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<blockquote data-quote="Scent of Cedar *" data-source="post: 680310" data-attributes="member: 17461"><p>I think the answer, in Joseph's case, is in the God he believed believed in him. </p><p></p><p><em>I know who I am. I am a Child of the Most High God. I am equipped, empowered, talented, strong, fearfully and wonderfully made.</em></p><p></p><p><em>Joel Osteen</em></p><p></p><p>So, here is a valuable exercise.</p><p></p><p>Twelve times, write: I, your full name, am the beloved daughter (or son) of the Most High God.</p><p></p><p>Twelve times, write: She (or, He), your full name, is the beloved daughter (or son) of the Most High God.</p><p></p><p>Twelve times, write: You, your full name, are the beloved daughter (or, son) of the Most High God.</p><p></p><p>***</p><p></p><p>Recovering internal locus of control has also to do also with a sense of purpose. I am remembering here Maya Angelou describing how she became herself, changing the world. Remembering that Maya grew up subject to every ism and abuse...how did she learn to be herself. </p><p></p><p>That is my fascination with Maya Angelou.</p><p></p><p>Where did that confidence that she was not as her environment decreed her to be ~ where did that come from. So, Maya Angelou told a story about being shamed in public by a pastor who, once she'd begun making a little name for herself and had some humility to lose, required her to say aloud, again and again before an audience, that God loved her. Maya describes feeling foolish. And then, being (Not feeling. Being.) angry and ashamed and defiant and horrified.</p><p></p><p>And then, she broke through.</p><p></p><p>And she never questioned her identity or her purpose, again. She just didn't know what it was. But she knew that God did know.</p><p></p><p>So, she just did the next right thing. If the story was debilitating, she changed it. If it became arrogantly untrue (which in much of her writing, especially where her mother was concerned, it did) then you can trace it becoming more true about everything having to do with Maya, herself. Maya's stories about her mother are stories of the mother Maya needed her mother to be. And therefore, they are stories of the mother Maya then went on to create of herself.</p><p></p><p>An important distinction, and something for us to think about, because we will see our own paths there.</p><p></p><p>I already do choose mother figures from people I admire. (Maya, the black lady from Matrix, Lisa, Dr Ben Carson.) Soon, in my writing, I will create many personas for my mother, maybe. She will be every villain, and every great and human person, too. I will be able to do that once I truly lose the fear that my mother was right, or that she had any right at all to do what she did.</p><p></p><p>To honor a memory by writing nobly untrue things as Maya Angelou did must surely be the most damning form of condemnation.</p><p></p><p>Or maybe I am just practicing taking a kind of vengeance.</p><p></p><p>Or maybe, I am just showing off to you guys.</p><p></p><p>***</p><p></p><p>Brene Brown writes about a Culture of Scarcity.</p><p></p><p>“Vulnerability is not weakness, and the uncertainty, risk, and emotional exposure we face every day are not optional. Our only choice is a question of engagement. Our willingness to own and engage with our vulnerability determines the depth of our courage and the clarity of our purpose; the level to which we protect ourselves from being vulnerable is a measure of our fear and disconnection.”</p><p>― <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/162578.Bren_Brown" target="_blank">Brené Brown</a>, <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/work/quotes/19175758" target="_blank">Daring Greatly: How the Courage to Be Vulnerable Transforms the Way We Live, Love, Parent, and Lead</a></p><p></p><p>Here is my new favorite quote:</p><p></p><p>“Don't try to win over the haters; you are not a jackass whisperer.”</p><p>― <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/162578.Bren_Brown" target="_blank">Brené Brown</a>, <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/work/quotes/19175758" target="_blank">Daring Greatly: How the Courage to Be Vulnerable Transforms the Way We Live, Love, Parent, and Lead</a></p><p></p><p>Here is a link for us:</p><p></p><p><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/work/quotes/19175758-daring-greatly-how-the-courage-to-be-vulnerable-transforms-the-way-we" target="_blank">https://www.goodreads.com/work/quotes/19175758-daring-greatly-how-the-courage-to-be-vulnerable-transforms-the-way-we</a></p><p></p><p>I think Culture of Scarcity thinking figures in to the evolution of external locus of control. If we can step back and gain a little perspective on the ways our families of origin work even now, we can imagine what it must have been like for us as little kids. So now, when my mother has no power but whatever money she and my father had put aside (which the kids, having created their own lives long since, no longer require for survival) then we can see:</p><p></p><p>The energy and dynamic of the shun.</p><p></p><p>The determination to claim the power of telling the family story into the future.</p><p></p><p>Preferential treatment or exclusion of adult siblings with the same game rules applying to grands. Though for my mother at least, <em>other than in the case of my sister</em>, each of the grands have another set of grandparents.</p><p></p><p>So that should tell us something but I don't know what.</p><p></p><p>I am losing focus on my family of origin. I read something today about choosing our battles, and not devoting energies where we cannot effect outcome.</p><p></p><p>***</p><p></p><p>But I do have this to say, Copa. Regarding Joseph seeing human in each face. We were taught, I certainly was taught, eye rolling and contempt and backstabbing our own husbands and being held in contempt by a mother who kicks her own children which we then try to understand as the poor mother's uncontrollable rage. And how bad she must have felt and how hard she must have tried and etc. </p><p></p><p>But my mother did not feel bad about those things, Copa.</p><p></p><p>Or she would not have pretended she was drawing back her arm to hit me when I was in my late fifties and she was nearly eighty. And the sneer on her face said: "Any time." </p><p></p><p>So, that is the genesis of an external locus of control the wicked old thing was trying to celebrate well into her old age.