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Ari-Wood
  

Welcome to Ari-Wood. Step right up and see the sights. To your left, you will see the delicate fragility of fairy land. On the right, watch out for the fiery dragons. For your safety, we recommend you stay on the path and don't stray into the netherworlds of risk and chance. Alternatively, perhaps you like the benefits that go along with taking that chance..........

All rights to the poetry and stories in Ari-Wood
belong exclusively to the author.
That which is not mine,
That which is not good,
That which is not altruistic....
Is requested to leave.

******


The stories and poems encased in this crystal blog are written from my own imagination and in no way are intended to be viewed as written to any specific person unless I specifically state that it is.


My heart is a book which you leaf through as simply as the pages of this blog..
Antiqued an worn
The words bleed
From a hidden place
Deep within my chapters
Where only one can see
And whispering spirits tarry

Frayed are my edges
Yet my gliding
Remains beautiful
Not a mere ornament
But a testament to the tooling
Which has geared my life

Sown tightly is my binding
I have weathered the years
I shine with wisdom an character
Like no other book
Yet my cover bares the marks
Of ordinary use

Turn my pages lightly
And you shall read
My hued memories
Of dreams and dreaminess
Of times and timelessness
Of lives and liveliness

Upon my inner pages
Are scribbled
Achromatic dreams
My love
My hopes
My life
You are such a treasured book
All my love, Sister of my heart
(Written by a special sister of my heart...MsAlchemy2...a special gift...I wanted to share.)
Title View |
Missy anal Apr 22, 2007 7:31 pm
1414 Views
Kelly calls me Missy anal. I’d like you to decide which one of us the name really fits. So that you can make that choice fairly, I’ll tell you a little about both of us.

I am just a little bit OCD (Obsessive-compulsive). I like things the way I like them…and I like them ORGANIZED. I like my canned vegetables organized by type and then in alphabetical order; I like my spices in alphabetical order; I like my books in alphabetical order by author…and then by the year the book was published. I like things organized.

I like to know what everything means…every possible meaning. So, I analyze it to death. It’s a personal characteristic. I can’t leave anything alone until I’m sure I know just exactly what it meant. I analyze everything, including my bills, the news, the book I just read, the conversation we had last night in bed. I don’t think I can ever change that.

Missy anal…Missy analyzer. Kelly’s name for me.

Kelly on the other hand is not the kind to analyze things to death. She won’t…it just is. BUT…the name fits her better than it does me.

The other day, Kelly called the Fairy Hotline. That’s what she calls it when she calls me. In the past several months, I’ve pretty much cut myself off from almost all outside contact. I don’t call, don’t much respond to emails, don’t blog…I don’t even go out often. I’ve just isolated myself. Sometimes I do that when I’m trying to figure out my world…my life. So, Kelly called.

In the midst of our conversation, she says, “Oh, I need to schedule my crap for 4:44 on Monday.” You could have heard a pin drop. This Missy anal analyzes words, quickly, efficiently, often horribly.

“You need to schedule your crap?”

“Yes, I have to do this at 4:44 Monday.”

“Um, Kel. Most of us just go when we have to; we don’t bother to schedule it.”

I love when she makes that gurgly giggle sound. At first you aren’t sure she’s giggling and then it just rolls out of her.

“You are so funny.”

“So, the yardsale you were talking about? You going to sell your crap, too? First you schedule it, then you sell it?”

“Well it’s not like I give a crap.”

“Hmmm, maybe you should give a crap. I think you’ve crapped out. I’m thinking all that crap on your table for the yardsale….well, most of us don’t store it on the table.”

“Oh crap.”

“Sorry, it’s not Monday yet; you can’t.”

You can imagine the rest of the conversation. And Kelly….when it comes to anal….I’m really not interested in other people’s crap…that would be you. Lol…….
9 Comments
He Made a Choice Apr 22, 2007 7:04 pm
1104 Views
This week my heart hurt. I walked into the week eager and smiling, ready to take on any surprises. I left the week wounded and aching in pain from the deaths of so many innocent people. I don’t like to watch the news, so often it tears at my heart until I feel like I am drowning in the depths of other people’s pain.

