I'm not networking anymore!

Yesterday I had a post traumatic stress break, like an anxiety attack but so much worse. 

I know that I have mentioned before somewhat about my abusive past, but always with certain limitations.  In truth, I haven't really dealt with the inner issues and fall-out since I left my abusive ex-husband in 2013, and slowly realized the extent of all the abusive types I had allowed into my life since childhood, from friends, spiritual teachers, and boyfriends alike.  I imagined that if I forgave the abuser, not forgotten, that I had learned my lesson and could truly move forward.  But, there is a difference between moving forward and being healed.  Because moving forward can become akin to busyness, to forget, nullify, and distract. 

It has come to my attention these last several months that I have not truly overcome my post traumatic issues and, in fact, have learned that I am one that buries deep my feelings to run from, distract, avoid and can seem aloof to others.  Although I am indeed a deeply compassionate person with a ton of emotions right at the surface, my past traumatic experiences have taught me that it is not safe to reveal and have throughout a plethora of relationship styles (friend, lover, etc) lost my security in trusting.

So, due to my not having the insurance coverage, I was unable to see a therapist after leaving my abusive ex-husband.  I mean, I did have ways to cope and could have attended free support groups with other victims, beyond that of social media ones, but I did not.  It is true that I spent a good chunk of my younger days, twenty-six to thirty, in a myriad of therapy options so I had a good understanding of how to cope and care for myself.  So, with all that said, I imagined that I was doing quite well, in spite of it all.  

But, at the end of the day, I never truly grew, healed, or truly released myself from the past traumatic events.  I have lived as if the world around me and those I came into contact were still a constant threat.  I mean, yes there were certain element of healing through forgiving my past bullies but I never truly understood the extent the purpose of why I experienced all the abuse from so many different formats, why I chose to allow those individuals to hurt me the way they did or even why they chose to victimize me.  But, I'm starting to see clearly the answers therein.

Truth be told, because of this, I was and still can be quite reactive and defensive in the face of presumed threats to my security, both physically and emotionally.   Others that have not experienced the layers of abuse that I have experienced may have found this confusing, this over-reactions I have had at times.  For my part, I was constantly under the delusion that I was being taken advantage of and that ultimately I was not loved.

Although there have been some healing throughout the last several years, it wasn't until last December that the scales of hiding fell away from my eyes and I began to clearly see myself.   That was when I finally did a psychiatric intake for mental health counseling that I realized I still needed to work on my trauma issues. 

In reality, I used my abusive past as a crutch to hide, to run away from relationships, from getting to close to my friends.  I expected those that cared for me to hurt me so I made it so they did.  I never fully explained my reasoning, from the outside I can look fully sufficient, competent, and dare I say, happy.  For the most part, I am.  Through therapy, I have realized that it's not healthy to put up barriers and avoid certain places and people that I deem unsafe and threatening.  You mean, I could someday attend these places without feeling like I need to have an escape route at all times. 

This is still a novel concept as I have been living with the way of super-protective boundaries for almost a decade, if not longer, now.  And, its a daily norm for me that I run through the voices of my abusers' lies and tactics to destroy and keep me submissive. And sometimes try to talk back, defensive now when I couldn't speak up then as the victim.

This is all to say that my look at socializing or being with people has been altered. (And not just in the light of COVID-19 and all that implies either.)  When we do get around to opening our world again, my take on all that has transformed, evolved, if you will.

Yes, it is true that with the onset of starting my production company and still having to work several part-time survival gigs, and with balancing all of that, it gives me little time to unwind and relax.  I am a self professed, proud introvert, always have been and always will be.  I love more than anything being by myself and as I continually heal, I find more and more comfort being with me. 

Yes, I have to stay busy, I have to be productive or my life isn't worth anything, is a constant thread running through my mind.  I often have trouble watching a TV show or movie, because I feel guilty even doing that, relaxing by myself, at times.  

Also, due to the bullies of my past, I find myself feeling guilty if I decline to participate in their invites. Its not a personal attack or an insult to them, but more to myself, when I decline or not show up.   I recognize that it may appear that way but its due to my own feeling of not being safe that leaves me wanting to stay home.  But, because I believe that getting healthy requires me to be comfortable with myself and my decisions, I will not be afraid to set my boundaries and to say no when I cannot attend.  However, I will do my best to attend those I can and show support of my friends and colleagues. 

