Mind, Body and Aura Video

I had physical pain that was keeping me from walking with any comfort.  I had emotional pain that was driving to do things that truly made me more unhappy.

  It was time to search again.

That was when I had a Sunday, with no work, the kids were with their Dad and the Mind, Body & Soul Fair was on.
I drove up to Glasgow and arrived actually before they were officially opened.  {So unlike me to be early}  I had one destination in mind!  I went straight to one woman's stall, called Aura Video.  I had eyed it every time I went to the fair.   And Her stall was always busy,  normally I would have already spent whatever cash I had taken, so if I started there first,  I was guaranteed to have money in my pocket to get the benefit of this technology!  This beautiful woman had several ways of working with her device,  she did a postcard, then a short chat about what the shape size and energy of each chakra was.  Then she did a full paper print out and a bit longer chat.  The most expensive choice, was the full printed report, and 15 minutes of her time.   That was the decision I made,  the most expensive, but totally worth it!
So, I was told to sit with my hand over some electronic metal pads.  Then there were a few adjustments and then I was told to come over and sit next to the talented Joan Frances Boyle.

The picture was not attractive,  my aura was yellow and murky grey.   Then there was the issue of this most recent incarnation of me,  very overweight and my face was strained by the weight of pain and deep hurt.   My first question for Joan was, is a past life, holding me back?
Now, I must tell you, I had been searching for sometime.   I had learned some ideas on incanation and what lies beyond your realm of existence.   But I truly have so much yet to learn!
Joan, agreed and showed me the dark grey lines particularly at the sides of my aura which meant past life issues, holding me back.
Joan, spent a great deal of time with me on that day.  As I said, I went up early on Sunday, and was the first 'costumer' in the door.   Usually, this woman and her machine has a queque of people waiting.  So, when my fifteen minutes were up, her little stop watch timer gave an alarm, she turned it off and she just carried on.   Joan had many revelations for me that day.
But, the first parts of our discussion, were heavy.   I was in tears as she asked me about my heart pain.  She told me that the originator of my heart pain, my Father had come here to give me a powerful lesson.   I needed to learn to go after what I wanted in just the same selfish and determined manner as my father.   That concept is something I still struggle with.  My mother would always demand of us to think of others, to offer up our lives, words and deeds for the needs of the many.   So, to just Steam roll my way through others would be asking me to change my basic template.   I really hated my father's ability to treat others like 2 dimensional paper dolls.  Also, for me to think the I am the centre of the Universe would mean a total reversal of inner mental map.   And the dialog in my head went something like this, that cannot be right!   to behave like him?   He hurt so many people?  He nearly destroyed my mother?  He almost completely crushed my stepmother?   How can his way of behaving be the way forward for me?

Then,   Joan she took my hands and looked deep in my eyes and told me"pure divinity runs from your heart to your hands, you are a healer."   Unlike the guidance of the words before, this was said with total compassion.   As if what I had was truly amazing.

So, you have to picture this scene, because I had been in tears as I opened up the deep wounds in my life and heart to this woman.  And now she was telling me, basically, what I think I had been longing to hear.   Someone saw inside of me, to that place where my real special, true beauty is.
If like, Sleeping Beauty, I was waiting for that loving kiss to awaken me.  To get me to live the life I was created for,  this was the guidance I had been looking for.   {I have been on the edge of this concept and  I have done several college courses in Holistic therapy so I actually had  the skills to promote health and assist others to return to homeostasis.}


Back when Symbol and I started spending time everyday together,  I remember really freaking out.   I didn't know what to focus on for my major, I didn't want to do a Theatre Degree,  I didn't know if I should leave the college and purse a place at an arts college in Cleveland.   I wasn't convinced that I could sing well enough to really make a go as a singer, yet I had many musical talents and courses.  

I was desperate for this type of clear guidance.    

This was most likely the reason I stayed with Symbol.   He had clear views as to what he wanted to do.  Sure, he couldn't get a job doing anything other than washing dishes!   But I was desperate to find significance, love, and any clue as to how my myriad of talents could be used in a successful way.
This knowledge was still years away.

So, back to that Sunday, and Joan Frances Boyle hands me a slip of paper informing me of her healing website and that she does indeed have a Past Life healing therapy.   So, at least I have a few answers. My next stop that fateful morning was to a stall where the Ladies were offering tester treatments with Quantum Wave Lasers.   I had been talking to another therapist about the concept of healing Lasers.   The idea being the Laser helps the cells to release the trauma,  once the trauma is released then the divine set point, or the original programme within the cell should be free to run.   Which should ensure every person a chance at perfect health and energy.

After I left the Mind, Body & Soul Fair that day, I was in a great mood.  The sun was shining, I still had a little more than an hour until the kids came home, so I started writing.   I wrote about all sorts of things I remembered, about my most recent infatuation.   How I could see the similarity of his actions and my Dad's.  I wrote for more than an hour and probably could have carried on, if it weren't for my children bringing me back to reality.

I saved up some money and booked the Past Life healing session with Joan.  

It was the most fascinating, shocking and out of my normal range of experiences.   Remember, I had spent a couple of years studying Holistic therapy and Reiki.    This therapy session helped me to understand with clarity why I am the way I am.  Why I have certain very particular likes.   Again, Joan was very generous with her time.   As she explained to me,  she would open a channel and tell me what spirit showed her.   She would not retain any memory of the session and it was her usual way to preserve some of the information for the client,  she offers to record the session.

Now, it transpires that in time before this reality, I was very young.  So young that I cannot recall  my mother nor my father.   I remember though playing freely in the expansive blue sky.   I was then tethered to others,  young like me.   We were given sacks to wear, no shoes, as we were to harvest from deep with the sulfur mines.   In the mines, there is no sun shine, there is the pervading smell, and it clogs our lungs, and the pores of our skin.  We are to just walk on hard stones and mine 'the sought' and hand it unto one another.   We have no explanation for why we do what we do.  We are beaten, we are kept as hungry as possible, yet still living.  Hands are deformed by manner of crushing the middle finger, until it is removed and then the wound is cauterized by means of a hot metal.
In time my body manages to menstruate.  I am taken, in a rough and coarse manner.   I am scrubbed and washed, with the same callous nature.   For the first time I sit,  alone and in awe of being clean.
This next chapter I would like to close quickly,  but my wrists are tied to  my ankles by means of strong vines.   I am placed in a room to be sexually abused, also,  if I try to rest, as in, lay on my side and not be in the forced animal position, I am beaten.
Then I am taken,  as I walk in this manner of wrists bound to ankles, I look up and see statues of animals with Man heads.   I am led into a chamber where all are chanting,  they are all on a tier above me.   I am put on a table.   The Leader is wearing a gold mask.   My bindings are cut and as I stand for the first time, the pain of straightening my back causes me to pass out.
I awaken to see the Big Blue Sky above me.   {The Big Blue Sky, my friend and my source of joy.}   Then the leader rips my abdomen open, as I scream in pain, I am told to be quiet as the knife cuts upwards.   I continue screaming, and the Golden Masked man reaches within me, removes from me, my unborn child.  This he thrusts in my mouth.   As he continues with his work, he tares open my chest and lifts my heart towards the opening, where the Big Blue Sky witnesses all.

