12 months

A year ago today I received the "last word" from my ex-boyfriend via an email. The past twelve months have brought freedom, struggles, independence, sadness, but above all, a renewed sense of self. Today I celebrate my growth, the distance I've traveled and the way Life marches on.

My "last word"? Silence.

Unexpected milestones

It's funny. The experience of healing from trauma happens first in transitions from minute to minute (when it's all you can do just to breathe and put one foot in front of the other), to hourly, daily, then week-long and monthly steps away from the pain. 

Somewhere along the way, the memories that used to smother you disperse and -- if you're like me -- you start to focus more on the possibilities of Life than on what you were fortunate enough to leave behind. But it's days like today that snap me out of complacency and pseudo-amnesia to note the pervasive problem that affects millions in the USA alone, not to mention every other country around the world.

Shattering the cliched belief that domestic violence is a 'personal' problem to which one should turn a blind eye or deaf ear, a story broke this morning about a 37-year-old man in Albuquerque who shot dead two people and injured four more (among them his girlfriend) before turning the gun on himself. This is not an issue that is contained by the four walls of a home. It spills out onto our streets and into our workplaces. It often leaves the victims homeless (usually mothers with children, jeopardizing her ability to provide for them and their chance at an education). The cycle repeats itself with the nasty subtext that many who witnessed the horror as a child become perpetrators themselves, spawning new generations of abusers and the subsequent ripple effect across society.

The second event was the widespread reporting of a recorded abusive rant that was allegedly Mel Gibson threatening to kill his ex-girlfriend. The audio speaks for itself, but there are a few points worth noting:

• an abuser usually feels like the victim ("you see what you make me do?") 
• an abuser feels entitled and under-appreciated ("I deserve ...")
• an inflated self-image is usually paired with an excess of insecurity
• the problem is always with the other person
• the abuser criticizes anybody in the victim's support network to isolate the victim; the abuser may base criticisms on the way family members or friends fall short in loving the victim, according to the abuser's perspective, or on perceived lack of morality, pedigree, etc.
• Sample argument recycled from conversation to conversation: "You don't have any friends. I am your only friend and you treat me like ____, which is why you deserve to be treated this way. And if you were smart you'd see that the way I'm treating/hurting you is for your own good."
• the abuser can swing between provocation and efforts to silence (taunting/bullying the victim and then snapping when he/she speaks out) 
• abusers are unable to manage their anger, yet seek to use it to control others

I was hesitant to listen to the clip, unsure of how I'd react to returning to the past. While my heart breaks for the women who are still caged by rage, I was reassured. I could hear the attacker's words and with a knowing nod -- instead of teary eyes or a racing heart -- note in myself a healthy level of detachment. While the rant took me back to the tumult of years past, it also accentuated the peace (and welcome silence) I have savored since leaving. May all those who feel trapped find a safe and healthy way out.

A particular playlist

... springing from a conversation with my sidekick-in-crime (not pictured :-]). She's doing awesome things in other women's lives and she reminded me how widespread an issue relationship abuse is. Here are my top picks for women weighing their options or trying to pick up the pieces of their hearts and lives after leaving: 

1. Remember That by Jessica Simpson
2. Stupid in Love by Rihanna
3. Spotlight by Jennifer Hudson
4. Cold Case Love by Rihanna
5. There's More to Me Than You by Jessica Andrews
6. Survivor by Destiny's Child 
7. Fighter by Christina Aguilera
8. I Get Out by Lauryn Hill

Peace and love --m.g.h.

Processing pain

I've never identified with Eeyore. While I feel for him and always hope I'll get to see him having a good day, his negativity grates on me.

My parents raised my sisters and me with an appreciation for empowering oneself and rising above any difficult situation (both of them are political refugees and lost everything only to adapt and rebuild in three countries).

Which is why I hope that those of you who know me can appreciate the distinction between my self and my blog. Scanning the list of titles to prompt my memory of posts, I realize there's a lot on here that's sad, bordering on angry, and working from being victimized to becoming a survivor. I've used this space as a way of reclaiming my voice through the haze of disorientation and pain in the wake of major life changes. I've also dedicated a lot of real estate to domestic violence for healing purposes but also in hopes of raising awareness on an issue that is often kept safely in the shadows with justifications like "It's personal," or "It's just between them." The truth is it's a public issue and it's between all of us because on many levels our society permits it (and will continue to do so until more dialogue and ownership takes place). [dismounting soapbox]

It can be uncomfortable to face the rawness in these situations and disconcerting to see someone's heart laid bare (unless you're an artist who strives to do that as well), but I hope that you'll continue to take this journey with me. If you know me, I hope that you'll also set these soulful struggles within the greater picture of who you know me to be. If you don't know me, well, I hope that my writings resonate and move you on some level. If they give you greater clarity on some situation in your life, I would consider my time on earth a success.

I will continue to write through the process of healing, and embracing the transformative effect of pain. Looking back at legendary artists' lives, I can't help but notice that few, if any, led easy, happy lives. But they found solace in their pain with the opportunity to channel that into self-expression and into leaving some kind of legacy (although most died before earning the public's appreciation).  Studying their lives has motivated me not to run from the painful moments but to surrender to them instead.

"I do not believe that sheer suffering teaches. If suffering alone taught, all the world would be wise, since everyone suffers. To suffering must be added mourning, understanding, patience, love, openness, and the willingness to remain vulnerable."  (--Anne Morrow Lindbergh)

Gratitude

December 30, 2009

I fell asleep last night counting my blessings instead of sheep. I'm reminded of just how blessed I am each day for various reasons.

Yesterday I felt acutely aware of the blessings of freedom I take for granted every day, and sympathetic to the struggles of people around the world who have taken a courageous stand against tyrants.

