Rebels Rebel

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They say that everything we do in life, all of our decisions, and how we operate, are borne from and driven by two emotions and two emotions alone: Love and Fear.

In a similar manner to my blog post from the other day regarding truth and love being inextricably woven together for me, I think that fear and love have also been very closely tied together since birth as well, due to my adoption status.

Every baby is fearful when they first arrive in this world. That is why every baby cries. But they are comforted very shortly thereafter by their mother. And that sends the message to all those newborns that fear can be satiated by love, that love is more powerful than fear, that fear might be a primal instinct, but that there is someone there to count on right away to provide love for you to overcome that fear. That provides security for newborns, it helps to develop self esteem because they come in to the world feeling unconditional love. This provides them with the always present subconscious knowledge throughout their lives that there will always be love to combat fear, which hence provides them the space to develop self-love and to thrive appropriately on the psychological level as they grow and go through the various trials and tribulations that life will invariably throw their way.

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Even before taking our first breath in the world, adoptees absorb the negative emotions felt by our birth mothers through the womb. And even if love is one of them, that love is still shrouded in pain, fear, sadness, anxiety, anger and more…We intrinsically know that our births are not a celebration of love, but a time of pain. The movie “Gifted” made me think about this and I wrote about it in one of my earlier blog posts Here

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I lived with a love in my heart for my birthmom growing up, a love that I had to keep to myself because I lived in fear. Fear that I would lose the love I thought I had from my adoptive parents because they instilled a fear in me. They made me fearful that I would lose them should I ever search for my birthmom because they would feel betrayef, so I had to keep my feelings of love for her to myself and they kept me in fear and put me in charge of protecting their feelings as a young child rather than them protecting me. Their fear was more important to them then love.

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Being the adoptive child of some with Narcissistic Personality Disorder programmed me even further to live in constant fear. I never knew when he would explode at me or when he would just be in a bad mood for whatever reason. There was constant yelling in the house. As an adult, I have become familiar with the the diagnosis of Complex PTSD. People have often heard of PTSD, but not Complex PTSD and there is a difference between the two.

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My adoptive dad turned my adoptive mom in to his flying monkey, which wasn’t hard to do because she lived in fear of her mother her entire life. My adoptive mom seems to think she can exert power over children, that’s the only people she thinks she can control. She still attempts to control both me and my daughter, but is constantly met with frustration when her attempts at control are met by our strong personalities that won’t be held down by her.

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I bounce back and forth. I often act compliant out of constant fear. Someone posted on Facebook yesterday that it is more of the bodily sensations we feel when we are required to do something outside of our normal range of experience that causes us the “fear” and inability to do what we need to do and causes the lack of courage. I do rebel enough that I am the biggest threat either of my adoptive parents have ever known. I don’t rebel in the sense of being a rebellious child. They were lucky enough that I am who I am morally, and not thanks to them, because I would guarantee that any other child put in their care would have been far more rebellious than I was, in terms of being a drug user, alcoholic, partier, having sex at a young age, pregnant before marriage etc…For how much they have attempted to control me, I speak out against them more than anyone else in their lives. Even though it scares me so much when I do. I literally have to work myself up to it for months if it is a planned thing. If they trigger me in a moment and cause a primal reaction, then I speak up because they have already stirred that bodily sensation and I roll with it since I already feel that knot in the pit of my stomach. So if I am already there, I might as well express it all before the moment is gone. But if they do things that are less insidious where it is a slower “mind fuck” situation, and it eats away at me over time, then it takes me months to work uputhe courage to confront them with my boundaries and speaking my peace.

One of my new favorite TV shows that I keep referencing, “Perception” poses the question/dilemma:

-Fear can override rational thought. Can we override our most primal instincts? Condition ourselves not to react out of fear?

In order to finally love myself, as my friend has told me is the thing I need most in my life right now (especially since no one who was supposed to display what love really was to me, and model that unconditional love is did that for me), I must, as the top meme on this page states, rebel against myself (and my own personal primal instinct-which I think is actually different from the majority) and do what I fear most. Only then will I truly love myself. Only when I have the courage, in spite of fear, will love prevail for me.

