Posts Tagged ‘writing’

Rubedo – The New Horizon of My “Then” Transformed in the “Now”

October 31, 2026
Photo by author

Writing this first draft of my memoir meant traveling back through many “previous lifetimes” and versions of myself. So much struggle, so much learning, so much assembling of all the tools that would be needed for the most challenging portion of my work — these last eight years.

The work of these last four years has been possible only because of all that earlier work. And these have been the ultimate challenge – opening those last padlocked doors of my psyche to shine light on the places never before confronted…either out of fear, or because I didn’t even know they existed. I only “felt” the pain vibrating out of those shadows. So I had to choose – stay with the pain or break down those last walls. That required a level of courage and strength that was only available because of all the work that came before it.

Now, I am about to begin this last phase of Carl Jung’s spiritual alchemy – the Rubedo, or red, fire part. It is the “me of now,” the me of decisions and answers, but also more questions, especially: “What do I feel and take away from this long journey?”

A friend noted that as she read the last of my recent Citrinitas posts, she heard my current voice returning – the person she knows right now. For so long, the voice was of so many earlier versions of me.

Her comment got me to thinking about “then and now.” What new horizons of me were showing now, compared with the “me of then?”

Then

Journal: July, 2018
Prologue: The Ground Rules

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Rubedo – Who is The “Me of Today?” – A “Glimpse” of Joy Before We Continue

October 27, 2026

A glimpse at “the me of today”

So who am I now? That is the focus of this Rubedo section. What have I learned? Have I changed? Have I healed? How?

I have a bunch of folders with scribbled notes I am organizing as we speak. Those are my “source material” to consider. The thoughts on those notes came up all throughout my writing process. But since they were more for the end of the draft, I would scribble them down and toss them in the folders. It will now be interesting to see how the “me of then” who wrote those notes compares to the “me of now” who has finally reached the point to consider them.

I know there will be a difference, because I feel so different after all the writing of this past year and a half. Hence, this will be a journey of discovery. Pleasant discovery, I think.

Before I dig into serious topics, I will start with joy. The me of the present moment is not just serious and introspective, but also joyful, curious, and in awe of so many things.

So I will start with one of my “Moments of Respite.” In the past, these were any kind of distraction to help me survive Dad’s raging abuse episodes. They were always about hyperfocusing on some small overlooked aspect of my surroundings that I could escape into. Now, though, they are more about embracing my wonder and joy at the world around me.

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Citrinitas – On To The Beautiful Reweaving

October 25, 2026

Our son has an embroidery hobby — a particular variant of fine lace embroidery — that uses wooden spindles and thin colored threads. His pieces are intricate, beautiful creations.

One day, while watching his process and examining the final piece, I thought about its resemblance to the journey I’ve been on.

This blog started with the dark, early posts where I was choking on floods of unidentified emotions that I knew I had to face. But first I would need to untangle a mess of knotted threads and examine each one. So those days were the impending storm.

Painting by author

Much of the blog over the last year and a half was about sorting through confusion. What happened? Why? What did it do to me…and others? How to find my way back?

It was a long, long journey of trying to put pieces together into something that made sense.

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Citrinitas – Breaking Free…Cycle-Breakers Part I

October 21, 2026

Late afternoons

Maybe it starts the first time you notice just how tightly you clench your teeth every afternoon around 3:00 p.m. Or with the anxiety that floods through you in response to the sun slanting lower in the sky. In those moments, before you even look at the clock, you realize that you already know what time it is. It’s the time that He’ll be home soon. And suddenly, any peace from the day’s respite evaporates.

That time, or the next, or the next, might not be enough to drive a change. But it’s a start. A crack in the wall of your despair. And cracks let drops of the outside world, with its different realities, seep in.

Over time, the crack widens. Because once you have noticed those things in the late afternoons, you can’t unsee them. And your anger and resentment build despite your fear.

The final straw moment might be anything. A poster on the back of the bathroom door at your doctor’s office asking if your partner hits you? Or are you afraid of them? And if so, call this number.

Maybe it’s something more stark, like seeing yet another bruise change from purple to that sick yellow-green as it spreads across your skin. Until you get another. And another.

For me, it was that time my father knocked my mother to the floor. Something in me snapped that day. Rage from years of listening to him hit her, and wondering if this was the time he would kill her, just exploded within me.

