I have been getting the most wonderful and encouraging readings lately, or at least they seem so to me: 14.1-->50, 59, 11.3.4.5-->58. And I've been feeling pretty good overall. The year has turned and there's more light now, could that be it? Whatever it is, I've been feeling distinctly better. Today I noticed that "feeling good" was beginning to morph into "feeling hopeful about Baldy." I knew I needed to stomp on that one fast.

Associating good feelings with Baldy is partly a habit of mind, I think. For so long my good feelings were connected to miniscule improvements in his behavior--improvements so negligible that only a whack case would have noticed them at all, let alone considered them actual improvements. For so long, every crumb he flicked my way made my heart sing. So now, it appears, when I feel good, I begin to think something good is happening between us. Which is not possible, because there is no "us" any more.

It's partly because of the season, too. Not only do the holidays tend to bring out my desire for companionship and camaraderie and love; in past years, circumstances made this a fabulous time of the year for us. Well, relatively speaking.

And then there is the fact that other circumstances in my own life right now have created a very worrisome situation in an area in which he possesses unusual expertise. These are recurring problems, and were he still in my life, I'd turn to him for comfort and advice, which his expertise enabled him to provide when I needed it. That's how they keep you hooked, you see. They operate on the principle of intermittent rewards, like slot machines and video poker. You're kept on starvation rations. They give you just enough, just often enough, to keep you barely alive. You come to think you're at a feast, not realizing that you are the piece de resistance. Hop in the pot, baby, it'll make us both soooooo hot.

To me the worst thing about a bad breakup, which all of mine seem to be, is that not only do I lose a lover; I lose a friend. Well, relatively speaking. And while I accept that this is a dog-eat-dog world, I absolutely will not yield to the insanity of acknowledging, let alone speaking to, never mind seeking comfort from, a man who my dreams tell me embodies that which is capable of eating me alive. (Hilary, I sat and stared at this screen for half an hour when I read that interpretation, asking myself over and over, "Well, Calumet, what's it going to be? Are you going to finish the job for him?" The jury's still out; but I can be an ornery and contrary creature, and I rather think not.)

So I go on casting my encouraging hexes--they are encouraging, are they not? I hear from my daughter's psychologist that she is doing very well indeed, which means among other things that her mother is feeling much better. There is a spring in my step, there are violets blooming in the garden. Yes! In December! In North America! (These violets are connected with Baldy in an odd and purely chance way, and their scent is as evanescent as his kindness. To think that Eliot called April the cruelest month!)

And then there are these little mushrooms of hope popping up, pretty poison, amanitas of the heart. I have promised myself to stomp on every single one.

I'm glad you're feeling better. I love the solstice.

"For so long, every crumb he flicked my way made my heart sing."

You realize, of course, that had to do with the shape and function of your heart, and nothing to do with him, right? You projected, and he received the projection.

We grow up with a pattern of hostility, craving, pride, fear, despondency, denial.

Patience and awareness are how to deal with them.

Some day you'll be with another man. If you've exercised enough patience and awareness between now and then, the exchange with him will be unafflicted and useful, with moments of grace. Occasionally, you'll wonder at the way your mind used to fixate on Baldy, even after you knew it was over. But you won't wonder about it very often, because you won't think of him all that often, and when you do, it will be merely gentle.

Merry Christmas, Calumet.

Oh, yeah...

14.1 - completely dissociated from harm, you're faultless.

Dobro, thank you so much. All the best to you during this season, too.

I was thinking yesterday about what I've gotten from this site, and weighing it against what I contribute. I wish I could make more knowledgeable, scholarly, and intellectual contributions. But I'm just not all that experienced a user, maybe just the tiniest bit self-centered, not really all that intellectual, and don't know enough about the Yi. There's the entertainment (?) value of my posts, which some people have been kind enough to comment on. I guess the best I can hope is that my posts offer useful insight into one way to use and benefit from the Yi. Comments from others such as you, Dobro, have contributed greatly to my own use and understanding of the Yi and my interaction with it, for what that is worth--and again, I hope that watching my process, such as it is, helps someone.

I'm rereading Alice Miller just now, and--forgive me--find myself inclined to take exception to your statement that someday I'll think gently of Baldy. Not to beat around the bush, and just in case it's not blindingly obvious, a good many of my problems stem from fairly serious childhood psychological and physical abuse, primarily though not solely from my father. There is nothing of the "recovered memory" in my recollections of him; his treatment of his children has just been something I've always known, as much a part of my everyday conscious memories as the color of the furniture in the living room of the house where I lived when I was six.

