Christmas Fire

I am cozy in my bed, Christmas lights twinkling, music....tears. They are neither tears of sadness nor are they tears of joy. These are tears of fire.

When someone has a "fire in their eyes" they are passionate about something - feelings are deep and strong and connected to their thoughts and beliefs so that they result in a visible soul as seen through the eyes. I am reminded of a story I heard, Hindu, maybe? A god was lonely, so she took the one large flame that was her soul and scattered it into many little fires on earth, which became living beings. I love that story.

My tears of fire are about life. I know that sometimes my feelings of deep emptiness and the beliefs that ride their shirttails subside into strong feelings of joy and appreciation and connection to the people I love. Those feelings of joy likewise subside and I am left empty. It is because of the emptiness that I recognize the joy. It is because of the joy that I recognize the emptiness. Without each, I might not know. Today I have a rare moment of both emptiness and joy - and I believe this is the fullness of life I am feeling. It's as if some kernel of fire deep within remembers the fullness of being one flame, and the emptiness of being only one.

This Christmas will be full of joy and empty. I can tell. There is a stronger than ever undercurrent of love in my family that resulted from the death of my nephew. It's as if the extinguishing of a flame has caused us to burn more intensely. Is fire like that? As we open presents, eat, and laugh together we will be so connected to each other, feeling the life we have so joyfully, life and love burning more intensely because we so recently felt the sorrow of death.

We've all lost fathers and mothers, Siblings, Children. The emptiness of loss and the sorrow in our tears can be remembered in our fullness of this Christmas celebration and the Joy we have. Our laughter and our love doesn't negate the sorrow or cheapen it. Our joy makes it possible to feel the emptiness and sorrow just as our sorrow makes it possible to feel the joy.

I miss you, nephew and dad.

Who do you miss?

A White Lady, Ferguson, and Trauma

Wendi asked me what I thought of Ferguson. Well, she asked what my black friend thought of Ferguson.....but I'd rather he tell her what he thinks.....Once a person listens, even if they listen carefully, I'm afraid their own perspective colors the message. Since I'm white, I suppose my perspective would fuck up his message a lot.

So I told her what I thought. 

I started by telling her a phrase I learned from an Anishinaabe woman who was trying to help me be a better teacher - 'historical trauma.' She explained that the Anishanaabeg and other First Nations had been through a historical trauma, which hasn't yet healed. I thought of Black Americans, who also have experienced historical trauma and to this day face institutional racism. We haven't healed as a nation. I thought of my own trauma. 

I have, in the past, hit Luke. There have been times we fought, perhaps he pushed my buttons, and Prowler raged. Perhaps Luke came into my room without permission, perhaps he banged his fist on the table, perhaps he walked out of the house in anger - all things that will terrify me if I am emotionally vulnerable or tired or worse - both. I am flooded with shame about these incidences - I believe violence is abuse and I have abused him. I have wondered if ever he thought of calling the police. I would be arrested, charged with domestic abuse. It would be justified. Part of why I work so hard to get better - to heal - to learn to cope with rage and pain and terror - is so that I don't hurt him. I have learned that part of this healing involves accepting that I have raged, why I rage. Part of this healing has been Luke understanding dissociation, understanding why I rage in dissociation, what my buttons are, and how to support me when I need him. He has swallowed his anger many times, has walked away from my verbal abuse instead of getting sucked in, has accepted and loved and listened so that I no longer hit. I have learned other coping skills, I have felt the pain of my trauma in bits and pieces as I am able, My parts and even Prowler have recognized, even in the midst of rageful feelings, that Luke is not a threat despite the fact I feel deeply threatened. I could not have healed without him. I also don't shame myself as much for the rage. I understand it exists for a reason. My feelings are valid. It is only counter-productive to desconstruct these rageful events detail by detail to determine if the intense rage is justified or if Luke's anger is justified or 'who is at fault.' Now I understand that my rage is justified, even if to the outside world it might seem ridiculous for a married woman to rage at her husband for entering her room without permission. You see, I'm not really raging at Luke, I'm raging at the violation of our mutually agreed upon boundary - the rageful feelings an echo of the past violations to my body imposed by evil men. Trauma. 

Back to Ferguson. Was Michael Brown a criminal? Was Officer Wilson a racist? Was Officer Wilson justified in shooting Brown? This matters to those who love these men in a very personal way. I extend my condolences to the family of Michael Brown. As a white lady in a northern town, what also matters to me is the validity of the rage. I think it's possible that justice was served in this incident - perhaps Wilson was threatened and justified in shooting and the Grand Jury decided wisely. I also believe it's possible Wilson is guilty as hell of treating Michael Brown differently as a black youth, that justice wasn't served. I know for sure the rage of the Black American community is justified. I think, as a white lady, they rage because of the historical trauma that has been perpetuated upon their community starting with slavery and continuing with covert and overt racism right into today where in America there exists, without a doubt, institutionalized racism and white people, whether they will acknowledge it or not, have white privilege and are to varying degrees racist. 