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https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/rebel/

My song of the day is: He’s a rebel by The Crystals

This goes along with today’s word prompt as well as my writing on the theme as well. My adoptive parents never approved of any of the men I dated. With being a Narcissist, my dad never would have anyway, but I did tend to date more of the rebel type. Partially to rebel against them and what they stood for, partially because anyone they would have “on paper” found suitable for me would have been boring to me. But also, once I met my birthdad, who I chose as my husband made perfect sense to me. It really is true that girls marry their daddies (not in a gross way). I didn’t even grow up with my birthdad and knew nothing about him, and I married someone exactly like him in so many aspects it’s scary (that will be one of my next blog posts!) Stay tuned for that one-you’ll want to read that one-its pretty fascinating and uncanny really.

Growing up in a bubble

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Do you love the truth more than you need to be loved, or do you need to be loved more than you love the truth?

This question appeared as my daily meditation in one of the two daily inspirational books I read every day. In the morning I read a very short inspirational, meditational quote or question from the book “Soul to Soul Meditations:Daily Reflections for Spiritual Growth” by Gary Zukav. This is the book that this question came from this morning. The other book that I read at night has a slightly longer pondering, and that book is “The Daily Stoic:365 Meditations on Wisdom, Performance and the Art of Living” by Ryan Holiday and Stephen Hanselman. For the past 3-4 years I have started my day by reading a short quote or inspirational blurb from a different book that I choose each year. This year I decided to take on two, one for the morning and one for the night time. This is a tradition I plan to (hopefully) continue for the remainder of my life in one way or another. I have found it to really open up, particularly my third eye and crown chakras. I have become so much more aware and self aware and my wisdom and intuition have grown exponentially since I began this practice. It is a daily practice I highly recommend for anyone and everyone.

Now that I am done preaching, on to my contemplation on today’s question, which my first preaching paragraph was probably a way to digress off of the topic at hand, because this question hit me like a ton of bricks. This question, quite literally, is probably the question that most defines my entire emotional conflictual existence since birth. I was born in to a bubble of secrets and lies. I was “sheltered” from the truth of my true history and birthright. And yet, at the same time, contradictorily, my adoptive parents exposed me to truths within their own lives and marriage that I should have NEVER been exposed to as a young child. They always told me the truth as they knew it about being adopted and the facts as they knew them, but they also we’re blatently honest about how they would feel if I were to ever search for my birthmom, that they would feel betrayef, that they were my parents, that she might have moved on and never told her new family about me and that I might ruin her secrecy by showing up (manipulation by truth to guilt me in to not wanting to search). I grew up being told that my birthfather walked away from us when he found out she was pregnant (which turned out to be a lie-told by my birthmom) and I grew up being told that my birthmom couldn’t take care of me financially and wanted a ”better life” for me, which my adoptive parents thought I made out well in the deal (because they did well financially). This was the narrative of my life. But what I intrinsically felt, was abandonment. When I was in first grade and told the kids in my class that I was adopted, the kids I told expressed exactly what I was inherently feeling….”your mom didn’t want you and gave you up”. When I told my adoptive parents that they said this, they told me that I should respond from then on that, “I was chosen by my adoptive parents, your parents were stuck with you”.

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I was also told the blatent truth growing up that my adoptive parents paid $30,000 to adopt me. None of this consciously registered at the time of course, but it all went in to the slow degradation of my psyche, and the conclusion that I came to 3 years ago that my adoptive parents don’t truly love me. They are not capable of love. Especially being who they are as people. My adoptive father has Narcissistic Personality Disorder of the highest degree. He has come to view me, I am quite certain, as his worst enemy. You know the saying, “Keep your friends close and your enemies closer”? There have only been 2 people that I have EVER witnessed to have stood up to my adoptive dad and for him not to have cut out of his life (at some point in time). That is my cousin on my mom’s side and me. My Grandmother on my mom’s side as well to a degree, but he did cut her out of our lives for about 3 years. None of us were allowed to see her during that time span. Eventually he allowed her back in, but not without constant struggle and bashing her behind her back and conflict in person. They were two of a kind and clashed in the worst way. My dad has always cut people out of his life as soon as they stand up to him or dare to cross him in any way that he sees as any kind of betrayal. My cousin is one of the few people that he knows was told that he is gay and has had an affair during his marriage to my mother. And so, he believes it behooves him to keep her in his life, because he probably believes if he cuts her out, what would prevent her from spreading his secret. And so he keeps her close to him so that he can continue to gain “dirt” on her, and she has many of her own “skeletons” in her closet, so that it becomes something that he thinks he can hold over her as well. Little does he know that I don’t think it honestly would phase my cousin if he did tell the whole world about her issues. He already does anyway, because he is a gossip queen. Every other conversation I have with him he has some kind of disparaging story to tell me about her, just to make himself feel better about his own life.