After this session, both Joan and I are in tears.  She tells me about certain aspects after the channeling is over.  I know, even now, any time I glimpse the blue sky I know that is where my soul soars.  I understand why I have been a victim so often in this life.   I ask her, was I bad?   Had I done anything to deserve this treatment? {All victims ask this}   The answer is always, No.   I hadn't been bad before.  That life, had been hijacked and my lesson and gift through it, is that I had the strength to endure.   
I feel for sure, my twin sons and I were together in that first tethered group.   As after they were born, we were always together, we are very close and it explains the bond that we have, which is more than I could explain.
Joan says, the unborn child, . . .   that child is ready to be born.   She wants me to see it is time for me to be reborn.  It is time for me to give my joy, hopes and gifts the life they have come through for.

If you doubt you have purpose, don't.   

You may not see it now!   Learn from my mistakes, don't let another hijack your life, for a year, or more.   No one is more important than YOU!   If your friend or Lover, doesn't see how amazing you are,  then consider. . .
Consider, they had lesson for you, or perhaps you had a lesson for them.  
But if you are not honoured for your pure Divinity?   Then I truly believe you are better off on your own. 

  I write these words, and hope that you are living with Love in every corner of your life.  True friends, true confidants, true love & trust in your home.  

The locked tomb I kept locked

Just tonight,

I am so lucky, my best friend, {from FOREVER!} when I told her how I was writing about Symbol and how hard it was for me to open that chamber where I stored the shame, guilt, sorrow, grief and disappointment of the time spent involved with him.

I shared with her one of my insights from reading what I had written yesterday.  I realized that I had allowed Symbol to convince me, my friends weren't true.  That Symbol had become my entire Universe!

I think this withdrawal from friends and family has become a pattern now, as this theme re-occurred in my marriage. 

Back Then, my friend, who knew me before I started dating Symbol, told me, that I had ditched her!   That there had been some reason I had given that we could no longer speak to each other!   I am speechless and disappointed that I can't remember.   But, I am so lucky, she was there when it all fell apart and I was ready to risk being close to someone again.

So there is loads still for me to uncover and apologize for, to friends, like Dorothy, Amy & Tom.  I cannot remember why  we stopped having Egg Roll parties, or Halloween gatherings, we just seemed to drift apart.  Or, perhaps, like with Suzanna, who was someone I really admired, Symbol convinced me she was mocking me behind my back.   It is quite sad to think, that I might have had more fun and less tears if I had just met someone else.   Now the former blog was cut.   I had so much more to say but,  part of me wasn't ready.   So, now I know there is much more to this story and although I was being hurt, I hurt others around me when I tried to please him.     Symbol, had this trick of taking the phone and unplugging it from it's socket.   This was a small thing, but you add that to his 'lessons' he was giving me and 'mis' information, that was the smothering close bond.  Now, I graduated and finished my degree and so, a couple of close friends had moved away.  Dorothy would ring me from time to time.  So, if I didn't have the phone plugged in, I did get the phone calls.   I can honestly tell you, I didn't check to see if the phone was unplugged at the socket,  but I soon started too.

Symbol had some real issues with the fact that I had been with anyone before him.  What is even odder, is the fact that he had told me he had a girlfriend in High School and that their relationship had been a full one too.   I didn't learn until I had truly finished with him, that all those stories of he told about them were lies!

Now, I had a couple of boyfriends in High School. But, those situations were all well within the normal learning curve of any teenager.  I did a few things I can honestly say I am not proud of.  We all make mistakes.  In fact, without making mistakes, and sometimes hurting a dear friend, we don't really learn the true ramifications of our behavior.  When I look at them now, I don't feel ashamed, not as such, I hadn't taken a vow to renounce all pleasures of the flesh and be chaste.   In fact, I held the belief, that my parents marital problems stemmed from the fact that they had been virgin's when they married.    So I had made a choice, before I even turned 13, that I wouldn't be a virgin when I got married!    In saying that,  I hadn't been out to find the boundaries of the definition for promiscuous either!   
I have a story of being shamed by another student in High School for being one of the few virgins. {That is definitely on my list to write about!}    
Now, as a mother  and a divorced woman, I don't feel proud of what I did, but I don't feel ashamed either.  To me, it was well within the realm of teenage development and learning about romantic relationships.  That means learning to distinguish between the hormone fueled lust, and romanticized love.   Those lessons can take some people a life time.

This anxiety of Symbol's about the others before him, lead to months of torture.

Now, you may think I am being melodramatic,  but I was working two jobs.  I had a few hours teaching Dance and a Yoga classes.  So I took a job, working through the night at a Donut shop.    I would come home after 6 am and have a few hours to sleep, but Symbol would launch in.   {He had the advantage of a good nights rest}   It was as if he had thought up a new argument,  same theme.   He wouldn't stop telling me how he couldn't even stand my picture in the room with him, because I was so disgusting.  He would carry on until I agreed to his statements.   Mostly I agreed so I could just get some rest.  I can remember driving to my dance class and waiting at a traffic signal.   My vision started to blur, I could barely keep focus on one image with my eyes!   I remember now, that this started to happen with increasing frequency.

The other huge realization I had only after our relationship finished, was that he never professed love for me. He never said if I looked attractive, nor once did he indicate he thought I was attractive.   {When I read this now, I see, I really let myself down}

During this period, where he is 'educating' me in the way to think,  He also led me to buy a leather mini skirt.  I started to dress in clothes that he approved to please him.   This led to the whole, wearing the leather mini skirt, heels and fishnet stockings and being whistled at in stores.  Events that led Symbol to blame me when we returned to our apartment.  Now, I was dressing in that manner to please him!   So, why should I take the beating, if someone else made a pass at me?   Was that my fault?

If you asked me now, I probably won't bother to dress to impress a man now.  I am a totally girly girly,  I love perfume, dresses and make up, all of it.   But, at this point, I might just under dress if being introduced to a man.   I am that totally over it!  

What I really should have agreed to, is to wearing it around the apartment.  Wearing the black leather, didn't suit me, it simply isn't who I am, or what I like.  To my mind,  by dressing for him, I thought I was being a 'good' girlfriend.

The one person who did see the signs was my Dance teacher.  
{Facechating tonight, my good friend said, she always suspected, something}  

I told you that Symbol was a very keen martial artist.  He would often try to get me to spar with him.  He would say, we will go slowly.   This often ended with my being held in an arm lock or wrist lock.  These joint manipulations are generally taught for self defense, and it took me years to get over the mental block I had for being able to execute them myself!   So, sometimes, Symbol would smirk that the beatings were more about the fact that I wasn't smart enough to know how to stop him from hurting me.

He used to forbid me from discussing his affairs.  This threat of his, this non disclosure hung on me for sometime.

The last time I still behaved as if I was under this threat was a New Years' Eve.   I had been invited over to a small party.  The college students in the flat next door, had kindly asked me over.   Now their apartment,   was my old flat, the one that I shared with Symbol.   As we sat and drank, watching Dick Clark and the crowds in New York, I began to open up.   The Landlord never made any changes to the flat after I moved out, I could show them the obvious physical dents left in walls and floorboards.   It was okay, Symbol had moved to California.   Far enough away that this conversation couldn't get back to him.   After I enjoyed some good hours, I left and returned to my apartment, as I sat there enjoying some peace and quiet, I suddenly had the fear back!  I jumped up, ran over to the apartment where the party was, and begged them never to repeat what I said.

That right there, is my acceptance.  I should be placing adds in the newspapers with his photograph and proclaiming him to be the violent, nasty, woman hater that he is.  What if, he met someone more niave than me?   Without support, she might not get away.