It might not have been quite so bad for me except for how it was approached in the news. I don’t understand why we can’t simply tell the story…this is what happened, let’s move on. Instead, it is all there is on every channel. At least, that’s how it felt to me.

It wasn’t even that they couldn’t leave it alone, although I was very tired of hearing the same story over and over again. Once was enough to break my heart. I won’t tell you what station I heard it on, it’s enough to know it’s a channel I don’t like and prefer not to watch. There were three incidents on that newscast that simply shocked me to my core. Three very simple incidents, but each one was worse than the one before it…from my perspective.

The first was a single sentence, I think it was during an advertisement for their station. “We don’t just report the news; we make the news.” Excuse me? I thought news was just that…events that happen that you report to the rest of the world. Exactly how far do you go to “make” the news? I found that single statement shocking. I already don’t care for this channel because I find their reporting and their supposed “interviews” to be one-sided; often with commentators talking over guests in order to ensure that their point gets across and no one else’s. I’d rather hear both sides and make my own decision, thank you. What you think is up to you, but what you put forth as truth should be truth…not your opinion.

The second incident was when the station played a tape of what it sounded like outside the building where so many people were being killed. I wasn’t watching the news, it was just on in the background. I was listening to it as I studied. I cried when I heard that. The only possible purpose for playing it was to shock everyone listening and watching. I didn’t need to hear that, I was already hurting for all the people who had been killed, injured, and traumatized by this man. I cried because it made it even more real for me; suddenly I could feel the fear that must have rolled over that campus as this horrible event took place. I cried because I couldn’t imagine how each of these people must have felt when they heard the first gunshot….and then they didn’t stop. Even worse, how they felt when the gunshots finally did stop. I cried and I couldn’t stop for a very long time.

The third incident really symbolized what I think the news has come to. A young girl was talking about a friend who had been shot. The friend had been operated on and the girl was saying that she had lost a large part of her kidney function….I think I remember that part right. The reporter asked for the friend’s name and the girl gave it to her. The reporter asked if the friend’s family had been notified. I just wanted to yell…”Well if they haven’t, they have now.” I was shocked at how demanding and irresponsible the reporters were at wanting just one more piece of information. I guarantee that had it been me, the girl would no longer be a friend of mine. If it had been my daughter or my relative hurt in that incident and I learned of it through the news, I would have been terrified and devastated.

Privacy is scarce in today’s world. It seems that the news not only doesn’t respect our privacy, they encourage others to step on it as well. Instead of reporting a story, they work it to death until we would give anything not to hear it again. Each and every one of those people injured or killed this week, in any incident, deserves better than that. Leave the dead their privacy.

The last thing I’d like to say is this; I can already hear people crying out at how mistreated this man was. So were many of us. We did not pick up a gun and kill other people. He made a choice. While I can sympathize with the pain he felt, it does not in any way justify or explain the actions he took. He made a choice. We can choose to be better, stronger people in spite of our pain; we can choose to let it rip at us until we can’t function any longer; we can choose to allow it to control us…to become even more hurtful than those who have hurt us. I do not believe that it just reaches a point where we have to respond this way.

How many of us here have been hurt; abused, beaten, made fun of, raped, molested, cruelly treated over and over again? How many of us? We each bear scars from our past. I have been each and every one of those things…each and every one; and so have many of you. I cannot imagine using a weapon as a solution. And in the end, all it solved was to end his pain. He is dead. How many of his victims were even the people who had mistreated him….and how many were simply innocent people in the wrong place at the wrong time?