I do not know for certain whether or not the Black American experience of rage is anything like the rage I feel. I don't know if I can accurately draw parallels between my personal trauma and the historical trauma of Black Americans. I am guessing. As a white lady, I'll not get caught up in trying to determine justice in this particular incident. I will, however, NOT judge and shame the protestors or the violence. What use in healing is that? I know that if Luke pointed out my verbal or physical abuse as evidence that I was somehow attempting to justify an inner criminal and if he didn't move on from my rages and if he didn't listen to me when I explained to him how he could possibly change his behavior to be more supportive and NOT push my buttons then I'd never have healed as much as I have. I learned to trust him, to some extent, and so now he has more leeway but there are certain things I need in order to trust him and some things I need in order to heal....Because he cares he does these things or avoids doing things whether they are 'fair' or not. I know he doesn't really understand some of it, and who can blame him? He's male and he's never experienced sexual trauma. And he's not me. So he cares and does what he can to be supportive and I do what I can to cope and heal. We have come a long. So that's what this white lady is going to try to do for her black friends, black students, and Black Americans. I will listen, I will understand what I can. I will not get in the way of protests even if they turn violent (though I don't condone violence- but I understand violence- I have sadly learned that violence serves a purpose- I have learned that there are other ways to cope- I have learned that shaming myself serves no purpose and hinders the healing). I will examine my own behaviors, my thoughts, my racism, my white privilege and  my society so that I can change what I can change as I can change it. 

Should the people of Ferguson burn down a store in protest? I suppose not, not any more than I should rage at my husband. Yet what purpose does my condemnation of their actions or condemnation of my own rage serve? Should violent protestors be arrested? Perhaps, as I should have been. (side note- I was once arrested for kicking an officer. He was in my home, trying to stop me from killing myself, and once I was handcuffed and the loaded gun taken from me I drop kicked him. I was in a rage, he was a threat. I was about to be sentenced, and an angel in the courtroom asked for a minute to interview me, I suppose because the facts of the case didn't make sense. Teacher? Suicidal? Assaulting an officer? Huh? I told her about my dissociation, my sexual trauma, my rage, the fact that the officer was trying to restrain me and I fought back ..... my sentence was stayed. The court had mercy. Was that justice?) So yeah, let our system do what it can to keep the peace. But it is high time the system recognize the institutionalized racism, the historical trauma, the validity of the rage. It is high time angels stop and listen. The burning of Ferguson is a message that needs to be heard, and though my white ears are open my white brain has trouble comprehending. I try to make up for that with a red heart - hoping to heal - because our hearts beat with Life and Life is universal and the trauma that broke my heart is a trauma upon my marriage and the trauma that breaks the heart of Black America is America's trauma and we all bleed red....whether we fully understand the wound or not. 

So those are my thoughts on Ferguson. 

The Power of Space

My room, my sauna, my body, my soul.....I strive to create boundaries and protect them, an effort to feel safe. I was angry the other night, rageful, and stood in my living room screaming at Luke for entering my room without permission - a space I hold sacred and 'permission' an attempt to create a boundary. This error of his the last in a night full of errors and exhaustion. This night the last in a month of stress related to the appearance of a family member moving in, who happens to look/act/smell like the man who defiled me as a toddler. This month the last in years of searching for safety. This rage the result.

I begged myself to stop raging. I asked why I was raging. I answered "I'm in danger, and there is no where to run to so I fight." I asked myself where the danger was. "Him." But we knew he wasn't dangerous. But my feelings told me he was. So I froze and cried and screamed.

I have progressed now, and I didn't pee my pants.

I forced myself to take a sauna last weekend and it was difficult - the family member/rapist look-alike had used that space. We tried to reason with each other inside the sauna but L.A. was terrified and no amount of reason would calm her. Our sauna, now devoid of the family member/rapist look-alike, he has moved out, can be ours once again. But since he used the sauna space I can barely make myself go into that space. This doesn't even make sense to me. I KNOW he has left. I KNOW he isn't the rapist. I KNOW I am safe....but even just saying this has caused my heart to beat faster and my head to hurt because I am not actually sure it is true though I cannot find a logical reason why it wouldn't be true.

It's like I don't have a concept of where my body ends and the physical space around me begins.....