Tag Archives: abuse

Wading through energetic tar.

This weekend with handling my father’s belongings, followed by spending half of Monday taking him to doctor and errands, I feel like I am walking through energetic tar.

I feel heavy, exhausted, and thoughts that I know are not mine keep running through my head. When it’s not his thoughts, I remember obscure moments of trauma from my childhood. I am struggling to escape the darkness, knowing that much of it is my father, but carries a sense of karmic inevitability. I have not escaped repeating some of his worst traits despite spending 2 decades attempting to right the damage. I wonder if I will ever fix it and stop the karmic wheel. I want so badly to get every nano-shred of him out of me, even re-write my DNA to turn his genes off. They are not serving me at all.

Since all of his mess is causing things to resurface for me, I decided to write. Writing has always helped me to clear things from my mind, but this time I think I need more.

NLP or Neuro-Linguistic Programming is a technique I have used off and on over the years. I was introduced to it by a friend studying psychology not long after graduating from highschool. It is a psychological technique for transforming a traumatic memory into more of a disassociated story that you can step away from and send love to.

Essentially when a memory surfaces that carries intense emotion, you move your viewpoint mentally and see it from a distance as if flying overhead or watching a distant movie. It enables you to tell it as a story, but one that belongs to someone else. Once complete, you can give the story version of yourself all of the things that you needed or wanted in that moment. So for example I can say to the scared little girl: “I know that moment was really hard to be in, but I love you and you made it through. You know those people were having a really hard time themselves, or they wouldn’t have acted like that.” Then visualize giving my younger self a hug.

I have used this technique many times, but it seems I need to do so again. So this post is likely to be very long. Several memories have surfaced this week. I am really ready for my father to leave with my sister. Only a few more days to go.


K-Mart gone wrong:

A beautiful little blonde haired girl of about 3 or 4 years old is in the cart. Mommy told her she could have the toy, it was on blue light special. She looked so happy.

They make it to the register and start checking out. Her daddy comes and starts yelling at her mommy. He’s so angry that she spent so much.

The little girl looks at her toy and seems like she is about to cry. She looks scared. Her daddy is so angry he starts shaking his fist. The register lady gets scared and steps back, she asks the girl’s mommy if she needs to call someone. The mommy is in tears but says: no, it’s okay, it’ll be fine. The daddy storms out of the store, and the mommy pays and follows quickly, pushing the cart of groceries with the little girl in the seat still holding her toy.

Her daddy was quiet all the way home, but yelled at her mommy more after dinner. She tells her mommy she could give the toy back, she didn’t need it. Her mommy says no, it’s not because of the toy, she just needs to be more careful.

The response:

Little girl, please know it’s not your fault. One little clearance toy is just a tiny drop in the bucket. It was the size of the bucket that got your daddy so upset. He did not handle it well. He had not been taught what to do when costs were more than he could manage. He was mad at himself for not being able to handle what was needed, and at your mommy for not planning better or telling him what was happening. Please know you are loved and neither of your parents meant for that to happen. You made it through okay and things will get easier someday. I love you and you will learn how to do better.


Unable to protect:

Two kids stand doing dishes after dinner. The big brother washes at the sink, and the little girl stands on a stool nearby to dry them.

Their dad had scolded them for a dirty bowl at dinner, so they are both trying to make sure that the dishes are really clean. Brother asked sister to watch and try to catch anything he missed. She’s doing that. If she’s sees some little bit, she’s trying to use the towel to get it. If it’s more than the towel can get, she gives it back to him.

One damn frying pan just won’t come clean. He scrubs and scrubs. He thinks he finally got it and hands it to her. She starts to dry it and sees a little spot. She’s trying like mad to get the spot to come off when dad comes in the kitchen. He asks why she’s scrubbing so hard with the drying towel. She tries to say she just wants to make sure it’s really dry.

Dad yanks it from her hand and tells her to move. He looks at the pan and starts yelling. She cowers in fear, her feet won’t move but she wants to run. He’s yelling at her brother, louder and louder, saying he can’t do anything right. He makes her brother scrub it again, but only gives a few seconds before yanking it back. It’s still got the spot. He yells even louder, her brother freezes.

Dad thinks he’s being ignored and *WHAM*.

