Tuesday, March 11, 2014

Biding my time

The momentum around me changes so often, and a few of the victories that I wrote about here on this blog came undone days after I marked them as positive milestones reached.

I was on a high because finally I felt like I could breath and that I could relax into standing up for myself as a regular habit.

But then Wham, out of the blue. Patriarchy slams it's fist down on me. What I've been writing the last week or so is not a reflection of the present moment.

But I've decided not to delete any of my recent posts. Even if what I've been writing recently is not a true reflection of circumstances today, things shift often. By tomorrow I already see myself making progress again, even if it's not apparent now.

I'd rather not record what seems like lack of progress, and aim on posting what reflects progress.

It's kind of like my stack of affirmations that I keep on a ring and sort through reading ever so often.

Some days, these don't feel like truths at all. They feel like fluffy, airy fairy wishes that aren't true. It's almost like I need a step between my present and what I'm shooting for.
I know that time is irrelevant in many ways, and that my future is now, in this very moment. This is a mind bending and slippery concept because what I want is freedom and health, and it sort of doesn't feel like I have either of those now. Even though I know they are mine: NOW.

It feels so easy to scream and give up. My family is oppressive, and people around me are oppressive. But they won't break me.

I am stronger than they think, and stronger than I think. I have the power inside me to get better, to heal physically, I'm getting better every day, I'm getting stronger every day. The ones who think they can dump on me because I'm sick and trapped have another thing coming to them.

One day they'll all wake up and I won't be there for them to abuse. I'll be long gone, having fun in some other state, completely healthy and well.

Then I'll have the last laugh. They tell me I'll never get well until I "get right with God" and start being a Christian again, start going to church, start zipping my lips, and start being submissive to the cult and to the men in the family.

No such luck, people! I AM GETTING HEALTHIER AND STRONGER EVERY DAY, and I'm not following your religious rules. Your curses in the name of God don't stick to me.

I'm going to have the last laugh after all.

I didn't do anything to deserve getting sick. I don't believe in sin or punishment, or a God who punishes people with illness to bring them back to repentance.

I don't believe this anymore, and I'm free.

I don't care if you all try to guilt trip me into coming to the homestead for Easter. I choose not to be around any of you, because you perpetuate these curses about me and my health, you try to bully me back to the cult and Christianity, and then try to hug me and say you love me.

NO! Love doesn't threaten or bully. Love doesn't punish or force people to do things out of fear.

I do love my mom dearly. She is wholesome and loving, and I do enjoy her company. I know she misses seeing me, as I skipped the last two holidays and plan to be a no-show for Easter as well. I know it breaks her heart to see a rift in the family.

But if it comes down to me choosing between the following two options :
  • Standing up for what I believe and protecting myself from the others by not visiting even though it breaks my mom's heart...
  • Visiting my family, seeing my mom and exposing myself more bullying from the other family members...
Then I choose not visiting my family.

It wrankles my spirit so intensely, to have to choose. I feel like maybe I will invite just my mom and sister and her kids up in the summer to visit. That way I can visit with the ones I care about and want to see in a safe place, and don't have to be around the ones who can't control their mouths and think it's Godly to threaten and bully me back into the sheep fold.

Good luck, trying, assholes. I'm not playing your little games anymore.

I'm more powerful than any of you think. I AM getting better, and I laugh in your faces.


Saturday, March 1, 2014

I'm so proud of you

{photo credit: Sandesh Virwani}
The other day, Karl gave me a spontaneous hug and said he was so proud of me for standing up for myself to my family. He told me he admired my spunk. He told me he now understood why it was that I talked so much about my past and how it hurt me. Before, he didn't understand why I brought up the topic so much and he worried I would discuss it for the next 60 years. He said he now realizes it's because I thought my childhood, the abuse and the cult were normal.... up until a year ago. And that my talking about it was because I just suddenly recently realized that it wasn't normal for the first time in my life.

He said he was proud of me. After all we've been through, all the male suppression of myself as a female, all the fighting, all the hands clamped over my mouth for speaking up.

I am free to speak my mind, free to listen to my heart, free to breathe and be.

He's glad I didn't let him go merrily along in that cult that I introduced him to.

He's glad I stood up for myself, even against him when he was blind.

He's proud of me.

He's proud of me.

He's proud of me.