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<blockquote data-quote="Scent of Cedar *" data-source="post: 679915" data-attributes="member: 17461"><p>There is a phrase that mattered to me: Damaged, not defective.</p><p></p><p>Could it be Leafy that they told you what would fasten the wrongness they committed onto you. Could it be that they told you that you were wrong and they were right in a hundred thousand ways...but this was the one that stuck. Out of all the things they probably told you to trick you into believing them instead of your own self, this is the one that left you believing the fault was yours. What was the fault. They were not happy. That they were or were not happy ~ to hold that as our primary value, that the other guy is content enough to stop tormenting us for a minute ~ that is the essence of external locus of control, Leafy.</p><p></p><p>However it happened that we develop external locus of control, our goal is only for our own self ~ and that goal is internal locus of control. Once we realize that, then suddenly, "they" are immaterial. It isn't that they don't matter. Of course they do. Whoever the "they" is, they are living beings, too.</p><p></p><p>Of course they matter.</p><p></p><p>But to ourselves, we matter more. Honoring ourselves matters, most. Learning to hold ourselves compassionately though we have been taught to believe condemning ourselves, essentially disempowering ourselves, makes any sense at all in a world where we are so essentially alone ~ that is our Grail quest.</p><p></p><p>To honor the self.</p><p></p><p>The very self that we are, today.</p><p></p><p>Not through self-aggrandizement, which is only contempt for the real self that we are, but through honor and compassion for ourselves as we confront the incredibleness of the mystery that here we are, alive.</p><p></p><p>We can look up at the stars and know this is true.</p><p></p><p>That we are full players, fully entitled players, in a Mystery we don't understand, and that no one else understands, too.</p><p></p><p>Too.</p><p></p><p>Just like us, Leafy.</p><p></p><p>Human.</p><p></p><p>Fully human.</p><p></p><p>With our sensitivities and our regrets and our sadness and pain and with our joy, Leafy.</p><p></p><p>They may have stolen you away from yourself when you were a little girl. But the only way they can continue believing that the lie they taught you was true is if you collude with them.</p><p></p><p>Believe what you know, Leafy.</p><p></p><p>What was once believed is only what was once believed.</p><p></p><p>Which changes nothing and everything, both at once.</p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>This is true, Leafy. Those are other words to describe when I've done or spoken or thought or believed something I wish I had been so perfect as not to have done. But I am into having a look at the roaring FOO directive beneath perfectionism very much just lately.</p><p></p><p>So, for me, for this time...I relish claiming biatch. If auto correct would not change it? I would spell out and claim the real word for myself. It is part of my healing, Leafy. I get to be human like everyone.</p><p></p><p>No more perfect Cedar.</p><p></p><p>I should change my name to Biatch On Wheels.</p><p></p><p>Like Captain Dan in Forrest Gump, shaking his fist at the storm.</p><p></p><p>I don't especially want to be a biatch, but...sh** happens.</p><p></p><p>:O)</p><p></p><p>And that's all part of me, too. We are about learning to accept and enfold and encherish, all of our beautiful selves ~ and to see that reflected in our lives.</p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>I think a piece of what happens when we are overwhelmed by some abusive other is that we learn only to see the end result, when we have been mistaken in an action we have taken or a belief system we have espoused or whatever. that is why we feel horrific guilt instead of learning from our mistakes. That is the only difference really, I think, between those with external locus of control and ~ well, me, for sure. I was shamed ten thousand times. Some of that shame thinking made sense to me and so, it stuck. It happened so many times, and I felt so horrifically bad about it, that I forgot: Nobody knows how to do this. I forgot: Our best is our best. When we learn better, we do better.</p><p></p><p>And that is the truest thing I know.</p><p></p><p>We were taught slave mentality: A mistake means I am wrong. Not that I made a mistake, but that I, me personally and forever, am somehow intrinsically wrong. Add: "Just don't think, Cedar." Add: "Don't you dare."</p><p></p><p>Huh.</p><p></p><p>So, given the outcome here (external locus of control in your own freaking child you are raising) it looks like, if there was anyone who made a really bad mistake here?</p><p></p><p>It was my abuser.</p><p></p><p>And there is no way to forgive her. But I can heal, and live and grow and find myself beyond those times and that reality. And then, my abusers errors or actions can be seen in perspective.</p><p></p><p>We all are doing the best we know.</p><p></p><p>Not my business, to know what she was thinking or what she thought she was accomplishing because, once I am healed and as I heal...none of that matters.</p><p></p><p>I am my own.</p><p></p><p>Just me, and the stars, and this instant.</p><p></p><p>Sometimes, my dog and my cat come to see the stars with me.</p><p></p><p>And my goldfish.</p><p></p><p>And Dolly, because she is so much in my thoughts, lately. And because she has taught me so much.</p><p></p><p>But when Dolly looks at the stars with me?</p><p></p><p>She watches, for Copa.</p><p></p><p>She is only with me as a courtesy.</p><p></p><p>Very kind.</p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>We must be our own helpers, first. It's an attitude toward ourselves, Leafy. If someone needs CPR, to debate the value by polling the bystanders would be so sad a thing to do. Yet, in a very real way, that is what we have done, those of us abused as children, to those little boys or girls that we were.</p><p></p><p>Life is life.</p><p></p><p>Precious.</p><p></p><p>And...we are alive.</p><p></p><p>That is all we have to be.</p><p></p><p>Alive ~ and wonderfully, miraculously, so.</p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>Yes.</p><p></p><p>Copa's voice is us. So is yours, Leafy, and mine, and all of ours. We are creating what is.</p><p></p><p>Think how amazing, that this could be so.</p><p></p><p>But here we all are.</p><p></p><p>Cedar</p><p></p><p>Copa is the Fire, here.</p><p></p><p>I don't know what I am doing. I have all those stars and dung beetles and snails finding their reflections in puddles and universes in my eyes all the time.</p><p></p><p>So, looks like my mom was right, about that one.