.

Sometimes even our ministers resort to this black and white thinking, using fear to motivate us into living correctly, yet I have the suspicion that God intends us to live our lives with Love as the fuel that drives us, not fear. When fear is a filter through which we see the world, our true perceptions are altered, and we cannot experience the gift of living in the present moment. When we are in the present moment, we are teachable. When we live in the Now, we are good listeners. When we live in the present moment, we have true, non-judgmental compassion for others. When we are in the present moment, we are being as honest as we can be. We see all the shades of gray, not just black and white. We have everything we need in the present moment, because God is there, and we are receptive.

Miraculous things happen when we are in âthe present moment. I have written on numerous occasions about abuse I survived as a child. I am sure that the abuse I suffered as a child, was never God”s Will. I am sure that He did not condone what was done to me, but I do know that He has used my experience for good. I do know that He led me to the help that I needed. That help included group therapy with others who suffered similar abuse, and two therapists, George and Theresa (a husband and wife team), who I will forever be grateful to for helping me on my journey. During our therapy sessions, I felt God’s Presence many times, and watched Him work miracles in our group. These two wonderful therapists had 25 years of experience, had their Masters Degrees, and all the training that entailed, but allowed their impressions and direct experience to guide their actions during therapy. They did not let their training get in the way. They dropped their fears as best as they could, allowed themselves to relax into the Now, and were guided by honesty, and letting go of control. They let go and let God without any religious pretense, and miracles happened in every session. I cannot tell you how important they were to me, or how important what they do is. I hate when I hear someone proselytizing to folks that are hurting, that they don’t need therapists. God saved me through them. The black and white thinking that presumes to know the Mind of God is arrogant, irresponsible, and ignorant. George and Theresa taught me that absolute internal honesty is how we navigate the maze of prejudices and black and white thinking that we find inside ourselves. In removing more and more of this dishonesty, we find ourselves. In trusting God, we disarm our fears. As we drop our fears, we find the always present Now, and find that we have everything we need. We learn to think outside the box.

I am not always like this, of course.  However, in the course of my life, I continue to cycle in and out of my issues to gain mastery over them.

I try so hard to be good. I try so hard, that sometimes, it consumes me. I allow myself no wiggle room, no permission to just be human. Sometimes, I try to anticipate my wife’s bad moods, watching what I say and do, and how I say and do. Maybe I do her thinking for her, so that she doesn’t have those moods, or I might help her do her thinking to get her out of those moods. Sometimes if someone is angry, or going to be angry at me, I do everything in my power to keep that from happening. I am rewarded for this, by others seeing me as “strong” or “together”. I am smart. I am kind. I am respectful. I am attentive. I am empathic, and I am dead tired. Sometimes I am so busy doing all this, and being responsible for everyone else, and everything else, that there is no room for me, inside me. I know why I do this.

In 1955, when I was 4 ½ years old or so, I followed Chuck Hexter and a bunch of neighborhood kids down Circle Drive, in our little town of Trooper. We ended up playing in the open basement of a house that was being built. Now I realize that, but at the time I was too little to understand. After an hour or so, when they decided to leave, Chuck’s older brother told me I had to stay there or he would beat me up. Now, a 4 ½ year old kid takes something like that seriously! Even after they were long gone, I stayed there. I was terrified! I thought I was going to die there, all alone, that no one would ever find me. I distinctly remember that being my fear.

Eventually, my mother came looking for me, and “beat the crap” out of me as soon as she found me. I could make a hundred excuses for her -  she was scared because she hadn’t known where I was, or she was scared that she could be in trouble, or be seen as a bad mother, or any number of other excuses. But the fact remains that at that moment she remained focused on herself, and had no empathy for a 4 year old child’s distress! She put responsibility on me, not herself! She should never have allowed me to be in that situation. Her responsibility was to keep an eye on me, not allow me to wander off with older children for hours at a time! That was her responsibility! This is the earliest memory I have of her beating me. There would be hundreds, if not thousands of more times that her beatings would occur, their force, her rage, my fear, her contempt, and her lack of taking responsibility growing each time.