And then there’s me. I truly have come to believe that he doesn’t view me as his daughter that he loves with all his heart. Especially not since I exposed his secret when I was 21 and brought his secret life to light, told my mother what I had figured out about him, and brought her to the hotel where he had set up a date with a man and intercepted it before it happened. I truly believe now that he has come to see me as public enemy #1 in his life. I am such a danger to him because I hold the secret that could ruin everything he tries to conceal (even though he is so delusional to think that no one has him figured out from the time they meet him). And even more dangerous is the fact that I am brave enough to confront him and that no matter how hard he tries, he is not able to control me and keep me under his thumb the way he is able to either keep everyone else complacent or controlled. He may keep me afraid enough for a certain amount of time, but then after a certain amount of time, I’ve had my fill, and then I break and my boundaries go up and I speak up. He also knows I see right through him like no one else on this planet does. I am the only one he cannot fool with his charisma and charm. I am too smart and am now always a few steps ahead of him, and nothing scares him more. I am no longer his possession.

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My adoptive parents have chosen which truths to be far too loose with throughout my life and which truths to be closed mouth about because it would be to their detriment if those truths became known. And while everyone does that to a certain extent, the depth to which they have done it has been so damaging to my mental state that I truly don’t know how to answer the original question that I was presented with in my inspirational book this morning. After thinking about this question now for several hours, I think that this question will actually permeate my healing process for months and maybe even years to come. My adoptive parents would tell truths that no child should have to endure at the tender age of 7. I was plagued at that age with the fact that after my mother had a hysterectomy, that she got addicted to tranquilizers and sleeping pills. And that my dad paid for a psychiatrist out of pocket in order to keep it off her medical records (because it is such a shameful thing). He would talk to me as if I was his best friend every morning on the way to school and put me in the middle of their marriage and speak vile truths about my mother to the point that I felt as if I was a child caught between 2 parents who were divorcing (they’re still married today, never even separated). And then in addition to that, at that point I also lost my mother’s presence in my life. From that point forward, my mother stopped being involved in any of the activities in my life and my dad took over. Prior to that time, it was my mom who was involved in vacation Bible School and who took me to and stayed at brownies with me and who took me to dance and speech therapy when I was in kindergarten. And after I was 7, it was entirely my father. It was my dad who took me to dance, my dad who was the co-leader in my girl scout troop all the way through senior scouts, my dad who was the band parents president in high school. And then my mom proceeded to be jealous of me and wonder why I had a better relationship with my dad. She was angry that I talked to my dad more, she actually would verbally tell me that, as if it was my fault. I couldn’t even consciously figure out why back then. And my dad would tell her it was because she questioned me all the time and tried to force information out of me, which did contribute to it, she did act nosy and wouldn’t lay off when I wouldn’t divulge information to her when her never ending questions about my day we’re only met with the typical teenage answer of “fine”. But I now see that her absence in my life after age 7 was just another abandonment in my life. And then she would use me as her means to try to seek love for herself, the love she never got from her mother. Rather than providing me with the love I needed, she would give me a hard time when I would attempt to walk out the door as a teenager without giving her a hug and a kiss goodbye. Because SHE needed it. I had long ago written her off because she stopped giving me what I needed when I needed it most. So why should I give her what she needed and wanted.

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This meme above is the checklist for what is called emotional incest. My father used me as a Surrogate Mate essentially. This also went in to what made my mother jealous of me. I can answer yes to every single question on this list. And to further validate this viewpoint, it wasn’t until I moved away that my father actually found a steady boyfriend, basically who replaced me as his companion. All of this just proves numbers 1 and 6. And as I have already stated, I also felt that I was considered a source for my mother to gain love rather than for my mother to give love.

