Forest Fires

“Listen to me, your body is not a temple. Temples can be destroyed and desecrated. Your body is a forest—thick canopies of maple trees and sweet scented wildflowers sprouting in the under wood. You will grow back, over and over, no matter how badly you are devastated” Beau Taplin

I came across this quote in my FB feed.  It immediately struck me because I was reminded of an experience I had right before my senior year of High School. 

Yellowstone National Park was devastated by a fire in 1988. It was the second largest fire that park had ever seen. I saw the pictures on the news, I was sad for how the forests had been destroyed. The smoke and ash made its way all the way down to California where I lived.  There were multiple fires that ended up coming together, burning for months and destroying over 700,000 acres. Lightning strikes started the majority of the fires, only a few were started by humans. Long story short, at the end of the months of burning, 36% of the park was destroyed, massive swaths of forest were burned to a crisp and it looked like it would never ever recover. 

I  had the opportunity to go there in the late spring/early summer of 1993. On the long drive up I worried it would still look the way it did in the pictures. It wouldn’t be the pretty place I’d always wanted to go when I was little. 

My first husband’s uncle was a ranger there, he’d been working in the park since before the fire and he showed us his pictures of the destruction.  He also told us of how the park looked that first spring after the fires. A blanket of green, new life, new growth.  He explained how good the fire actually was for the park. The animals were thriving, and overall the entire ecosystem had needed that fresh start. So much old growth, and deadfall had accumulated, nothing else could have given it the rebirth it needed. 

When I finally drove around and hiked the trails, I was astounded. It wasn’t destroyed, it wasn’t ruined. There was a profusion of bright spring flowers in the meadows. The forest walks revealed fresh clean growth. Masses and masses of mushrooms and clear forest paths. There were tender shoots for the animals to feed on.  There were still spots that were scarred, trees that had been burned beyond repair.  Some trees had scorch marks, but were thriving.  Overall, the park had not only recovered, it thrived and the new growth and the scars combined to create a place so amazingly beautiful it left me in breathless wonder at times.

I connected with that quote this morning because, well, right now I’m either still smoldering in the ruins of devastation or actively on fire.  My life has had several forest fires. I’d say my life has completely blown up at least 3 times to the point where I didn’t think recovery was even possible. 

I’m not saying that’s where I am now, I’m just reflecting. When examining the destruction of a few of my really big fires I can also see the beauty in the aftermath. The changes, the new growth. The opportunities for new wildflowers to bloom, or new trees to take root. 

Oh, I can see the giant oaks and maples that bear the scars of my fires. I will always be able to point to spots where the lightning struck and started it all.  But hopefully, someday it will all combine into a beautiful tableau that I can look at with wonder and be amazed that something so beautiful could have grown out of such destruction.

Just a little haiku I don't want to lose

Soothe an aching heart

Heavy, warm hand rests on head

Demons held at bay

Meditation

Just putting this here so I find it again
http://www.getrelationshipsright.com/dealing_with_heartache/

Feeling pain in my heart, I breathe in.
Suffering from the pain in my heart, I breathe out.

Feeling my heart breaking, I breathe in.
Feeling as if my heart will break in two, I breathe out.

Feeling the pain is too great to live with, I breathe in.
Feeling as if the pain is going to swallow me up, I breathe out.

Feeling hurt, I breathe in.
Finding hurt where I want love, I breathe out.

Feeling frustration and anger, I breathe in.
Feeling frustration and anger boiling inside, I breathe out.

Wanting things to be different, I breathe in.
Wanting to change him/her, I breathe out.

Wanting attention, I breathe in.
Craving attention, I breathe out.

Wanting gentle touch, I breathe in.
Wanting loving touch, I breathe out.

Feeling I am not good enough, I breathe in.
Seeing nothing good about me, I breath out.

Feeling shame about my body, I breathe in.
Feeling that I am unlovable, I breathe out.

Feeling that no one loves me, I breathe in.
Suffering from not feeling loved, I breathe out.

Feeling frustration, I breathe in.
Feeling fear, I breathe out.

Being afraid that nothing will ever change, I breathe in.
Wanting love in my life, I breathe out.

