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My husband and friends put together my birthday party. Other than giving people’s names, I had no idea of what it was going to be like.  The day came and we arrived early so my husband can  help set up. I stayed upstairs at the church. My son and I had a long talk while waiting which was such an important connection since he is leaving in three weeks. When 1 o’clock came, I  went downstairs and the decorations were really fun — Minions theme. So cute, so cute! Ellen is so creative. People came to celebrate ME!

One of decorations were cut out construction paper flowers with stickers on them that asked people to write down a favorite memory, what they love about me and a favorite quality about me. After they were written out, they were placed in a flower pot. There were over 40 people who came to celebrate with me. I was so touched. It was nice seeing so many friends in one place. I had some struggles, too. When there are that many people around me, I can feel energetically drained. There is a stuck part of an old tape that questions why that many people would care about me.

After getting home, I read the cards I received and was so touched about what people wrote on those cards about me. I have a disconnect about how I see me and how other people view me, how I touched their lives. I do not see me as that way as I still stay guarded. When I read the flowers, again I was surprised at the sentiments. It is a lovely gift that will be a reminder when those old beliefs crop up about me being worthless. It is one of those old cemented beliefs from babyhood that is still rooted. It seems like there are those deeply rooted messages that are stubborn to let loose. The more stress I feel, the more I shut down.

This wonderful gathering of my diverse friends was also an opportunity for me to look at those stuck messages and figure out ways to dislodge them. There was that visible proof that I am important to people, too. I am relevant, I belong. Recovering still.

I was asked how I did it. How I got to where I am now in my recovering. Put one foot in front of the other, I guess. I talked about this question with my husband. He reminded me something I said long ago. I hate being controlled by bullying and abuse, limiting any options I wanted. It was their way only with implied and acted out very painful consequences wielded on me. Parental compliance was mandatory. I knew what the “or else…” meant. Being surrounded by bullying and abuse, not only at home, but on the school bus and at school. No really safe place to go.

When I was 19, I had a major meltdown. Something triggered old history and reverted into fearful hysteria while trying to become a tiny ball that could disappear in the garage. My father and stepmother talked about committing me to the state hospital. I had made a trip up to that state hospital a few years before to visit my mother. It was scary. I talked with myself about the situation. If I ended up going there, the government will have total control over me. The decision I made was that if I did not want them or anyone to control me, I needed to be in charge of me. NO MATTER WHAT. So I pushed on with my life, through the struggles, even hiding within myself to just survive. New at the time, I was sent down to the city to a halfway house. It was the beginning of my recovery process.

This concept along with the decision of getting on with my life NO MATTER WHAT has kept me moving. Oftentimes, it was running just ahead of dealing with my feelings about the past. Having anyone take care of me was too costly. It meant I would be giving up my choices and my freedom if that occurred.  I swung the other way of being as self-sufficient as possible, barely trusting anyone questioning people’s motives for being kind to me. I believed that as long as I remained self-sufficient, not depending on anyone, I would not be controlled. I needed to consider how much anything someone did for me would cost. Sometimes, it would cost too much for me.

This strongly held premise has worked for me most of the time. It kept me from fully going under and giving up.There are times it does not serve me. Not so good at allowing friends to do things for me I am usually the first one to grab the check, do for others. I consider me to be a generous person. But maybe it can be that I want to be in charge of who and how I let people in. With my first husband, I was more keen on keeping my heart pretty closed, not allowing room for vulnerability. He reminded me too much of my past. This time, with more therapy and bravery, I was able to open up my heart space some more to allow room. My husband is so patient with me and keeps a pretty steady course with me. He has been under the testing to prove how committed he is to me and won’t bail out. Ah, a glimmer of hope. Because this is such an internal turmoil and struggle, other people may view me as cold and unapproachable. Realize it is still part of my survival techniques.

How often do we do this? We make decisions and judgments based on what we see at face value and as presented in the moment. We figure out likely outcomes, often in the dire sense.

At work, another person was hired and I was feeling prickly about it, not knowing about my fate even though the boss said not to worry. How often had I heard those words before from others and the outcomes were unpleasant. Just as many times, the outcomes I had conjured in my head did not happen. I spent a lot of time worrying, trying to figure out how to make the created scenes in my head  come out different and better, like I can control them. Or even just to maintain the status quo. It is an automatic response, a tip toward our survival go-to, banking on the worst possible outcomes. I plan adaptions and responses to deal with the stress I am heaping on myself.

