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Infectious Madness by Harriet Washington
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<blockquote data-quote="Scent of Cedar *" data-source="post: 670408" data-attributes="member: 17461"><p>Ha! I love this story. I think it is a man thing, to do whatever it is in the most dangerous way possible. One day, our neighbor stood, in the lake, on an aluminum ladder, cutting an overhanging branch with an electric chain saw. He was like, "I'm fine. It's grounded."</p><p></p><p>And he did not die, either.</p><p></p><p>"What-you-like-me-do?!?" </p><p></p><p>I love this.</p><p></p><p>Chinese waitress.</p><p></p><p>:O)</p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>Between D H and me, he is Bert.</p><p></p><p>I am Ernie.</p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>We have a feed store, here.</p><p></p><p>I will try that, Leafy. Thank you. I will put some in my tea too, just in case I have any parasites. First, as you suggest, I will research it on the internet, to be sure that would be an okay thing to do.</p><p></p><p>The ants seem mostly to be gone. But this morning, there were some in the dishwasher. </p><p></p><p>?</p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>Maya Angelou is one of my heroes. She was important to my healing, in that I called her to witness for me when I could not stop seeing myself being abused through my abuser's eyes. I could not see the wrongness in what was happening, in what happened. I have read Maya, and seen her on Oprah, and know she is proof positive that we can reclaim ourselves; she has not given birth to a daughter. She mothers many black women. I think she would mother me too, if she knew. So, I felt okay to envision her as my witness in traumatic remembering.</p><p></p><p>It worked.</p><p></p><p>Maya knew it was wrong, what happened to me.</p><p></p><p>So, I could know it, too.</p><p></p><p>I believe it is important for us to come to see through our own eyes. That is how we reach internal locus of control. Anger is part of that. When we were hurt, the reason we were not angry then at what was happening to us is because we believed ~ in the heart and core of ourselves ~ that our abusers knew us; knew we deserved nothing better.</p><p></p><p>We carry that understanding at the core of us, I think this is true, to this day.</p><p></p><p>Something so wrong, something we are not aware of, that "made" our own people treat us badly. We needed, I think, to make a choice: Is there something the matter with us, or is there something the matter with the parent? It is way more scary to think the parent is not the strong, stable person your survival depends on.</p><p></p><p>By default, we took the hit.</p><p></p><p>That is why I say all the time that we need to learn to see those incidents of abuse ~ whether from a sibling or a parent or a friend or a stranger ~ through our own eyes, and never again through the eyes of the abuser.</p><p></p><p>The abuser's eyes justify his or her actions through some version of contempt. In our powerlessness, we came into agreement with that. There was nothing else to do. </p><p></p><p>We were little kids.</p><p></p><p>That is what I found, as we went through the process of self-reclamation here on FOO Chronicles. Once we can see through our own eyes, we come legitimately into internal, versus external, locus of control.</p><p></p><p>We were used in the service of something ugly; of some power over ugliness. Once we see it, we are free.</p><p></p><p>Maya has been very important to my process. Clarissa Pinkola Estes (Women Who Run With the Wolves), Charles Williams, Frank Herbert.</p><p></p><p>The black lady from Matrix, who is surprised by nothing.</p><p></p><p>Cedar</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Scent of Cedar *, post: 670408, member: 17461"] Ha! I love this story. I think it is a man thing, to do whatever it is in the most dangerous way possible. One day, our neighbor stood, in the lake, on an aluminum ladder, cutting an overhanging branch with an electric chain saw. He was like, "I'm fine. It's grounded." And he did not die, either. "What-you-like-me-do?!?" I love this. Chinese waitress. :O) Between D H and me, he is Bert. I am Ernie. We have a feed store, here. I will try that, Leafy. Thank you. I will put some in my tea too, just in case I have any parasites. First, as you suggest, I will research it on the internet, to be sure that would be an okay thing to do. The ants seem mostly to be gone. But this morning, there were some in the dishwasher. ? Maya Angelou is one of my heroes. She was important to my healing, in that I called her to witness for me when I could not stop seeing myself being abused through my abuser's eyes. I could not see the wrongness in what was happening, in what happened. I have read Maya, and seen her on Oprah, and know she is proof positive that we can reclaim ourselves; she has not given birth to a daughter. She mothers many black women. I think she would mother me too, if she knew. So, I felt okay to envision her as my witness in traumatic remembering. It worked. Maya knew it was wrong, what happened to me. So, I could know it, too. I believe it is important for us to come to see through our own eyes. That is how we reach internal locus of control. Anger is part of that. When we were hurt, the reason we were not angry then at what was happening to us is because we believed ~ in the heart and core of ourselves ~ that our abusers knew us; knew we deserved nothing better. We carry that understanding at the core of us, I think this is true, to this day. Something so wrong, something we are not aware of, that "made" our own people treat us badly. We needed, I think, to make a choice: Is there something the matter with us, or is there something the matter with the parent? It is way more scary to think the parent is not the strong, stable person your survival depends on. By default, we took the hit. That is why I say all the time that we need to learn to see those incidents of abuse ~ whether from a sibling or a parent or a friend or a stranger ~ through our own eyes, and never again through the eyes of the abuser. The abuser's eyes justify his or her actions through some version of contempt. In our powerlessness, we came into agreement with that. There was nothing else to do. We were little kids. That is what I found, as we went through the process of self-reclamation here on FOO Chronicles. Once we can see through our own eyes, we come legitimately into internal, versus external, locus of control. We were used in the service of something ugly; of some power over ugliness. Once we see it, we are free. Maya has been very important to my process. Clarissa Pinkola Estes (Women Who Run With the Wolves), Charles Williams, Frank Herbert. The black lady from Matrix, who is surprised by nothing. Cedar [/QUOTE]
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