Posts Tagged ‘mental-health’

If You Don’t Love Me, Have I Failed?

November 30, 2024

(Published on Pure d’esprit as: How to Love Yourself-Even if it Takes a Lifetime)

Oil painting of a black background, white letters and two eyes that are tear-filled and red. Words sayd: What am I if you don't love me...and I don't either?
Painting by the author

NOTE: While I work on that list of reasons to write a memoir, let me share this recent post of mine from the Medium platform publication, Pure d’esprit. I will follow-up later with posts that get into the origin of why I felt this way, the shame carried, and lifelong self-hate that had to be recognized and confronted.

So what am I if you don’t love me…and I don’t either?

At the end of the day it really comes down to this question. In life, sometimes the only one we can count on at times to be in our corner IS ourselves. Parents may fail or abuse. Spouses may walk. Friends disappoint. At the end of the day, if we measure ourselves by those around and outside of us…and they fail us, does that mean we have failed?

That answer took me 69 years. I had almost 30 years of childhood abuse to rebuild from. For a lifetime I hated that younger person I was. Viewed her as weak, stupid, a victim. And I was never going to be a victim again. So, of course I shunned a whole part of me…the part that actually saved me.

About that younger part of me…

That younger part of me had struggled through some of the worst years of my life and kept going. She had trudged through all kinds of abuse, through no or few friends. Through suicidal times. Circumstances crushed me and challenged me to ask myself: “Why should I stick around?”

She instead listened to a small voice inside that kept telling me: “Just hang on. You can always choose to ‘leave’ tomorrow. But just hang on, even one more day. You might miss something.” That small voice wouldn’t relent and she kept listening. “You can hate yourself. But, just hang on anyway, even a little while longer.” I don’t know why she listened, but she did.

Over the next several years I slowly rebuilt me. Got strong, fierce, determined. No one was going to ever do that to me again…a good thing for sure, though I think the pendulum swung a little too far with that tough side of me.

Never be weak again…and then…

Eventually, though, life got better. I even found love with a true soul-mate. And while I continued to soften emotionally, to myself I was not very kind. I had learned to “value” me in some things, in that present moment. I valued being strong, not that “weak stupid younger part.” Her, I despised. I sealed her off and tried to forget her. She was dead to me. Besides, I was too busy raising a son, having a life, to think about her anymore

Then 2006 came along. My husband almost died. My son left for college. The dog died. Menopause hit. And I could no longer face doing the medical research work I had done for a decade. I was in a total spiral. Lost. And it was then, brought to my knees and realizing I was no longer that “tough strong” person anymore, that I began the rest of the journey to healing. And she, who I had hated for a lifetime and abandoned, was the key to my healing.

The return

It has taken a lifetime to return to her…to me actually…that younger part of me. It took me a lifetime to recognize just how brave she was, how much courage she showed. And that the only reason I survived and grew was because of the strength she showed. I finally realized what a truly amazing and special person my younger self was, and what a debt of gratitude…what a debt, period, I owed her…as well as an apology. But even there, strong, loving, gracious — that younger part of me showed me love. Reminded me that at any point we are all just doing the best we can. And she welcomed me back with full love, reminding me also, that is is “better late, than never.”

It is never too late to start loving yourself. And whether it takes a lifetime, whether it is a messy imperfect process, it only matters that you finally reach across the table and reconnect, and truly LOVE yourself. Just start. Even a little. The rest can follow later…even if it’s a lot later.

Painting of the 3 different ages of the author who have been at odds with each other for a lifetime, now reaching for each other to make amends. One is the young child, the next is the young adult who was hated by the holder adult for years. The third is the older adult making amends with them both.
Painting by the author
Light blue pink pastel background with a dark blue tabletop and two hands stretched across and reaching for each other - one from an older version of the author, and the other, the hand of the author at a younger age.
Painting by the author

Writing About Sexual Abuse – Things to Consider

November 25, 2024

(Published on Medium Pure d’esprit as: Difficult Stories: Considerations of Risk and Courage When Writing About Sexual Abuse…or Anything)

Oil painting of a red-orange-yellow sunrise sky over dark hills, with 3 birds majestically soaring overhead. Symbolizes the freedom of the author to speak her truth after 7 decades of silence.
Painting by the author

Difficult stories

Difficult stories… Well, maybe every story is difficult in its own way because no matter the topic, every writer must take a risk to write, and then find the courage to share that part of their soul.