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Citrinitas – Impacts – The Family System…And Beyond

October 19, 2026

How’s the water?

By this point in my posts — in this “Citrinitas” section of researching and learning — I’ve written a lot about the tools my father used…and how they affected me. But homes are systems, family systems, which means that anyone living in that environment was harmed by it.

Most have heard the metaphor of a frog in a pot of water that is being heated so slowly that by the time the water is hot and the frog is cooked, it never realized what was happening. That was us. We were all living in our “family pool of water” and didn’t even know it.

I say “family water” as a reference to our home environment. And the “water” metaphor comes from a story told by David Kenyon Wallace in his 2005 commencement speech at Kenyon College:

“Two young fish swim along together and pass an older fish swimming in the opposite direction. The older fish nods at them and says, “Morning, boys. How’s the water?” The two young fish keep swimming for a little while, and eventually, one of them looks over at the other and asks, “What the hell is water?” [1]

You’re in it…affected by it, and you don’t even know that it’s there.

Little bites…

How did Dad manage to gain control over my mother, and then us?

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Citrinitas – Mothers in Incest Cases – Weak? Strong? Unforgivable?

October 16, 2026

Do I wish my mother could have married someone else?
Do I wish she could have seen through his manipulations and left him?
Do I wish she could have had options, fought back, or protected me?
Do I wish she had been able to take on the fury of my father’s mental torture and survive?

Painting by author

Yes, to all of the above. But I have grown to understand, especially with all the things I have learned as I write, that she couldn’t do that. She was ambushed, abandoned, and battered. She did the best she could.

I can also take comfort that there are strong women who have been able to fight, help, and bring more awareness to this topic.

The strong women

I have a folder of articles about strong women. One is a Washington Post article about a Mom facing jail because she was fighting court-ordered “reunification therapy” with her husband who sexually assaulted their daughters. Other women became fugitives, running from spouses and the law, to keep their children safe from a sexually abusive parent. And even nuns joined the fight.

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Citrinitas – About Mom, It Could Happen to Anyone

October 14, 2026

The book

It Can Happen to Anyone: Why Battered Women Stay, 3rd Ed.

My eyes locked onto that title like laser beams. Could this book represent answers to questions I held for a lifetime? And blame?

It wasn’t lost on me that it was written not by men, but by two extremely accomplished female researchers:

Alice D. LaViolette, MS, MFT
Ola W. Barnett, PhD.

The first was a long-term advocate, expert court witness, and consultant in domestic violence issues. The second was a distinguished professor of psychology at UCLA, with research including the topics of batterers, battered women, and dating violence.

It was the first half of that title that REALLY drew me, because it was the first time anyone suggested that my mother wasn’t weak, at fault, or “different.” That maybe she just fell into a trap she couldn’t climb out of.

Painting by author

The second half of that title clinched my decision to buy the book because it implied that there were logical answers for why my mother stayed with my father.

I was already on the trail of explanations given my research into Dad’s abuse tools and especially understanding about intermittent reinforcement, trauma bonding, and the brain chemistry changes that drove those things. But this was the missing link — the research that showed that a person who fell victim to trauma bonding WASN’T ANY DIFFERENT THAN ANYONE ELSE!”

THIS was a book I had to read.

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Citrinitas – Mom, “Hopeless?”

October 10, 2026

The yearbook

She was beautiful. Radiant even. I’ve always loved this photo of Mom…such a face of youthful joy beaming out from her high school yearbook page. So much might have been in store for a spirit like that.

Photo by author

And yet, by that photo she had written a single word: “Hopeless.”

My God. What a statement. It just begs for clarification…which is too late to get.

Questions race. When did she write that? And why? Was it a lonely teenage girl wondering what life held for her? Or a self-deprecating joke with friends? Maybe a young adult despairing of her prospects for love?

Or…was it later? The scribing of a scarred and disillusioned wife looking back and regretting her choice?

Years later, I struggle to reconcile the picture with that word. In fact, I literally cringe at the word, pained to think that “Hopeless” is what she felt about herself.

Yet to look back now and know what her life became, was it the word that set her up? A chilling prediction of where the path would lead?

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Citrinitas – Mom, A Love Letter

October 9, 2026

As I type the title of this post, I ask myself why I feel such love for my mother. Why am I no longer angry about the times she didn’t protect me or didn’t “turn around” to see what he was doing?