Fast forward several years to when I was approximately 32, to one of the defining moments that gave me emotional validation to move forward with the search for my birthmom. For all the years prior to then, I lived under their manipulation, always wanting to search, but always too afraid to hurt them and feeling guilty laden that even if I were to do it in secret, that still somehow I owed it to them to not search. One of two catalysts finally gave me permission in my own heart to go ahead with ahead. The revelation of a truth that my parents had hidden from me for 32 years and then the subsequent refusal to appease my curiosity about my own identity and truth was a clear display of the fact that their own self love was more important to them than their love for me. And I needed to start practicing self love and to try and find someone who possibly loved me more than them. When I told my dad that I needed my official (not original) birth certificate, because they still had it, because I needed to get a new passport, he said he would get it from the vault. He then proceeded to tell me that when we were down there to get on the ship (the reason I needed a new passport in my married name), that he wanted to put my name on their vault card plaquard in case something happened to them so that I could gain access. But he also felt he needed to tell me something. He told me that they accidentally left my birthmoms name on the adoption papers that were in the vault which were supposed to have been reddacted. When he told me that, I simply asked him if he could tell me if her name was Susan because I always thought that was her name. He told me he didn’t remember, just that she had a long German last name but that he would have my mother check when she got my birth certificate. After that, he never told me her name like I asked. And of course, me being the loyal daughter that I am was too afraid to ask because I didn’t want to hurt his feelings or make him worry that I wanted to look for her. That truth of course is one that they withheld from me because it would be a detriment to them, even though they knew straight up that it was one that I had been curious about my entire life. I wasn’t asking for her last name which would have been identifying information which with I could have searched for her. I simply wanted to quench my curiosity of 30 years but they couldn’t even do that for me. And believe me, it wasn’t something they simply forgot to do. My parents don’t forget things like that. They can choose to withhold that tremendous truth from me, but share truths with me at 21 after confronting my dad about his gay tryst that he has a high sex drive and he and my mother don’t have sex very often (as if it was her fault). As if this was a truth that you should be telling your 21 year old daughter who is already traumatized by what she has just had to do and go through. And when he made me go to their marriage counselor because I broke down one day and he told me I was not having a normal reaction to everything and there was something wrong with me, she asked me how many people were in a marriage and I told her normally I would say 2 but in my parents case 3. She kept insisting it was 2 and I kept telling her that she has no conception of how much my parents have made me an integral part of their marriage to the point that it truly feels as though I am a part of it. And I still stand firm on this analysis to this day.

Once it all came out, he has insisted over all of these years that we keep his truth a secret for him, yet he can sit there and talk about it openly without saying in front of everyone “my boyfriend”, but he used his name and talked about all of the trips he went once with him in front of everyone. But if he ever was told that all of those people were told that the man he was talking about was his boyfriend, he would be devastated, angry at us for telling them etc…Again, he gets to choose and control what truths are revealed and what are hidden. And we (my mom and I) have to deal with any of the consequences and emotions of that no matter how it affects us.

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Because of my childhood trauma of truth, lies and secrecy, I have developed a very tumultuous relationship with both truth and love. It is quite evident in those I have chosen for romantic relationships over the years, the way I handle myself within those relationships and how I prioritize things. It is also very evident in how I have handled myself in friendships as well and how I finally sought out my birthfamily after discovering certain truths about my adoptive parents. For how important truth is to me, I have still chosen to keep my relationship with my birthfamily a secret. Those who know my adoptive parents agree with me on this decision because they know the reprecussions of it and they know the type of people they are and the impact it would have. But those in the adoptee group I was in for quite a while almost all disagreed with me on keeping it a secret from them and felt I should stand in my truth. And while it bothers me that I feel I should have to lie about this, I also don’t want anything coming between my relationship with my birthparents. That is something I believe I deserve and I think it shouldn’t be tainted by any extra pain that would come from telling my adoptive parents a truth that they can’t handle, which is highly unfair to me. They have already done enough damage to me by sharing all the truths they shouldn’t have and keeping silent the truths that shouldn’t have been kept silent. Exactly who would benefit from telling the truth about this? While I do believe in telling the truth for truths sake, there is also a certain form of protection that the withholding of truth does serve. And when it is truly in someones best interest to withhold the truth, at least perhaps until a later date at times, is that a virtuous ideal? I believe it is in everyone’s interest to withhold this truth. I feel to protect a child from losing their innocence before they should, when it is something that they really don’t need to be involved in, that withholding the truth can sometimes be of value (but I think some day they should be told the truth, especially if there is something they struggle with from that time period in their life). If withholding of the truth is done in order to deceive someone for that person’s own gain or to spare themselves from shame or the wrath of someone else, I feel that is not an appropriate reason to withhold the truth from someone.