Now, abuse wasn't talked about back then.  In fact I believe awareness of the cruelty one can rain upon another, has come into our social awareness within the last decade.  There is a poster  in the Post Office declaring the workers have a right to do their job without any verbal abuse. At the bottom of the poster is the Zero Tolerance campaign Logo.  It is good, it means we have to think about how we treat one another.  No one person has the right to dictate over another, even if they have money, power or influence.

People ask, why do you stay?   This is really hard to answer.  On a certain level, the abuser convinces you that they are the only ones who would put up with you & your shortcomings.  At times, an abuser will show you, by a statement like, "you are so ugly, you are lucky I hang around you at all."    Also, the violence becomes like fuel for the passion.  When you have been hurt by a lover, all you want is them to come and kiss it better.   It is a normal human reaction.   Sometimes that is the absolutely worse thing that can happen.  So, this type of relationship has an almost magnetic and dynamic whirlwind energy.   It is like being sucked into the undertow at the ocean.    You can't even see how bad it is for you, you are just trying so hard to create a 'good' day, one that goes by without upsetting their apple cart.

One night, as I lay down to sleep, Symbol was up studying in the bed next to me.   I was in that still semi conscious state, and I had this vision of Symbol taking a huge mallet and hitting me square between the eyes with it!   My eyes fluttered open!  I looked over and Symbol was staring at me.   I was very upset by this image, and it was a  profound, divine communication.   It was my spirit trying to wake me up to the fact that this guy would eventually one day kill me if I didn't stand up for myself.  Now, this was the longest relationship I had!  I was now in my early 20's.  Did I plan to become this man's wife?   These were the questions that were in my mind.  

But also, the new underlying subtext;-

  I couldn't find another man to put up with my ugliness.

  Would I find someone who would put up with my low mental capacity?

   I already had, 4 sexual partners, no other man would put up with a woman that used!

Regardless of the fact that I would have to be alone, I knew I could not go forward with this relationship!   I knew I wanted children.  If I couldn't keep myself injury free, how could I keep them safe?   It was time for me to find the way out.

Not long after this night, I had this dream.   In this dream a door opened in the wall of the apartment.  Out of the door came, me.  Not the me that I knew, but a me from the future.  She told me, I would meet someone really nice.  She told me that it would be okay.   I think there was probably a whole lot more to this conversation and spirit connecting message.   What I remember is that the me from the future was wearing an outfit, that I didn't own, and wouldn't for more than 3 years.   

Do you know, the last time, the very last time he started to beat me, I threw his combat boots out the door, and when he started to try and grab me and dig his fingers into my hands.   I was quick enough.  I was smart enough to grab his glasses off his face and smash them.   Then I kick him in the 'privates'.

That was the end of it.  He was either so surprised that I retaliated, or he really was just a pathetic bully.   {and that is the me now, who can see that.}

For some reason, we tried to get back together but the trust was all gone,  there was nothing but frail crack broken shell of feelings between us.

For the next 18 months, until he finished his degree and moved on, Symbol would periodically appear at my door and ask if we could get back together.  {It was much to my distress, that 18 months after I fled my marriage, that my x husband continued to asked me back!   When, this happened I thought I was crazy!   And I knew he was crazy.  In my mind, throwing belongings in black bags, and running to a Women's Aid shelter should be enough to say to any man.  I am finished with you!}

Two years after I married and left Ohio, my mother forwarded a letter from him to me.   I went through a wide ranges of emotions.  One of which was wanting to ensure my mother and sister were safe.   He hadn't been exceedingly clever and sent the letter to my mother,  but had addressed it to the old address and it was forwarded.  But, he wrote, we have unfinished karmic business and drew a circle.   I couldn't really get what he thought I needed to make amends for.   Also, I really couldn't imagine him asking for forgiveness.   No matter how much time he spent meditating.  
At that point in my life, I was newly married and living an entirely new life.  I was living my happy ever after.

The Last time I thought about Symbol was after my first child was born.   In one of those  half sleeping states,  I dreamed he had walked in and spit on my child as she lay sleeping in her cot.  I was so distressed by this image, I awoke and started patting the bed, looking for the 'nice guy' I had dated.  Now, this message was an important communication from my subconscious.  I hadn't realized that the pattern of control and abusive threats were present in my marriage.

To myself now, I promise to never accept such cruelty.  

I hope that you never have to live through or experience anything like the above.  I hope that you live with l.ove, in your heart and with those you share your life with.

What doesn't Kill You

We have all heard the expression, what does kill you makes you stronger.   In fact there is a Pop song with those words for the chorus.  And it just does get you thinking about how you have survived!

Now in my past, is a disturbing and frightening relationship with a very controlling  violent young man.

I used to be afraid to talk about it. I even developed a symbol to use instead of writing his name.  I kinda chuckle now as I write this, I gave him a great deal of power.    As if he would know if I wrote his name!   He had an unusually high opinion of himself, and regarded himself as a great fighter and martial artist.    He boasted to me, that he could beat his instructor any day.   So, for purposes of discussion we will call this developing  sociopath Symbol.

As I look back into the three years of this affair, there is a barrier.   I made a conscious effort to NOT remember these days and nights.   The memories are something I have tried to bury deep away and lock up with the heaviest chains and bolts.   

I have obviously done a really good job, as I thought the minute I opened the door and started writing that the stories would flow.  What really strikes me is, that when I wrote about Connie & Patricia, I could remember those days with vivid detail.  I could recall the wall paper in Patricia's lounge.  I can remember that the carpet was yellow in the front room of Connie's house.
Although I know when this relationship ended, I was suffering from what the men who serve in the Military have been diagnosed with, or Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.   Not only did Symbol take action to keep me from being close and confiding in friends and family, but because this period in my life was terrifying, and traumatic, there was an extended period where I was removed and isolated from many friends.   In my experience, this is a common scenario in the story, an abuser, will try to remove you from your support system, or ensure there are serious road blocks to communication with loved ones.   
The beginning of this relationship strikes me as odd.  I cannot recall being introduced to him, or where we met.   The first time I remember Symbol being in my social network, would be my birthday party.  But I can't remember inviting him, nor anyone being his friend, and bringing him.   What I remember is that he stayed until he was the last guest and I walked him back to the campus.  {I chose not to drive him as I had obviously been celebrating.  In those days, my circle of friends, Tom, Dorothy, Amy & Miriam we used to have this drinking game called 'The Road to Burma.'}


I can remember walking him back to the campus that night.  It was dark all around and there was nobody else walking, nor lights on in houses.  What was obvious to me, {on this night} was that Symbol was shy and was willing for me to have all the power.  To me,  he was like a little kid, almost a human Elmo.  {Although he looked more like Bert, of Bert & Ernie from Sesame Street?}    What I didn't see then, was his colour choice, he wore a black rain coat, black combat boots and always black trousers & shirts.   It was sometime later a casual acquaintance asked me why I was going steady with a guy who dresses like the 'Child Catcher' from the movie Chitty Chitty Bang Bang?   Someone else described him as a Squirrel killer.   This was the image others had seen from his outward demeanor.


You can argue, I didn't really want to see this obvious negative outward appearance,  but I know I only focused on what I thought was good about him, on the inside.   We must have looked quite unusual, Symbol with his monochrome wardrobe and me, I love pastel colours and would wear 'Flashdance' inspired clothes over my leotards & tights.   Also, at that time I wasn't connected to the desire to heal on a conscious level.  I was just enjoying creating beautiful things, beautiful movement through the expression of dance.  Beautiful trinkets using the skills of origami and the Mandela Coloring Book.   These were my 'down time' activities.