Dad hits her brother with the frying pan full force, up against his head. He throws the pan on the stove. It is bent so much it doesn’t sit flat anymore. The pan is ruined. Dad starts yelling again. “Your skull is so thick it ruins pans, no wonder you can’t do anything right!” He screams. “You’re not good for anything, get out of here. I’ll do them myself!”

He turns and looks at the girl. “You too. Get out of here, now!”

They both hurry to their rooms. Both in tears. They sit on their beds either side of the same wall. Crying into pillows.

The response:

You did your best. You tried to keep your brother safe, that’s what counts. You were just kids, no one is perfect, even adults. He should not have been so upset over a dirty dish. He definitely should not have hit anyone, let alone with a frying pan. Your big brother is smart and you were both doing your best. It was not right for him to act like that and it was horrible for him to treat you both that way. You deserve to be treated better. You deserve to be shown love not hatred. God loves you. Your mom loves you, she couldn’t stop it either. She tried to protect you both and failed. She’s very sorry you were hurt. Times will get better. You will understand one day, and you will always remember that and do your best to do better. You are a beautiful girl and you will figure out better. I love you.


Not strong enough:

A family building a deck. They just moved into a new neighborhood. All was going okay. They took a lunch break, mom served them drinks. It was hot, but tolerable. Kids were trying to help.

The boy about 14 or 15, the girl 12. The mom was pregnant, so she did light work.

Dad needed to cut boards. Several went ok. One had a big knot. Dad told the girl she wasn’t strong enough. Her brother had to try and hold the board still enough to cut. Between measures and prep, he kept yanking the board free. Then he would yell that it needed to be held good. Insults to intelligence and demands to listen yelled in between “Hold it still!” He yelled over and over. Finally, the brother thinks he has appeased his father. He had a strong hold of the board in a position that his dad wants. The saw whirrs up and cutting begins. The blade catches the knot and the board wobbles.

Dad paused in place to yell some more. Demanding the son hold it harder from a specific spot. The son does exactly as he requested. The saw starts moving and catches the knot again, the board kicked hard and the saw cut wrong.

The dad throws the saw down, yanks the board and before anyone could respond the board flies at the son’s shoulder. It hits the boy’s shoulder and bounces hard into his head. Dad throws the board onto the ground and yells and yells and yells. Neither child can do right, neither is any good at anything.

Mom comes out and demands he stop yelling. Her son needs an ice pack for the damage done. Mom takes both children to the kitchen. She puts ice on the now very large goose-egg on the brother’s head. She apologizes to them over and over again saying she has tried so hard to get their father to stop being so mean. She doesn’t know what else to do and is so sorry they keep getting hurt.

The response:

You were so young, no one expects a small child to be able to do something like that. There is no way either of you could have made him happy, he wanted something intended for an adult to accomplish. You did your best, you could not have changed the situation. You could not have fixed anything. It was so hard for you to watch, and I’m so sorry that you had to watch that happen. Your brother knows you couldn’t fix it or change anything. He loves you. Your mom loves you. She really did mean what she said. There wasn’t anything anyone could do. Your dad is just too broken. He never learned how to act, how to manage anger and frustration. He never learned that you can’t treat children like that. He taught you very bad habits, but you are going to be the better person. You are going to figure it out. You are going to learn how to change, and in the process you are going to get so strong that a stupid board will never win again. I love you, you are beautiful and strong and will change your world one step at a time.


There is more, but my heart is raw right now. I think I need a breather. I may finish with a second post later, or just handwrite in a journal. I really needed this. I have been through so many things that I deserve all the accolades for as far as I have gotten on my own. I do love me for trying, for doing better, for becoming a stronger better person. I will get there. I will solve this and stop the karmic wheel. I will teach my children how to fix all of it for them too.

May you have moments full of growth. May you release negative experiences and find a way to clear the way for self love and acceptance. May you understand traumas in helpful ways. May you find peace in the midst of chaos. May you know you are being guided to healing. May you see your way clear of energetic muck. May your karmic wheel become easy to manage. May you find healing for yourself and your family. May you know God loves and supports you and always did. May you know trauma is almost always because the person acting out is hurting and disconnected from God. May you find forgiveness for the hurts you incurred in your life.

Siva Hir Su

Abuse, forgiveness,  and love offerings. 