I have been continually working to push aside that worrying and fretting about the meanings and dire possibilities by stopping myself from jumping to conclusions. Really, I just do not know the outcomes as many other variables come into play and it can change anyway. Even the best crystal balls get fuzzy when there are changes made in the trajectory.

So when I see my brain running off at the starting gate, I am reminded to stop, slow down, be open to possibilities. Even though there is chaos, I am learning to trust the process by letting the situations unfold. Sticking my fears and insecurities into the situation can blow back on me. Patience is not a strong suit, probably for a lot of us. For me, it takes diligence to not get hijacked into that fear.

What I have noticed over the years is that I fretted and stewed over things and events that most often did not come true. By letting the situations unfold, play out, it turns out better than I could have imagined. The world has a way of shaking up the events and situations, like sifting out the wheat from the chaff. I do not understand the swirling stuff happening at the time; I do know that when I have been patient and let this settle, the situation turns out better than I could have imagined. Or other opportunities will present themselves.

How many times have you heard from someone who knows about your past ask, “When are you just going to get over it?!?!?!” Over it? Probably not ever. Initially, what happened can consume our whole life as we navigate through the rocky road of recovery. In a big way, it is a life sentence. We are affected in big and little ways throughout our lives. The key is learning how to get on with our lives.

No matter how much we talk about what happened, what we wish would have been different, we can go in circles. Being stuck can keep us in a victim place and we won’t be gaining traction to go forward. Yes, we are starting out in a deficit, a deep hole that we are trying to climb out of. We slip, we fall down and we get back up and try again. We go through the stages of grief. We don’t ask for help. We learn to ask for help. Sometimes it comes, sometimes it doesn’t. Sometimes we are cheered on. Sometimes it is a lonely trek. We slip into the dark night of the soul then when the dawn breaks, we see a light. It all comes together to offer us encouragement in many shades to get on with our life.

It takes even greater courage to move forward despite the odds and detours. It can be comfortable being in the familiar inner state of turmoil. There is a sense of powerlessness, of what’s the use anyway. We want fairness; get into that “it’s not fair!” place. We see other people who look like that have much better lives than we do. Hanging onto this keeps us stuck.

What we do have is choice. We get to choose to take baby steps forward to stay put. We choose to get up, go to work, school or volunteering or stay in bed. Remember that having that gift of choice, even when we did not have it at the times we were abused, is available to us now.

Being in a place of choice can move us out of being powerless, in a victim place. Even when we can make small choices, it can be empowering and life-changing.

It is a difficult thing to do, to open up and share our histories. Just the thought about what happened can feel overwhelming. We run the risk of being discounted, that we must have made that up. We run the risk of being judged, shamed and guilt like it was our fault. There is embarrassment and the stigma attached to it, too. It takes a lot of courage to say something even when there is pushback from saying something about it. When the abuse is from a family member, I think it is even more challenging and is a difficult topic for other people who have not experienced this type of violence. It goes against what we saw on TV growing up.

Years ago, I talked about this issue at a Minnesota Legislative Committee. When I was getting ready to leave, a man commented to me that I should have said something. I said I was two years old. He replied I still should have said something. I felt awful about that comment and eventually realized how his ignorance was showing.

If the other person knows the abuser, they probably do not have the context to understand how such a nice person is capable of such an ugly thing if they have not experienced such a violation. Who the person is outside the front door is different than the person behind the front door.

There is a two-fold issue here. If we do not say anything, we are carrying around that burden, not being able to become freer. We are protecting the other people around us from this pain. When we do say something, we can be relieved and the other person, depending on who it is, will have to understand or carry around that burden. There may be guilt because they did not know and did not intervene. Or they can turn it around to put the blame squarely back on us.

Carrying around the past chains us to history and can keep us stuck even when we are trying to move forward. I believe it is very important to find a trustworthy person; a professional counselor who is skilled is working with child sexual abuse recovery. Whether we share the information with other people, it depends who will be supportive, loving and compassionate as we travel this road. Finding a support group that understands is also helpful.

Keeping this pain inside can lead us down another road that is not healthy for us such as chemical dependency, depression, self-mutilation, and other addictions as a coping strategy. It delays us from healing. Give yourself the gift of healing and living.

I hate confrontation of any kind. I fear the worst. Believe the worst and that I will be on the bottom once it is over. I feel so powerless and victimized by it. Because I do poorly at setting and holding a boundary, I learned that it is better for me to just take the bullying and to keep the peace, at any price! However, that price comes at a very high cost to my sense of well-being, my health: emotional, spiritual, physical and mental. It is a beat down for me.