But, I must dig even deeper in my personal revelations here, showing why "I'm not networking anymore" as the title states.  Truth be told, when I wrote the first draft of this article, the following paragraphs were very accusatory, possibly insulting.  I stepped away from the computer, went on a walk, and realized that wasn't my intention.  As I grow healthier in my journey, I realize that the majority of the folks I come across are not narcissistic abusive types and in fact have their own pain that causes reactive outbursts and misunderstandings.  My intention in writing this is not to wound but to be authentic.  As I begin to release those toxic individuals who have abused me, even more so I must release those that do not willingly want to cause me harm.  And, thus I do.  We are all on the journey towards our own wholeness, a path that is truly singular to ourselves. At times, we may cross paths and help each other in a variety of ways.  Some may be a friend, others foe but regardless we learn and grow more fully into who we truly are.

That said, though, when I choose to accept an event from a friend, to a play, a party, or what have you, it will no longer be to play the game political of "quid pro quo, you scratch mine, I scratch yours, tit for tat", that is so insidious and present in the theater and film world.  I personally see that as inauthentic and detrimental to myself as a friend and artist.  I choose to attend to show my love and support of my friend, not for any gain of myself.  Because if I attend, it is with many an hour of fretting, concern for my emotional safety, planning my eventual release (ie, how long will I stay, etc), before I ever set foot in the door.  And, that said, if a person chooses not to attend an event of mine, I will not take it personal, nor shun them from my life or future events.  

No, I don't play those games and nor will I be bought. And, neither, dear ones, do you have to be bought by me.  My love remains, whether we remain side by side or our paths diverge, my love remains.  Circumstances change, life pushes us forward, but my love stays with you.  I am learning to expect no less for myself.

Furthermore, I am realizing that the power of forgiveness extends only so far.  Yes, I can forgive all that have wronged me, but I do not have to accept back into my life those that continue to inflict.  The most important key factor here is, I have a choice and so do you.  If your choice requires you to depart from me, my love remains as I have said and travels with you.  I see now that it is my decision to pursue the positive rather than dwell on the negative, thus by doing so the positive becomes abundant.  No, I do not want to exclude any dissension in my surroundings, but do expect complete honesty and, if needed, constructive criticism from my loved ones, still I choose that element that uplifts rather than tries to destroy.

Lastly, I do not seek an abundance of praise for my creative pursuits any longer.  I do hold gratitude in my heart with abundance of appreciation for those that give support and encouragement, as I give to them.  But, I realize now that its not in the quantity, but the quality.  Whether one person reads this blog or a hundred, the effect is still the same.  Did I enjoy the act of writing and creating? Did this creative endeavor bring me pleasure, make me smile, build me up in someway? If I can answer yes to that, I know that I am successful.  From that, I can see that those that are meant to read or view my creative outlets will be those that need and find the most value from it.  

Life is not about quantity, but quality.  I hope we all grow further into a deeper understanding of that reality.  

I have dreams, not that you're not lying

Next to me

I can sleep, I can rest in peace

I'm not tossing and turning on your bed of nails

I'm not burning up like I'm in hell

I can sleep

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=s6Wc1QICflo

Whether you are or disagree with the above writings, feel free to leave your comments below. I do read them and will respond! 

Also, The Thriving Artist is a subset of Cafe-Girl Productions, Inc, a small business that seeks to bring awareness to a variety of social issues that will impact the world for the better.  Consider supporting us at: www.patreon.com/cafegirlproductions  And, thank you. 

My Version of "#MeToo"

As long as I have been alive, I have faced a great deal of sexism and abuse, mostly emotional, from the opposite sex (and sometimes the same sex) with the attempts to silence, subdue, and cause me to become submissive.  For a good part of my life, I accepted these abusive influences as truthful fact and went along with their control in an attempt to not rock the boat and to just get along.  I never rose my voice and if I ever did I faced some form of punishment.  This form of sexist abuse came from many a source; boyfriends, male employees and bosses, my husband, and a smattering of church issues.  Whatever the reason or root cause, each individual and organization was bent on enforcing the common societal belief of patriarchal rule, or at leat wanting to maintain it.

