Tuesday, November 10, 2015
Frolics and Fumbles in Kauai
WooHoo! Back from my second trip to Kauai this year. Pardon the title. I'm really going to write about Fumbles today and not frolics. Frolicking comes next post!
To pick up where I left off in May, my summer and fall have been yummy - busy and wonderful. I've been working my little patutty off in the garden, and delving deep and deeper into my psyche. I felt this would have made boring copy, not to mention offend certain people as I went through my blaming stage. I am still on my journey to make women friends. Most women gravitate toward women! WHY do I have such difficulty? There is a perfectly good reason. I've been turning every key I have found in my inner psyche to uncover what seminal experience could have instilled such prejudice about women in me. Most of the keys have opened vaults with insight goodies inside. I got lucky. A new key fell into my hands. I turned this key on the enchanted Island of Kauai, and, oh-oh... it opened to a very real flashback.
I felt, from no safe distance, the recoil of an animal struck, then pinned down, as someone who was supposed to protect me violated me instead. Every cell in my body recoiled. This wasn't about a man. Violations happen sometimes between little girls and their Dad. This was between a little girl and a woman, or maybe little girls. Maybe it wasn't my Mom. It sure as heck was female. This happened before my little brain could create meaning or memories, so how sexual could it have been? Yet, with that bodily certainty that flashbacks offer, I knew that safe feelings of protection were ripped from me. I was violated by a woman. Not a man. A woman.
"Otherwise, Mrs. Lincoln, how was the play?". I promise, I'll get to cheerier subjects about my enchanting trip to Kauai and my summer. This is my blog, so bear with me. This flashback was my personal pivot point. Woohoo! My power is in the telling.
So, what triggered my flashback?
A tribal ceremony.
The other women and man really got into it. Empowerment! Play! Giggles!
ARGH! Not me! It's not because I don't like playing with mud and painting bodies. I love that; I'm a gardener and artist. If the man had painted me, I would have relaxed and giggled along with the rest of them. But women were touching and painting me. I was freaking out with my flashback. Feeling like an animal cornered and pinned, marked and painted for slaughter. I didn't stop it, because I gently told myself "That was then, and this is now. There is nothing to be afraid of."
The marks two women put on me, independent of each other, were the symbols you see here.
LOL. The life script gets a rewrite. My mother, or whatever woman violated me, doesn't have the last word now, does she?