Feeling fear that I will not have what I want, I breathe in.
Feeling fear and anxiety, I breathe out.

Noticing that I am OK, I breathe in.
Noticing that I am OK, I breathe out.

Shame

As I wrote my earlier blog I realized that I hadn't really shared with very many people what happened last year.  Some of my own siblings were reading the details for the first time.  I think I told one sister in February.  My Dad, I didn't tell until May12th.  The incident I described happened the previous October. Very few people were privy to the information I shared.  Why was that?  I know I talked with my best friend about it and justified not telling anyone because it wasn't anyone's business. No one needed to know since everyone is too far away to help.

That wasn't the reason, that was an excuse. The reason I haven't talked about it is shame.  I was deeply ashamed of what happened. No, I didn't cause him to abuse me. I know this, I've always known this.

However, I was embarrassed and ashamed.  You see, this isn't my first time up to bat with an abuser. Although he was the most skilled in messing with my head, tearing me down and getting me addicted to him so I couldn't leave, he wasn't the first. My first abuser started hitting a year after we got married.  My second abuser never hit, so,  that was better.

So, now I'm dealing with a third abuser, worse than the first two combined.  How could I admit to anyone I let this happen?  Before I met my ex, I had spent two years alone healing and getting strong. Two years without a hug or caress. Two years without a date, or even flirting with anyone.  I spent that time in counselling, working on my outward appearance, going to the gym, making new friends, getting out and enjoying new activities.  I accepted some things about myself I'd never taken the time to examine before. I really worked on healing and getting ready to tackle the next stage of my life.

When I finally felt ready, like I was as strong and confident as I could be, as I'd ever been really, I dipped my toes into the dating world. I went on a few dates, had some fun with a few different people. Even made it to 3 and 4 dates with a few people.  Then I met my ex.  All bets were off, and I embarked on the worst year of my life.

The thoughts and feelings having to admit what happened to anyone was intense.  I had a few people say, why don't you just leave?  Why do you stay?  I could imagine that family members would be disgusted that I let this happen again.  How COULD I let this happen again? What is so wrong with me that people think it's okay to treat me this way? Why aren't I strong enough to walk away at the first sign of trouble?

I didn't realize I was dealing with an actual narcissistic psychopath.  I've learned a lot in the past few months, and the level of manipulation wasn't your garden variety abuser. These people are very good at picking their targets.  They don't tend to go after the weak in the herd.  They want the conquest. They want to break down the strong and confident and turn them weak and needy.  Then they will discard them like yesterday's trash. It's sick and twisted.  My abuser saw how strong I was and wanted to break me.   He did.

And, I was ashamed.  Our society has a tendency to blame the victims (survivors) for things like this.  From blaming the rape survivor for dressing too sexy, or being at that party in the first place.  Or, asking the abused person in the ER, why don't you just leave? Well meaning friends, just get strong and leave, why can't you do that?   It's not right, and shows a lack of understanding on how people take advantage of others.

Why was I feeling shame over this and yet my abuser has no shame for the way he treated me?  Why does he get to go on with his life, call me that crazy bitch who just disappeared one day and I deal with the aftermath every single day?  Even if he were just like the other people who took advantage of me I STILL shouldn't feel ashamed. THEY should.  They are the ones who treat people badly. 

Supporting and loving the survivors, giving them information and help when possible should be what we as a society do.

Yes, men and women will go back to their abusers.  An average of 7 times before they leave for good.  Does that mean we need to make them feel bad because they couldn't do it the first six?   How about extending a loving hand, letting them know just how much we love them, and will be there for them.  Leaving an abuser is hard, and it is made very much harder when the survivor is dealing with judgement from many sides, in addition to the psychological abuse heaped upon him or her.

Now, I will admit, I didn't allow many people in my life to help me. I try to always be strong so reaching out for help in the first place is difficult for me.  When I did share it was mostly well received with loving responses, but, those few people who questioned me and my lack of strength held me back from really reaching out.  

Not anymore. I have no reason to feel ashamed.  The only person who should be ashamed of themselves in this situation is the person who behaved badly and hurt me and my family.