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My husband always asks me the question, “Did you grow up in a bubble?” And he asks me this because I have often seemed very naive to worldly things and have come across as very sheltered. And for the level of conservativeness that my adoptive parents put forth as a front, and for how strict they were with me and curfews and what they expected from me morally and such, and what they considered “bad behavior” from me, the things I was exposed to as a kid were anything but conservative. I had to deal with very adult problems from the time I was very young, and I was never sheltered from any of those things, I was purposely dragged in to them. Those truths were never once spared from me. As I had already mentioned, things such as divulging how much was paid for me, that my mother was addicted to tranquilizers and sleeping pills when I was 7, my father never watched his cursing mouth around me..I knew the f word because of him by age 5 at least, my dad would threaten in my presence to commit suicide-he talked all the time about running his car off the road-I remember him saying that as far back as age 6, my mom constantly hit me with a wooden spoon, my mom smacked me across the face with a dishtowel at 4 simply because I took all my dolls put while she left me in the house alone and went to the neighbors to ask for sugar or something like that, my dad kept a stack of penthouse (like Playboy) magazines in their closet-I guess he was trying to de-gay himself or something, talked all about their sex life to me at 21 after intercepting my dad’s tryst…and the list goes on…..

I guess I have come to believe throughout the years that when people continue to lie to me, that I am not worthy of the truth. That whatever it is they are lying about is more important to them than being truthful to me and not doing whatever it is they are lying about. It is a matter of being put second to something, which has always been one of my biggest sources of pain. Being second best, second choice. To me, being lied to, and being forced to lie for someone/keep someone’s secret for them, I think has become equated with not being loved, of not being chosen. And therein lies my dilemma that I will grapple with for quite a while. Are they really separate things, do I have a warped sense of this cohesion due to my background, can these things coexist as separate entities without defining one another, or are they inextricably linked?

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/bubble/

 

Lines, Lines, Everywhere Lines

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My daily life is permeated by lines. Lines everywhere. I am a musician: performer and instructor. The picture above is my music studio office at one of the schools I teach at. It is one huge conglomeration of a myriad of lines. Written music, the lines where the walls meet, the memes that I decorate with, the artwork I made which was more of a logical art piece that was a mathematical presentation in an artwork of a musical composition, one of my favorite flute pieces which is hanging on the wall towards the window (also made of lines itself). There are chairs, my flute, a music stand, bulletin boards, ceiling tiles, etc….All of which are very Stark and straight lines. There are also more fluid or curvy lines such as those of the trees peeking outside my window, the pictures inside some of the artwork hanging on my walls, the fluid lines of the clefs on the large staff paper on the wall on the far right which contains theories of a research project that is part of my life’s work that I intend to see to fruition and that I hope will be a part of my legacy and that I truly believe in and that I truly think could make a notable difference in the music field.

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I read music all day long. Music is written on paper, paper made of 4 lines. The music itself that I and my students translate and transmute in to sound is transcribed on 5 horizontal lines and 4 spaces called a staff. There are vertical lines that divide the staff in to measures, which sort of punctuates the music and keeps it from looking like one gigantic run on sentence. The rhythm/length of the notes are notated by vertical and/or horizontal lines as well. The sharps, flats and naturals all contain lines. The articulations, how a musician tongues the note are mostly made of lines, some curvy and some are straight edged. And if any of those lines are printed in any deviation from what the musician holds in their brain to be associated with a specific note or rhythm, an unnecessary mistake will often occur. This is in a very raw form part of the basis of my research project. I am able to predict which printing variances produce specific mistakes and I believe I have figured out a way to make a preemptive strike against the potential and often iminent mistakes before they happen to many musicians, especially younger student musicians. I just need to get the right people to hear my theory and solution and I am confident that I can make a tremendous impact on the future of music education and performance consistency. The picture of the sheet music is one of my students exercises that is riddled with some of the deviations that have caused her several mistakes that I believe could have been avoided once I am able to develop my method once I find the company backing I am in search and in need of to get my idea off the ground. Fingers crossed to find the person who will be the right advocate soon.

