Monthly Archives: April 2011

Let’s Begin at the Beginning , So To Speak . . .

But where is that beginning in my world?

I’ve always been different from other people. Growing up as a child, I knew I was different than my friends. I’m not sure how I understood that as a young child, but I did. I just knew I wasn’t the same as the kids I played Hopscotch, and Red Rover, and Chinese jump rope with on the streets of Philadelphia.

When I became an adolescent, and living in Harrisburg, PA., it became even more apparent to me that I was ‘off’ somehow, not the same as the other kids in school, and, it didn’t help me any that I was a poor student, (especially when it came to Arithmetic), so the teachers, and Nuns, (since I attended Parochial School), payed little attention to me since I was not a stellar student. I loved Reading, Spelling, Science, and Art class, but still, I was invisible to the teachers, and I didn’t fit in with the other students. It was hard for me to make friends, and guess what? .. I was the fat kid standing on the sidelines during Kick Ball, and Soccer, and Four-Square because nobody wanted me on their team, but I’m probably not the only one with that horror story in their past, am I?

A lot of the kids used to tell me they were afraid of me; don’t ask me why, I haven’t a clue. But they were, and they told me so, and I believed them since I mostly found myself alone! So, I learned how to keep myself company, and how to occupy my time with my own thoughts and interests! I threw myself into going to the Library, renting as many books as I was permitted at the same time, and became adept at reading as many as 4 books in as little as three days! And since I was a bit of a Science geek, I did as many Science Fairs as the school offered throughout the year, and I’d win too! I earned quite a few medals and ribbons through the years! I also frequented the local drugstore to fetch as many chocolate bars as I could afford on my allowance each day, and I’d enjoy every one of them while reading. It’s no small wonder why I was 136 lbs. in sixth grade. I weighed then, as much as I weigh now, as an adult! And no, I’m not having a pity-party here, I just want you to understand that I was different. Different in many, many ways, and I knew it. The other kids knew it too! I just didn’t know why.

I’m pretty sure my family knew I was different too, though I don’t think anyone then, knew just how different I was. For one thing, I was a whiny child, and though I felt shy, I was always talking! I was dubbed, ‘Motor Mouth’. Ouch! I think because of the abuse I was enduring, I was trying to tell someone in my own child minded way, to anyone who would listen, but no one was paying any attention. This is going to sound contradictory, but it’s the truth, I didn’t know, or couldn’t comprehend at that time what was happening to me at the hands of my Dad. I was a child, thinking a child’s thoughts, and in no way had an understanding of what I was going through. Truth said, I thought all the other little girls Dad’s gave them extra attention too! I found out much later, that I was wrong.

But back to the family. So, I had no understanding that what was happening to me was wrong. What I did know was that I wasn’t like the other kids. So, even though I had no understanding of the abuse, I think some part of me did in a way. A feeling always there, telling me that something wrong was happening to me, and I believe my constant talking was a way for me to relieve the fear and horror I felt, without really knowing that I was in fear, and I also think, my subconscious was trying to tell anyone who would hear me what was happening to me. No one ever heard me though, and no one tried to understand me. I was dismissed as a ‘troubled’ child. My family had a saying about kids, that I recall hearing throughout my lifetime. The saying was, “Children should be seen and not heard.” I think they meant it innocently enough, meaning it to say, that a child should not be a part of an adult conversation, but what I think it meant instead, was that children had no validation until they became an adult. Ouch again!! So, if that was the ideology, then no one would’ve wanted to hear me, because I was just a child, and I had no validation as a human being. That’s enough to mess anyone up mentally, though I’m not saying I am messed up, because I know I’m not! But add the way the family felt about children, and the abuse endured, and you’ve got a scared child, who feels something is wrong, and who feels wrong inside of, and about herself, with no one to go to, and no where to go to, so what did that child do? She created a place for herself in her mind, (though it wasn’t an intentional act of creation), where she could escape to. Where there wasn’t bad feelings, or fear. Where she could speak as freely as a child can, with a child’s understanding, or lack of understanding, and where she knew God listened and spoke to her, and where she found the comfort that she so desperately needed. And that is how I came to know God’s voice, and I’ve been listening to His comforting, and loving words my whole life! I’ve learned what His voice sounds like in my spirit, and I’ve learned to pay attention when I hear His gentle voice.

