FOO Fighter

FOO = Family Of Origin

My childhood was a very confusing one.

In my first four years, it seemed that everyone loved me; I was a welcome and adorable addition to the family, contributing an upbeat joyfulness that everyone, including friends and family, seemed to love.

I was two months shy of my fifth birthday when I began my school career. My first year of Kindergarten went well, as well as first grade.

Then second grade began. A couple pivotal things happened in the second grade. The first was that I was not memorizing my addition and subtraction facts. I really had no understanding why that was important to do, so I just blew it off. The second was that I was no longer considered desirable in my Family Of Origin (hereafter referred to as FOO), as was concluded by my paternalistic grandfather, who also dictated that it will be necessary to beat me to rid me of my undesirableness.

My first beating took place because of the addition and subtraction facts, where my father sat me in a chair in front of him and then barked the fact at me, reading it from a flash card. If I were not able to bring the correct answer up from memory in a second, then he compelled me to stand up, thereto lashing his belt across my buttocks repeatedly. He repeated the whipping as he continued a couple more times through the deck of flash cards. How is that for pedagogy?

Thereafter, if I were kept at school to work on my schoolwork that I'd not finished during the school day, my father would beat me whenever he got home from work. Without inquiring, he assumed that if I were kept after school, then I would have been in trouble, which was not the case in these situations. In essence I was beaten and punished for trying to learn at school.

Only in the past couple years have I become aware of what the medical consequences of the beatings were.

During the second grade I began to gain an immense amount of weight. Though I was husky of build before that, I was not grossly overweight. I am thinking that the explanation was that in lieu of love, there was always the satiating fullness of eating.

In the next school year, I then developed what was called then neurodermatitis. That is a fancy term that means I was scratching my hands and forearms in effort to calm an insatiable unending itch that lay deep within my skin, so that my skin would erupt in sores and bleed. Later that year I began having repeated instances of giant hives, where my lips would swell up to enormous size, and my eyelids would swell shut.

Though this is not necessarily medical, my grades plummeted after he started and continued to beat me. When he stopped emotionally and/or physically abused me, my grades strangely went up.

In all these symptoms, my father didn't realize (probably didn't want to know) that all of these started when he started beating me, and they continued as long as he kept on beating me.

This is the first installment of what I have to say about my FOO, as there will be more to say in the future.

Right now, I am emotionally exhausted and I just can't write any more for the time being. Later.

More from Brene Brown

More wisdom from Brene Brown.

May my heart come to know as much as my head.

I need to change my paradigm from one of scarcity to one of abundance. The universe does provide for me. I need to have faith in that truth.

You might have better luck viewing this from the website:

http://sciencestage.com/v/41483/tedxkc-bren-brown-the-price-of-invulnerability.html

Mortality

In the past two months I have been faced the passing of two of my relatives, first my father and then his sister, Nancy. I won't deny that these occasions have made a profound emotional impact upon me.

My immediate observations are yet raw and unprocessed.

One observation was that there appears to be a lot of grace directed at the deceased. Though they may have done some very profound malefaction in their lives, those surrounding them at the end have been willing to forgive them their sins. It's like granting them the final absolution as they pass into eternity. Peace is created by those who survive.

My second observation is that the passing of a loved one can bring about either the absolute best or worst in those who remain. My sister and her dastardly offspring have gone from treating me discourteously for the past three years to pretending that I do not exist in the time subsequent to my father's passing. In their perception I am the ultimate persona non grata.

For Aunt Nancy's upcoming funeral on Saturday I will be singing Schubert's Ave Maria. I haven't sung in ages, so I will need to practice a lot. Friday morning's task is to vocalize and go over the music.

Heartbeats

Well, it's been a month and a half since I last posted.

A few weeks ago, I watched my father pass into eternity. What made an impression on me was how his heart beat on until the last beat. I could see the carotid artery showing his pulse, and I was the one that noticed that he was beating his last heartbeat.

I am fortunate that I was able to resolve many issues with my father while I stood in as their evening and weekend caregiver for the past three years. Both he and I were at peace with each other when he died.

Personally, returning to heartbeats, I have had angina lately again. I fell off the dietary wagon in the past couple months, and I need to get back on it again.

I was with my sig other, Jon, last weekend. He did give me a bit of a scare, when he had thoracic pains. I took him to the ER and it turned out to be something else. He is very dear to me, so I want to keep him around as long as I can.

I have successfully moved to Puyallup a month ago. I am adjusting to what is available here. Except for the train horns, I actually am quite content where I am living now.



I have taken to riding the Foothills Trail at various locations from Puyallup to South Prairie. The scenery is lovely, many parts passing next to various rivers in the Puyallup River basin. And when the sky clears, there is a commanding view of Mount Rainier.

Whole Heartedness

In the past there were many times that I was tempted to close my heart, because of the pain I had endured. I had the temptation to become hard and hateful.

But deep inside there was always a still small voice that always wanted me to become more full and loving. For a long time, I at least pointed myself in the right direction, even though I don't know how much progress I was making at the time.

I love this talk by Brené Brown, and I have always greatly appreciated what she had to say from her research. It is important to be vulnerable so that I can be loved and connected to others, instead of afraid and ashamed. It is important to believe in my personal worthiness so that I will have a sense of love and belonging. She describes these qualities as "whole hearted". She speaks of this whole heartedness as courage, from the classic definition that courage is a person speaking the truth from his heart.