He was pretty bad, my father. Part of the reason I've managed as well as I have in life is that I had a sympathetic adult witness to what happened. Some years into my adulthood she filled in a few details that I'd been missing, and now I have a fairly complete picture of what went on. This person was not my mother, by the way. There wasn't much of mama bear protecting the cubs about her. It was my grandmother, my mother's mother. It is not an exaggeration to say that she probably saved my life; she certainly saved my brother's life. Unfortunately for both of us children, she also was abusive, albeit not as unremittingly and intensely savage as my father was. And she loved us; my father did not. Still, she was destructive in her own way. She couldn't see that, but she was great at pointing out what was wrong with my father, which was more than plenty.

My last contact with him was years ago. I was in my mid-20s, very well aware of what he was and what he'd done, but generally trying to be tolerant in order to have SOME kind of relationship with him. Sound familiar? We were chatting on the phone one day when suddenly he pulled yet another turd out his bag of sh*t. That was one too many times for me. I let him know that I no longer wanted him to be part of my life. I was not gentle about it. I do not feel gentle toward him today, and I don't expect I ever will. He's likely dead--I don't know for sure--and if I believed in Hell, I would hope he had an extra-warm spot there.

I know something of what his life was like, and his childhood was no picnic. I know what shaped him, and what turned him into a brute. But I do not excuse him. He never beat up his boss. He never walked up to a stranger on the street, threw him to the ground, and began kicking him. He was quite careful to choose victims who needed him and who could not fight back. There IS no excuse for mistreating anyone, ever; but his is the worst sort of outrage.

I don't think I'll be excusing Baldy, either, or thinking gentle thoughts of him. It's not that I blame him for the entire mess. I'm acutely aware of what I brought to the party. I also recognize that it can only benefit me that as time goes on my thoughts will turn more and more to other things, other people. I have my life back now, mostly, and it will be nice to have my mind and my heart back, too. I'm looking forward to the day, and I know it will come. But forgive him? Think gently of him? I doubt it.

HERESY ALERT!! Stop reading now if you are likely to be offended by someone questioning the received wisdom!! Still here? Ready? Here goes: I don't believe that forgiving those who have wronged you is always a gift to the self. (Remember, I'm reading Alice Miller right now.) I believe that forgiving and thinking gentle thoughts of an abuser are, to the contrary, a betrayal of the self. It is a gift to the self and to the future to remember that wrong is WRONG, and that wrongdoers are BAD PEOPLE. Understand them? Sure. Grant them an ever-diminishing piece of your mental real estate? Absolutely. But forgive them, think gently of them? What for? When they haven't asked for forgiveness? When they haven't attempted to apologize or make amends? When to the contrary all they do is more of the same old sh*t? I don't think so. Not my style.

Just a vent, Dobro, and a thought or two for consideration. I can't tell you how much I've appreciated your insights and support, along with those of everyone else on this site. And I hope that the year has turned as promisingly for you as it has for me.

Hi Calumet

Heressy!!!!!!!

Shocked, horrified - Go for it

You have contributed much here for me...

It is who you are that matters - not knowledge.

Alice Miller is great ? one sussed cookie.

Wishing you well - The wheel keeps turning and it is not often easy.

--Kevin

Dear Calumet,
That is quite a story...and you have my respect for having lived through it to come out kicking and strong enough to tell the story.

NO heresy!! Have you ever read susan forward? She is a psycholgist who dared to say that forgiveness was an option and a choice....and defended the right of an abused "child" not to forgive, if that was what they needed.

Some people misunderstand this...and think that if you choose not to forgive, it means that you stay "sick" and cannot move on.....BUt Forward's main thrust was that what an abused child needs, above all, to claim "emotional justice." This means fully acknowledging and mourning the wounds, and then claiming the right to protect onesself....to have clear boundaries and fierce self-love. An abuser, she said, needs to earn forgiveness...and if they can't or won't, there is nothing wrong with establishing a clear and final distance between you and them.

This is a way for the abused "child" to say: "I dont forgive you, but I let you go. I let you and all the baggage go, and I claim the right to have healthy relationships. I claim the right to not let you have control of my emotions any longer."

In a way, this is what "forgiveness" really is...not the mushy, sentimental stuff, but just letting go of the hurt and choosing to move on, without regret, and without wishing any ill in return. Just letting it go. And it has to be when you are ready, when the heart finally rests its case and says "this is over."

God bless you, and I wish you happiness.

You're cool, Calumet.