I’ve got plenty more to share with you about hearing God’s voice, and what He’s doing in my life, so I want you to stop back to read the next posting, because the story continues!

I ask myself all the time, “Do I deserve to hear God’s voice?” I know the answer to that question is a resounding, “NO!” I ask, “Do I want to continue to hear God’s voice?” Most definitely. And finally, “What makes me special enough for God to speak to?” The answer? “I’m not.” And that’s the point. I’m not anybody special! I’m the same as everyone else, only with a few more bumps and bruises than most, but not as many as some. I’m just me.

Some Background and the Beginning . . .

The hardest thing for me to do is to begin, so let me start with some background about myself. I’m just me.. a normal person, living a normal life, doing normal things like everyone else in the world. My life is full of responsibilities, and people I love. I have friends I adore, a little Westie who’s my heart, and my soul dog; that is to say, he’s my soul-mate, only he’s covered with white fur, his name is Angel. I’m an Artist who creates whatever is in my heart and mind to create. I don’t tend to create traditional art, but then what is traditional anyway, since art is entirely subjective?

I also write, though I haven’t had anything major published, just some of my poetry, but I’m currently in the process of writing a non-fiction book, a humorous, satirical piece. And speaking of satire; I have a wicked sense of humor! I smoke, and drink, I swear, I can be vulgar, and I enjoy going out to party with my friends like there’s no tomorrow! People that are closest to me think I’m anything but normal! They think I’m outrageous, a riot, gregarious, and some, even obnoxious, and that’s okay, I accept that. I’ll own it, if it’s mine to own, and I don’t mind. But I’m also moody, and some days, it seems like I swing by my emotions, and that’s okay too. You see, I’m just like everyone else; I think if we’re human beings, we’re all alike to some extent or the other. It’s just that, some, (like me), are more intense than others, and some are a bit on the tame side. We all share common traits though, and that’s the point I’m making here.

I have a softer side to me too, a side that only a few people really get to see. (I’ll tell you why that’s so in a minute.) But I tend to hide that part of me, and even those people closest to me don’t see that side too often. There are people out there who think that I’m a stony bitch, but that’s not the case at all! It’s not that I don’t want to show that side of me, but rather, it’s because I’m protective of myself, and my emotions. I am a survivor of child abuse. Don’t preach. I’ve done my healing, and it doesn’t hurt me to speak about it, and I certainly don’t dwell on it, but there are parts of that experience that stick to you like a piece of chewed gum stuck to the bottom of your shoe that you just can’t scrape off! And one of those things is, I tend to feel things more deeply than most. I feel more vulnerable, tender, and my feelings get hurt very easily, so I hide that part of me from most people, and therefore I protect myself from the cruelties of this world. But here’s the point I want to make.. because of the childhood abuse, I’ve learned to go to another place where it didn’t hurt so much. Some people in my past have labeled that as Dissociative Personality Disorder. I call it a gift from God! It saved me from taking a permanent leap off the deep end of my minds precipice! That ability gave me a place where I could escape what was happening to me. In that place I went to, I felt secure, and I felt the presence of God my Father there. (Yes, I know we could go into, if God was there why He didn’t stop the abuse from happening to begin with(?), but I’m not going to get into that diatribe with you, because I believe there IS a reason we all walk through the fire, so I’ll leave that for another discussion down the road). That experience gave me a knack for reading people too. I’ve become more sensitive to my surroundings, and with that sensitivity comes a gift. A gift of knowledge, of knowing, a gift of understanding. Maybe because I’ve the ability to cross barriers into another realm, another existence in my mind, I’ve opened myself up to the sensitivities of this Universe, to God, and maybe, just maybe, that’s why He uses someone like me.. with all of my flaws, all of my humanness, all of my issues. After all, I’m just me!
Next we’ll get to the beginning. More to come.. Stay tuned..