To me, the bottom line is: To write is to be brave, period. And it is a topic I have wrestled with for years, so I will speak from my own experience.

Trying to write about sexual abuse – childrens’ books

I have contemplated writing my story for a long time…in fact, I tried–magazine articles, children’s picture book, middle-grade chapter book, another magazine article…but none of them seemed to work out.

My first thought was to write fiction–thus I could convey “something” about sexual abuse that might be helpful to someone, yet avoid speaking about me directly…and publicly.

I thought I should write for children — because maybe I could offer them some help on how to avoid being abused, or how to get help in abusive situations. But …what could I say?

For one, I am not a mental health professional so I could not give them current or professional advice. Second, the childrens’ books I saw out there on the subject made it sound like all the child had to do was go to a helpful adult, tell them what was happening, and the adult would make it all better. To me that seemed like REAL fiction, a betrayal of the reality, which might offer no change or a situation that was even worse.

For one thing, often in abusive situations there are no safe adults to go to. And even if outside agencies get involved it doesn’t necessarily make things better. Families may be broken up and kids may get put into the same sitution elsewhere. Even if the family stays together, the abuser may have gotten just minimal help so they might not be “that” safe. And maybe there would be repercussions to the child for “speaking,” from the abuser or other family members. So I just felt I could offer little to help kids.

Trying to write about sexual abuse – magazines

I tried magazine articles hoping to bring more awareness of just how prevalent sexual abuse is and how damaging it is. And while editors were sympathetic, none offered to publish them.

But maybe that was for the best. Frankly, at the time I wasn’t sure how best to write it or exactly what I needed to say that would be a useful and universal message. And I still had a lot of work to do on me. So it was not time.

The message and “giving witness”

Now, decades later, and after years of work with a trauma specialist, I am writing to adults. While someone needs to write to children, I accept I don’t have the talent, voice, or message, at least not at this point. But I can speak to adults. Memoir is my strong suit, and….this time, I know my message:

“In spite of what you did to me, despite how I still struggle, I THRIVE.”

I can give witness not only for myself but for all the others who were harmed and might not be able to speak…or who didn’t survive to be able to speak. As novelist Pat Conroy said:

“I write for the people who can’t speak”

Maybe my story might give someone hope to find their own answers for healing.

Questions that must be answered first

But there are some issues I needed to face to do this, and I think it is true for most writers there are questions each must consider before writing. Because no matter how valid, important, or useful any writing might be, the writer has to make it through the process. Some questions to consider:

  • What are the risks of writing? Physically, emotionally, relationship-wise….
  • What, if any, are compelling reasons to do it despite the risks?
  • And…should I take on that battle?

To the last question — “Should I”? For myself, after seven decades of silence, THAT ONE IS A DEFINITE YES…I am writing. And I will use my own name, not a pen name. But it has taken me a lifetime, and I have thought long and hard. And as to exploring the risks and benefits, I will share my findings in a separate post, and simply leave it that is was a rich, illuminating, and gratifying exercise to do.

The real nature of writing: Courage, honesty, power

But for now, my reason for bringing up the subject of difficult writing is because #1 we are all writers. And in the end, it is not about the subject matter. It is about courage and honesty. It is a supreme act of courage just to put your words on a page even if you share them with no one. Because if you write honestly, you must still face them yourself. It is another level of courage to share them with another.

So the topic of “courage to write” is something I have been exploring a great deal and will write more about. I imagine it is a subject many of us can relate to. One thing I can say about the times I have taken a risk, dug deep for courage, and did the thing I believed was right, I could feel my soul soar.