Don’t justify this man’s crimes by believing anyone pushed him to commit them. He made a choice.
2 Comments
I Am… Apr 16, 2007 6:30 pm
1438 Views
I am the storyteller
Destined to speak
Of strengths to be gained
By those who are weak
Of choices we make
When paths come to meet
Of lives intertwined
A single heart beat
Come closer and listen
Such tales I would share
Moments of promise
For all those who dare.

I am the web spinner
Chosen for skill
Wrapping the fibers
For good and for ill
Twisting the cable
Your feet dance along
Which path is taken
The right or the wrong
Setting the patterns
Which make up your life
Those that bring pleasure
And those bringing strife

I am the dream weaver
Keeper of hope
Testing the future
Within safety’s rope
Beacon of brightness
Truth walks in my light
Dispersing the shadows
Which linger at night
Waking and longing
A soft lover’s kiss
Gentle reminders
Of all you would miss

I am the wind singer
Life’s lullaby
Fitting in cadence
To all you would try
Whispered enchantment
The touch of a hand
Tormented anger
Sheers delicate land
Twisting convulsions
Hot passionate need
Master of making
You feel a heart bleed

I am the rain dancer
Sweet song of peace
Washing the heartbreak
Until it does cease
Silence’s patterns
Rewritten anew
Childhood’s remembrance
The taste of the dew
Torrents of lonely
Are laid at my feet
Swept into waters
To make you complete

I am the fire bearer
Blazing with life
Seared to forgetting
The hot branding knife
Roiling with hunger
A scintillant feed
Upon those whose passions
Inflame them with greed
Molten and liquid
Pulsating through veins
Lapping with pleasure
At love’s new-forged chains.

I am the earth shaker
Holder of bones
Bearing the taproots
Wrapped round granite stones
Memories linger
Of lives gone before
Sharing the essence
With those seeking more
Partake of the feast
Of all that has passed
Chances not taken
And lives spent too fast
5 Comments
Little Bear Apr 16, 2007 6:24 pm
1452 Views
Little Bear, the time is here;
Step into the light.
Your time has come to be.
The reasons for holding are no more.
Step out proudly; the first step is yours.
Truth must always be your guide.
With truth at your side, the power is within your grasp.
Use power wisely and well;
It is to be used for all who need truth, strength, and wisdom.
Sacrifices were made in the name of wisdom.
The sacrifices were accepted; the wisdom is yours.
Share it freely and openly

Dance, Little Bear, amongst the trees,
Their shadows shall entwine to shape tomorrow.
Immerse your spirit in the great water’s arms;
She will cloak you in whispers of stories untold.
Sink your roots deep into soil untainted,
Draw sustenance and strength from the bonding.
Lift your heart to the wind; let the sky color it with hope
And the breezes lighten its burden until it floats freely; serenely.
Your dreams will be forged in the depths of the fire,
Hammered to brilliant shine by the blacksmith’s skill.
By the purity of the morning dew, guide your words and your thoughts.
By the scent of raindrops, find your path.
By the sound of two hearts beating, step into the future.

The silence has ended, Little Bear;
Your’s and all others surrounding you.
Speak out of the past;
Speak out of the present;
Speak out of the future;
And by your speech
Promote growth and change,
Encourage enlightenment,
Build a foundation for the changes to come.
Yours the words to open ears
Yours the light to open eyes
Yours the power to shape and guide.
Walk in peace.

*A moment of awakening....and Little Bear welcomes the world.....
6 Comments
And I Dreamt On Apr 16, 2007 6:21 pm
1308 Views
….and so I dreamt….

and as I dreamt, walls began to appear
separating each man from his brother
each woman from her sister
and the walls were black with fear
and red with anger
colors drenching the walls
in the emotions of each man’s pain,
intolerance, and hate.
and as I dreamt, I began to notice
that some few walls had fallen
or become invisible
and some few people had come together
and the walls nearest them were not
colored with anger and fear
but were white with love
hands touched within these walls
spirits spoke and shared with one another
hearts comforted and none felt alone
or lost in the confines of his empty space

….and I dreamt on….