I find Alice Miller *really* hard going. I get so upset when I read her, I never get through the book. lol It's not that I disagree with what she says; it's that what she says upsets me so much. Upset and angry. If you can handle that stuff, you're made of different stuff than me.

"Grant them an ever-diminishing piece of your mental real estate? Absolutely. But forgive them, think gently of them? What for? When they haven't asked for forgiveness?"

Well, I think that's what forgiveness is - letting go of the amount of time you spend upset about somebody - as you put it: "granting them an ever-diminishing piece of your mental real estate". But I'm no expert cuz I'm not good at it myself particularly, and also I haven't suffered at the hands of anybody the way some people have. I'm not entitled to tell *anybody* how to shape their own minds. But granting Baldy an ever-diminishing piece of your mental real estate - what a lovely turn of phrase - that's what I wish for you.

<BLOCKQUOTE><HR SIZE=0><!-Quote-!><FONT SIZE=1>Quote:</FONT>

I don't believe that forgiving those who have wronged you is always a gift to the self.<!-/Quote-!><HR SIZE=0></BLOCKQUOTE>
I don't like the word 'forgive' (it somehow reminds me of a fake kind of saintliness) but if I have to use it I would say that the first and perhaps only thing that counts is to forgive ONESELF.
Because that is the odd thing when a child is abused, it feels guilty, it feels that it is to blame for what happens. For the child the abuser is not bad, it is bad, and it may even feel that it deserves to be abused.
The guilt often remains when the child is grown up, like a dark inner cloud, usually more or less hidden in a corner. But it's there, "I'm guilty, I'm bad, I'm worthless, ..." and it acts as a poison.
I believe that "NO, I'm NOT guilty, YOU did it, you damned *sshole!" can be a first step in getting rid of this poison. And in most cases it's probably a necessary step. Later one may become softer in ones judgment or not, but forgiving the abuser is premature - and in fact impossible - as long as one has this dark cloud inside. The pointing finger has to turn away from the self before anything else can happen. The wounds cannot heal as long as one feels guilty and as long as the wounds are not healed one cannot say "I forgive you" and mean it.
And maybe you can never say it. It doesn't matter. What matters is that you are healed.

Forgiveness is not required in order to heal. What is required is leaving the source(s) of abuse. I mean leaving them emotionally. You, we, will always remember the various abuses in our lives, the injustices, the unprovoked invasions upon our soul. What we can leave behind is our emotional connection to it, and gain an objective view of it. Once the objective view is gained, we are at full liberty to depart from it. But there is also a dark fascination with digging up those hurt feelings and wallowing in them just a bit more, just one more time. And that aggravates old wounds, and here we go again.

Abuse is a tricky word. Sometimes it's very obvious to recognize, but not always. Like the time you raged at a child when, in fact, the child had nothing to do with your outburst. The time you said something utterly thoughtless to someone you loved. The times you weren't strong enough to bear your burden, and took it out on those around you. The time you spent that money on something you wanted, instead of stashing it away for your kid's education, or a financial start in their new marriage. The time you measured others according to your own values, and degraded their worth in the process. These are abuses too.

I believe there?s something to be said of developing gentle thoughts of them. Surely somewhere at some time that person said and did things for you or with you that enriched your life; maybe teaching you a valuable survival skill, if nothing else.

I have a little mantra that I?ll share: There is nothing I need that is not in my life, and there is nothing in my life I don?t need. (If I didn?t need it, it wouldn?t still be there.)

I know exactly what you mean, Candid. I love my children to pieces and boy, am I aware I have been abusive more often than I care to admit! By that I mean I scream at them, I get mad at them, even if the anger comes from somewhere else. But I make sure and I know they know I adore them. And that I'm totally imperfect and I wish I was perfect, just for them.

It's really easy to turn on the people you love the most, I'm not sure why. But it's true. Most people wouldn't dream of treating their boss, their co-workers, strangers on the street, the way they treat their own family. And I can also tell from experience that violence is like a small spark that begets more violence and I can picture how it can get out of hand.

However, there are no excuses for Calumet's father. And I believe in what Martin says. Until you are healed, you can not forgive. It's two different steps, you need to work on the first one first.

But there is a benefit in forgiving. And forgiving is not a saintly thing. The way I see is more of a 'you don't mean a thing to me anymore'. I forgive you because you hold no power over me any longer. I have healed and you are nothing but a shadow in my past. You don't have to love the person you forgive, you just let them go. You feel nothing towards them. It must be blissful, but then again, I don't much. I haven't really had to forgive much myself.