Painting by author

And most of all, why, at this point in my life, am I less angry with what Dad did to me, but still absolutely enraged at how he demeaned and abused her? The word “fury” comes to mind.

Watching all through my childhood years when he hit her, yelled at her, and no other adults in that house came to her aid…when the only thing I could do as a child was listen at the wall when he beat her in the bathroom, hoping he wouldn’t kill her — it was hell to witness. What more was it to be her?

There was only one time any of us stood up for her, and that was the day I saw her on the floor at his feet. I was in my late twenties; he had been at her downstairs. I heard her fall, and that was the last straw for me. Fearful for her and raging at him, when I saw her on the floor at his feet, I lost it. Despite my fear of him, I yelled that he needed help. And then he nearly choked me.

Paintings by author

It was then that I knew I had to leave. I knew she would never leave him, and I would be destroyed if I stayed. But to this day I remember how much I wanted to rip him apart for demeaning the woman who gave me life, and I was glad that for once, finally, I stepped up for her.

The eulogy I wanted to give

When she died, I delivered her eulogy. There was so much I wanted to say, to put in that text. And I did do a good job of honoring her gifts and highlighting her personality. But I left the elephant in the room untouched. It didn’t seem like it was the right time or place to bring up “all those things she had endured at his hands.”

Since then, I regretted that I stopped short of saying all I wanted to. And I always wished I could do it over and give her the eulogy she deserved. So now that I come to the part of this book to talk about Mom, maybe I can do that.

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Citrinitas – The Result of All His Abuse? Trauma Bonding

October 5, 2026

Stockholm Syndrome…and Patty Hearst

1973 – Stockholm Syndrome. 1974 – Patty Hearst’s abduction. 1981, 1993, 1997 -Defining Trauma Bonding.

These names have often been batted around almost interchangeably. And while they are related, there are differences that became clearer over the decades.

The term Stockholm Syndrome was coined in 1973 to describe the seeming bond that developed between hostages and their captor following a botched bank robbery in Stockholm, Sweden. The story is much more complicated and beyond the scope of what I want to write here.

But simply, it appeared at the time like the hostages were siding with their captor. In reality, they were traumatized by both their dangerous situation, not knowing if or when their captor might kill them, and the government’s clumsy negotiations that they felt almost got them killed.

Traumatized, enraged by the government putting them at risk, and responding to the kindness their captors started to show them, the hostages had to react in whatever way made sense to them to survive and live, even if it seemed strange to outsiders.

The bond even started to work in reverse. Their captor spoke later that while he initially would have killed them if he needed to, the more they got to know each other during the 6-day hostage situation, the harder it was for him to do that.

It should be noted that Stockholm Syndrome was not, and is not, a recognized psychological condition. From Wikipedia, here is the origin of the term:

“Nils Bejerot, a Swedish criminologist and psychiatrist, invented the term after the Stockholm police asked him for assistance with analyzing the victims’ reactions to the robbery and their status as hostages. Bejerot never met, spoke to, or corresponded with the hostages during or after the incident, yet diagnosed them with a condition he invented. Bejerot, speaking on a news cast after the captives’ release, described the hostages’ reactions as a result of being brainwashed by their captors.3(https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Stockholm_syndrome#cite_note-Adorjan_2012-3) He called it Norrmalmstorgssyndromet (after Norrmalmstorg Square, where the attempted robbery took place), meaning “The Norrmalm Square syndrome”; it later became known outside Sweden as Stockholm syndrome.5(https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Stockholm_syndrome#cite_note-5)“

The following year, that same term was applied to the 19-year-old heiress, Patty Hearst, who was abducted by a political extremist group and later seemed to side with them. That story, too, has many different complexities that I will not get into here.

Suffice it to say that both situations, which involved captives who seemed to switch allegiances and side with their captors, fueled even more research into the areas of captives, brainwashing, and domestic abuse, which had started in the 1950s with the Korean War POWs.

It was during the 1980s and 1990s that researchers, including Donald Dutton, PhD, Susan Painter, PhD, and Patrick Carnes, PhD, in their study of violence and victims, situations of power imbalances, intermittent reinforcement, and domestic violence, brought more clarity to these situations, along with a new term: Trauma Bonding.

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