There is much to learn about everything, and I am like a sponge when it comes to things I am curious about. In the last 24 hours, I learned how to Andean ply (to make a two ply yarn from one single using a bracelet type of winding on one's wrist), how to rig a quick gizmo involving a disposable cup and knitting needles so you DON'T have to use your wrist for the aforementioned plying, how to spin yarn from torn strips of fabric (I foresee some lovely cat beds in the not too distant future!), how to Navajo ply on a drop spindle (also known as chain plying, and perfect for the cobweb weight cashmere I've got literally about a mile of), what an Indian charkha is and what it's good for, and how to make a really cheap lazy kate for my plying activities.
I also like to plumb the depths of my mind from time to time to figure out why I am the way I am, why I feel the way I do, why I react to certain things the way I do, etc. I think that there's always more to learn about oneself, especially when one has lived a life like mine. I've made really excellent progress over the last few years, I think in part because I was introduced to certain Zen teachings. I can't for the life of me remember the guy's name at the moment, but I watched a ton of his videos and while I was initially confused, I eventually caught on and was able to use his techniques on myself. Basically, the premise is that you are like a very multifaceted diamond, or a corporation with many, many employees- and all of your employees are important and valid. Your employees might include happy you, angry you, the sad teenager, etc. Sometimes, one of your employees will request a meeting with you, and you will see them in yourself over and over again until you confront them and let them speak. Sounds somewhat schizophrenic, or like some kind of multiple personality disorder bullshit, I know- but it works for me.
Anyhow, lately, the part of me known as the Stunted Child has been rearing her head. I let her have her say- in fact, I wrote it all down. Warrior Woman makes an appearance towards the end. I'm going to share it here, for future reference, and because it might help someone who can identify with it, if there's anyone out there who can. I'm not putting the original here, because it needs editing, so I'm just going to edit as I go.
I AM THE STUNTED CHILD.
Great bars of darkness and sadness and hard feelings and silence enclose me tightly, preventing me from growing. There are things I know not to talk about, and this includes my feelings of fear and isolation and incredible insecurity.
I know real darkness, and real things to be really afraid of beyond the things that keep me in my cage, but somewhere along the way, the lines and boundaries have blurred and shifted, and everything is a potential threat. I do not have a loving, stable foundation. Nothing is solid under me, or behind me. No reassurance is ever given. Everything seems forever conditional, including the love of family. Will I always be loved? Am I worthy of love? Was I ever loved? Over and over again, in self defense, to save myself from more inevitable hurt, I conclude NO.
My mother is beaten and abused violently in front of me, often. I am taken from her. I am given to someone cruel and manipulative. I cannot gauge how much dignity, self respect, or self love my mother had while she was being abused, or if she had any pride left at all. She had enabled her abuser with alcohol, while trying to drink away her own sorrows and shortcomings. But I do know that I did not start out with much dignity or pride, and I had no notions of self respect or self love. My guardian is a person who does not deserve the title, and takes great delight and advantage of this. While it is routinely beaten into me to take pride in my schoolwork so as to keep up the outward appearance of a well adjusted, intelligent child, it is routinely beaten out of me at home that I should have any kind of pride in myself for achieving anything.
At first alone by cautiousness and the inevitable fences that abuse forms around a damaged kid, I am later actually isolated in some ill guided, cruel attempts at "discipline." Therefore, I have no map outside the home to study normal social behaviors, and I am certainly not learning them within my home. All I am taught is that I am bad and wrong and I should be ashamed of my very existence. While I know deep down that my abuser is bad and wrong, I also know that I am powerless to change or end the relationship for the time being. I come to the conclusion that the only way to change the status quo is to die.
My attempt fails. It would be a Pyrrhic victory otherwise; my abuser does not know and is probably incapable of knowing that she has done anything wrong. In order to step out of the role of whipping boy, I have cut off all contact with her. But although it would seem she is now powerless over me, this is not true. The effects of her words and actions have traveled far into the future, over my head and sprawling in front of me even now, in a slowly diminishing, yet sadly still thick fog. I am unaware and unconcerned with whether or not she knows this; my main concern is to navigate out of this wretched haze as unscathed as possible.
Somehow, I have a strong sense of self preservation, some deep seated primal instinct to survive and adapt by all means necessary, despite my singular attempt to throw it all away. I was thrown into a hole; I fell deeper and deeper down the hole. While I was capable of finding beauty in the ugliness and contentment among the misery, I was still falling down. I looked into the heart of darkness and found something positive, but it was only a function of self preservation. Out of negativity and cruelty and madness I build my steps out of the abyss. I am the stunted child who was never fed enough love or stability to grow properly, but I am also the warrior woman who is climbing swiftly out of the deepest recesses of despair with a sword in my hand and a fire in my heart. I am finding peace, but I will never be afraid to fight for what's right.
I will never be ashamed or afraid to defend myself; indeed I will make sure I am always someone worth defending. The stunted child will always be a part of me, but now she knows she is loved and accepted for who she is. Unconditionally and forever, she has a home in my heart and she is perfect in her role. She doesn't need to be anything other than the stunted child. As she is, she has taught me empathy and compassion and to find peace and stillness among whirlwinds of fear and darkness.