The overwhelming inner reality and truth was that I was not happy, not being truthful with myself, my desires, needs, and ambitions.  Thus follows, my story of how I overcame this systematic social abuse and reclaimed my life and self worth, my version of "#MeToo".

The first recollection I have of any sort of sexual assault, if it were, was my freshmen year of high school.  I am riding home on the boss, the last of two students.  Behind me sits a sophomore boy, who was always believed to have come from some kind of  of negative influence.  He was often seemingly dirty,  not showered, clothes not laundered, hair and beard unkempt, with just an overall sense of anger and unhappiness, a disregard.

On this day, he is sitting kitty corner and a seat down.  As we near my stop, he says to me, "Hey."  I glance back and am immediately overwhelmed with horror at the sight.  His pants were pulled down around his legs, his penis out; I, a virgin at this time, had never seen a man naked let alone a penis.
The bus driver stopped a block away from my stop, an often mistake.  I didn't care to tell her to move on to the next.  I hurried off the bus and ran down the street, not looking back, and collapsed on the pavement, shaken.  A few days later, I confided this to my best friend at the time, who encouraged me to tell the vice principal and thus I did.  Although the boy received punishment from the VP, the damage was still done.  The idea that he would think doing such a thing was somehow acceptable and would warrant a positive reaction from me is something I cannot understand or realize to this day.

I have memories of boys leaning to closely in the halls, trying to grab my breasts, me covering myself with my arms in repulsion and fear.  Another time in my early twenties, when I was helping my friend close the cafes, another "friend" followed me into the bathroom, blocking me from leaving, leering at me suggestively.  I was speechless with horror.

There was the time my college best friend and I were walking down a city street in San Francisco. I looked to the side to see a man, sitting in the driver side of his car, pants pulled down, penis erect.  Horrified, I looked away and told my friend, who groaned in disgust.  A memory I cannot erase.

Then, there is the times at Calvary Chapel, being shuttled off to "Purity Conferences", separated from the boys as a male pastor lectured us not to wear any sort of revealing clothes as we were causing our brothers to stumble into sin.  It was our fault if they fell, not any fault of theirs.  Afterward, trying to talk to a male friend at church, having them step quicker and quicker away from me as I approached with a simple "hi".  I grew more and more shameful of my body, allowing the anorexia and body dysphoria to take over.  Maybe, I thought, if I become child-like in form again I won't be such a threat.  It has taken me years to learn to love and accept myself for who I am, and only after surrounding myself with like-minded sufferers and spiritual abuse survivors, who poured out love over me as I shared stories that they, too, could relate to and understand.  Laughter spilling over the incredulous of what happened to us and a real close-knit friendship formed, a family of sorts, an anti-religious fellowship formed as a result of the deconstruction of our faith and loss of trust in the church (even if we have yet to see each other face to face).

Then another memory, my now ex-husband screaming at me, about not completely washing the dishes the right way, not cooking the food the right way, slamming his fist into the wall, throwing a tea kettle across the room, breaking glasses, plates, etc.  To this day, the sound of shattering glass raises my anxiety level.   I can still feel the horror of having him flatten me against the wall, screaming obscene accusations in my face, pushing me down on the bed, shoving his fist in my face as I fell on the couch....

All of these memories and more compounded onto one another to develop an inward self loathing and lack of love for myself.  Until recently, I have never believed myself worthy of love.

Yes, I have forgiven myself and moved on from this, but its been a long struggle and journey to healing, to getting to that place of "no fucks given".  What I have found is that even though I have reached this point, the sexism and abuse has not ended.  The patriarchal rule still seeks to drag me down, give me that disparaging look of "who do you think you are, lady?" The difference now is I don't let it affect me.  It's a reality and a fact of life that plagues every women in our society, regardless of her social standing or profession.

This is why the #metoo movement is such a wonderful movement for me. It's the first time that we, of the female variety, can unite together and express the silent struggles we have faced.  Because men don't often know that it is happening or even that they are the cause of it.  Men, in a very real way, are also victims of this patriarchal influence, as its how they have been taught and raised, however subliminal.  Yes, well meaning men are somehow unaware of how their behavior continues the sexist influence.

