Tuesday, March 19, 2013

Is it NORMAL for a father to bring his daughter to a MENTAL hospital??

Funny…writing about my experiences doesn’t wear me out like it used to. 

The only thing holding me back sometimes is laziness. And I know I’m not lazy, it’s just getting up the gumption to write it all, if I think about it too much and analyze it to death, I can talk myself right out of doing it. I have too much going through my head. 

An artist whos working on my kids book to talk to and make sure I pay, and THIS "Unbreakable" book to work on, and food to cook,(All organic, and made by me, thank you:) and guitar to play, piano to learn, and french and spanish, and songwriting to do, And my Nia training I'm getting ready to do to become a Nia instructor (AMAZING dance/martial Arts/and healing arts classes- A teacher there who teaches Nia recommended me for a scholarship!) , And flowers to look at, and running off to chase butterflies…(so to speak) la de da de daaaaa…

Makes me think of a book, a “Spell for Chameleon”, (by Piers Anthony) where there are actual “bumble “bees… if they catch your attention, they make you bumble off the path and before you know it, you’re totally and completely LOST.
My problem is sometimes, I don’t even know where to start. 

So it might take me a bit longer to get everything that’s jumbled up in my head straightened out to where I can put it on paper (or the computer)
Without it, we can become so skewed.  We can become SO wrapped up in what is all around us, that we can’t see what’s right in front of our face.
 I could sit for an entire day psycho analyzing myself, but unless I’m really, truly aware, I can miss what’s important.
What parent starts out life with a child thinking they are going to beat a child?
( I learned that from Brad Yates, the tapping guru;  (Look him up, hes on YouTube)  as I sat in on one of his seminars)
Whether someone believes it or not, it’s a conscious choice to hurt someone. 
What we say, what we do. Monkey see…monkey do. We may not be so far from primates after all.:p
 In the end everything that has to do with our well being is ultimately up to us, no matter what our circumstance. 

Yes other people can be ridiculous, can be cruel, and can be abusive but the difference is, WHAT are we willing to do to get ourselves OUT of it? 

A child doesn’t have a choice. But an adult who should be protecting that child DOES. (Whether the person abusing them tries to make them feel powerless or not) 

It all comes down to this. Am I going to allow myself to be powerless? Am I going to let someone hurt; maim or kill my child, or even myself? 

Do I really feel THAT worthless that I allow myself to be powerless? 

It IS a conscious CHOICE. Period. 

Whether leaving means that our financial situation is seriously screwed or not, what will happen to our children? Sometimes I think were so worried about ourselves that our children become 2nd. With how precious our children really are, we forget that they should be first when it it comes to their well being.  

As long as they are living with us at least. 

Yes, you need to take care of yourself first to be able to take care of the child, but you get my drift, right?
There are NO excuses.
A child has no choice. 

But we are not children anymore.
I am learning that I have been stuck in child mode for far, FAR too many years.
Sure, the me looking out from behind these eyes LOOKS like an adult, but until I faced those issues that have haunted me like the old monsters in the closet, that little kid is just waiting to jump out at me, grabbing at my clothes, screaming, crying, throwing a GIANT fit.

Throwing herself back, like so many kids do, EXPECTING someone to be there to catch that fall. 

Problem is, we have to be the one there to catch ourselves and we can’t be two places at once, no matter how  good we women (In my case anyway) tend to think we are at multitasking.:P
When I go to these EMDR sessions, that child, hesitantly timidly pokes her head out as if to see if it’s really ok to show herself.
For some reason, through all these sessions, I’ve hardly cried at all. The last session I went through I realized I keep feeling like I should be bawling my eyes out, but I’m not.
My counselor told me to ask the little girl inside why she is afraid of crying…

I think it’s because she’s afraid she may never stop.
So, what parent starts out life with a child thinking they are going to beat that child?

Whether they believe it or not, it’s a conscious choice.
I don’t think, in my child’s mind, I realized my father had a CHOICE.
It was up to him, NOT his child, to decide for him how he would treat her.
All I wanted was an out. 

Most kids won’t admit it, but what they are begging for, DYING for, is LOVE. It’s behind what everyone ultimately in the world wants. Behind fear, behind anger, beyond anything else, is that so many times unspoken word. LOVE.  It’s all we really, ultimately want.
When I think about what I should have gotten as a child from my father, behind the anger, behind the pain, the being scared, and all the unfairness I felt as a child was one thing.
A child’s birthright should be, plain and simple:

That I didn’t get it wasn’t my fault. That my father couldn’t give it isn’t my fault. He didn’t have it to give.
I see kids on Fathers day. I saw my daughter with my husband on Fathers day. Not afraid to give him a hug, kids throwing themselves at their fathers with an abandon that I was never allowed. 

I was like a bird in a cage stuck in a coal mine, any minute could be my last.
 Every time I see kids around a dad that so obviously loves them, I ‘m more than a little jealous. I have a hard time not tearing up even. I’m happy for them but sad for myself.

I never had that.
WHY couldn’t I have one of those dads?
You know, the kind that PROTECTED me.
That he was not capable of it began long before I was born.
He was born with club feet. And the story that I was told by him was that his mother spent YEARS working on his legs when the doctors told her he would never walk. I imagine, in his little boy mind, that’s the story he told himself as he sat alone, in a hospital, scared to death, without his parents.  The REAL story, the one I now know, is one where his parents were only there on occasion. That nurses would take care of him and work on his feet. His mother may have never really worried that he wouldn’t walk.
I wonder if that’s where his hatred of women started? What happened to him there at that hospital I’ll never know, but when he came into the world, the name he should have had, his father’s name, disappeared the minute his father saw his club feet. Instead, his father gave that name to his younger brother.
Then he was stuck in a hospital all alone. I can’t even imagine what that did to him. If the nurses were cruel that would have been even worse. I don’t know what being in that hospital did to him.
That he threatened to stick me in a hospital as a teenager…albeit it wasn’t a normal hospital, it was a mental hospital… and how a kid, who was stuck in a hospital as a child, could think about doing that to another human being, his DAUGHTER even, shows me how unstable he really was. 

I was terrified when all alone he showed ME the padded walls of a solitary cell…He worked at that hospital. Who knows what he would have done to me there.
The only thing I can think of that stopped him was providence. 

And again I realize that, just like when I almost drowned, just like when my father choked me and I thought that it was all over, I was shown that there was a love in a whole different place where things are as they always were from the beginning. There have been two times in my life where I've felt that kind of love. Both times I almost died.

(If you don't know those stories and are curious, they are here...http://songsofaletheia.blogspot.com/2011/03/what-do-you-do-when-u-stop-breathing.html and. ...http://songsofaletheia.blogspot.com/2011/10/almost-drowning-at-erie-lake-peninsula.html)

I have no doubt now. God had my back.

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