 

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/photo-challenges/lines-2018/

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/notable/

I forgive me

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I pulled an Oracle card today, one of many, but this one in particular just hit me with a message that resonated inside my soul as one of the main things that is keeping me stuck. The longer and more elaborate description reads as follows:

This card indicates that your prayer will be answered as you release yourself from the inability to offer forgiveness. While you may feel justified in your anger, the truth is that your resentment is only hurting you-the rage you’re carrying is blocking your deepest desires. Go outside and ask the fairies and spirit of nature to clear your mind, body and emotions of lower energies. You’ll benefit enormously by making the decision to detoxify yourself of old anger and resentment.

Additional meanings for this card: forgive yourself and be cleared of toxic guilt, reduce judgmental thoughts about yourself or others, send an apologetic note to someone, stop identifying yourself as a victim and see yourself as powerful, focus on the present instead of the past

It’s the additional meanings for the card that are the most powerful for me. Particularly the part about forgiving myself. There have been a lot of people in my life that I am working on Souliberating from (click on the link to see my blog post about this term), but I do really need to forgive myself. I deserve my own forgiveness. Forgiveness for not being able to love myself enough to let go of the guilt that has been wearing me down for far too long. Forgiveness for allowing others to trample all over my self worth. Forgiveness for not respecting myself enough that I allowed others to silence my voice, I showed them how to treat me because I allowed them to. Forgiveness for not asking for what I need, for putting everyone else before myself.

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A quote I heard last night on a show was:

“The first lesson of becoming a woman is learning to tell the man in your life what your needs are.” –Cash Gray, “Nashville”

I guess I still haven’t become a woman at 40 years old because I still haven’t learned to ask or tell anyone in my life what my needs are. Once in a great while I might express a little something, but I never express anything elaborate as to the real thoughts that go on inside my brain. I continue to swirl around in the swimming pool of wondering when anyone will think of my needs, all while feeling guilty for not meeting every single one of their needs and always trying to people please when I get something wrong or when I seem to disappoint someone.

Learning to love myself is very difficult for me. I am so scared to come across as selfish or self absorbed or not attending to my duties. I worry about others perceptions of me, but I shouldn’t. Especially when my own perception of myself has been unfavorable for far too long. And perhaps if my own perception of myself changes, soon thereafter others perceptions of me will change as well. But I have to get through the process first and turn off my radar to other people’s reactions to the changes they see occuring in me, because they might be shell shocked for a while.

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I just had an interesting conversation with a parent of a student tonight about exorcism. She said that the last priest who had performed one just passed away. We got into a discussion about it and I had posed the suggestion that what Catholics and other religious sects labeled as being possessed by demons in times gone by could really just be mental health issues that were “mislabeled” because not enough was known about psychology back then. And sometimes the “voices inside” someone’s head who is struggling with mental health issues can just speak evil inside their head rather than confusion or delusion etc…such as one of the personalities of someone with multiple personalities being someone who claims to be a demon or someone evil that forces the person they are inhabiting to do evil things.

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I have done the above. I have walked, I have faced, and now I am climbing out. I have dwelled in my shadows too long. I forgive myself for being there too long and bathing in the toxic shadows for too long. I am ready to find resolve now instead of only wallow.

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/elaborate/

Parallel living

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Since only one of my four parents is actually able to put my needs first and truly want what’s best for me and do “what’s in the best interest of the child”, I have to go on living parallel lives. They are all so caught up in having their own feelings that mine are disregarded. Two of them always made it well known they would feel betrayef if I searched for the one who gave birth to me. They never thought there would be a fourth in the picture. And so, they will never know about the secret life I am forced to live in order to not hurt them and in order to not be potentially cut out of the lives of the people who raised me. And then there’s the one who gave birth to me. The one who knows how oppressed I feel by those whose hands I ended up in because of her decision. And yet, she pushes me in to more secrecy because she can’t handle that I have developed a relationship with the person she created me with. She congratulates herself for giving me his name, as if I couldn’t have found him in some other way, as if I wouldn’t have had animosity towards her if she would have withheld that information from me. Came to find out her stories don’t add up to his. And he is the one who is more genuine. Her stories have done some morphing since the time time I’ve met her. Yet he is the one she claims to be evil. Knowing full well how much I detest being lied to, and knowing how much I hate mind games and having to tip toe around people. She calls herself a devout Christian, yet her constant hypocrisy, just like those who raised me is astounding. What would Jesus do? He would certainly pit his feelings aside in the best interests for a child who is in desperate need of her parents to do what is right for her. A child who needs her parents to stop putting her in the middle of all of their own hatred and jealousy toward each other, because it is all transferred in to my psyche and weighs so heavily on my self esteem and my definition and ability for self love and to give love. I’ve never had a proper model. I know in my head at least what it is supposed to look like and I can only hope I continue to get better the more I become aware as a parent so that my children don’t feel as I do.