For that reason, I am very excited about seeing the birth and creation of the thriller film trilogy, Make Me Smile.  As the story unfolds, a female protagonist will seek revenge in a similar fashion to the abuser, the reality of women rising up to empowerment remains the truthful message and theme of the entire story.  The general population of women who boldly stated "Me Too" on social media would not attempt or do need to react violently to their male abusers, but for the purpose of a thriller the end result of the same that of a woman standing up for herself and her sisters in the face of sexism and abuse.

And, for this I can relate.

Help make "Make Me Smile" a reality.  Donate at: https://www.gofundme.com/f/makesmile
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Why I'm Glad My Ex Abused Me!

Why am I glad my ex abused me? Before you get your panties in a bunch, pause a moment to let me explain.

He didn't start out as an asshole.  Chances are I wouldn't have stayed with him at all, let alone married him, if he had been, well, maybe I would have.

On the contrary, he was very sweet at first; a good listener, compassionate, and truly seemed to be the perfect guy, my true love.  Moreover, he was an old friend from my younger days.  Days of endless blue skies wiling the hours away at coffee shops, running amok through the town with him and the other boys as only young adults can.  A real life "Elaine Benes" I was indeed.  To this day, the taste of coffee on my tongue, not merely a physical addiction, but one that evokes an emotional recall.

He was, when all is said and one,  my first love.  He was intense, passionate, darkly intelligent, and dangerous in a way that I first found attractive.  But back then, I didn't know just how dark that danger would lead.

He was a suffering soul; he played that part well and I fell for it, coming to his rescue as only my Savior-Complex, Co-Dependent complex knew how.

He came back into my life, after a 6 year absence, and it was all I had been dreaming of, hoping for, praying for, during that separation.  At that time, he was the only man with whom I had ever been in love.  Our courtship was a whirl-wind passionate affair and our marriage was a fairy-tale experience! He was my tall, dark, and handsome prince come to woo me away from my lonely existence.  Away we went to live happily ever after...

As we began our lives together, he quickly started spiraling downward, which at first I persuaded myself wasn't happening.  I wanted to believe that his delusions and conspiracy theories were somehow true, when they failed to be, I found it increasingly difficult to smile and pretend everything was all right.  His distrust and emotional violence towards me began escalating rapidly from that point forward.  What once was a dream became more and more a nightmare!

I was constantly praying for deliverance, strength, protection; calling friends and family in tears, lost in confusion and fear.

The night before Oscar Sunday 2013, I found myself in driveway of a friends' house with another friend, bemoaning to him all my trials and tribulations once again.  He astutely pointed out that my entire life I had been a victim of some form of abuse.  This was oddly comforting and inspiring.

The next day I gave the performance which, if filmed, should have awarded me the Academy; I tearfully kicked the love of my life out and lived to tell the story.

Thus began my new life.  As I began to pick up the pieces, with the help of the love and laughter of some new friends and old, I grew stronger and my life began to expand exponentially.  My dreams and passions became a real life pursuit, the only thing that mattered.

As my friend had pointed out that fateful night, I began to look back on my life at the other forms of abuse I had once experienced and was finally able to release my anger and denial.  I learned about the kind of child abuse I had incurred, the youthful abuse from my class-mates in middle school, discovered a name for the turmoil I'd experienced at Calvary, spiritual abuse, and lastly realized the violence I had inflicted upon myself as a result.  As I said, this didn't spur on more anger but came as a sort of release.

I was able to finally forgive and heal, not just the wounds of others but those of myself as well.  I chose no longer to allow negativity, abuse, and control from others and to follow my own path as per my destiny.   I was able, then, to offer love to all, both friend and foe, and also myself.  I was finally free to be me, to accept myself fully, to see beauty in every part of myself, faults notwithstanding.  I was able to see the reasons for the years of suffering, to see how it connected to my true path.

"I made it through the wilderness, somehow I made it through", as Madonna croons, "I became shiny and new."

I found my way out.  I found freedom.  At Last.

Like A Virgin