and as I dreamt, the wolf came to me
leaving trails of blood upon the sterile snow
pads bloodied with the haste in which she had come
and she spoke saying
“bide with me awhile
from each corner of the world
comes a speaker
hear their words
speak their truths”
and so I sat and waited with her
brushing the tangles from her hair
as she licked the blood from her feet
and then she slept with her head rested in my lap
and I waited

….and I dreamt on….

and as I dreamt, the wind lifted a tiny butterfly
until it rested on my shoulder
it whispered thanks to the speaker of the wind
and then it spoke slowly into my ear
“the time for change is here
each person must choose their path
but each must open the doors to his brother
each must walk their own road
but each must give in love
and hold his brother dearer than himself
the time of change is upon you
and you must open your heart wide
to embrace all that you do not
allow no anger to taint your heart
allow no sorrow to taint your soul
that which was, has been and is no more
that which is, is and cannot be changed
that which is to come, will be and the time
to prepare is now”
and the butterfly rested upon my shoulder
as I stroked the head of the sleeping wolf
and I waited

….and I dreamt on…

and as I dreamt, the earth opened before me
and arising from it was the great bear
it rumbled thanks to the lady of the earth
and then it turned slowly to me
it’s eyes gazed upon me with anger and I did quake in fear
“the good earth runs red with the blood of children
countless innocent have died in the name of hate
it was never meant to be so,
but ever has man demanded dominion over his brother
in the days when the earth was formed
it was planned that man should guard the earth with love
as a gardener guard his gardens
the earth was ever meant to be the greatest treasure
and yet men seek to destroy and kill all that walk it
many are the gifts given from the mother
yet man cannot cease seeking ever more
until he has destroyed his mother
and she is no more
the time for mending her has nearly past
and her gifts will be gone forever”
and the bear sat before me and tended his fur
and I waited

….and I dreamt on…

and as I dreamt, the snow beside me melted into a lake
and swimming in the lake was beaver
he chittered his thanks to the lady of the water
and then swam to the shore to sit beside me
his coat was covered with black oily tar and he sighed sadly
“in fear does man walk upon the earth
he has no tolerance for the differences of his brother
those things he should celebrate as a lesson
instead he loathes as a symbol of all that is wrong
those things he should encourage as the dawning of a new day
instead he decries into the depths of night
each chooses his path, yet chooses that his brother should not
have the ability to do the same
each longs to make all others in his own pattern
yet resists all efforts to effect changes in him
man has yet to learn that each must walk the path of their choosing
and each must face the final cost of his choice
in the day of his ending
no man has the right to judge his brother
nor yet to force his brother to his will”
and the beaver crept closer, allowing me to clean fear from his coat
and I waited

…and I dreamt on…

and as I dreamt, the tree beside bear burst into flame
and from the flames crept ember
she danced her dance of thanks to the greater fire
and stepped upon a fallen log to flicker before me
the heat grew as she ate deeper into the wood and spoke
“in love were you made and in love you are meant to dwell
share of yourself always and without fear
as you close yourself from caring
so too are you closed from the caring of the world
dwell not in the lost paths of yesterday
but grow and exist always in the seeds of tomorrow
if pain you give, pain will you receive
walk always with the silence of the spider
as she spins her web, so too shall you spin the days of your lives
expand the web until all are a part of each day
until all are a part of each moment
touch each life with the joy and love with which you have been touched
cast the embers of love so that they may burn where they will
and in their burning is the beginning of a tale of love
that you will never forget, nor ever destroy”
and the log upon which she danced burst into flame
I closed my eyes to the sudden brightness
and when I opened them
the dream was gone.

Walk in peace…walk in love.

*I posted this again because it's important to remember. Also, so that Kelly could look it over. I plan to have each of these totems carved into the doors of my cabinets when they are finished. I wanted Kelly to help me choose the figures I want to have carved.

