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Work and Germany; Benedictines and Buddhists: Attitude
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<blockquote data-quote="Copabanana" data-source="post: 672982" data-attributes="member: 18958"><p>I cannot believe I missed this thread. I have so much work to do. This is making me so very anxious. Like unbearably so. I have not read through the postings, but did glance at your request, Cedar, to know more about the somatic expression of emotion, in many cultures. Specifically in M's family. I will tell you briefly now and I will expound more when I hit that post.</p><p></p><p>I first came across this when writing my dissertation on a certain chronic illness. It is prevalent in Asian cultures, among men and women where depression is often expressed as a physical ailment and cured through somatic treatments. </p><p></p><p>Except this makes sense because there are treatments that involve touch and relationship and listening. And with plant based treatments, like in Mexico, these are passed down through the family for ions. M and his sister use remedies that come from Aztec times, taught them by their mother. So when we drink a tea made of a certain plant, she is there with us in spirit. So there is relationship there. Not a pill from a pharmacy. How alone and sterile can you get? </p><p></p><p>I got sidetracked. I will tell you something gossipy. M's sister had many ailments, principally muscular/skeletal issues, which she says include Osteoporosis. There have been years when she did not leave the house. Still, there are weeks when she is confined to the house in pain. </p><p></p><p>Husband will be losing his job in a few weeks. (She had to give up her beloved Segunda, second hand store, because it was a drain on finances.)</p><p>She is very bad now. </p><p></p><p>M's mother is convinced she developed these problems because her husband practiced brujaria, which is witchcraft. Like voodoo. It is extremely common in Mexico and Guatemala where I lived for awhile. One day where I was lived I sat down at a table outside in the morning and found a few objects weirdly grouped. Like a dead animal and a couple of other things. I cannot believe I do not remember. </p><p></p><p><em>Everybody in the household went nuts. </em></p><p><em></em></p><p>A neighbor was casting a spell. It went on for a couple of weeks. With progressively weirder stuff showing up.</p><p></p><p>OK. I know I am getting sidetracked. I will stop. I will stop here. I would have gone on and on just so I do not have to deal with anxiety provoking post. </p><p>As much anxiety as I am experiencing I wonder if this is what is tapped for me with housework? Think about it. This would have been the first arena of conflict with my mother after toilet training which I can bet was very severely dealt with. She must have been absolutely frantic with all of the messes I made. I loved to make messes. I was artistic from the beginning. Drawing and painting on walls and floors. Taking all the pans and pots out of the cabinet and making music. There must have been battles aplenty to get me to clean up. At 2 or 3 or 4.</p><p>Well, that pretty much sums up what happens around housework.</p><p>Yes. I cannot work my way through this. I am referring to housework here, not appearance. Except, the thing is, I have huge issues about appearance.</p><p></p><p>I do not look at myself in the mirror for days and days. I avert my gaze when I brush my teeth. I cannot bear it. To look at myself. What is that about? That is why my hair becomes a rat's nest.</p><p>Yeah, but what if you <em>feel</em> you cannot work?</p><p>Interesting.</p><p></p><p>M's sister wanted to find a Thai massage place. She went to one where her daughters lived and found it very effective. In another post I will tell you about the sisters' (more than one) dependence on massage. Well, I looked on the internet to see if I could find one for her in our city. I found a place, called Jewel's Massage. It is on a proper street in a proper building.</p><p></p><p>But I became anxious it was sexual massage. I mean, I work with prostitutes. Nothing phases me. I lived in a brothel. And all of a sudden I am afraid to call a spa because it might be prostitute? So for two weeks I could not do it, until today I called her to give her the number. I could not call</p><p>I need to look this up. I know nothing about it.</p><p>How sad for us. I remember when I was about 11. (I always loved to be in our yard.) There was a pregnant cat which was there with me. This was the first cat I remember knowing. Strange, I know. I bonded with her. I remember feeling safe with her. I was not anywhere else. I am so grateful I have my Stella, who has healed quite nicely from her dental surgery.</p><p>Imagine living in a climate like this. Unrelenting. Never-ending. No escape. Nowhere to go.</p><p>Maybe this is part of the reason I cannot finish my house. It is already almost gorgeous. I cannot give myself complete peace. Still.</p><p>Perhaps I cannot face the truth, but this is how I see myself. My mother loved me. My father loved me. They saw me as a darling and adorable little girl, because I was. But my mother, particularly, treated me very harshly, very often. <em>Particularly about cleaning the house</em>.</p><p>Yes. I created this to a large extent in my work life, but not totally. Because I have not allowed myself to work in my profession outside of a very punishing bureaucracy where I was in danger emotionally. I did my work in a hostile land. Always vulnerable to denunciation. And largely hidden.</p><p>Yes, but how to start? </p><p>Well like you, I got none of these.</p><p>Thank you for this.