What do you see in the mirror?

I was thinking about a conflict I am having with a friend when I realized that he holds on to his pain because it makes him feel significant.

We all need to feel important and that can be achieved by having a significant accomplishment or by having a significant problem.

I then started to think about who else I know that does this. In this process I identified another friend that he does the same thing. He has significant pain in his relationship. And it causes deep pain for him. And he holds on to it. He wears it like a medal.

That's two friends that exhibit the same behavior but what about me? Have there been times that I did that? No, I thought "I don't do that" then I realized I DO! Crap!

I am so special because my mom was murdered.
My victim-hood, my martyrdom, my pain makes me significant. Most people can't beat the kind of pain I've had. I've had SIGNIFICANT pain! I held it so tight that I WAS that pain.

Today I don't have to punish myself by holding on to so much pain. I choose to release it.

Beginning with Awareness. Defining the problem. Realizing what it is, what it was and the meaning I gave it. I was the victim of domestic violence. I was the victim with a capital V.

Then moving toward Acceptance. Stating the problem but not OVER stating it. It was just an event that really had nothing to do with me. It was about my parents power struggle...or relationship...or expectations...or dashed dreams. I was an innocent bystander.

Finally, Action. Taking the steps to re-define my identity. I no longer wanted to be poor Rebekah. Rebekah the victim, the martyr. That pain I wore like a cloak, forever hiding the bright shining person behind it. I journaled, I prayed, I meditated and I released it all. My father's selfish action no longer defines me. I hold the pen that defines me.

It's a constant process but I have had moments where I drop that cloak of pain and show the beauty beneath. I get attention and affection in empowering ways today. The need for pity has been lifted.

I am Blessed.

There are some that choose to hold on to the pain. To wallow in it. As if the smell would attract what they want.

I used to think that if I was pathetic enough then someone would come and rescue me. My knight was just waiting for the perfect time. If I only knew how to raise the trumpet and call for him.

Trouble was, god calls that 'doing the footwork'. Smelling the shit was not enough. I had to stop looking to others and instead lift my own feet to look at what was stuck to them. I hadn't done the work of looking my defects straight in the eyes and calling them me. I hadn't mustered the courage to admit that I wasn't perfect but was in fact human. I have made mistakes but those mistakes aren't me.

Today I don't have to be pathetic to be noticed. In fact, I don't have any room for the kind of people that are attracted to pathetic. Today I am finding that it takes just as much courage to show my beauty. I am finding that the people that are attracted to beauty and strength are much more fun to be around.

Today when I look around at my friends I am overcome by how amazing they are. I am humbled to think that these wonderful, strong, beautiful, sexy, vibrant people have become my mirror.

It Was Always Safer Outside

I've been reading about Jennifer Hudson's family in the media and it brings back all the nastiness of my family. The anger and abuse and murder.

After my dad murdered my mom, he did 3 years in Vacaville. After that he was "rehabilitated" and set free. We were all afraid of him. I refused to give him my address or phone # after he took a swing at me while I was at work.

In recovery we talk about alcoholism being a deadly disease but, the rest of the family is just as much at risk, at risk of being battered, put in the hospital or murdered.

It happens all the time. The wife leaves, the husband can no longer control her so, he kills her.

Sometimes it's just her. Sometimes it's her and the kids. But, seldom does he kill himself. It's just the final move of checkmate. He takes out everyone and "wins" the game.

We are still suffering the stupidity and drama of OJ. It sounds like this brother in law of Jennifer Hudson's was already in jail for murder. When they let him out he murdered again.

Once again the murdering man is let off to roam our streets.

Love Honor and Obey

When I was four I had it all figured out. I knew all the right answers in Sunday School, I could read and I'd already jumped off the high dive. I had the world in my cute little hands. Then I my dad physically threatened my mom and I wasn't allowed to talk about it. The house grew dark and shadows filled my heart, I was terrified. We dealt with it by pretending that nothing happened and everything that I knew about the world changed. In that moment, I learned that love was a sham.

In our wedding vows we promised to love honor and obey each other, there was nothing said about honesty or truth. I did my best. I loved in the loyal sick way I had learned as a child. Honoring meant I never spoke the truth but made him look good. Obeying I did like a beaten dog, I cowered and withdrew.

We played the game I had learned when I was four. There was unbelievable violence and we smiled and looked perfect. If someone asked me about bruises, I lied.

They all knew the truth. They could see it in my cowering stance, in my tentative smile, in my diverted gaze. I remember the stray dog we found at McDonalds. She was hungry and scared of us and at the same time so needing love. She submitted and cowered and crept closer for the hamburger crust. So betrayed, so hungry, so unloved.

I went through many years as a beaten dog. I smiled, I pleased, I cowered. I wanted love so desperately that I would take the crusts and be happy to have that.

Lay Your Armour Down

My friend, David, first said this to me a few years ago. It was the first time that I realized that I was wearing armour.

Then I started thinking about the first few years of my life, my Dad was in the Air Force and stationed in Pakistan. I was just a little girl but, in a lot of ways I was the man of the house. Then my father came home from the military and my brother was born and the fighting began. I had to protect my mom from my dad. I was still the man of the house. Then my parents got divorced and we stayed with my dad and I competed to be the man of the house - just like my mom had competed with my dad. It was all competition and "better than" and judgment. I became a good jouster and it was exhausting.

It was the only game I knew so I played it in my relationships. For years, I competed until I was the man of the house. There can be only one man so, the relationships broke apart. I liked to blame it on them but, it takes two. In everything, it takes two.

Today, I am tired. I am a great jouster and I know I can "win" but, today, winning is futile. It does not give me what I want. It does not allow me to be the woman that has been hiding inside this armour all these years. Today, I choose to do it differently. Today I can be vulnerable and needy and not be weak. Today I can lay my armour down because, the armies have gone home. The war is over.