All the best for you, Calumet.

Dobro, it's true that Alice Miller wrote some pretty strong stuff. A lot of it is spot on, but I don't totally agree with her. For example, she seems to imply that intraspecies aggression is unnatural. That's manifestly false. And while I certainly agree that a great deal of what passes for childrearing is misguided at best, Miller doesn't really say how to civilize children, other than to treat them with constant loving kindness. Having just spent a morning in a mixed-age party that included two very badly spoiled children who probably never have suffered anything worse than time outs, I can attest that loving kindness and gentle guidance all by themselves just don't cut it--particularly when you are dealing with a child who, say, has higher-than-average natural tendencies toward aggressiveness. I'm not advocating beating the brattiness out of children, but gently treated children CAN be little savages. You have to do SOMETHING with the little dears. But again, Miller mostly is pretty accurate, at least in her ideas about what constitutes abuse, how it affects children, and what they ought to do or not do about it once they become grownups.

Jeanystar, I haven't read Susan Forward. Her list of publications, particularly those from the last few years, looks interesting, and I will have a look. Thanks for the reference, and for the good wishes.

Martin, exactly. But here is the problem: Because I've had a good understanding of what went on, and a sympathetic adult witness, it's long been possible for me to assign blame where blame is due. I've had a fair amount of very good therapy, and not one of my therapists ever has implied I should "forgive" my elders. Yet it remains frighteningly easy for me to decide to accept mistreatment even when I understand perfectly well that's what it is. This is going to sound really awful, but I assure you it's true: For me, being mistreated it is more comforting than booze. One night not long ago I found myself thinking, This hurtshurtshurts, maybe it would help to get drunk. And then, as if that weren't bad enough, I found myself thinking, No, I don't want to get drunk, I want Baldy to ... etc. In case you wonder, I'm not an alcoholic, though I easily could become one. I deliberately keep the stuff at arm's length because in my family--this will amaze you--in my family there is an extensive history of alcoholism. In effect, I am addicted to mistreatment as a means of dealing with psychic pain. I was going to write that consequently, my "BS Override" button is hair-triggered. But that's not quite true. The truth is that I look for people and reasons to push it.

Many would say, Well of course you are in this pickle, "knowing" and "understanding" aren't enough, you're not truly healed because all that therapy missed the mark, you have to (your favored therapeutic technique here). Well, someone just tell me what it takes to be "truly healed." Or is wanting to be "truly healed" like wanting to be perfect--something you can work toward but never really attain? I keep thinking of Harlow's monkeys. Had he taken a thought to "fixing" them after his experiments, how would he have gone about it? Could it have been done? I have the nasty suspicion that the answer is no. Likewise, I suspect there are some things within me that are crippled, some parts of me that never will work quite right. It's not a sense of guilt that plagues me. It's a sense of being damaged. I need the psychic equivalent of a mechanical hand. Captain Hook? Just keep the damn alligators away from me.

Q: What now?
A: 23.0.

No kidding. And say, remember that horrid dream about the dogs? Isn't stripping what the pit bull did to the Afghan?

"Q: What now?
A: 23.0.

No kidding. And say, remember that horrid dream about the dogs? Isn't stripping what the pit bull did to the Afghan?"

Yeah, stripping down is *exactly* what the pit bull did to the afghan. However...

...your describing your predilection for abuse is also a stripping down. Hex 23 might have simply echoed the essence of your most recent post. Or perhaps that's what this Christmas season is doing to you - stripping you down - and it's getting expressed in this thread. (And maybe the pit bull was the herald for this stuff coming up for you this season...)

I think healing and cure are big words, and when it comes to lifetime issues, they often don't come into the picture in a big way. I think it's more like this: okay, things are royally screwed up here; I can do something about it or I can do nothing about it. It's better to do something about it.

The condition doesn't disappear. But your response to it is within the realm of choice. The more you choose, the stronger you get. Learning how to choose - that'll keep you connected to air and oxygen - otherwise, you drown. I don't think I'm exaggerating one little bit.

Back to Hex 23 for a tick: the main text talks about there being no advantage to having a direction and taking it now. Abide in the moment. There's nothing else that needs doing now.

Calumet,
Just another few thoughts.......I DO believe healing is possible.....I dont think traditional psychotherapies address trauma efficiently... talking about/ or re-experiencing the trauma may be cathartic,not necessarily healing.

I have mentioned Karla McLaren's work before on this board, and I harp on it because I found it revolutionary.esp for trauma (and child abuse is trauma, plain and simple). McLaren's cd's on Energetic BOundaries are wonderful, and they are simply a guide, not the magic bullet unto themselves.