</p><p></p><p>Isn't that something. </p><p></p><p>Serenity posted an article for us, back when she used to read here, about elderly parents abusing their elderly children.</p><p></p><p>So broken. </p><p></p><p>Maybe the difference is that Joseph's parent did not wish him ill.</p><p></p><p>Ours did, and do.</p><p></p><p>Like always, why doesn't matter.</p><p></p><p>Cedar</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Scent of Cedar *, post: 680310, member: 17461"] I think the answer, in Joseph's case, is in the God he believed believed in him. [I]I know who I am. I am a Child of the Most High God. I am equipped, empowered, talented, strong, fearfully and wonderfully made.[/I] [I]Joel Osteen[/I] So, here is a valuable exercise. Twelve times, write: I, your full name, am the beloved daughter (or son) of the Most High God. Twelve times, write: She (or, He), your full name, is the beloved daughter (or son) of the Most High God. Twelve times, write: You, your full name, are the beloved daughter (or, son) of the Most High God. *** Recovering internal locus of control has also to do also with a sense of purpose. I am remembering here Maya Angelou describing how she became herself, changing the world. Remembering that Maya grew up subject to every ism and abuse...how did she learn to be herself. That is my fascination with Maya Angelou. Where did that confidence that she was not as her environment decreed her to be ~ where did that come from. So, Maya Angelou told a story about being shamed in public by a pastor who, once she'd begun making a little name for herself and had some humility to lose, required her to say aloud, again and again before an audience, that God loved her. Maya describes feeling foolish. And then, being (Not feeling. Being.) angry and ashamed and defiant and horrified. And then, she broke through. And she never questioned her identity or her purpose, again. She just didn't know what it was. But she knew that God did know. So, she just did the next right thing. If the story was debilitating, she changed it. If it became arrogantly untrue (which in much of her writing, especially where her mother was concerned, it did) then you can trace it becoming more true about everything having to do with Maya, herself. Maya's stories about her mother are stories of the mother Maya needed her mother to be. And therefore, they are stories of the mother Maya then went on to create of herself. An important distinction, and something for us to think about, because we will see our own paths there. I already do choose mother figures from people I admire. (Maya, the black lady from Matrix, Lisa, Dr Ben Carson.) Soon, in my writing, I will create many personas for my mother, maybe. She will be every villain, and every great and human person, too. I will be able to do that once I truly lose the fear that my mother was right, or that she had any right at all to do what she did. To honor a memory by writing nobly untrue things as Maya Angelou did must surely be the most damning form of condemnation. Or maybe I am just practicing taking a kind of vengeance. Or maybe, I am just showing off to you guys. *** Brene Brown writes about a Culture of Scarcity. “Vulnerability is not weakness, and the uncertainty, risk, and emotional exposure we face every day are not optional. Our only choice is a question of engagement. Our willingness to own and engage with our vulnerability determines the depth of our courage and the clarity of our purpose; the level to which we protect ourselves from being vulnerable is a measure of our fear and disconnection.” ― [URL='https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/162578.Bren_Brown']Brené Brown[/URL], [URL='https://www.goodreads.com/work/quotes/19175758']Daring Greatly: How the Courage to Be Vulnerable Transforms the Way We Live, Love, Parent, and Lead[/URL] Here is my new favorite quote: “Don't try to win over the haters; you are not a jackass whisperer.” ― [URL='https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/162578.Bren_Brown']Brené Brown[/URL], [URL='https://www.goodreads.com/work/quotes/19175758']Daring Greatly: How the Courage to Be Vulnerable Transforms the Way We Live, Love, Parent, and Lead[/URL] Here is a link for us: [URL]https://www.goodreads.com/work/quotes/19175758-daring-greatly-how-the-courage-to-be-vulnerable-transforms-the-way-we[/URL] I think Culture of Scarcity thinking figures in to the evolution of external locus of control. If we can step back and gain a little perspective on the ways our families of origin work even now, we can imagine what it must have been like for us as little kids. So now, when my mother has no power but whatever money she and my father had put aside (which the kids, having created their own lives long since, no longer require for survival) then we can see: The energy and dynamic of the shun. The determination to claim the power of telling the family story into the future. Preferential treatment or exclusion of adult siblings with the same game rules applying to grands. Though for my mother at least, [I]other than in the case of my sister[/I], each of the grands have another set of grandparents. So that should tell us something but I don't know what. I am losing focus on my family of origin. I read something today about choosing our battles, and not devoting energies where we cannot effect outcome. *** But I do have this to say, Copa. Regarding Joseph seeing human in each face. We were taught, I certainly was taught, eye rolling and contempt and backstabbing our own husbands and being held in contempt by a mother who kicks her own children which we then try to understand as the poor mother's uncontrollable rage. And how bad she must have felt and how hard she must have tried and etc. But my mother did not feel bad about those things, Copa. Or she would not have pretended she was drawing back her arm to hit me when I was in my late fifties and she was nearly eighty. And the sneer on her face said: "Any time." So, that is the genesis of an external locus of control the wicked old thing was trying to celebrate well into her old age. Isn't that something. Serenity posted an article for us, back when she used to read here, about elderly parents abusing their elderly children. So broken. Maybe the difference is that Joseph's parent did not wish him ill. Ours did, and do. Like always, why doesn't matter. Cedar [/QUOTE]
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