In my own life, it had been so tempting to close down my heart, to choose to be invulnerable, alone and frightened. I am so glad that I ultimately chose the path to becoming more loving and vulnerable.

At the conclusion, she leaves us with these points:

-let ourselves be seen, i.e., deeply and vulnerably seen

-love with our whole hearts

-practice gratitude and lean into joy

-believe we are enough

Which Vegetable Are You?

I am watching the most recent incarnation of the flick, "Last Holiday", and the chef talks about the turnip with such love. Then he explains why he loves it so much, saying that the turnip is self-made, because it improves with cooking, i.e., heat. Most other vegetables are destroyed by excess exposure to heat.

I am a turnip. I have been through the heat. I have not been destroyed, and I have come out better.

New Bicycle, Old Bicycle

Well, just about a month ago I purchased a comfort bike. Since I can't find any pictures of it on Google Images, I will just have to describe it. It is a comfort bike, having 700 cm wheels. Possessing seven speeds only, I needed to take it into Recycled Cycles to have them put on a new rear gear cluster that will handle hills more capably. I also transferred the pedals, saddle and saddle post from the Autobike. So far, I have very much enjoyed riding this bike. With the Autobike, I had gotten out of the habit of shifting a derailleur, so I am doing OK with that now.



I have used the new bike to do a little change of scenery. I have ridden uphill on the Cedar River Trail from Renton up toward Maple Valley. And though much of the trail parallels the Maple Valley Highway, which has excessive traffic noise, the scenery is nice.

The old bicycle reference is to the bicycle my late ex-brother-in-law owned. In the past ten years, that poor old bike has followed me from Seattle to Lansing, from Lansing back to Seattle, then from Seattle to San Bernardino, and now has returned back here. One sad aspect of that story is that I never rode that bicycle once in all the time I have owned it. Another sad aspect is the poor old thing has gotten banged up a bit in all the moves. I think that when it was leaned over in storage, I even stepped on the rear wheel, and bent it. So the old bike is one of my new projects. I am going to see what it takes to restore it and ride it.

Then perhaps I'll finally get rid of the other two old bikes that I own.

Mercy, I am such a clutterer/hoarder.

Healing scars

I am beginning to understand a new metaphor about emotional healing.

There are emotional wounds that I have received throughout my life. I have come to realize that the normal progression is for one to tacet forgiveness toward the inflictor of the wound and even to the wound itself. And in so doing one would allow the wound to heal over to a scar.

Rather than do that, I have picked at the emotional wounds and caused them to bleed and become infected by revisiting the source of the wound and the incidents surrounding the wounding. Then I would build resentment because of the wounds' existence. I believe that the reason for engaging in that behavior is a vain attempt to protect myself from further wounding. But instead the net effect is that I had shut myself from those who would love me and from the blessings that the universe is trying to grant me.

But I have learned that if I grant life and love to my wounds and their sources, I can give them up to the loving universe so that my wounds may heal.

Granted, the scars from the healed wounds will most likely remain for the duration of my life, but instead of being a cause of consternation and fear in me, they will be a reminder that I have healed from the pain and can rejoice that I am able to release myself from the resentment I had clutched to my breast so tightly. My heart can then be free.

Good progress.

Can You Feel the Brand New Day?

Lately I had viewed and read "Eat Pray Love" and I have learned so much from that. Thanks, Liz Gilbert.

I have learned that ruination is not a bitter, terminal ending, but it is the beginning of a transformation. I get to choose if the transformation will lead to better or worse.

In like stead, I have learned that if I clear my mind and open my heart, love and peace will flood into my life. I can let past resentments fall away.

Presently, I am seeing metaphors in what I used to hold literally, like the resurrection of Jesus is for me to throw off the mantle of all encumbrences and rise again. Like the scales falling from the Apostle Paul's eyes are the removing of the fear and resentment that prevents me from seeing through the eyes of love.



And I learned a new metaphor about the deity Ganesh. He removes obstacles from us. But also he will place obstacles in our way, if we are prone to going on destructive paths. I think that the most important obstacle Ganesh has removed from my path lately is getting me out of the way of my own happiness. I don't need to prevent my own joy anymore.

Feelings, wo wo wo feelings . . .

I need to jot this in carefully. I have come to a couple important realizations this morning, thanks to two dear friends.

The first realization is from my friend's facebook post where she said that she suffers from depth perception. In such a succinct and profound way she captured the essence of what I am undergoing.

I am a sensitive person and I see in depth greatly, and in doing so I am disquieted much of the time by what I see.

My other friend spoke of my tendency to discount what I feel. Maybe it is a left-over from the macho-John-Wayne-mind-set I was raised in. I need to acknowledge what I feel and accept the feelings, and then deal with them. That is a bit different to what I normally do.

Life Examined

The unexamined life is not worth living. Socrates, in Plato, Dialogues, Apology
Greek philosopher in Athens (469 BC - 399 BC)


I wonder at how many folks out there do not examine their own lives.

After watching the coverage of the attempted assassination of Gabby Giffords, I have come to the conclusion that there are lots of folks who have anger, and haven't a clue what to do about it.

I have always believed that it is the individual's responsibility to curb his acting out on the anger that is within.

My thoughts are with Gabby Giffords and her family, along with the innocent victims of the crazed shooting.