Farmgirl and me
(Continued from Part 1.)
As we continue, perhaps keep in mind that we survivors of physical abuse as a group may still be conflicted, suppressed and self-protective. Try to imagine what that looks like. Well, just imagine me.
The common denominator of all that I’m discussing here is fear. We victims of physical abuse are still afraid.
Fear is the lynchpin that holds everything in place and the obstacle that must be overcome before we emerge from our condition. We’re like Farmgirl in potential; we may wish to become like her in actuality.
Being afraid, we hide our light under a bushel basket lest we be seen and invite back into our lives the same abuse we’ve experienced. What we don’t see is that our self-protective adapation frustrates those who want to know us and can’t get past our grid of self-protection.
People who protect themselves usually cannot be known. They don’t want to be known except in very indirect ways. Their whole modus operandi is to remain invisible and unknown as much as possible to avoid further abuse.
A second characteristic of physical abuse Sue Lie mentioned to me is hypervigilance. We’re always on the lookout for the next sign of potential physical abuse. We have our escape routes marked, our trail of breadcrumbs to exit the forest, and our running shoes on. We’re adept at dodging the blows – physical, emotional, and mental.
The Arcturians once told me that my background in physical abuse allowed me to size up people quickly. I had a fearmeter that was second to none. They said this was a survival skill and would stand me in good stead in the future.
Amazingly we often take up with other victims of abuse. We start out stating our strong desire to be free and be all we can be. And then we get self-protective after our first fight and revert to our old ways of self-protection and suppression.
It’s absolutely vital for us to leave our fear behind. Until and unless we do, we won’t realize the promise of our being. We won’t make our contribution.
Our lives will be only partially successful in our service to the Mother (well, not from her point of view of course, but from ours).
And partial success isn’t like a half or a third. It’s miniscule because only when we’re whole and complete can our light blaze forth. It’s either blazingly apparent or barely visible. There’s no in-between.
There are so many ways to step out of our fear. The best way is to love ourselves, which someone worked hard with me to have me get and I finally did.
But there are other ways as well: Take a stand on ourselves. Read ourselves the riot act.
Declare we’re afraid. Experience it completely.
But there’s one way I really want to point to here and that’s owning our own power.
Both loving ourselves and owning our own power have strong elements of the counter-intuitive.
We associate loving ourselves with narcissism. And we associate owning our own power with arrogance.
If I were to stand on a street corner and say “I love myself and I’m powerful,” the police might come along and take me away (well, perhaps pretend it’d happen for the sake of argument).
Nevertheless these ways of being are antidotes to fear.
Let’s suppose that we master these arts. We emerge from fear. We’re now no longer held back. We no longer fear anyone.
We present ourselves to be known and people can and do know us. Everyone is happy. We express our love; they express their love. We receive their love; they receive ours. We are “normal” again.
We now have two unconflicted adults in a relationship and they can do “great things.”
Both adults are contributing their power, which they now own. Both are dependable, self-possessed again, after years of having abandoned their selves.
Both have stopped depriving themselves of the love they want – from ourselves and others. Years ago, they made a watered plain become a desert. And now they’ve made of the desert a watered plain again.
(You can read ahead if you wish to: Part 3.)