The best day, the real highlight of our time together, would be the Chinese Egg Roll party.   We would get together with my friends, I cannot remember Symbol ever having a friend outside of my circle.   Then we would stir fry the ingredients, and wrap them in the cool pastry and fry them up!   It was a wonderful way to spend time together and enjoy a feast!   One other night, we had a Halloween gathering.  We made hot Toddy and it was warming on the stove, so the smell of cloves and wine were wonderfully heady in the apartment.
Now as I sit here and try to sift through the memories and wreckage of what I know to be true & what I now see as clear warning signs. {Where is that Robot from the 1960's Black & White TV show, Lost in Space?   It is so blatantly obvious, to me now this guy was trouble!}    The other strong message that is coming up for me now is, you really should have worked through this earlier.  
You know,  it is easy for me to say, I should have done.  But, that is the curse of 20/20 hindsight, it all seems so obvious!   Why did I never get counseling then?    Why has it taken me so long to open this dark, mouldy tomb?   All this pain really needed to be released . . .
I used to think that my relationship with Symbol was about working through my issues with my Mother.   In my childhood, my mother was often too busy with housework to play or give me time and attention.   I enjoyed some solitude.   I also had some great days running outside in the sunshine, or the swings in the back garden.   But, my mother was constantly angry, and for years and years I wore the brunt of her anger.   It took me well into High School to understand why she was so angry.   I often put a foot wrong and was told off, or shouted at.   I never pleased her, or worse, even when trying my best to do it perfectly for her, I still failed!

So, back to being 19 years old, hanging out with a guy who wanted to intimidate others from a distance.   It was at some point, he told me that his High School guidance councilor had labeled him a sociopath.   I had no idea what that word meant,  I knew, vaguely that a psychopath was a label given to people who often end up hurting others and living behind bars.   But I didn't see him being mean to me or my circle of friends.   {Years later, I would learn that the abuse starts slowly, as it was described to me as a drip, drip, drip, erosion of your confidence in yourself}
Symbol was studying a course in Sociology and would often have interesting articles to read.   He then decided that I needed to read books that he had read.  So the top of his list for me was Percival, this book stands out in my mind, as it records the mythical journey of the virginal knight of the Round Table.  There was a judgement that came across from the books that were on his required reading list.   That the choices and places I had been, until I met him, where all to be ashamed of.   

One important lesson I need to share here, is the 66 characteristics that an abuser looks for in a partner.

I need to take you forward, to the very scary, very sad days just after I left my spouse of 14 years for domestic abuse.   I had run to a Women's Aid Shelter, there was a great facility for myself and the children.   We were just one door away from the hub, where I could find a Councillor to talk too.   They had activities for the children.  The apartment we lived in had security doors and cctv camera's, so if there was any actual real time threat, we were well guarded.   Within the first week of making this momentous move,  I picked up a book in their sharing library, it was about recovering from abusive relationships.  It was really written for psychotherapists, you know a strong use of scientific jargon, etc.  So it wasn't an easy read and not necessarily meant for someone without the years of study of psychological theory.  In this book, was a chapter dedicated to the 66 characteristics that an abuser looks for.   When I read the items on the list,  it truly shook me,  the list included things like;- 
  rescues baby birds who have been abandoned,
  giving drinks to kids in the neighbourhood,
  helping someone without any expectation or request for financial reimbursement.   
I could not get my head around it, to me, the list was incomprehensible.  The activities listed, were the qualities of someone who cared about others.   The in between the lines lesson to me was, you are a nice person, I can use that against you!   Now, my question is, why would you want to hurt a person who is driven to be good, kind and act in a compassionate way?   If you are lucky enough to have a friend like that, let alone a lover?  Wouldn't you want to support them in order to keep them around?   
To me, the choice to plant seeds of doubt in another's mind, or manipulate another through unreasonable threats and behavior, is completely incomprehensible!    Partly due to the fact that I was raised by a mother whose personal beliefs were deeply religious.   But the bigger part of me, the undeniable spirit within, drives me to want to do the best that I can for others in all situations.   I have always sought to be 'good' & kind.   I would always try to assist and help another achieve.   {There are those close to me, who have seen me angry and wishing to give back the hurt & pain I carry.   This has been an issue for me very recently!  I am fully human, and with that comes the complete spectrum of emotions.   From compassion, to jealousy and rage.   I have for many, many, many years held in rage and anger in the belief that a spiritual person does not engage in hurting another.   But holding onto the anger and the pain has brought me to the crucible where I had to search to find ways to heal.}

10 Amazing Things

I was given the assignment to find 10 accomplishments that are amazing about me.

This is may strike you as a huge departure from my normal tone, which is more a  biography of my experiences.  Experiences which lead me to shelter in places;- sometimes clean and well attended, such as hospitals, but other places surrounded by darkness.  Darkness then becoming the future as well as my past. 


From my perspective, I tell you about my past and try to make the correlation to how releasing the pain of it, talking about it, writing about it, sharing and demystifying events may also be a method for you to take stock of those comments, or situations that made you see yourself or the world as ugly, frightening and even full of darkness.

The darkness and fear of the mind is the most debilitating.  

Many years ago, I was talking to a woman who considered herself a Psychic, Life adviser.   She told me that I don't even have a fantasy that ends happy.  I didn't really get what she was trying to tell me.  I can comprehend each work, sure enough.  But what is the significance of having fantasies that don't end well?    It might have been more than a month later that as I lay in my bed, indulging in the 'extra 5 minutes', before the pandemonium of the day began.  I was having a 'daydream'   and then I realized!   I don't even allow myself the privilege of thinking that I won and Academy Award.   Okay, that is a bit of stretch, but you get the point, yeah?  If I thought a particular man was attractive, I wouldn't see us living happily ever after, I would see the start of a big fight!   


This subconscious programme of 'nothing ever works out for me' was creating my present and indeed my future.  So, I have the law of negative attraction going on, yeah?    These days I try to use the law of attraction theory, as much as I can, positive affirmations, positive and powerful images of a bright, healthy & happy future.   But, it does take effort to change a more than 30 years of mental processing.


Now, before I was given this assignment, I was also told, when a person imagines a frightening event, or meditates on a wonderfully happy event, is is the exact same chemicals and brain function.
It is the exact same process in any persons mind, whether you see winning the Academy Award, or the National Lottery, as imagining the loss of a loved one.  That is huge knowledge for me.  As, I already know that any event, imagined vividly is as real to the mind as if you lived it.   One of the studies done in the US years ago, had to do with the trickiest Basketball shot to make,  a group of athletes practiced the 3 point shot for two weeks, the other group used meditation to vividly imagine scoring.   In the end, the group that vividly imagined the event were more accurate and successful.   


Although the events in my past were traumatic and painful, they gave me gifts and skills.   I am convinced that  I am more compassionate and understanding because of these experiences.  Without these experiences, I would not be who I am.   I was once told by a person {who considered himself to be a hybrid vampire,  another story that I must go into full details on later} that being totally surrounded by darkness indicates the strength of my light.   It's funny how I remember him making that statement yet and I couldn't get what a huge compliment it was, as I write it and read it now, my mind goes, surely that statement needs to be toned down a bit.


So, what are my 10 amazing things;-


What have I done that is worth noting down, remembering, perhaps even employing and developing?