Bullying is not about “might makes right;” it is really might makes fright. Creating a sense of fear to control someone else to do their bidding as that is their best way they believe to get compliance, exact compliance. Growing in a place where survival is the focus, it continues on into adulthood in how to cope. We learn that peace at any price thing out of fear. I shrink to being a little kid again under those bullying dictates. No power, no difference, no chance.

When I have been in a situation where I feel like a ping pong ball between two other people, it is a frustrating position to be in. I have decided awhile back that I am taking me out of that no-win equation the best I can. Both sides apparently do not like that and have indicated that loud and clear. That price has cost me a lot and dearly.

Being conditioned with PTSD early in life, being in a current situation of bullying has reactivated that PTSD. I dip back into that deep kind of survival and fear.

In my family, which parent was the loudest or more dramatic, won. In Eric Berne’s book, “Games People Play” from the 1970s, listed a lot of games people play. My parents’ favorite? Courtroom. Courtroom is when the two main players demand the bit players to choose sides. Whoever got the most to take their side, won. Because we were comprised of five people, someone always won, no ties. After getting caught up in that, someway, somehow, I figured out how to cope with that. I went to my room, not voting or siding with anyone.

This time, now that I am processing the dynamics, there is familiarity. Not playing has its price, too. This can turn the tables to making the bullying person uncomfortable. How can the person who is affirming a boundary not get caught up in being a bully back? How can we not raise our voice decibel by decibel to get the other person to hear us without becoming more overbearing or us shutting down? How do we keep our integrity and sanity? How do we know if when we stand up for ourselves that the other person won’t escalate into violence?

I realize from the bully perspective, it is about control and perceived loss of power and place. They do not see that when that kind of behavior occurs, it is showing us and the others around them what is really going on. No trust, no integrity, no peace, no compassion or empathy, no willingness to resolve anything except the “my way or the highway” process. By wanting to control their external world, it is showing us how out of control they are in their internal world and that fear has a hold of them in a tight grip.

No perfect answers here. Could be more suppositions. Maybe, just maybe, it is a sign to become more proactive to make other plans.

I am a big fan of The Minions and Kung Fu Panda. Some may view this as ridiculous. Kiddy fare for an adult. There wasn’t much to be happy about or even much less laughter in my early years. The highlight of happiness was watching the Harlem Globetrotters on television. This raised my spirits, even if only for a short time, like a mini-vacation from the painful existence.

Watching Kung Fu Panda, how Po navigates his now life while he reconciles his past, is quite enlightening for me. Showing how he is able to build relationships, learn new ways of finding inner peace, learning about his past and how that shaped him. The messages in it have impacted how I am living my life now, too. I like to watch them again, movies I and II, as I find other messages I missed. Even though it is just a cartoon. There is much wisdom in this show. I am looking forward to the new one coming out in January.

As for The Minions, it is a wonderful laugh track for me. In some ways, they accidentally do the right thing. The silliness is something that has been missing in my life. It helps me to get in touch with that child-like part of me that has been walled off for years. They have camaraderie, don’t take too much personally when bumpy things happen. They get back to trying something else.

I haven’t much of an attention span for long movies. I do like comedies. My husband looks forward to when he can have a day or a long enough span to get lost in those movies. He knows my attempt to try to follow them can be sporadic. He is very kind about telling me what is happening.

When it comes to cartoon movies, even Monsters’ Inc., I will watch them from beginning to end. We even splurge by going to the theater. It is one of my happy places to bring out the child in me. I realize that I do not laugh enough. When something is so funny, I am doubled over in laughter, I feel so much better inside. My energy shifts and I feel much lighter.

Since laughter is an important key for my emotional, mental and physical health, I am working on incorporating more funny bits into my daily life either on YouTube, reading the funnies or listening to a comedy show on the MP3 player. Of course, my son often cracks me up. Find the comedy in daily life.

My friend grew up in a rocky home and had a bumpy first marriage. A few years ago, she was introduced to someone and they hung out, being friends. We talked about relationships and taking chances. It was slow going for her. Then sitting next to each other, doing activities together, then holding hands and moving on from there in a measured way. They have a very loving, supportive and loyal connection. She opened her heart bit by bit. He did, too. This brings much joy and growth to them. They gave each other a chance.

Another friend had not been in a relationship since her husband years ago, spending time raising her son and working. She had an experience in her life, too. She connected with someone, too, slowly. Her heart space opened up and it added an increased lightness of being.