Trauma is a psychic disturbance on the energetic level. It isnt healed by talking, it must be healed energetically. If you talk "chakras", it is first chakra...the sense of being grounded, connected, the "right to be here" the "right to have, to belong." Think of a tree...the roots are the first chakra...when these are blown apart, the tree is fatally wounded. We survive first chakra disturbances, but the sense of being "damaged" at the core persists.

According to McLaren, a trauma begins the process of what might be likened to a tribal "initiation"...it is the end of life (and security) as one knew it. In proper tribal intiations, the initiate is able to complete the process and claim his/her new powers, takes his/her place in the "community."

BUt in a trauma, esp an ongoing one like child abuse, the intiation is never completed energetically... the victim of trauma is likely to simply recycle and recycle the traumatic events (in different ways) all in an unconscious effort to heal, to close the circle....which never comes to fruition.

McLaren's techniques for healing onesself are deceptively simple but I feel she is on to something so important...If you read her website, she went off on sabbatical, and it sounds like she doubted the scientific foundations of her own work, but it is exemplary, nevertheless.

Her tapes, particularly Energetic Boundaries, are quite powerful....and touch to the core of what so many formerly traumatized people deal with...... the bewilderment of continuing to seek out similar situations to re-invent the original pain..in spite of therapy, self-help, and blah, blah.

Basically, what McLaren says is that you have everything you need to heal yourself, completely. And not only that, but as an unwitting victim of trauma and, hence, an "initiate," you have extraordinary gifts and strengths, already obvious. They are part of the package.

Roots can be regenerated. It is only rarely that anyone tells us of our remarkable capacity to heal ourselves. I believe you are infinitely closer than you think.

I went through a trauma and was not able to clear it until I did Ibogaine. Derived from a plant. Because of this trauma, I carried a lot of guilt, and replayed it unconciously and unwillingly. When I took the Ibogaine, I was able to finally let go. Of the guilt and shame. Forgivness can just be another mental trip. That keeps the problem alive. A real shift requires no forgivness, cause it is over.

I agree that the ability to heal exists inside, though sometimes a good therapist can help us find it. When I married what my mother recognized as a controling, abusive man, she was understandably upset. But a friend told her, don't worry, she will leave him when she gets sick and tired of being sick and tired. And she was right. I followed my husband, willingly, into the deepest, darkest pit of hell. I participated in things I am ashamed to think about now and would never reveal to anyone, not even my closest friend. And then one day, it was like a switch was thrown and I was suddenly climbing out of that pit as fast as I could. I crawled into the light and have been slowly healing myself ever since. That shadow person I used to be is nothing but a memory, and seems almost unreal. 8 months later, here I am, stronger, more clear headed and ready to take on the world.

BTW, Calumet, I know that you too are tired of being sick and tired. But if you do start thinking of Baldy again, just know that I will personally reach through cyberspace and thwack you in the forehead, or better yet, wheres my wet noodle

Well, check out this hot update: Today I learned of an intensely annoying and embarassing mishap that has occurred in a project that already has driven me to the brink of madness at work. This fresh frustration will cost me another 2 weeks of labor, bringing the project time to a total of 6 weeks when it should have taken 1. And to top it off, we may lose the client over it. That's how stupid it is and how incompetent it makes us look. Not my fault; as we all know, some things are just out of our control. So I was pacing the floor, rending my garments, and bewailing my fate, when the idea popped into my mind, fresh and whole, spontaneously and completely without malice aforethought, "Oh well, it could be worse. I could still be with Baldy."

You might want to cool it with the wet noodle for now.

LOL

There I was...out in the middle of the Sahara, hot sun beating down on me and no sign of anything except sand and heat. The jeep broke down two days ago; the water ran out six hours ago. Not even a bird in the sky - even a vulture would be some company. But hey - it could be worse; I could still be with Baldy.

Q: What about that thought I had today?
A: 5.2-->63

Sounds good to me. I'll remain patient and hopeful, meanwhile watching for circling vultures and flash floods.

"Q: What about that thought I had today?
A: 5.2-->63"

"It's just small town talk
Don't pay it any mind"

- Paul Butterfield

In the end, when it's run its course, it means good fortune for you.

You know ... there was a hidden/suppressed question in there. "That thought I had today" referred to something beyond the obvious, a question running in the background of the immediate question. I'm not surprised at the answer itself, just surprised that it popped out. Good thing I'm not easily spooked.