I was told to start small,


I learned to read,  I learned to write, I learned to read music,
I learned to play the clarinet; the piano, hand-bells and a specialist technique called 4 in hands, meaning I could cover an entire octave of notes by myself.    {Yeah, a bit flashy, TOTALLY!!!}   
I learned how to develop my flexibility,  I learned how to use Yoga as a daily tool for flexibility and relaxation.   Although rather late in life, age 24, I learned how to turn a cartwheel!   
I learned to drive a car in the US and in the United Kingdom. 
I learned to write with calligraphy and traditional ink pen, a very distinctive way to write cards.   
I learned how to research and key plants and flowers,  I even did the project for my boyfriend in school, because he was certain to fail Biology without it.  {This is truly hysterical, because, I did my usual.  I tried to do a good job.  I can clearly remember using colours to help him with the key code.  So Christian, didn't hand it in until it was well over a week late, and I couldn't believe it, I asked why and he said,"it would be obvious that it wasn't my work!"}  
I learned how to choreograph and how to use fabric dye to permanently colour leotards.  


One really amazing thing I did was in college.  Where I did my Bachelors Degree, they didn't have a Dance major.  The one subject that I had really enjoyed and wanted to continue studying was Dance.  
If I really think about why I didn't go for it in a big way?   There are many circumstances, even cutting comments but the underlying issue will be confidence and esteem.    So, out of fear of being rejected, or worse not even having the raw potential,  I didn't apply to The School for the Arts, Oberlin College or  a Dancer's dream Juilliard, where I could spend entire days dedicated to furthering my study of Ballet, Modern & Jazz.  Shamefully I admit to the fact that I only filled out one college application, and I was fortunate to be accepted.  As a girl I hadn't been focused on grades,  I never did poorly in school, but out of choice, {again this is another long story} my grades where above average, except in Dance & Art where I always achieved the highest marks.


So, I went off to college where there wasn't a Dance major, nor minor programme.   But the most fascinating thing about this college was that it had Independent study programs for Junior and Senior years.   This was a great way to learn how to think for yourself,  but if you were wanting to do higher degree's this would assist you in preparation for writing a Master's dissertation.  So, at the beginning of my Junior year I petitioned the Dean of Faculty with a course of study so as I could graduate with a bachelor's of Dance and Performance Art.   It was a nerve racking 6 months, because if they decided against my proposal, I would have to declare a Theatre major, and there were courses that I still had to take which would mean I would have to take another year.   The other really positive outcome to writing up this petition was that it would demonstrate to the Board the need for full time dance curriculum.   Which would benefit one of my favourite people, my dance instructor Kim Tritt.   The end result was that I did achieve this and now a Dance major is a standard degree offer at the college.


It is interesting to reflect at how I let the man I married take away any feelings of achievement for this.  He often made sure to tell me, how useless my degree was.   Now, when I really look at what I have done since leaving college, my first job was teaching dance,  then I taught Yoga, when you think about it,  and almost all the teaching has been dance or fitness based so that degree was never wasted.   {Also,  I think teaching is a performance, because sometimes you have to explain things that might be difficult to understand, or don't come naturally?  So you need to engage your audiences imagination}  It also leads me to tell you, no matter what you study or read, it all helps, it all adds to the depth of character.  Any learning, and personal development will be worth it!


After I moved from the US to Scotland,  I really struggled to find work.  I eventually had to retrain in order to find a job that paid more than £3 per hour.  National minimum wage act was not enforce until 1999.  So I had to face something that I thought was too high an intellectual climb for me.     That being the intellectual challenge of learning how to use a computer!   I went to Pitman Training Centres and learning, touch typing, {still taught on typewriters in those days}, Teeline shorthand, I learned many computing courses, most of which were still in DOS.  After working as a temp and then as a Receptionist for a large construction firm,  I returned to Pitman Training Centre just over two years later to work as a member of staff.


My spouse was a keen runner, so in the early days of our engagement and the first years of our marriage, we would run 2 to 3 miles together, not much.   The truth is I hated running.  The entire time I was out with him going round the flats, breathing in the cars exhaust and second hand smoke, I hated it.   Then one day, a dear friend of mine was talking about the Women's 10K, " a great wee race",she said.   I felt so intimidated!   I hated the few miles that we did do, how would I survive doubling it?   So one brave day, we ran 4.5 miles.   Do you know what I discovered?   I discovered that those great endorphin's hit you after nearly 4 miles!  It could be different for everybody, but for me, I had to be going 4 miles before the good juice was flowing and I was in my rhythm.   I than ran a regular 4 miles,  and I did run the Women's 10k more than several times! 
   
After that, I become a mother, then we moved to the Gulf of Oman.   Then I had my second baby, moved back to the UK, making that my third International move.  Then I had my super wonderful blessing, my twins!   I didn't get a night's sleep for about 7 years!   I survived having 4 children under the age of 4, without any family around me to support me, and a spouse who engaged in cruel and abusive behaviours.   


When the twins were 16 months I started taking them to the local gymnastics club.   There the coach recognized my ability to engage with children and suggested I become a qualified Pre-school club coach.   This was a very challenging return to study & work, mostly because of what was going on between me and my and my former spouse.   He was fairly supportive of the Assist Club Coach course,and  in retrospect I believe it has to do with the fact that we had people staying in our home.  However, when it was suggested by that I go for the next course, he started to put serious blocks in my path.   He even went so far as to say, he wouldn't watch his own children while I  went to train on the course.  { It was one thing for me to have a night out with my friends, as he would be sure that the next month or so I would be paying for it, by taking grief about what a terrible mother I was.  But, to go away for a weekend?   So, these courses, these serious of personal development and further education & training heralded not only a higher wage potential, but for me, the awakening within.}


Then one day,  


I planned and executed my escape, with the help of some Earth Angel's {Debbie, Debbie & Peter, Suzi, Rosemary,and especially Jo who told me that Jesus would certainly not want me to live with some much misery}.


I left and without a scent from him, I went back to college to retrain again.   


Okay,


I have digressed,  {just a little?}   But what is so amazing about me?   Normally, I would tell you I am nothing special.  But I had to face a very important discovery at the end of my second college course.   As I studied   Holistic therapy and started to work the treatments, I was uncovering healing within me.   The more I opened up the door into my pain, the more I lifted another's spirit.   
Often during our class, we would have very deep discussions.   After giving a classmate a treatment, we were discussing a letter I had written to my Solicitor about my spouse's abusive behaviour.  She had to point out to me, that my focus was unusual, I remember looking at her and saying,"I thought everyone had heartfelt concern for others, like me."


I must accept that this very special way of caring for others is part of the very reason I am here.  One truly unique and amazing thing about me.


I have a funny feeling, as I go over this blog for my list of 10 amazing things about me, that I done my usual, that is, in an attempt to succeed very highly, I have probably gone way over the mark!


Okay, now it's your turn,  start with the very small accomplishments,  because this is important.   

On a very deep spiritual level, you must understand that you are here for a specific journey, for your soul's growth.   The Creator, God, Source of All that is, will accept your life's journey as valid.    If you complete your task, or only start your task and get sidetracked, and even if you decide to sit on the ground and put a hat out.  Your Soul & your experience are valuable, priceless, even!

Crying can assist Healing

When I was very young,  I was blessed with my Granny being around.   If I had fallen, or been stung by a bee, she was there to hold me while I cried.  