She is still largely unsupported by anyone but me though. And that's ok. If someone chooses not to accept her for what she is, they will never meet her. If they choose not to believe in her, they will never see her. But when she needs to speak, I will let her. Even if no one else does, I respect her for who she is.
I also like to plumb the depths of my mind from time to time to figure out why I am the way I am, why I feel the way I do, why I react to certain things the way I do, etc. I think that there's always more to learn about oneself, especially when one has lived a life like mine. I've made really excellent progress over the last few years, I think in part because I was introduced to certain Zen teachings. I can't for the life of me remember the guy's name at the moment, but I watched a ton of his videos and while I was initially confused, I eventually caught on and was able to use his techniques on myself. Basically, the premise is that you are like a very multifaceted diamond, or a corporation with many, many employees- and all of your employees are important and valid. Your employees might include happy you, angry you, the sad teenager, etc. Sometimes, one of your employees will request a meeting with you, and you will see them in yourself over and over again until you confront them and let them speak. Sounds somewhat schizophrenic, or like some kind of multiple personality disorder bullshit, I know- but it works for me.
Anyhow, lately, the part of me known as the Stunted Child has been rearing her head. I let her have her say- in fact, I wrote it all down. Warrior Woman makes an appearance towards the end. I'm going to share it here, for future reference, and because it might help someone who can identify with it, if there's anyone out there who can. I'm not putting the original here, because it needs editing, so I'm just going to edit as I go.
I AM THE STUNTED CHILD.
Great bars of darkness and sadness and hard feelings and silence enclose me tightly, preventing me from growing. There are things I know not to talk about, and this includes my feelings of fear and isolation and incredible insecurity.
I know real darkness, and real things to be really afraid of beyond the things that keep me in my cage, but somewhere along the way, the lines and boundaries have blurred and shifted, and everything is a potential threat. I do not have a loving, stable foundation. Nothing is solid under me, or behind me. No reassurance is ever given. Everything seems forever conditional, including the love of family. Will I always be loved? Am I worthy of love? Was I ever loved? Over and over again, in self defense, to save myself from more inevitable hurt, I conclude NO.
My mother is beaten and abused violently in front of me, often. I am taken from her. I am given to someone cruel and manipulative. I cannot gauge how much dignity, self respect, or self love my mother had while she was being abused, or if she had any pride left at all. She had enabled her abuser with alcohol, while trying to drink away her own sorrows and shortcomings. But I do know that I did not start out with much dignity or pride, and I had no notions of self respect or self love. My guardian is a person who does not deserve the title, and takes great delight and advantage of this. While it is routinely beaten into me to take pride in my schoolwork so as to keep up the outward appearance of a well adjusted, intelligent child, it is routinely beaten out of me at home that I should have any kind of pride in myself for achieving anything.
At first alone by cautiousness and the inevitable fences that abuse forms around a damaged kid, I am later actually isolated in some ill guided, cruel attempts at "discipline." Therefore, I have no map outside the home to study normal social behaviors, and I am certainly not learning them within my home. All I am taught is that I am bad and wrong and I should be ashamed of my very existence. While I know deep down that my abuser is bad and wrong, I also know that I am powerless to change or end the relationship for the time being. I come to the conclusion that the only way to change the status quo is to die.
My attempt fails. It would be a Pyrrhic victory otherwise; my abuser does not know and is probably incapable of knowing that she has done anything wrong. In order to step out of the role of whipping boy, I have cut off all contact with her. But although it would seem she is now powerless over me, this is not true. The effects of her words and actions have traveled far into the future, over my head and sprawling in front of me even now, in a slowly diminishing, yet sadly still thick fog. I am unaware and unconcerned with whether or not she knows this; my main concern is to navigate out of this wretched haze as unscathed as possible.
Somehow, I have a strong sense of self preservation, some deep seated primal instinct to survive and adapt by all means necessary, despite my singular attempt to throw it all away. I was thrown into a hole; I fell deeper and deeper down the hole. While I was capable of finding beauty in the ugliness and contentment among the misery, I was still falling down. I looked into the heart of darkness and found something positive, but it was only a function of self preservation. Out of negativity and cruelty and madness I build my steps out of the abyss. I am the stunted child who was never fed enough love or stability to grow properly, but I am also the warrior woman who is climbing swiftly out of the deepest recesses of despair with a sword in my hand and a fire in my heart. I am finding peace, but I will never be afraid to fight for what's right.
I will never be ashamed or afraid to defend myself; indeed I will make sure I am always someone worth defending. The stunted child will always be a part of me, but now she knows she is loved and accepted for who she is. Unconditionally and forever, she has a home in my heart and she is perfect in her role. She doesn't need to be anything other than the stunted child. As she is, she has taught me empathy and compassion and to find peace and stillness among whirlwinds of fear and darkness.
She is still largely unsupported by anyone but me though. And that's ok. If someone chooses not to accept her for what she is, they will never meet her. If they choose not to believe in her, they will never see her. But when she needs to speak, I will let her. Even if no one else does, I respect her for who she is.
