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<blockquote data-quote="Scent of Cedar *" data-source="post: 665567" data-attributes="member: 17461"><p>Jason was disgusting.</p><p></p><p>How scary to be circled like that.</p><p></p><p>Those are the kinds of men who grow up to do really bad things to women. Like that nasty fat young man at the beach. I was a grandmother when that happened and I still remember that others may have heard him and just didn't want to get involved. I wish I'd shouted that very thing. But, like you did too Serenity (although at least you were just a little girl) I internalized the shame of it.</p><p></p><p>There too, I was sure I must have done something, or looked a certain way, or behaved a certain way, for him to have done that.</p><p></p><p>Again, it's that responsibility for the badness that happens. Whatever it is, we think we are responsible somehow because that is what our families of origin taught us.</p><p></p><p>It keeps circling back to that for me, this morning.</p><p></p><p>The role shame has played in my life in ways I had not recognized before this morning. I kept seeing it as attached to specific incidents, but it looks to me now like that core of shame is what everything filters through.</p><p></p><p>It's like the story I told about the Mongolian peasant.</p><p></p><p>Only, our Mongolian peasant is ~ well, remember those old Japanese movies about prehistoric monsters? Like that. Or those horror movies about bugs. Overrun by something impossible to control; by something we (in the movies, the human race but for us, we, personally) are responsible for.</p><p></p><p>Cedar</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Scent of Cedar *, post: 665567, member: 17461"] Jason was disgusting. How scary to be circled like that. Those are the kinds of men who grow up to do really bad things to women. Like that nasty fat young man at the beach. I was a grandmother when that happened and I still remember that others may have heard him and just didn't want to get involved. I wish I'd shouted that very thing. But, like you did too Serenity (although at least you were just a little girl) I internalized the shame of it. There too, I was sure I must have done something, or looked a certain way, or behaved a certain way, for him to have done that. Again, it's that responsibility for the badness that happens. Whatever it is, we think we are responsible somehow because that is what our families of origin taught us. It keeps circling back to that for me, this morning. The role shame has played in my life in ways I had not recognized before this morning. I kept seeing it as attached to specific incidents, but it looks to me now like that core of shame is what everything filters through. It's like the story I told about the Mongolian peasant. Only, our Mongolian peasant is ~ well, remember those old Japanese movies about prehistoric monsters? Like that. Or those horror movies about bugs. Overrun by something impossible to control; by something we (in the movies, the human race but for us, we, personally) are responsible for. Cedar [/QUOTE]
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