</p><p>I love this, too. Maybe this is part of the remedy. To go to battle in my house. A turf war. </p><p></p><p>Thank you, Cedar. This was a beautiful and courageous post. How many days am I behind now? 9?</p><p></p><p>COPA</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Copabanana, post: 672982, member: 18958"] I cannot believe I missed this thread. I have so much work to do. This is making me so very anxious. Like unbearably so. I have not read through the postings, but did glance at your request, Cedar, to know more about the somatic expression of emotion, in many cultures. Specifically in M's family. I will tell you briefly now and I will expound more when I hit that post. I first came across this when writing my dissertation on a certain chronic illness. It is prevalent in Asian cultures, among men and women where depression is often expressed as a physical ailment and cured through somatic treatments. Except this makes sense because there are treatments that involve touch and relationship and listening. And with plant based treatments, like in Mexico, these are passed down through the family for ions. M and his sister use remedies that come from Aztec times, taught them by their mother. So when we drink a tea made of a certain plant, she is there with us in spirit. So there is relationship there. Not a pill from a pharmacy. How alone and sterile can you get? I got sidetracked. I will tell you something gossipy. M's sister had many ailments, principally muscular/skeletal issues, which she says include Osteoporosis. There have been years when she did not leave the house. Still, there are weeks when she is confined to the house in pain. Husband will be losing his job in a few weeks. (She had to give up her beloved Segunda, second hand store, because it was a drain on finances.) She is very bad now. M's mother is convinced she developed these problems because her husband practiced brujaria, which is witchcraft. Like voodoo. It is extremely common in Mexico and Guatemala where I lived for awhile. One day where I was lived I sat down at a table outside in the morning and found a few objects weirdly grouped. Like a dead animal and a couple of other things. I cannot believe I do not remember. [I]Everybody in the household went nuts. [/I] A neighbor was casting a spell. It went on for a couple of weeks. With progressively weirder stuff showing up. OK. I know I am getting sidetracked. I will stop. I will stop here. I would have gone on and on just so I do not have to deal with anxiety provoking post. As much anxiety as I am experiencing I wonder if this is what is tapped for me with housework? Think about it. This would have been the first arena of conflict with my mother after toilet training which I can bet was very severely dealt with. She must have been absolutely frantic with all of the messes I made. I loved to make messes. I was artistic from the beginning. Drawing and painting on walls and floors. Taking all the pans and pots out of the cabinet and making music. There must have been battles aplenty to get me to clean up. At 2 or 3 or 4. Well, that pretty much sums up what happens around housework. Yes. I cannot work my way through this. I am referring to housework here, not appearance. Except, the thing is, I have huge issues about appearance. I do not look at myself in the mirror for days and days. I avert my gaze when I brush my teeth. I cannot bear it. To look at myself. What is that about? That is why my hair becomes a rat's nest. Yeah, but what if you [I]feel[/I] you cannot work? Interesting. M's sister wanted to find a Thai massage place. She went to one where her daughters lived and found it very effective. In another post I will tell you about the sisters' (more than one) dependence on massage. Well, I looked on the internet to see if I could find one for her in our city. I found a place, called Jewel's Massage. It is on a proper street in a proper building. But I became anxious it was sexual massage. I mean, I work with prostitutes. Nothing phases me. I lived in a brothel. And all of a sudden I am afraid to call a spa because it might be prostitute? So for two weeks I could not do it, until today I called her to give her the number. I could not call I need to look this up. I know nothing about it. How sad for us. I remember when I was about 11. (I always loved to be in our yard.) There was a pregnant cat which was there with me. This was the first cat I remember knowing. Strange, I know. I bonded with her. I remember feeling safe with her. I was not anywhere else. I am so grateful I have my Stella, who has healed quite nicely from her dental surgery. Imagine living in a climate like this. Unrelenting. Never-ending. No escape. Nowhere to go. Maybe this is part of the reason I cannot finish my house. It is already almost gorgeous. I cannot give myself complete peace. Still. Perhaps I cannot face the truth, but this is how I see myself. My mother loved me. My father loved me. They saw me as a darling and adorable little girl, because I was. But my mother, particularly, treated me very harshly, very often. [I]Particularly about cleaning the house[/I]. Yes. I created this to a large extent in my work life, but not totally. Because I have not allowed myself to work in my profession outside of a very punishing bureaucracy where I was in danger emotionally. I did my work in a hostile land. Always vulnerable to denunciation. And largely hidden. Yes, but how to start? Well like you, I got none of these. Thank you for this. I love this, too. Maybe this is part of the remedy. To go to battle in my house. A turf war. Thank you, Cedar. This was a beautiful and courageous post. How many days am I behind now? 9? COPA [/QUOTE]
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