Hope you like it.
2 Comments
What Motivates Us? Apr 14, 2007 1:42 am
1641 Views
I've been thinking a lot about what makes us happy, what motivates us, what keeps us living even when it's hard. I'm not suicidal; not even close. It's so totally not my style. I've just been thinking through my world and wondering what makes me keep going.

I read in the paper about people who are so devastated by name-calling, harrassment, being made fun of...that they take a gun and kill the person or people who did it. It seems like such a cop-out to me. That's such a small part of what happens to others every day of their lives. It's certainly no excuse to pick up a weapon and harm another person.

Life is a choice we make, each and every day, how we will face the world; how we will shape our world. Even if we can't change today, we make a choice to try to change tomorrow.

In spite of every word ever said to hurt, every action ever taken to hurt...I chose to face each day and deal with it. It doesn't make me strong or wise or anything else. It's just a choice I made. In spite of the pain in the past, I chose to fight for something better.

It wasn't even really a conscious choice at first; it was just survival. As I grew older, it became more intentional. Never let the bad guys win. Never let them see you cry. The greatest revenge is to live a good life...in spite of the past.

But...what motivates us to make that choice? What separates those of us who have to hurt back from those of us who simply choose not to be the people who hurt us...not to let them destroy the people we are?

I'm not the same person I would have been without my past; but I often think that in lots of ways I'm a better person than I would have been. I have a strong understanding of the pain others have been through; I realize fully that my past is not the worst it could have been...or even the worst anyone has suffered; I have a tendency to reach out fully to people in need; I have a strong need to protect...to love. I might never have been the person I am without living the life I lived.

But what made me choose to keep going? Money has never been important to me beyond having just enough to pay my bills, support myself, and improve my lifestyle slightly. I was once inches from living on the street. I don't want to be there again, but I don't need much. Power doesn't interest me either. It is such a fleeting thing. Religion? Hmmm, no. I believe in spirituality, but not in religion.

Tonight it pretty much fell into place for me...the things I search for so hard that I can't give up, can't let go, can't let anyone stop me. I have always been hungry for knowledge...one more book, one more story, one more lesson. I want to learn everything there is to know. I know it's impractical, but I believe that our entire life is a learning experience meant to guide us further on our path...and then we step into another lesson.

Unconditional love. Somewhere, somehow...I believe someone will love the woman I am for exactly who she is...no more, no less. Someone who doesn't want to change me to fit their mold, but will accept me because they love my uniqueness. It's been an important driver in my life...the one thing I couldn't have became the one thing I had to have.

Approval. It's amazing when you think of the implications of that word. I need approval. I need to know I've done something right, well, properly, perfectly. I need someone else to put the stamp of approval on my life. Who is going to approve my life? The only people whose opinions matter are me...and my God/dess. Beyond that, why should I care? Why does it even matter?

I suspect it matters so much to me because I've always felt like I let everyone down. So, I need to know I haven't done that. Sad little motivator, isn't it?

In a way, the counseling I'm doing is helping me to see past some of the barriers I've put up to protect me from pain. It's a very good thing. I want to live a strong and healthy life....not in response or reaction to what is done to me....but in spite of it. If I'm hiding behind the need for someone else to affirm my life...I'm not living my own life. So, time to re-evaluate.

Knowledge is still critical to me. I still think it is a large part of our purpose here on Earth.
Love is as well, but I've found that there are many forms of love. I am loved in my own way. I have people around me who see me clearly through the naughtiness. People who see the marshmallow underneath. People who love me for the woman I am; not the woman they want me to be. There are plenty of people who don't like me...I'm pretty much an all or nothing kind of girl...people either really care about me...or they really dislike me. If I never find that right person in this life...it will come to me in another.

Approval...well, I have to work on that one. I don't want to be motivated by a need for anyone's approval. I know it's going to be a struggle to get around it...but I can do that as well. It will mean letting go of people who think they have the right to judge me. It's ok, though. I have to learn that as long as I approve of my life, that's all that matters.