At 4 years old, I was a needy, gentle, naive, deeply feeling, intuitive, impulsive child “ just the way I was meant to be. I looked to others for their definition of me. Let me say that again: I looked to others for their definition of me. I looked to others for their definition of me, their acknowledgement, love, attention, and reasoning. I looked to others to show me how to fit in, how to express my thoughts and my feelings, to learn what was right and what was wrong. I trusted that what my mother told me was true, and that how she acted was right. There was no argument about that in my little 4 year old mind. I would have to try harder to be good.

My mother’s violence towards me, taught me that I was worthless and defective. Her demeaning words of contempt would eventually solidify my view of myself.

A child has no grasp on their own impulsiveness. They are a cauldron of churning, boiling feelings. Their impulses are fueled by those feelings. How ferociously this cauldron boils is dependent upon their experiences. When they are met constantly with craziness and terror; when their caregivers are dishonest, violent, and impulsive themselves, the “cauldron” often boils over. They are seen as “bad”, defective, or worse, by adults who themselves do not understand either their own or a child’s impulsiveness. They do not understand that children operate by impulse, those impulses fueled by feelings that the children have because of how they are treated and seen by these very adults! How is a child to untangle themselves from such a “catch 22″ situation? They cannot. Often they never will, even as they get older. They mature in years, seeing themselves as these adults have seen them, never understanding the nature of their impulsiveness, seeing themselves as “bad”, defective or worse. Escalation is an integral part of this mechanism. As the adults continue to see these children acting on their impulses, their misguided view of the children is solidified. Their reactions and judgment continue in themselves, and reactions in their children continue to escalate. Often other more favored children are brought into this drama, seeing their brother or sister as the parent sees them. The child singled out for this drama, is completely alone, “knows” that they are different from everyone else, because they see every member of their family treating them that way. Isolated from those who see the child this way, the child is left to their own devices in dealing with the violence and craziness, and more importantly, the feelings they are left with because of it.

All through my childhood, I could never seem to do anything right. Frustration doesn’t even begin to describe what I felt growing up with this. I remember feeling listlessness, loneliness, and a tightness in my chest, that seemed to contain something unknown and hungry, something that needed to be filled or satisfied, but never could be. Rather than soft, gentle, warm, fuzzy, happy, content hopeful feelings, I had internalized the TERROR and DESPAIR of being raised by someone who more often than not was out of control. I never knew what to expect from my mother. Sometimes she was childlike and “nice”, while other times, she was like a wild animal, ready to devour me if I said or did the “wrong” thing. It would have been less crazy, if she had been wild all the time.

Over time, I learned to read her moods, in order to avoid her during her worst times, but my own impulsiveness set me up to do things that got me in trouble anyhow. My language skills grew as I tried to talk myself out of trouble. Nothing I said (or did) made any difference with her. I found better more precise ways of saying things so I wouldn’t be in trouble, all to no avail. I tried so hard to be “good”, but my own impulsiveness would get me in trouble. No matter how hard I tried, it was never good enough. I was never good enough. Nothing I did or said was good enough for her, or later, for me! If only I could just get it right! But always the axe would fall, and I would find myself dealing with an enraged, out of control woman, ready to hurt me. The fact that she could so easily rationalize her own behavior, made her exceedingly dangerous. At any time, she might have killed me. Over and over and over, I was terrified of her, and terrified that she would kill me. Unless you experienced this, you cannot know what it is like. But I am asking you to try.

As a society, we have grown enough to recognize that it is wrong for an enraged husband to beat his wife. “Just a little hitting” is not OK. We even understand the mechanisms in him that allow him to do this. We understand how his abuse affects her. We understand that he is teaching her that he “owns” her, that she is powerless, in fact even defective and worthless! A mother who beats her children because of her own out of control rage teaches these same terrible lessons to her children. She fills their hearts with terror, rather than love, despair rather than hope, worthlessness, rather than integrity and value.

As a society, we must stop making excuses for parents who beat their children. I am tired of all the excuses. The Law looks for marks on the outside, but we must learn to see the marks it causes on the inside! We must stop automatically defending the right of a parent to beat their children by calling it child rearing, or shifting responsibility to the child by seeing them as “difficult” and the parents as blameless. “Just a little hitting” is not OK!

As a society, when we have grown enough to value our children enough to truly protect them, then perhaps, we can turn our attention toward helping so many others, child and adult alike, who have already been injured. That is the one right place to “try so hard”!