On the day before Mother's Day..

I'm always uncomfortable around this time of the year. My mother used to say Mother's Day was "just another day". I would cringe because I knew it was more about her behavior as my mother than mine as her daughter. I always bought her a present and tried to make her happy. Unfortunately, I was trying to connect with someone who found nurturing challenging. Even when my parents divorced, she wasn't happy on that day. She died in 1996. Her birthday was two days ago. Had she lived, she would have turned 84. 

When the boys were young, we made a  big deal out of Mother's Day and Father's Day. Their Dad would take them to the store and buy flowers to plant on Mother's Day and we'd have a nice lunch or dinner. Father's Day was typically a barbeque or something. We never had the money to go anywhere, so we celebrated at home. Just being together as a family seemed enough. Our birth families were so dysfunctional that I suppose we tried to create a family of our own...without any of the drama we both grew up with.

But then college happened and everything changed. And now I find myself, the day before Mother's Day, hearing my mother's voice echoing in my heart. It's just another day. Because that's what it feels like. A mountain range separates us now, but the road goes both ways. The effort should as well.

The last year has been one of total transition for us. We received an eviction notice from our landlord at the commercial space we were renting after complaining to the city that the guy in back was poisoning us with styrene fumes (which is against city code as well as against all decency). After almost 14 years in business, we had to close because we couldn't financially survive the move. Our business was seasonal and we typically had to make 5 months of income last for 12 and we were coming out of winter on the previous year's money, so there was no time to move and bank what we needed for the following winter. Signing a year lease with someone didn't seem responsible, so we reluctantly closed our business and retired..about five years sooner than we intended to. By the time Mother's Day arrived, we were completely out of there and back home. We didn't celebrate that day..the loss was just too staggering.

Although we've certainly accepted what's happened, and are actually much happier than we were while in that business, it's definitely been a transition for us. It would have been nice to have our boys close by, but it is what it is. Kids grow up and move away. They're both busy in their lives and both have new jobs which is very cool, and we couldn't be more proud of them. And the last thing they need to worry about is their parents. But then Mother's Day arrives, followed by Father's Day and when we don't see them, feelings of loss abound. 

Here's the thing that kids need to know when they become adults. Your parents still need you in their lives. Yes, it's different when you're an adult. It's not like you end your relationship with your parents when you become adults. You begin a new one. One of reciprocity. And then, when we become old and decrepit, it becomes more one-sided again..with you guys in the driver's seat. It's the circle of life. It's how it's supposed to work.

For women, life is one continuing transition, from childhood through adulthood. In Wicca, it's represented by the Triple Goddess, or Maiden, Mother and Crone. It's a confusing process, for sure. We're conflicted as to our roles and how they play out. Society doesn't help by trying to oppress and judge us at every turn. When we reach our Crone years, as I have, we see more clearly the circle of life played out in front of us. We have become wise women. How can we not be after living through all that we have? We know that family is the nucleus of everything, and connection is vital. 

In truth, Mother's Day should celebrate the nurturer in us all, and offer an opportunity to extend love and gratitude to everyone in our lives. That's our purpose here, particularly now as the old era is giving way to the new. The Divine Feminine exists in everyone. Compassion will replace oppression as we go forward together in oneness. Celebrating Mother's Day as well as Father's Day next month is another way to express to those who nurture us along in life that we love and appreciate them. And what's better than that?

~Blessed Be

Maiden, Mother, Crone..Embracing the Goddess Within

I love it when women are defined in ways that limit us. It gives us such an opportunity to thumb our collective nose at all those people who think they know us. The worst is when it's a woman doing the defining. She has obviously accepted a more patriarchal view of herself and bought into it hook, line and sinker.

I read an article that discussed the changes women go through and how that impacts the family structure. It ended with a comment from a woman who thought that maybe she might still have some value in the family and society even though she was now in menopause. As if you're only valuable if you can bear children? 

What on earth has happened to us? Hobby Lobby (a place I will never go into) has decided that they don't, as a company, want to provide birth control as part of their insurance policies for their employees. Are they also going to restrict Viagra? Or are men exempt from this type of personal control? All of this is under the guise of religious freedom. But which religion? Because as far as I can tell, it seems to center around whatever understanding of Christianity you're told to have.

Well, I for one, am done listening to everyone else's view of me. If that means negotiating outside the margins then that's just fine. It's easy to become caught up in the drama of others and to seek a level, if you will. Vibrationally, we try to match the levels of others so that conflict and drama subside. Unfortunately, that means for some of us, lowering our vibrational levels, resulting in distress and sometimes illness. We've convinced ourselves that we have to go along to get along. The problem is, we limit ourselves when we do that, instead of setting the example and living the life we want to live.

We live our best life when we live authentically. We cannot do that when we listen to oppressive judgment. Our inner voice tells us the truth. We need to listen to it and reject placement by others. We can be anything we want to be and we need to convey that to our children, be they sons or daughters. In our Maiden years, we have a right as young women to live in such a way that maximizes our potential, instead of settling for something that stifles it. If marriage and/or motherhood isn't what you either want or are ready for, you should be able to choose that for yourself without hearing the likes of Rush Limbaugh tell your parents on his radio show that you're a slut for wanting birth control. Not all women use birth control for birth control. But even if they do, it's their private decision, not one the company they work for should be involved with. Of course the simplest thing to do there is to create a single-payer system and take the employer out of it completely. But that's not happening yet.