I love life. I love it even when it hurts; even when I just want to close my eyes and let go; even when I just want to give in and let the people around me win. There's this real beauty about each breath we take, each hand we hold, each life we touch. I long for those fragments. Being motivated by love and knowledge...I can think of much worse things.

What about you? What drives your life? Where are you going....and who do you want to be when you get there? What matters most in your world?
16 Comments
It Wasn't My Fault? Apr 11, 2007 8:38 pm
1825 Views
Heartbeat...you asked if I would post the story of my head injury...so...I had posted this in April of last year...it is more than the story...but it tells the entire story. Actually, I want to thank you for asking...it made me reconsider the experience I had in counseling last year...and I have to re-evaluate a few other situations in my life with this in mind.

Hope you are well....I'm worried about you.

Love and hugs,

Ari

Many years ago I went to a counselor for a year. I thought he was the greatest man on earth. I was only 16. He didn't really help me to deal with my father's abuse, he did more to help me begin to feel good about myself. An IQ test took me a long way there, teaching me to write my feelings out in my poetry did even more. By the time the military moved him away from Colorado, I at least had some self-confidence, a tiny bit of self-esteem. It didn't take long for my parents to strip that away.

I went again after I was attacked by a man who used a knife to control me. This counselor did nothing for me; her practice was to sit quietly and wait for me to talk. I don't do that well; I'm too uncomfortable until I begin to feel we are connecting.

The counselor I'm seeing now is very different from both. I began seeing him because I realized that I was demotivated in all aspects of my life. Nothing seemed to matter to me any more. I just didn't want to be bothered by anything. I was allowing my natural inclination to procrastinate to take over my world. Carolyn had told me I sounded angry a lot. That's really not who I am...and not who I want to be.

So, he told me we're going to use a process called EMDR to work through the traumatic events of my life. I've had to fill out lots of paperwork so he could see if I was dissociative, schizophrenic, paranoid, bats. He missed the bats part...ask anyone.

The idea behind this process is that they use something to distract your mind while you work through (discuss) your issues...well, it's one issue at a time until it's resolved. I can see years of work ahead of me. I had to make a list of the primary traumatic events in my life.

1. My father
2. Each of the three rapes
3. The assault
4. Falling off the high dive
5. My ex
6. My mother

I left some of the lesser events....like flipping off the hood of a car as it drove 35 mph down a parking lot...because they were just that...lesser events.

We decided that EMDR wasn't a good option for dealing with my mother since it is an ongoing event...similarly, dealing with my ex may not be a prime option...although dealing with our past may be. So, we went to the high dive. It seemed simplest to work through; the event most likely to have a simple resolution. And I would love to be over my terror of heights.

Today was the day. I went to his office this evening; he schedules me late since I have to meet with him after work and he's nearly 50 miles away. He handed me two tiny egg-shaped disks with wires attached. I promptly stuck them to my head and said, "I'm thinking of a number between one and ten." I generally respond to things that frighten me with jokes and laughter. It happened such a long time ago, I don't usually think of it with fear or trepidation; but it left me with a life-long terror of any place that even feels high up.

We went over the story...when I was about five, my mother signed me up for a diving class. At the end of the first class, I was supposed to dive twice off the low board. I was afraid to do it. It became an issue between me and the instructor, and he offered an alternative. I'm sure he never expected me to take it. I had the option of diving twice from the low board or jumping twice from the high board. I chose jumping. I knew what to expect from jumping in the water; I'd been swimming since I was a baby.

So, he went up and jumped off, I went up and jumped off. Hey, this was lots of fun and I liked how deep I got in the water. I climbed back up, walked to the end of the board, looked down....and froze. I just couldn't jump from that high. As an adult I can say that was an illogical decision. As a five year old, I can see how the height terrified me.

The instructor asked if I would do it if he showed me again. I said I would. He climbed up and walked past me on the diving board. I stepped back to give him room. My foot slipped on the wet board. I landed on the concrete side of the pool, head first. I was in a coma for two weeks and had massive skull injuries to the back of my head.