Today I can sit in my back yard and listen to the squirrels chirp and watch the geese fly over, as they honk their presence, and I can rest. I can show my fears to my friends and know that they won't attack. Today I can use my strength to show my true self, my soft underbelly, my Achilles heel and know that the people around me today are not the enemy, they are friends, they are sent by God, and they are not impressed with the armour but love what is beneath.

Competition

The sicker I am, the more I compete.

I grew up thinking competition was good. I saw it in my parents, on television and in school. Everyone wanted to be "the Best" and to be acknowledged for that.

So, I competed.

I got A's in school.
I made more money than my husband.
I showed you that I was so much better than you were.

There is healthy competition and then there is what I do. I try to show that I am better than you by beating you at something. It can be anything. Today, that "better than" attitude repulses me. And that's where I go when I am not well. Something is bothering me. Something has me on edge. I notice it in my behavior.

Two things were apparent to me yesterday;

1) I was trying to get around a car on the road but, they would speed up when I had a clearing. I was driving behind, off to the right a little, waiting for my turn, when I got flipped off.

2) I was in the library. I had a pile of books and there was someone at the first machine so I took the second. I was intent on beating him to get finished. Of course, he was disabled and holding on to his crutches and trying to manage the machine and I should have stopped and helped him, or at least made sure he was OK. Instead I was racing out the door with my computer generated receipt.

Today, competing is a red flag for me. It's a time to slow down and take a good look at what's going on with Rebekah. It's time to be still , to be listening and to be gentle.

Anger

I had a huge upwelling of Anger a few weeks ago. I had been feeling the tension in my body. I turned my attention to it. The pain was in my neck.

My neck had been stiff and painful for a few weeks but, my neck has been one of the area that has been chronically painful.

I focused on this area that was hurting, at the base of my neck and I asked it it's name.

"repression"

I was taken aback. I realized that the base of my neck is also my throat and got this:

The Throat Chakra is associated with the color sky blue. This chakra is our will center. The healthfulness of the fifth chakra is in relation to how honestly one expresses himself/herself. Lying violates the body and spirit . We speak our choices with our voices (throats). All choices we make in our lives have consequences on an energetic level. Even choosing not to make a choice such as in repressing our anger (not speaking out) may manifest into laryngitis. We have all experienced that "lump in our throats" when we are at a crossroad of not knowing how to speak the right words in any given situation, perhaps even stuffing our own emotions. A challenge of the throat chakra is to express ourselves in the most truthful manner. Also to receive and assimilate information. Seek only the truth.

from:http://healing.about.com/cs/chakras/a/chakra5.htm

I then visualized this knot at the base of my neck. I was black and shaped like the roots of a tree - wide on the sides and deeply rooted.

I then went in with a pick-axe and broke it all up and excavated it.

Next I got out my plastic baseball bat and my balance ball. I positioned the ball in a corner so it couldn't get away. I then told "them" what I always wanted to tell them:

• I always fucking hated you
• You were never there for me
• where the fuck where you when I needed you
• it's not my fault
• I was 8 years old! you were fucking 69
  

etc., etc.

I kept the bat around all day and when something came up, I said it out loud as I pummeled the ball.

Each time my body loosened and I breathed a little deeper.

Finally, I went running.

I used the jarring of my pace to visualize the YEARS of anger that I had stuffed or bottled up.
It was hard, black and shiny, like molten lava that's cooled into an almost glasslike substance.
The pounding of my running bounced this around in my body until is was fine glass like shards. I then visualized burning and breathing it out in dark clouds, liquid like ink leaking from my veins and clouds like a locomotive smoke stack farting it all out until the outline of my body was like misty white clouds.

It felt like relief. I felt lighter and looser and wholer than I can ever remember.

My knots are gone and my neck doesn't hurt. It feels looser than it has for years!

That should do it for a while :-)

You're Only As Sick as Your Secrets

We all have secrets. Secret wishes, secret desires, secret dreams.

Then there are the polite secrets; your butt does look fat in those pants, I do want to sleep with your 19 year old son, I do get paid more than you do.

In my recovery; the secrets I need to watch out for are my secret shame and my secret behavior.

The secret behavior that comes to mind is my client Bria. She was a single successful woman with two kids, eight and eleven. She looks good, her kids were bright and bubbly and most people thought of her as a success. Her secret was that she would binge in the middle of the night. Sometimes she wouldn't even realize what she was doing until the refrigerator light illuminated the empty left over dishes or she would get up the next day to find cookie wrappers on the kitchen counter.

As another example, I can still vividly remember a shaming incident of my childhood. We were driving somewhere in the family car and I had my mother's home-made quilt over me. The smooth fabric felt good on my skin so I took my clothes off under the blanket. When my mother realized what I was doing she ripped the blanket off of me, exposing my underwear clad body. I was mortified and ashamed and humiliated. It taught me that my body and pleasures of the body were somehow wrong.

The fourth step tells us to "make a list of all persons we had harmed and became willing to make amends to them all". For me, the person I had harmed the most was me. Exposing my imperfection is just what I'd spent all my time and energy to suppress. I lived behind the facade and no one could really see who the real Rebekah was. It was super difficult for me to put down this armor. I had the illusion that it was protecting me when it was actually my own self imposed prison. I finally admitted that I am not perfect. This "housecleaning" helped me to identify what my secrets were and ultimately be able to laugh at all the crazy things I do.

I am only as sick as my secrets. Today I have a loving sponsor and a loving god that still thinks I am the cutest thing even though I haven't lived up to the impossible expectation of perfection.