One summer, a colony of Wasps built there 'condo' in the open  pipe tube that was part of our swing set.  I am not sure if we all were stung, but eventually my Dad had to get out there and snuff them out with something from a spray can.


When I really focus on the image of running in the house for solace, I am reminded of how big my Granny seemed.   Not in a judgement way, that thinking comes from the social conditioning of media and peer groups.   But, it was, when she lifted me in her arms,  she always sat in the wooden rocking chair in the front room {where I spent much time dancing},  and when I was calm enough, it was as if her bosom encompassed my world.  My  Granny was my safe place in the world.  One other aspect of this superb relationship was, if I wanted to swing, she would push me.   Not only did she have the time to give me a push, but she always sang the song, You are my Sunshine.   This memory is so full of love and warmth that whenever I pushed my children on the swings, I sang to them that very song.


I don't consciously recall too many days before I was 4 years old.  There are a few vague memories of times that were traumatic, or emotionally charged.  I put this down too not have the depth of language and a clear understanding of a linear time line.


 {Now, after I have said all that, but I truly hold the premise that all our memories are held in the subconscious, even the prenatal memories.  Now this might strike you as a bit fantastic or incomprehensible, but if you are studying Holistic therapy or feel called to work as a healer, you have to look at the larger less quantifiable  part of who we are, which is the subconscious.   I have recently learned that three cells travel with us from one incarnation to another,  these cells will keep stored memories of events that will lead us to unconsciously create driving forces in our lives until we resolve them.  It is my intention to cover more of these topics in more depth later}.  


I don't consciously remember being told not to cry, but being the youngest I did often have to live with the jeers from my siblings and older children in the street, of  'cry baby'.   I probably learned through this hazing that I should keep my tears in, when in public.


When crying really became a shamed event was when I was approaching the age of 10.  I was in the car with my Dad.  I was riding 'shot gun'  which was usually the seat held by anyone BUT me, as I said, I was the youngest child in my family, the bottom of the pecking order.  I am trying to think of what was the topic, what had gotten us to the point where we were very close to an outright shouting match.   But the lesson that I so clearly took from this encounter was, the minute my eyes widened with tears my Father leveled me with an assault on my character!   Only the intellectually challenged are weak enough to express emotions!   The minute he saw he had me on that emotional cliff?  The disagreement was finished.    Now,  in my family, no one can win an argument with my Father.    Over the many years, after  we no longer have to live as his subjects,  a comical saying has been created to  describe this attitude of  my Dad's.  That his is the bright centre of the known Universe.   So we substitute his first name and then add the verse part of the word Universe, as all minds & thoughts of any minds shall be under his control.   But it just so hits the mark when trying to describe any encounter where your world view is not EXACTLY  his.


Now I believe we all have someone in our lives like this?  Yeah?   A person whom does not loose a fight, a person who will say whatever it takes to belittle you until you give in or concede. This pattern of argument style didn't assist me in make a better case for my opinions, it only made me stuff them all down.  Sometimes I did that by just holding my anger, but mostly I did it by eating.   Either way, is not going to bring peace or health!


My mother often never said a word in disagreement to my father.  Unlike my dear friend Connie, I was not brought up with violent abuse.  What went on was a more subtle and spiritually corrupt form of abuse.  Now, there wasn't discussion about these topics when I was a child.  Today, if you walk into the Post Office you will see posters advising you that the clerks have the right to perform their jobs without any verbal abuse.   In public bathrooms throughout the UK you will find posters  with advice and phone numbers on where to get help if you are suffering from domestic abuse.   Some might say it is obvious when your partner beats you that it is wrong.  What you must hold in mind, the rule of thumb.  This is the 'old Boys' club' ruling that a man can beat his wife with an switch as long it is no bigger than his thumb!


Now if we take into consideration that our family history is passed down to us.  Just like our eye colour, physical build and perhaps our career choices.  We have these inner drives that come to us, from time in the womb, being energetically influenced by our parents thoughts, which were passed unto them by their parents thoughts.  Do you see where I am going with this line of thought?   That on some level it may seem acceptable for the man, the Head of the Household to have this level of power, almost a sovereignty over the rest of the family.  I am not saying this is right, if you read my previous post on Connie, you will know that part of what happens in these abusive situations is that the victim also has an element of acceptance.   This can even happen when you are not brought up in a home where abuse is commonly used to control the family.   


I will have to talk more on this subject, as it has come into my life in many areas.  But I really want to talk about the importance of crying and allowing yourself a 'good' cry.


When we go forward from my age of 10, to the age of 11 when my father told us he was leaving my mother;-
I remember my father sitting the children down with him in the family room and telling us softly and gently.  In this manner trying to get us to view him as the sorrowful martyr in this situation and not the perpetrator the of the destruction of our family.   But because he was so good  at playing blameless and we {the children}  were so used to ingratiating ourselves, so he would be content to stay, that it was a porfound moment.  Unfortunately, my mother walked in and became enraged!   {I can so clearly understand why at this point in my life.}    What happens next is a serious of occasions where I find my mother crying.   Up until this point, my experience of my mother is this highly dynamic, zealous almost angry cleaning machine.  This was part of her defense strategy as well as a means of coping.

 I can remember certain times when my Father would slaughter a standing house rule. {that most likely my Mother had created}.  I can see her shoulders, jaw and eyes rigid on him, she is fuming inside but none will out!   But my Father's will was always served.  My mother always quietly did what he wanted.    So, my parents didn't argue or have loud verbal disagreements.   It was a very insidious control my father used to keep her in line, or under thumb and it took me well into my early 40's to really understand what mental/emotional abuse is.    So, through witnessing my mother's behavoiur I learned to keep much of my feelings in.    


But, after they separated, finding my mother crumbled in a heap crying became the norm.  It was years, before any sort of personal divine spark shone from my mother.   {If you want a clue as to if a loved one is feeling abused by their partner, look for the shine of divinity from their eyes!   When you are whole, happy and nurtured by your inner connection to spirit, you get a twinkle in your eyes}  Every Christmas from this point on was a marked occasion with, my Mom collapsing in tears sobbing, 'I want my family back'.


So crying was a shameful and pathetic thing for someone to do in my book.  I then started to seek strong female role models around me.  Imagine how happy I was when Buffy the Vampire Slayer was aired!   I encouraged my young daughter to watch it often.  I wanted her to know how powerful a woman can be!  


Now, in my married life there is a distinct and clear similarity to the road my parents marriage was on.   Unwittingly, my husband, had different and yet brilliantly conflicting parental issues to solve.  In his family, loud verbal confrontation was common place.  He expressed how distressing it was for him, as eldest child, to sit on the stairs listening to his parents  fight and use the crude swear words that the children were forbidden to utter.   My Husbands world view, held the belief, You can say anything you want when you fight!   It was about the time my precious daughter was 5,  my husband and I were in  the middle of a heated argument when she and her younger brother walked in.    They stopped,  I think they were about to turn and walk out, when my daughter said, "No, let's see who wins."   I was stopped by this dead in my tracks.  I had no clue how to argue or disagree with any form of clarity.   It is only through my recent counselling with THINKMOJO that I have learned I didn't have a female role model for standing up for oneself. 


When I finally packed some belongs in black bin bags and left my husband, I went to the protective stronghold, which was the Women's Aid Shelter.  When we arrived, I sat my daughter and son down and explained to them that I had to leave their father.  My daughter, all of 6 years old said, "Mom it will be good not to see you crying everyday."