They tell me there's a piece of skull that was pushed into my brain. They couldn't operate on it because of where it was at. It could have shifted and if it had, it would have killed me instantly. I still have a lump at the back of my head where the bone was deformed from the injury...and from healing. It's a good thing I have a ton of hair to cover it.

The results of the injury are that I periodically have massive migraines. They have decreased substantially with age. I also have a residual fear of heights. Every few years I try again to get on a high board; every time I do, I simply freeze.

We talked about how I feel when I'm in a high place; I had to imagine it in my head and I pretty much froze in his chair. But, then he asked me an odd question. "Why did you step back when he walked past you?" I think it was because he needed room, I don't really remember why. "Why do you step back from every man who gets too close to you?" Well...it's not every man...at least, it is until I know them...and then some men can touch me...others will never get closer than five feet away from me. "Why is that?" I had to think about that for a few minutes.

As I'm thinking, his disks are vibrating in my hands; first one, then the other.
Because I'm afraid of what they will do to me. "Why are you afraid of what they will do to you?" Because of my father. "Exactly. Your fear of your father made you step away when this man came too close." But isn't it natural to step away when you are in a tight space? "Is it natural to step away when there is nowhere to step?" Oh.

Then he had me assign ratios of responsibility for the accident. Me, the instructor, my father...how responsible were each of us? Well, I think I was about 50% responsible; it was my actions that led to the incident occurring. My father might have caused the fear reaction, so about 25% to him and 25% to the instructor. "Is that the grown up Ari saying that or the little girl Ari?" I don't understand. "How responsible would you feel any other child was for that accident?" I don't know. He handed me a picture of his five year old son. "How responsible would you consider him if that accident happened to him?" How could he be responsible; he's just a baby. "Exactly. How could you be responsible?" But...it was my actions....

"Remember when I told you that victims of trauma tend to do an all or nothing thing? It's either all their responsibility or none of theirs? You are leaning towards the all side. How could you be responsible for knowing what could happen if he climbed that high dive and got on it while you were on it? How could you know your father had taught you to be afraid of any man who came into your space? How could you know?"

I have tears running down my cheeks and I'm terribly uncomfortable. I think we've assigned the percentages wrong. I want to give Ari 15% responsibility, the instructor 60%, my father 10%, and my mother 15%. "Why are we adding your mother in here?" Because I remember something now. I remember how she was when we were kids...well, heck...all our lives. We had to behave like ladies; we had to do what any adult asked us to do; had I not done what the instructor wanted, she would have spent the afternoon and night telling me what a baby I was; what a bad girl; how sorry she was that she'd even tried to teach me diving. She has a nasty habit of berating until you do whatever she wants. I remember the instructor was not happy with me; he was pretty upset that I had disrupted his class; he was determined to make me do what he wanted, not what I felt safe doing.

"So you were also afraid of him." I guess so. I'd never thought of it this way before, but yes, I was afraid of what he would do if I didn't obey him...and more afraid of what my mother would do.
"What could you do to control the situation?" Nothing. Well, really I could do what I was told to do. Be a good girl, be a lady, do what I was told. "So how responsible could any child in those circumstances be?" They couldn't. "So how responsible was little Ari?" She wasn't. "So, change the percentages." I did. I still had tears running down my face as I told him how much I hadn't wanted to do either...but I had no choice. I hate people seeing me cry.

We talked a bit more and he said something I keep thinking about. "Most people get a tremendous sense of relief realizing they were innocent of responsibility for something that happened TO them; something they couldn't control. I'm watching how uncomfortable you are with the idea that you are not responsible." I've never considered myself not responsible for anything that happened in my life. "But some things can't be your responsibility. It will be interesting to see what happens when it finally truly sinks in that you had no responsibility for this accident. You did nothing wrong, it was the circumstances of events that had happened to you. I've never seen anyone so resistant to believing in their own innocence."