If you do choose motherhood, then you should be able to do so and not worry about the implications of that. Communities should be geared around preservation of the family. But then that would involve ideas like equality and respect, and that's a bridge too far for some people these days. What's missing is the understanding that we are all one - physically, spiritually, all of it. If we all embraced this fact, then it would be anathema to even consider oppressing anyone. Instead, we would be looking for ways to elevate us all.

Now, back to menopause and value. I read a piece a few years ago by an author whose name I cannot remember in Huffington Post which suggested that instead of looking at menopause as a bad thing, to look at it as a time when the fugue state we're in during our Mother years (whether we have children or not) vanishes, leaving only clarity and wisdom. Wow..how brilliant! That's exactly what it is! Your Crone years are the years where you become the Wise Woman. You've lived through the drama and the wisdom gained is endless. You have the benefit of hindsight that only comes with age. I embrace my Crone transition because I embrace the Goddess within. I don't need plastic surgery, or hair dye for that matter..I'm happy with my silver hair. I developed a Witch's streak in college, and after that, my brown hair gave way to silver everywhere. I don't discourage women from making themselves look younger if that's what they want to do. Just make sure it's for you..and not for someone else.

It's easy to give yourself away to keep the peace. Unfortunately, no one learns the lessons they need to learn, including yourself. We're far more important than they give us credit for. We don't need to explain ourselves to anyone. We are loving beings and we need only to live our lives in such a way that honors our connection to Source. 

We are Maidens. We are Mothers. We are Crones. 

We are Goddesses. It's time we embraced that and give the the world the balance it so desperately needs.

~Blessed Be!

When we cannot tell..

I believe you. Three powerful words that mean everything to a survivor.

Dylan Farrow wrote a letter that was published in Nic Kristof's blog at the New York Times recounting her sexual abuse by her step-father. Everyone knows who he is, so I won't mention his name. I refer to my own abuser by his first name, and not by dad, because he doesn't deserve that title. No father does, step or otherwise.

Some famous people have come out and made their comments. I suppose they're entitled to that just as I am. But I have to say, if this is true, their comments are devastating, particularly from the women. So here's what it's like..

We don't tell because no one will believe us. Or at least we think they won't. Sometimes, as in my case, the abuser has weapons. I knew better that to say anything. I had the conversation with my mother when I was nine, and she told me to never mind. I stood there, dumbfounded. It was then that I knew she was on board with abuse. Dylan's mother believed her. As she should. No one should have to hear what my mother said. No one should have to know she's completely alone.

I knew that if I told anyone, and I came close many times, that my abuser would kill me. Simple as that. He had an arsenal at his disposal, and I knew my name was on every gun in that closet. It was only a matter of time. Throughout my childhood, I had set up an elaborate escape plan that included suicide if necessary. I spent most of my life in my room, afraid of what would happen if I came out. When we moved to Oregon, he began going out to bars at night. I could come out when he left. Since he was a teacher, he got home early each day. We'd have dinner, where all kinds of nonsense would occur, and then he'd leave for the bar. He would close the place, so a sense of calm would return in his absence. But then, he'd come home. 

His co-conspirator, my mother, finally got fed up enough that she went to the bar, walked in, told him she was taking his car, came home, packed it with his clothing and waited. He arrived, the fight ensued, and he began taking her things out of the closet, throwing them out on the front lawn. I called the police, telling them if he started hitting her, he wouldn't stop, so the police arrived. Lots of them. There were ten cars there when we left, and five more were coming, lights active on all of them. It was around 3 am. The neighbors were awake and watching.

She didn't leave him.

It took until I graduated from high school for her to leave. I graduated at the end of my junior year because that's what we sometimes do..we overachieve in an effort to keep the abuser away. If we're better, then maybe it won't happen. If we're smarter, then maybe it won't happen. If we're just better..

I found the apartment we would live in. I took her and my brother to see it and she rented it immediately. We moved within days, while he was at work. He found us three weeks later by following her home from work.

The last abuse happened when I was ten. It happened on the trip down to Oregon from Alaska. My mother forced me to go with him so he wouldn't be alone. She and my brother took an airplane. Lucky them.

Throughout my childhood, I tried to manage everything. I tried to manage my mother's feelings and behavior, and when that didn't work, I managed my way out. Still, her love was conditional on what I could do for her and since I left, her presence was there only upon my initiation. When she died, I was the one who took care of everything. Because that's what we do. We give ourselves away with emptiness in return. When my abuser died last year, his wife continued the pressure by sending me all of his death bills. I don't know this woman..I've never met her..yet she thinks I'm responsible for her husband's medical bills. This went on for four months. It seems to have ended. She evidently couldn't figure out why a daughter wouldn't want to see her father, or why his grandchildren don't see him either. They were married for less than ten years. You'd think she'd have questioned..instead she married a pedophile.

So, for everyone out there who wants to support Dylan's step-father instead of Dylan, just stop. Or if you can't, don't support him publicly. If you cannot stand with Dylan, then keep it to yourself. She took such a risk coming out this way and sharing her experience. The only people who know what happened are Dylan and this man. These are not trivial experiences. They're life changing. No matter what peace you're able to make, you're changed forever. You don't tell to get even. You tell because you have to. You tell because you'll explode if you don't. You tell because you want to scream from everywhere that he's not what you think he is. He's a predator.

You tell because at some point, you have to matter, even if only to yourself. When people question your motives, or your timing, or whatever other ridiculous thing they want to say, it destroys you just a little more. It's hard to be strong and complete in the face of that.

So I'll end this the way I began. I believe you, Dylan.