As the icy rain tapped against my windowpane, I also was aware of all those who were fighting for a bed in a shelter or facing a bitterly cold night on the sidewalk.

My stomach was grumbling as I closed my eyes, which reminded me of all those around the world who hadn't eaten in days (and may never know what a full stomach feels like).

So I started a list of the many reasons I am so grateful.

• Shelter above my head that I can call home
• Three meals a day (or more if desired)
  
• Heater
• Warm clothes (that even have style) as opposed to whatever's available in the donation bin (or none)
  
• Shoes
  
• Freedom of speech 
• Freedom of the press
• Freedom to worship as I believe (and the gift of faith)
• Gender equality (more or less) in comparison to the situations many other women face. American women largely face economic inequality and violence on the streets and in their homes (still unacceptable), while other women face a whole host of evils solely based on gender: stonings, acid attacks, burnings, genital mutilation and honor killings, or they're killed in the womb simply because they don't have the right "parts" and are deemed worthless or a burden.
•  A job
• A loving, healthy family
• All five senses (sight, smell, taste, touch, hearing - a pretty awesome combo!)
• A body that moves and becomes the vehicle to enjoy my passions (dancing, writing, music, cooking, being outdoors)
• An education
• The gift of literacy
• Travel experience
• A loving kitty (shout-out to her foster parents!)
• A set of wheels
• The opportunity to create a life for myself
• The resilience of the human spirit
• The gift of HOPE

Bite-sized inspiration

"The world is full of suffering.
It is also full of overcoming it."

--Helen Keller

Witness

Crushed by the pain that only another human can inflict, her voice rose shrilly above the silence in our hallway. My neighbor had just been told over the phone that her husband, the father of her infant, was having an affair. The heartache hung from the uncontrollable shrieks strung together to confront him. How could he, if not in consideration for her than for their child? she asked him.

There is no pain so deeply felt than that inflicted by the carelessness or malice of another human being. I stood in my entrance hall paralyzed by the raw emotion and involuntarily sharing a pivotal, tragic moment in three lives: the breakup of a marriage. "Happily ever after" was ending. Real life had hijacked the fairy tale. My innocence shattered alongside her hope: No matter how much we believe in and plan on an end result (happy marriage, etc.), life offers no guarantees. Unpleasant realities arise without an invitation.

As I stood a silent witness to the demise of this woman's imagined future, I knew that there are few things in the world so ugly as the death of hope -- whether it be in the broken heart of a betrayed spouse, or the glazed eyes of refugees living in limbo.

Hope is that life-substance that helps us look past our current disappointments to have faith in the future. It is the vaccine that gives immunity against the pathogen of despair. It moves us past life at a standstill, past our static selves paralyzed by pain, to open our eyes to the possibilities of finding joy again. Slowly, at first, we learn to trust, to allow ourselves gradually to lose that chapter and be captured by life's goodness again -- the chance to practice our passions, whatever they may be, and to impact positively our world one person at a time. For the truth is this: Just as we can inflict the greatest pain over each other, we also can lift each other up to great heights.

I worried about this woman into whose life I had been pulled without ever having met her. Pain was our common denominator. I worried for her reaction today and for her healing in the future. Would she be one of those bitter colleagues at the office, an "empty-shell" person that Sandra Oh describes in Under the Tuscan Sun? Or would she be like Frances Mayes who grieved, grew and got a new beginning? I sincerely hope it will be the latter for her, the child's and the world's sake. When these huge hurts are overcome, one becomes an ambassador of hope, of which our world is in great need.

I eventually did get to meet her. I worried in her pain and grief, she'd do something regretful. I imagined that she must feel so alone and so I knocked on her door. I asked her if she needed anything and she smiled and calmly apologized for shouting earlier. "I was having an argument," she explained. I reassured her that I understood. She briefly teared up, thanked me and shut the door. Her discretion impressed me. I could relate with her pride.

I prayed that what she truly needs she receives and that she may find and walk the road to healing. My decision today: I will not be a silent witness when faced with despair.

--February 3, 2008

***

Inspired by that encounter I wrote the following two poems: 

Phoenix

The news breaks.
The cold shower soaks you to the bone:
You've been betrayed
by the one closest to you.

Reality hijacks the fairy tale.
Castles in the cloud crumble to dust.
All that you knew and took for granted is shattered.
Your life is a blank slate.
Your comfort zone evaporates,
sparing not even the immediate perimeter around you
You are not even at home in yourself.

A monumental task lies before you
as you stand dazed on quivering knees:
Rise phoenix-like from the ashes of your former life
to rediscover yourself beyond
the comforts of the hypnotizing routine
that carried you up to the moment of truth.
Your tears will someday bring life to another in this situation.
You will be a testament to courage,
an ambassador of hope.

For now, grieve
but surround yourself with supportive friends
who will share in your loss
and pull you from despair's quicksand.

***

Untitled

Pain strikes like a snake
at your most vulnerable spot
The venom of despair and anger
burn through your blood,
paralyzing your thoughts

You cry out and collapse
expecting death is near
But you awake the next morning
with the ache
surprised by your body's ability to run
without your participation

Some sit with the venom
as if it were medicine for their pain
It overtakes them and
transforms them
into a poisonous presence

Others spit it out and
detoxify their wound
the scar will always be there
but its power and the pain fade

A very few find they are
strengthened by their wounds
discovering new purpose and drive in their lives.
They are an enviable lot --
seemingly immune to the venom
that swallowed so many
But it is their pain management, not immunity,
that is their secret strength.
They open themselves to the
challenging effects of suffering
and rise above it all.