I’m drawn (though I don’t really know why) to write again about a mildly uncomfortable topic today.  It’s one that I’m not sure my parents even know about to this day, even though the first time I wrote of the experience was highschool.

Yet, it is an experience that has partly shaped my life and created a vastly different view of abuse and abusers for me, much like my views on death.  It is a part of me and one that I’ve accepted not as a victim,  but more as an experience I’ve had to learn from. 

I’m referencing a situation that I’ll call attempted molestation. 

I was about 8 years old,  and at the time my family was  living in a large mobile home complex in Indiana.  There were many kids of a wide age range in the neighborhood that my brother and I played with.  One boy typically asked to play with my brother, but occasionally would invite both of us,  especially if his younger sister was tagging along.

I remember thinking that something was just slightly off with him, the day that he took the 4 of us out to the field behind an excavated pile of dirt, in an attempt to show us how cool smoking was. He literally pulled out a pile of cigarette butts explaining how he thought they helped him and saying we should try it. After one puff I knew it was not good for me, and to this day I still hate cigarettes and cigarette smoke. I never could understand how someone who was older than me, but still quite young (12 or 13) would want to do that.

Later that summer on several occasions he would stop by our house asking if my brother was able to come out & play.  The first occasion that my brother wasn’t able, he took the opportunity to persuade me to follow him. I still wish I hadn’t been so naive.  He took me into my family’s storage shed and tried to convince me to do what I now as an adult, know to be called a “blow job”. I distinctly remember thinking ‘eew that’s gross’ and leaving.  The boy proceeded to play the ‘same game’ twice more,  and in the 3rd attempt right as I was about to give in, despite protests,  my brother found us and ran him off.

I found out later that my brother punched him several times,  hard enough that he got the message to leave me alone.  For that protective influence I’m still very grateful. 

That fall as school was starting I overheard moms talking at the bus stop. They were discussing that he’d been caught molesting a girl and was in juvie and wouldn’t be in school. I thought surely it wasn’t me, I didn’t tell, and I hadn’t thought my brother had. That means he did the same thing to another girl.  Then one of the mom’s said something to the effect that ‘you know his father had been in prison,  and maybe apples didn’t fall far from the tree’. Later I asked his sister about it in a private secluded location. She demanded that I not tell anyone, and admitted that the dad had been doing similar things to them. I tried to convince her that it was bad & she should tell, but she refused saying it would cause more trouble than it was worth,  they were better off just dealing with it.

This was before reporting laws were in place,  and before interventions were widely accepted or available. All I could think at the time is how horrible it was that they were being abused and couldn’t do anything about it without servere reprecussions. I was determined not to let the experience affect me as severely as it did them. 

With that being said I don’t think it has, affected me- severely that is. I’m not really a victim,  I was naive, and know that in that situation my lack of knowledge was what made things uncomfortable, and was what caused being duped and having difficulty extracting myself from the situation. However,  when I look back I can see that nothing really was accomplished and though I was uncomfortable,  I ended up safe & sound. Be it divine intervention,  or just my big brother being in the right place at the right time,  I was unscathed with only slight mental trauma from the confusing situation. 

As I got a little older,  I wanted to know why this boy thought it was a good idea.  I knew the answer lie in knowing about sex, but that was all I knew. So I went looking for answers.  I started with dictionaries and encyclopedias because that was how I was taught to glean data or useful information. I learned what sex was,  it’s technical names,  that it usually occurred between people of opposite genders, that even gender was referred to as someone’s sex.  However,  none of that really answered my question as to why a boy wanted me to do very specific things to his penis.  Essentially, even as a young child I was acknowledging that knowledge is power and that was why I felt powerless in that situation. 

However,  my need for an answer meant I kept digging.  By the time I was in middle school I was sneaking pornos from my dad’s “secret” collection (he thought he’d hid them well). Let’s just say it not only finally answered my question about the boy,  but it also answered questions I’d had about my own father.

My father was a fairly intense man, often derrogatory toward women,  but would blatantly watch women in public. He was verbally abusive, to us kids and my mom, even in public.  Seeing his porn collection at a young age made lots of his actions make sense. Again, I acknowledged that my father was only perpetuating what he was taught.  It took me years to get to a place of forgiveness with my father. 