Bee had met someone and remarried. As she is going through her own renaissance of doing what is in her heart and soul, she has someone in her life that is supportive, loving, loyal and kind. Having someone to come home to and ask how was your day? Talk about the highlights and frustrations. To get a hug and smooch. Someone to be on our side, to grow and heal. To have dreams and support toward the future. To share life’s up and downs make a difference.

When we have experienced trauma in our lives, there is a tendency to shut our heart space off. Get involved in so many other activities as a way to distract from loneliness. I would work to be point of being so exhausted. On occasion, that deep loneliness felt like it was eating me up. I kept wishing for someone to love me. Then fear would take over and I would shut down again. I wondered if I had made enough progress in my own healing to be with someone that would not be like the old painful and unfulfilling relationships of my past. When I saw those old signs, I would retreat back into myself. To do this requires much courage to step out of my constrained inner “comfort zone.” We also need to remember that our partners are NOT our therapists. They are our safe harbor, supporter, comforter, loving challenger and loving arms.

I took a chance. My husband took a chance. It is different this time.

We learn a lot about how to have relationships with other people by observing our parents and their interactions with each other. We learn how to parent by watching how they treat us. We learn about our value and relevance as well as our place in the family. Are we a gift or a burden? Wanted or unwanted? Blamed for our parent’s lot in life? Are we uplifted or put down, ground down into the ground? How our family and eventually how our school peers treat us affect us in a lifelong way. It affects our ongoing relationships with developing friendships and life- partners.

When I was married the first time, I thought my life would magically be what I dreamed it would be that the pain would magically be replaced with a loving, nurturing relationship. Changing my last name would mean that the past was the past and I had a future filled with more promise. Even though I did not love me, I believed if I was loved, that would be enough. It was difficult because I married someone who also did not love himself. It was a painful and bitter end for both of us. These scars were added on top of the other scars from childhood. My heart shut off to the world and I traipsed through it sort of mindlessly. I figured out if others liked me that would be my scale for how likable I am. Being so damaged, my meter was pretty much skewed to zero.

While I remained somewhat hopeful I would find a partner who could like me without having to prove how worthy I am by doing, doing, doing without being a bother, refrain from asking for too much of anything lest they run away from me being so needy. Empty parents raising empty children who grow up to be empty adults. I married my first husband thinking I could fix whatever was wrong. Well, obviously I was wrong. Could not even fix myself. Two empty people trying fill the empty spaces.

We hung out being friends, doing things together. When he said he loved me and then asked me to marry him, I was stunned. It takes patience for both of us to make progress and worked on our communication. I appreciate how my husband is so loving, loyal and caring with me. I still have those bumpy times, up and down; he stays pretty steady. I ask when he is going to leave me (still those abandonment issues). The struggle is it is easier for me to accept how awful and unworthy I am to someone who says he loves me.

I know there are times I remind him that I am doing the best I can. I let in his love anyway and continue trying. The past can still cast a shadow.

Growing up in a challenging house, it was difficult to keep some semblance of order. As an adult, I have seen myself trying to hold back the past from moving forward. I am standing there with my arms stretched out to the sides, palms facing backwards. I believed if I could hold it all back, I would be able to protect and insulate my son from all that history as we moved forward. I felt strained a lot of the times, trying to not react like my parents did to me. I believe that it is not my son’s fault for what happened to me and did not want to make him pay for that.

At church, I saw that I have done the outstretched hands thing for so many years when I saw another option. What happens when I move my hands from the side to upwards? Up toward the heavens? Letting it all wash away? It has been so much responsibility to do that holding back work out of fear that it will gravely affect my, our, future. There is a ominous feeling of being destined to repeat the past. When I look back, it does not have to be destiny or fate. I can change the direction and make wiser choices so that past does not encapsulate and run my life.

Using the symbolism of lifting up my arms upward and outward is freeing. I am not responsible for what happened then. I am responsible for what is happening now within my own life and my son’s as he was growing up. What if with each narrow place in my life I lift up my outstretched arms to wash away at least some of the struggle and pain? What if with each blessing I lift up my outstretched arms to receive abundance with gratitude? Why not?

As I grow and heal through the past, I am learning to define who I am, not who my parents and the kids in elementary, junior and senior high school defined me and who I meet today. With such a jumbled history, I am doing the best I can. I have learned to let go of perfection and being acceptable to everyone as if this were a global popularity contest. I am ever evolving into a person that I can live with in abundance and gratitude. With my arms up and outstretched.