These words pierced my facade.  I had no idea she saw me that way.  But if I really self reflect, I can speak of countless times of standing washing the dishes and crying so hard, that I needed to sit on the floor and curl into the fetal position.


Unfortunately,  on that day, after my daughter's insightful comment, I promised NO MORE CRYING!


It was a good year later, when I went back to college to study Holistic therapies that I learned to view crying as a very necessary and acceptable form of release for the body.


As therapists, not only are we encouraged to sit with our clients if they cry, but also to not engage in any form of curbing, nor suffocating of tears.   One Psychic Healer to me, "your tears are from you Soul.  They are a line of communication from one element of our subtle body, ie soul level to heart level."   


It took me a long time to understand that my lessons as a child, and teenager of holding back the tears, could have a devastating negative impact on my health.   Just as I am now convinced that my mother; by not speaking up for herself, not voicing her soul crushing hurt at my father's continuous erosion of her power and authority as Life giver to her children.    Is suffering health issues due to the stress and trauma of those decades of mental/emotional control and abuse.


The other side to crying which I have not covered, are those precious tears of joy!   When your heart is so full and overwhelmed by your loved ones that you spontaneously cry!  Inexplicable, and yet someone will ask, why are you crying?  Like there is something wrong with you.


I say, crying is normal, natural, part of who we are in this dimension.  Part of our necessary experience here!  Remember nobody, and I don't care if you believe Movie Stars or Rock Legends have non stop Party lives, because that is not the truth.  Everyone has a heartache they are carrying.   Everyone has a disappointment that is probably making them doubt themselves.  Everyone has  moments of despair.   


Next time the tears come, don't angrily force them away, nor choke & repress them.   Instead listen to them, allow them the grace of informing you your soul has something to say on the matter.

In closing,  I wish that you have more tears of inspired Joy in your life, then the tears that speak to you of sorrow.


I wish you Peace

Connie McGargle

When I was about to turn 5 we moved to Cherry Hill, New Jersey.  There is this image of long green patches, & quiet streets with few cars so kids can play on it.  This was a sweet community.  This was quintessential suburbia.  {Before it received it's bad reputation}.
 It was great during the summer, running through the backyards of the houses, playing tag, kick the can or hide and seek.   {I know that for the British, our American yards are very strange, we had no fencing to divide our neighbours houses from ours}.  There might have been a few flower features but these are kept to small patches at the front of the house.  So it was endless lawns of 4" high grass.   The other odd thing, is that we didn't run through wash lines.  I don't remember ever seeing a wash hanging on a line in Cherry Hill.  We certainly had enough good weather in the summer months for sheets to dry.  I guess we were all so modern in the US and had the dual set washer dryer.

{This fact, that I had no childhood experience of wash lines, made it quite bizarre when, in years to come, I would spend my married life, raising my children in Scotland.  When my twins were born, I was desperate for a clothes dryer.  My mother-in-law said she would send up a wash line.  I thought this was ridiculous!  It wasn't as if we lived in the reasonably drier part of Scotland!   To my mind, I would be putting wash out, only to run out and retrieve it before it was soaked by rain!  I had four children under the age of 4, how would that work exactly?}

But the best part of our life in Cherry Hill, was the community swimming pool was right at the end of our back yard!  I didn't even have to be old enough to cross the road to get there!   At that time, I could spend all day in the water pretending to be a Dolphin or a Mermaid!   Occasionally pretending to have a Tea Party at the bottom of the pool.  These are all good memories.
At this stage in my life, and in this house, my grandparents, George R & Gertrude used to drive up and visit us.  I always knew it was a special Saturday when I could smell Granfaddies coffee and Hot Cakes.  To this day I love the smell of coffee.   It reminds me of sitting in the company of someone who loves me.  Who thinks I am worth the time to talk to, has time to teach me how to shuffle cards.  


So there is this wonderful bond here for me to my father's parents.  My Granny would come up to watch us,  but mostly me as my brother & sister were in school.  I was only in Kindergarten.  My Granny was so unlike my mother.  She would play with me, she would hold me, if I need a cry over a bee sting.  She was the warmth and the unconditional love that wasn't present in any of my relationships within my home.


Again, there is loads of good here! 


 Now,  the sadder part of this story.  


I made a friend.   A friend I would love to apologize too.   Read on, and you too will understand.


I made and instant friend with a little girl of my age in the neighborhood, her name was Patricia.  I would go over to her house after my brother & sister left for school.  We would watch some cartoon on the TV.  I remember, like me, Patricia was often watched by her Grandmother.   She would often sit in the room with us, she never said too much, but was there for us.   I also remember, with great fondness of the time I spent within Patricia's house.  There was a warmth and a familial love, that wasn't present in mine.


Then,  my Granny sat me down and told me I could no longer play with Patricia.  My Granny, marched me over to Patricia's door,  made me knock on it and call her out.  I had to tell her I could no longer play with her.  I never really understood why I had to do this.  I wish with all my heart, my Granny hadn't done this.
It was a rotten thing to do, and that lovely little girl deserved so much better from us!

This then threw me in the path of Connie McGargle.  Connie lived 3 houses down from Patricia.   My Grandparents had no qualms with my playing there.   I guess they were the same social-economic group!  But. there were some very dark and serious problems within this household.  My little friend Connie had these deep red scars on her left shoulder.  She showed me, they went all around her shoulder joint.   The story was, that her brother had pushed her through the glass door at the back of the house.  She had nearly lost that arm.

 I had my first sleep over at Connie's house.  I remember we were in our pajamas, we were up late as it was dark outside & we were giggling about something.  Connie's brother came in, shouting about something.  He tore down the blankets, pulled up Connie's nightshirt and started to hail punches down upon her.  I remember this, and then I am watching the scene from above.  There are two things;- one I am mad with myself for never standing up for Connie, I wish I had known how to defend her!  The other, is the explanation of why I hate sleeping in strange places!   I think I was so frightened that I had inadvertently astral projected.

What I learned at that house, was that the oppression and subjugation of women by men is completed by acceptance and passed down.   If I really focus on the image of Connie's mother, she was beautiful, attractive I don't remember her being drunk, but there was always beer bottles around.  The house was clean, but I remember cutting my foot on broken glass inside the lounge.  I also knew that Connie's father beat her mother, I guess that was why no one ever thought to defend Connie from her brother.

I don't remember much after turning 7 years old.  I had a different teacher in school that year and made a friend who would be my best friend until well after I moved to the Naval Base in Bethesda.

Not that long ago, I was working with a Healer on my issues.  At that time, I had started writing my journey.  My very personal experience with abuse.  It brought much deep and unsettled pain to the surface.  During this one particular session, the Healer said, there is a woman in spirit around you.   And I asked, is it Connie McGargle?   To me,  I am not even sure why that name would come to me.  It has been decades since I lived in America, I hadn't spoken about her to anyone.  She said yes.   I took this knowledge and opportunity to apologize for not being strong enough to defend her.

When I think of my journey.  How hard it has been for me, being brought up in a house were Mental/Emotional abuse was used to control and dominate its members  and again, the focus is the Husband dominating and controlling the wife and therefore the children.  I wondered, did Connie ever escape?  Did she learn that love is nothing like the experience she had in her home?  I know the answer now.  Perhaps she came near me that day to encourage me to write this story and my story.