As a result I made decisions about sex, relationships,  and interactions with people without really realizing it.  I just thought I’d informed myself.  Hind sight being 20-20 I can see that most of my decisions through informing myself have been beneficial/good, but perhaps not all.

By highschool I told friends in a conversation about sex that “I’d never had sex, but thought I would like it”. Those friends still teased me about that years later. I never did though, I just didn’t want to rush it, looking to have both control and meaningful interactions in that department. 

I finally had sex half way through college,  and even then it was with a couple that I’d chosen because it was safe. I had grown impatient and even though I suspected my relationship with Nathan was growing- heading that direction, I was just ready.  I acknowledged that the couple probably thought they’d found a young chica to gently pry open with wine & a good time,  but I went into the evening with the awareness that they wanted sex,  & I wanted the experience to learn how to handle myself well and interact in that manner.  I knew it wasn’t anything more, I didn’t expect a 2nd night or any kind of relationship. 

 Later Nathan expressed disappointment,  but after discussing it in depth he understood where I was coming from. He had wanted for my first time to be with him & very special. I let him know that I wanted to know what special was by experiencing not special first. I told Nathan that I might not have known he was different/better/special if I had nothing but the attempted molestation to go by. Anything is better than that.  Giving myself a more normal generic sexual interaction gave me a better idea of what was just normal physical interaction and what was the spiritual connection which Nathan and I shared. It helped me feel the difference in the most respectful way I could find. I knew it was appropriate and a positive choice.  I think Nathan agreed in the end. 

Years later,  the boy of my childhood still occasionally comes up, and every time it seems I realize something new. 

At this point I not only forgive the boy for his trespass against me, I understand that the boy was far more a victim than I was.  My heart now goes out to him and I do my best to send him healing energy and love when the experience crosses my mind.  I can’t imagine how his life played out only knowing how to manipulate and force women to interact with him.  Never knowing what real love is like, and probably spending  years in and out of detention centers. His life was essentially ruined before it even got started because of his father, and it’s probably a generations old cycle in that family.  One traumatized person acting  out and creating another traumatized person,  over and over again.  It’s really very sad.

Yet a cycle I managed to escape. Now the experience leads me to choose respectful partners.  I usually prefer to be at least somewhat in control,  or at least on equal ground. I look for proper language,  I look for questions and request for permission. I look for gentle people.  And I do my best to reciprocate in all respects. I don’t expect every interaction to be permanent and extra special, but that’s always the goal: to find my special polyamorous life partners.

Nathan is all of that and more,  without him I’d be crushed & wouldn’t know what to do. I had glimpses of that kind of special with people which ended up being short term relationships,  those people are the ones that still have space in my heart.  My other interactions though not negative, and fully respectful,  were just not quality enough to maintain as relationships,  and that’s ok. I was informed,  I made those decisions willingly,  and I respect the results.  They all served some purpose in my life,  if only to teach me something about myself and my desires and goals. There have been many many people I’ve turned down or flat out ignored because they didn’t show respect and I simply have no tolerance for that. 

You may think that this implies some long list of lovers over the years,  but not really.  Nathan included I’ve been intimate with 16 people and platonic with 4 (Nathan’s other others).

 I cherish each and every one as a valuable learning experience.   

I am grateful for the experience with the boy because it taught me to be as preemptively informed as possible.  It also taught me to step back and evaluate seemingly negative situations to see what I could learn for the future. Additionally, I do personally feel it was a lesson from the divine because of the fact that it could have ended much worse. 

I’m grateful to both the boy and my father because they taught me what not to do (in a do your best kind of way) . They taught me what to look for to avoid more situations like they provided. They taught me how to tell if someone is respectful by their individual distespectful deameanors. I have a strength and confidence now that I might not have had otherwise.  I know that I can deal with a lot,  and what I can’t deal with I can usually escape. I ensure I have enough control in my life to accomplish that at least. 

So yes, those experiences – though negative in nature,  did better prepare me for the world.  They did make me a better person,  and they did make me want to make informed decisions as much as possible.  So, I  not only forgive the trespasses, I give thanks for those experiences and send healing and love to both the boy and my father. I think my father has started to see his errors and I hope that boy has too.

My only wish is that we all see things in this manner and forgive others,  but especially forgive ourselves. Give yourself some love for your learning and growing and in embracing those negatives,  share the love to encourage healing in this big wide world of ours.