Not a victim

More overshare, but this is important

Last night a FB friend posted a statement, which referenced the Rice situation. She said that a woman who spits, slaps and swears shouldn't be surprised if she gets punched.

Here is my response.

"a woman who swears and slaps and spits may have been pushed the very brink by an abusive controlling manipulator. or a psychopathic lying asshole who gets off on making his partners lose their shit, in order to have a reason to hit them. Or if he doesn't hit that time, he gets to feel superior that she 'lost it' and he retained control. He'll use it against her. Then work her up again and again. When he finally does lose it, he blames her, because she 'made him do it' It's crazy making behaviour. It's real, it's disgusting, and it's not all that uncommon."

I am not going to comment on the Rice situation. I'll go ahead and comment on mine.  My last abuser was the absolute worst I'd encountered. I was not prepared to deal with his level of manipulation. I'm not a shrinking violet. I'm not an idiot. I've been down this road but was still taken in by a narcissistic psychopath.  He used many tricks to make me appear to the be the one in the wrong. He used crazy making behaviours. It started slowly, as it always does. Within a few months he had completely destroyed my self esteem. Isolated me from my friends. He manipulated me into bankruptcy. I almost lost my job, I failed at school.

When it got really bad he taunted me, belittled me and baited me until, yes. When he was in my face yelling at me,  I pushed him away from me.  I finally found some amount of gumption to fight back against his constant onslaught. He belittled every aspect of my person: physically, sexually, intellectually, spirtually.  Once I pushed him that gave him permission.   Over the course of a few days it went from me pushing him and him acting superior because I 'lost' it.  To him being charged with 18 counts of assault against me.

When I went to the police, I told the entire story. How it started with me pushing him.  It escalated to my being covered in bruises head to toe. I had two black eyes, an injured knee, damage to my hands, bruised ribs. The injuries came from a combination of punches to the face, my head being slammed into his car window, being pushed to the ground and kicked, pushed against walls, my shirt ripped off my body, etc. During the altercations that took place over three days, yes I did fight back. I did slap him. I even bit him, while trying to get him to stop bending my fingers back.  I reported this to the police and no, they didn't press charges against me. I tried to take responsibility for my actions, but they said in these situations they look for the primary aggressor.

There is a lot more that went into this situation, and it was extremely hard to break free because of the brainwashing that took place. Eventually, I managed to get away, with help from a very long suffering friend.

The aftermath:  He received only 23 days in jail and 18 months probation.  I fled the town I was living in, changed my numbers and unfriended and blocked anyone who may know him so he can't contact me.  I can no longer run because of the damage to my knee. I have pain every time I try to open bottle or jar because of the damage to the joints in my hand. I'm bankrupt, I don't have a single dime to my name. I barely managed to keep my job, as my work has suffered. I have nightmares almost every night, I can only sleep 2-3 hours at a time, and wake up in a cold sweat more often than not. My child was traumatized. We both underwent counselling. He's recovering and has developed an amazing empathy for those around him. That is the only positive that has come out of the situation.

 I wake up every day thankful that I'm not in a relationship. I fear my ability to trust and love is gone forever. I'm afraid I'm now officially too damaged to ever be able to sustain a relationship with someone.

My story isn't uncommon.  Domestic Violence happens to both men and women.

About half of Canadian women over 16 report at least one incidence of physcial or sexual violence. 

In Canada, a woman dies at the hands of her intimate partner about every six days.

In the US, a woman is assaulted by her partner about every nine seconds.  Every day in the United States, 3 women are murdered by their intimate partner.

I'm not going to discount the men either. About 1 in 10 men are victims of domestic violence.

In 2001 in the US Intimate partner violence made up 20% of the nonfatal violent crime against women. And, 3% of the nonfatal violent crime against men.

In 2000 in the US, 1247 and 440 men were killed by an intimate partner.  33% of  murdered women are killed by an intimate partner, and 4% of male murder victims are killed by an intimate partner.

Men or women, it's wrong, people need to speak out and no longer be labeled a victim.  I'm not,  I'm here, that makes me a survivor.