For now, a gift of inspiration — two quotes I came across and share here for all:

“A word after a word after a word is power.”―Margaret Atwood

‘’You too are driven by the desire to understand…Beneath your desire for knowledge writhes the hunger to understand and love yourself.” — Gloria Anzaldua

The Power and Unexpected Gift of Adversity

November 23, 2024

The battle-scarred lioness thrives with quiet confidence

A scarred and elder lionness resting in the evening savannah grasses. Her face shows the scars of many battles, but also the quiet confidence she has gained from them, and the awareness she can still fight when needed, but knows not to waste her energy
Painted by the author

Have I said that I love being older? And no, I am not being facetious. I truly DO love being older. No, I am not fond of arthritis, pre-diabetes, or fatigue. But I have received some “gifts” from life that may at first seem not so “gift-like.” And while I can’t say I wished for or enjoyed the experiences, I AM grateful for the strength they gave me.

Quiet power

Friends of mine traveled to Africa not long ago. As they shared pictures of savannah landscapes, giraffes nibbling on tree leaves, spectacular sunsets, one picture jumped out at me and I knew immediately that it was “mine.”

There in the photo, on the side of the road some distance from their vehicle, lay a lioness. She was not young — her face testified to the fact she had fought and survived a number of battles in life. “Experienced” is a good way to describe her — not old, but not a novice.

Her demeanor as she rested in the twilight, seemed one of perfect ease. Not oblivious, she was certainly scanning and vigilant. But there was no evidence of fear or anxiety. In fact, to me she seemed almost …bored is not the right word, but maybe “unimpressed.” As if to say “is this the best you can throw at me for a challenge?”

What I saw, looking at her in that photo, was quiet power — the sense that she could be there alone, apparently at ease, not because there were no possible threats in the bushes, but because in spite of whatever might come at her, she would meet it as she always did. Because she had done it before. She emanted this sense that she knew what to do, knew her own power, and thus, she would meet the challenge.

A kindred spirit

When I saw the picture, before I could even speak it, my gut almost yelled “YES!” And I knew I needed to paint her. Like that lioness, I bear the scars of many battles over a lifetime. I have been broken and brought to my knees many times by the twists and turns of life. And I won’t say I am “grateful” for those battles. No one happily seeks out fear, wounds, threats, or pain. But the one thing the battles did give me was the awareness of my own capabilities and power.

In my early years I was prevented from fighting back, and had to step back out of fear. But gradually, I grew stronger and rose to the challenge. I didn’t always win the battles. Sometimes they were a bloody, messy draw at best. But…I showed up. I stood up for what I felt was right. I learned to trust my gut, dig down deep, and find I really did have courage even in the midst of terror. Being tested, forced to choose between running or standing firm, I learned I could sustain and do whatever I thought was the honorable thing in that moment. I learned that I “could take it,” and what my capabilities were, so that became a gift even if I wouldn’t have chosen it.

Scars

Many of us have scars from life. We are no longer the pristine version of ourselves when we first arrived in this world. But the scars possess a power, bestow a beauty upon us that can only come from meeting a challenge and emerge maybe on our knees, maybe still standing, but unbowed. And the fact we are still here means we got back up and met the next challenge. And the next. And thus, we also have the ability to stop now and then, take our ease, and survey our path to our current moment.

As to those scars, many of us carry them on the inside, invisible to others. But it doesn’t matter. They are real, we earned them, and we know what they have knighted us with. Even if life or others were to strip us of everything we have, they cannot strip us of the power of that hard-earned wisdom and the honor that comes with it. That power is ours to keep, and it is that power that allows us to take our rest at moments, even as we know more challenges will come.

To know yourself…and your power

So now, in a twilight moment, no longer young, but still very much alive and aware of my abilities, I take a rest now and then. And I know that whatever the future holds, I will stand…or kneel… to meet it, but meet it I will, because I’ve done it before. Like that lioness…I know what to do, I know I can take it, and win, lose, or draw, I will do it.

The Roman philosopher and leader, Seneca, captured the gift of adversity perfectly when he said to those who had never been tested:

“I judge you unfortunate because you have never lived through misfortune. You have passed through life without an opponent — no one can ever know what you are capable of, not even you.”

― Seneca, The Stoic Philosophy of Seneca: Essays and Letters

May we all come to the place where we can know what we are capable of, and do it.