I didn't know what to say to that. I still don't. Don't we all carry responsibility for at least a part of events that occur to us? I've always had to face my responsibility, my culpability...for the things that happened. I've always had plenty of people around to rub my face in it and show me exactly how I caused each and every situation in my life. How do I now look at any of those events and say, "Maybe it wasn't my fault."?

His parting comment...that I am a tough nut. lol...he got the nut right.

I thought I'd share this session in the hope that there is a message you can take from it. It isn't always our fault...there are plenty of times it is...but maybe we need to rethink the circumstances...and accept only the responsibility we actually need to own.

Love to you all.

Ari
14 Comments
The Me I See Apr 9, 2007 10:58 pm
1569 Views
Can you let me be?
Can you walk away and
Let me be the me I see
In the tattered mirror that
My soul sees me inside?
Will you grant freedom to my
Aching heart -
Be there to share the needful part
But allow the room
I need to grow,
From a little bud a
Rose may flow.
5 Comments
Missing in Action Apr 9, 2007 10:52 pm
1453 Views
Sorry I haven't visited most of you...sorry I haven't been around. Life gets busy and I have to move with it or just stop moving all together.

Work is wonderful; busy with lots of new projects...which is great since I told my boss I thought I was superfluous in my last performance eval...and asked for more work...I must be sick or something.

School is finally moving on again. It took me awhile to get past just being tired...and then bogged down in too much sadness...too much to do...too much overwhelming need for time for me.

The house keeps me busy on breaks from schoolwork and I'm loving that. I'm painting my living room a stunning blue and it just lights my heart up every time I walk in there. I spent a small fortune on tools and remodelling supplies. We'll see how that goes. Just one project at a time. When I finish that, I can do the next one. It's exciting seeing things change, though.

Still no man in my life. That kind of sucks, but considering what I put the last one through...trust is such a terrible thing for me. I am working through it; but I'm afraid of hurting anyone else through my own lack of trust. I hate that I can hurt anyone ever. Why isn't it simply not possible?

And I'm still seeing the counsellor. He wants to try a treatment called EMDR...something about distracting our mind away from traumatic events with eye movements or hand movements or something. I'm supposed to make a list of all the traumatic events in my life...even those I don't feel were traumatic...and Wednesday we're going to go over them and decide which is the most show-stopping event.

You know, it's not going to be my father; I can deal with that these days. I don't think it's going to be the rapes, they are just part of the father thing in my head. My ex? Maybe...at least dealing with the confusion he causes. My terrible fear of heights? Could be. He says that one's easy to treat. I'd love to get over it. But most of all...I'd like to be in a position to simply not give a damn about what my mother does or doesn't do.

I think that's going to be the critical one for me at first. I can deal with her not wanting me; hey, I've had lots of years dealing with it already. I can't deal with the fact that she totally ignores my daughter...didn't acknowledge or attend her wedding, doesn't send Christmas or birthday cards, won't accept phone calls from her...it's as if she doesn't exist. And for me, it's enough to make my mother begin ceasing to exist for me.

But, we'll see. I like the man; I hope this treatment works. I don't plan to be seeing him for long. He tells me from the tests I took that I was mildly depressed when I started seeing him. He's wrong. I've been major league depressed for months. So...hope hard for me. I need this to break a few of those really nasty knots loose.

And I'll take all the hugs I can get.

Love to you all....I miss you so very much.

Ari
1 comment
Tool Gal Apr 9, 2007 10:35 pm
1452 Views
Did I tell you I'm planning to remodel my house? Hmmm...well, I am...and it's pretty comprehensive...from new paint to new cabinets, to new tile...all kinds of projects.

Now, any man will tell you, to do these projects, you have to have a great many POWER tools...lol...so now I do. I have a table saw, a router, a pantograph (to carve out the doors of my cupboards), several workbenches, drills, sanders...it's tool heaven here.

Anyone want to come teach me how to use the blasted things?
3 Comments
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