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/parallel/

Crank it up

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Crank it up. Crank up the truth. Watching a show about those who write music inspired me tonight. I usually am not very creative in the composition arena of the music. I often can have lyrics flow, but they are really more often poetic and not in a form for rock or pop music. This time the lyrics and Melody and background music are all happening at once. It’s quite nice. I have only ever written one other rock/pop song. Right now for this one I only have the first verse (at least part of it) and the first/main chorus. It has been a more constructive way to channel the emotions that invaded my brain over the weekend.

Who I am

Dark meets Light

Two worlds collide

Created I

 

Seen as sin

Lost within

New Beginning

 

Chorus:

Left me in the atmosphere

Left me with this heart of fear

Wishing up upon a star

Always wondered where you are

Ended up in Wonderland

Never knew just who I am

Never knew just I who I am…

 

My song of the day comes because I saw it on an episode of Friends that came on today and it also came on my playlist today as well. The Lion in me has been sleeping for far too long. But that Lion is beginning to awaken! He might be sleeping tonight, but he’s a stirring!

 

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/crank/

Down to a glimmer

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A friend asked, “Did you see the sun today.” I had told her that I hadn’t looked at it and asked if there was something particularly special about it that day. She didn’t respond.

Today she asked me that same question, about 2 weeks after asking the first time. This time, I catch on there’s more to this question. This is a very deep question. When I asked her if it was meant to be a figurative question her response to me was: Answer how you see fit. If you think it’s figurative, take it that way. If you think it’s literal, answer that way. Don’t over analyze.

My response for today was: I am finally seeing the sun emerging from a 40 year solar eclipse for the first time today…..I forgot to purchase the special solar eclipse glasses for it though because I wasn’t prepared for it, so it hurt my eyes. But lit the way for the remainder of days.

My answer was obviously of a figurative and allegorical nature. She said also that: sometimes there is beauty in the literal as well.

I love this question. Especially as I M emerging from my dark night of the soul. I can also think of different variations I can ask myself or ask one of my other friends who I also have deep, spiritual, psychological conversations with.

Today’s allegory relates to my birthmom and a realization I had been slowly coming to, but that she just unmasked all at once in one swift blow today. I was originally going to put my entire story rant here to words, but after rehashing it all with two of my closest friends today, I am out of energy and psychologically exhausted. I will skim the basics.

I waited 36 years to finally have her in my life. If you would have asked me 36 hours ago if I would have wanted her out of my life, my answer would have been a solid no. But after one little meme that she passive aggressively posted on Facebook only 30 minutes after a text conversation we had, my answer now is that it will depend on how she handles things in upcoming months. It only took one little meme to bring up in me feelings and anger that I never had before. Feelings that most adoptees do have for their birthmoms, and I never had. I thought things were different between us. I thought she was different. But all it took was me telling her, after her baiting me by asking if my depression had anything to do with her and me simply answering her that there were some components of our relationship that I needed to work through with her at some point but that I needed to handle a couple of other things in my life first. She directly told me, ok whatever I needed. But then proceeded to post the following meme on Facebook 30 minutes after our text conversation where I could see it.

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The part that really triggered me??? “it is not my job to take responsibility for others”….reminder who I am talking about here….My birthmom….who gave me up for adoption…..never once was I upset with her for doing so, never once was I angry. One of my biggest beefs with her right now is her issues with me over my relationship with the man (birthdad) that she created me with. But it’s not her job to take responsibility for others? Ummmm, yes, it was her job to take responsibility for me 40 years ago, and she didn’t. She got rid of me, not knowing what would happen to me. I never once looked at it that way, until today when I saw that meme with those words. Simply because she doesn’t want to face me being upset with her over something, so she needs to tell herself I’m not her responsibility. Her light is fading fast in my life. She is down to a glimmer of hope. Oddly enough, when I looked up the dictionary definition of glimmer (I always like to look them up, even when I am more than acquainted with the definition just to see if there is some anecdote to spring from), what should come up as the example in a sentence but the use of it with her name no less. The synchronicities in life sometimes astound me. I had already planned to write this post about this situation and her.

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https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/glimmer/