</p><p></p><p>What she was wrong about is that I am bad, to be as I am.</p><p></p><p>Here is a thought, everyone. My mother would have been happy with me if I never had a thought, and just kept cleaning. And taking care of her. Not that we should not take care of our people, whether they have been abusive or not. But first, it is our responsibility to honor and cherish and care for and take care of, ourselves.</p><p></p><p>Very important, to know this.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Scent of Cedar *, post: 679915, member: 17461"] There is a phrase that mattered to me: Damaged, not defective. Could it be Leafy that they told you what would fasten the wrongness they committed onto you. Could it be that they told you that you were wrong and they were right in a hundred thousand ways...but this was the one that stuck. Out of all the things they probably told you to trick you into believing them instead of your own self, this is the one that left you believing the fault was yours. What was the fault. They were not happy. That they were or were not happy ~ to hold that as our primary value, that the other guy is content enough to stop tormenting us for a minute ~ that is the essence of external locus of control, Leafy. However it happened that we develop external locus of control, our goal is only for our own self ~ and that goal is internal locus of control. Once we realize that, then suddenly, "they" are immaterial. It isn't that they don't matter. Of course they do. Whoever the "they" is, they are living beings, too. Of course they matter. But to ourselves, we matter more. Honoring ourselves matters, most. Learning to hold ourselves compassionately though we have been taught to believe condemning ourselves, essentially disempowering ourselves, makes any sense at all in a world where we are so essentially alone ~ that is our Grail quest. To honor the self. The very self that we are, today. Not through self-aggrandizement, which is only contempt for the real self that we are, but through honor and compassion for ourselves as we confront the incredibleness of the mystery that here we are, alive. We can look up at the stars and know this is true. That we are full players, fully entitled players, in a Mystery we don't understand, and that no one else understands, too. Too. Just like us, Leafy. Human. Fully human. With our sensitivities and our regrets and our sadness and pain and with our joy, Leafy. They may have stolen you away from yourself when you were a little girl. But the only way they can continue believing that the lie they taught you was true is if you collude with them. Believe what you know, Leafy. What was once believed is only what was once believed. Which changes nothing and everything, both at once. This is true, Leafy. Those are other words to describe when I've done or spoken or thought or believed something I wish I had been so perfect as not to have done. But I am into having a look at the roaring FOO directive beneath perfectionism very much just lately. So, for me, for this time...I relish claiming biatch. If auto correct would not change it? I would spell out and claim the real word for myself. It is part of my healing, Leafy. I get to be human like everyone. No more perfect Cedar. I should change my name to Biatch On Wheels. Like Captain Dan in Forrest Gump, shaking his fist at the storm. I don't especially want to be a biatch, but...sh** happens. :O) And that's all part of me, too. We are about learning to accept and enfold and encherish, all of our beautiful selves ~ and to see that reflected in our lives. I think a piece of what happens when we are overwhelmed by some abusive other is that we learn only to see the end result, when we have been mistaken in an action we have taken or a belief system we have espoused or whatever. that is why we feel horrific guilt instead of learning from our mistakes. That is the only difference really, I think, between those with external locus of control and ~ well, me, for sure. I was shamed ten thousand times. Some of that shame thinking made sense to me and so, it stuck. It happened so many times, and I felt so horrifically bad about it, that I forgot: Nobody knows how to do this. I forgot: Our best is our best. When we learn better, we do better. And that is the truest thing I know. We were taught slave mentality: A mistake means I am wrong. Not that I made a mistake, but that I, me personally and forever, am somehow intrinsically wrong. Add: "Just don't think, Cedar." Add: "Don't you dare." Huh. So, given the outcome here (external locus of control in your own freaking child you are raising) it looks like, if there was anyone who made a really bad mistake here? It was my abuser. And there is no way to forgive her. But I can heal, and live and grow and find myself beyond those times and that reality. And then, my abusers errors or actions can be seen in perspective. We all are doing the best we know. Not my business, to know what she was thinking or what she thought she was accomplishing because, once I am healed and as I heal...none of that matters. I am my own. Just me, and the stars, and this instant. Sometimes, my dog and my cat come to see the stars with me. And my goldfish. And Dolly, because she is so much in my thoughts, lately. And because she has taught me so much. But when Dolly looks at the stars with me? She watches, for Copa. She is only with me as a courtesy. Very kind. We must be our own helpers, first. It's an attitude toward ourselves, Leafy. If someone needs CPR, to debate the value by polling the bystanders would be so sad a thing to do. Yet, in a very real way, that is what we have done, those of us abused as children, to those little boys or girls that we were. Life is life. Precious. And...we are alive. That is all we have to be. Alive ~ and wonderfully, miraculously, so. Yes. Copa's voice is us. So is yours, Leafy, and mine, and all of ours. We are creating what is. Think how amazing, that this could be so. But here we all are. Cedar Copa is the Fire, here. I don't know what I am doing. I have all those stars and dung beetles and snails finding their reflections in puddles and universes in my eyes all the time. So, looks like my mom was right, about that one. What she was wrong about is that I am bad, to be as I am. Here is a thought, everyone. My mother would have been happy with me if I never had a thought, and just kept cleaning. And taking care of her. Not that we should not take care of our people, whether they have been abusive or not. But first, it is our responsibility to honor and cherish and care for and take care of, ourselves. Very important, to know this. [/QUOTE]
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