Writing my experience seemed a bit pointless.  I wondered, why was I writing this?  Why go over all this bad stuff?   Having to write it meant it was bringing up old memories that I have well buried under pounds of physical weight, and held down through heavy mental gates.  I mean, in my childhood, there are some beautiful days of innocent childhood play!  I must hold those memories dear.  But what good is writing all this?   I am not writing to make a Top Seller, or information to help someone make their first million?  So I had all these doubt's about it.  Then a friend said, how she loved to read real life stories of human spirit's triumph over adversity.  We all suffer that is true.   No one escapes it.   It is to be expected, like taxes!  What I am learning now, is that within this pain, and sometimes inexplicable situations, there are gifts.

That may be really hard to see, even right this moment as I write about Connie and really see it through my adult eyes, I am crying for her.

I always thought this story was about how my Grandparents Racism put me in a situation to be exposed to serious brutal abuse.  Now I think, I have to tell this story.  I have to make sure Connie didn't suffer for no reason.

So to Patricia, I am so deeply sorry that my Grandparents wouldn't allow us to play together.  I loved you, I loved being in your home, which your family opened so generously to me.  Even though my skin colour didn't match yours.  It never stopped You or your family from accepting me!

To Connie, thank you for sharing your Cheese Doodles and Barbies.   May you be surrounded by Angels,  may you know no pain and may your soul be at peace.  If there is more to say on your behalf, guide me.

Channel 5

In 1974, we moved to the Naval Base of Bethesda.

We moved every few years, which is normal for anyone whose parent works for the military.  Often we were called Army Brats.

However, this move was also a step up the ladder for my father.  His new posting was Chief of Medicine.  So our new house was set on a circle with only 4 others.  Next door to us was the Surgeon General's Home.   His, being the center of the 5 houses, and the biggest.  To be honest, I got quite a kick out of living next door to someone I thought of as famous.  His name was on all the cigarette packages!   Although, I never actually met him.

When we moved into the 'Quarters' as we called that house, we were amused with all the extra rooms, and built in bells.  The extra rooms were for servants, the bells were for summoning them.  Not really very nice when you think about how it might have been 30 years prior to our moving there.   But, we knew nothing of that, blissfully being born after the Black/White segregation had been put to bed.  

The other lovely aspect to living in the Quarters, was that we were really surrounded by nature.   So, there was a very limited friend base, however, we could ride our bikes and run through the long summer days and hardly cross another persons path.

When school started, we were collected by a car and all the children from that part of the Base were driven to school together.  This 'Naval Chauffeur'  only added to the obvious labeling of Army Brat!   Although, this privilege of living in a much bigger house and having plenty of fresh air and woodlands around, was all new, it did create a new anxiety.   I started to feel guilty for having more than others.   I can't remember designer labels, or watches, nobody had a mobile phone in those days.  I never carried money to school and I didn't wear jewelry back then.  So now that I think back, it must have been assumptions of the children from that first day in school.

For me, that first day was confusing.  My new school had no clue where to put me.  No one was expecting me.   My brother and sister were older and they were already beyond Elementary/Primary school.  So I was all on my own, being shuffled from one class to another.  Eventually I was sat in Mrs Fawley's classroom.   In there was a very odd young girl, she had her seat and desk up on what was a stage area.  She looked down at me and said,"You don't belong here."

So, it was a while before I found some friends,   During this time, I discovered Channel 5.   Channel 5 had this great routine!  The weekend started at 8 pm when Channel 5 would play movies, through to Sunday!  Now, as we had three floors and four televisions.  I could stay down, in the basement and watch the TV, all by myself AND  far more importantly, All night long or until my eyeballs rolled up in my head!  So, the choice of movies were generally lighthearted and rather dated., quite often I would get the chance to watch old Black & White Movies.

This was a time to learn about Abbot & Costello, Vincent Price, Dean Martin & Jerry Lewis movies!   There are so many it is hard for me to begin to describe the list in detail.   I remember a film called Irma La Douce, this film made in 1963 and was humorous and very odd, especially as think about my age at the time.  This film is about an honest man falling in love with a prostitute.

As an adult it brings up all kinds of questions,  should I really have been watching this?  Is this really a suitable topic for a comedy?  Then again, Pretty Woman, released 1990, was very similar, we see what a good girl this prostitute is.  We also reveal in the romance that blooms between that couple!


That is why going to the cinema is so great!  You are away from the house, so as a mother, you don't have to get up every two minutes to tidy something that needs your attention.   At the cinema, it is easy, to release your critical mind and leap into a world where a man who loves a prostitute finds joy, happiness and a life with more colour!   It is pure escapism!  And what a delight!   Sometimes we can work ourselves up to boiling point, trying to solve a problem and get more anxious and wound up!  It is, before you get so wound up, that you need to go and do something, that is meditative, or non thinking, like doing the dishes to your favorite song.  Or a trip to the cinema, where your mind is occupied by anything other than that work problem!   And, do you know what?   9 times out of 10, taking that break gives your subconscious mind the chance to solve the problem.

Now that I am fully grown with children of my own, I realize how important it is to bathe your mind in good thoughts and images.

So, Enjoy Today.  Take some time to not think!   But most importantly, find something to help your spirit soar, if it is a piece of music to dance too, or sing along with, or a movie that makes you laugh!

Dreamer Dreaming Dreams

My dreams have often held messages for me.


When I was very young, before every illness I had the same dream about Yosemite Sam.  {I know, sounds a bit strange, but he was the clue,  in fact, now that I really think hard about seeing him, I wasn't sleeping at all, I must have been hallucinating}

Sam would come to me when I was ill and I would go straight to my parents bed.  And you know, they didn't always appreciate it.  I can remember one night very clearly, I had climbed in between them, then sat up and started vomiting.   As I sat there shaking, sweating & in my own bodily fluids, my parents absconded!!  {Okay, so as a Mom now, I can imagine the desire to flee a vomiting little person, but at that moment it just served to make me feel worse}
There were times when my dreams were very, very real.  Don't we all have those times??, heartbeating out of your chest, sweat beading on your back and you have to turn on the light!   Was it just a dream?   Am I really awake now?
I had a series of those as a child.  Remember how I shared that I loved Dancing?   Well, there was only one room that I loved to dance in.   This nightmare takes place in there,  I am flying in a vortex around the room. Have you ever seen the film Poltergeist?  Do you remember what happens in the children's bedroom?   All the toys flying around the room?   This dream was exactly like that!   But I was revolving around and oddly, I am grey, and all the bits that are scattered in the air are Grey.  I cannot talk nor call for help.


But then there are those really special dreams.   They stand out.


One dream that stands out, I believe I was about 10.  I am convinced we were in a Hotel room , as there is no chair in my bedroom at home.  The only trip I can remember at that time is a trip to New Orleans.  In this dream, my Grandfather is asking me to give a message to my Father.   I get up out of my bed and walk to my sleeping Father.  I shake him awake and say,"Grandpa wants to speak to you".   My Father's response was confusion, as his father had died.  I told him to look Grandpa was sitting over in that chair!   I could see him, just like I can see this computer screen.  My father was irate!  He demanded I go straight back to my bed, telling me I was crazy.   It is my firm belief, that only when I am in the deep relaxation that slumber offers, that spirit has been to reach me behind the wall I put up that very night.  As I crawled back in bed, seeing the outline of my grandfather's shadow, repeating I am crazy.   How can I see him?  I am crazy.  Is my mind unstable?  My overactive imagination.

Have you ever experienced anything like this?