So long ago we started running… on the inside. Aren’t you exhausted? I know I was! I slept feeling watched. I awoke to the feeling of lurking. I constantly felt the need to get away… to run!

But from who?

I am a grown woman. I live in Columbia, MO, far from anyone who had ever intended to harm me. Yet I never sat still because the feeling would be apt to overtake me. The fear and the terror that road with me way down deep inside, had no face… no name. 

In my young life I was hunted.

For real. As were many of you. Prey to an abuser. Whether it was child sexual abuse, physical abuse, or emotional and mental abuse; we were prey.

I learned really early how to leave my body and watch from above. Until I had had enough and then off I would go.  I was always brought back home with confusion. I had no idea what had happened. I only knew it hurt and I was afraid. So I pieced those memories together with what I could remember for real, with what made sense from the information I gathered from the situation upon returning.

We make excuses for them and for us.

The fragments and the fabrications are glued together in a way that allows us to get up in the morning to… well, to the same people who hurt us, right?

They sit across from us at the breakfast table the following morning.

Let’s take a bow to those younger versions of ourselves for successfully maneuvering the maze of childhood.  She did that. She got you to where you are today.

Well let’s not take it that far. She got you through to the other side of the circumstance. The suffering part… that’s all on you.

All of her sacrifices and the pain she endured. She was hoping you would take your freedom and run with it.

Instead we run in fear.

Bent and crumpled.

I like to think of the inner constructs of an extension cord. When we peel back the rubber casing, we see too numerous to count, very fine strands of wire. So as the cord gets worn, tattered, abused; strands from the inside are going off in their own direction.

The circuit becomes compromised. Unless the severed strands are retrieved and pulled back into the whole.

Brought home.

The sad piece is that truth, wisdom, and that version of you stand trapped… or frozen in time.

Alone.

We do this over and over. Until we are all grown up. We live our lives in incongruence. Our natural state is one of confusion and fear.

With each blip, a strand of emotion is severed. And we are left unheard.

Severed.

Severed from our truth. Severed from reality. Life becomes a series of stories that we claim as truth. But it is the truth of our childhood abuser, not ours.

So this leaves us undependable and unpredictable.

We never know which version of ourselves is going to show up. Right?

Well here is the deal. If you don’t take the time to See You… Hear You… and Understand You… no one else will either. No one is going to put more effort into you than you. Not even the Creator or the Maker or the Universe. We can only receive from others what we can give to ourselves.

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Well first up. How confusing is it to show up, say, to secure a bank loan and you haven’t a thought in your head. You feel uncomfortable and shy.

 

You’re a business woman… but your big girl shoes are ginormous today.

You and I both know, that we have observed ourselves, and others, in our lives show up in full blown temper tantrum mode. Making the same sorts of choices as a teenager, or throwing things and hitting like a child. We hear our voice rise to an octave that is not normal, yet familiar. We cringe afterwards at our childish behavior and wonder why.

So we see the cycles. We see the trajectory of choice that has run through out our lives.

We watch as the cycles play out in front of us in the lives of our children.

Some cycles run through generations… others through lifetimes.

We see them. We want to stop them. But how?

Stop! And turn around!

She needs to trust you! If she can’t trust you then who can?

See her. Hear her. Validate her.

Standing locked away beside her pain is the wisdom and learning that would keep you from repeating the same choices: over, and over again. She has the road map out.

So it is important to find a guide to take you back to the beginning. To the point where it all began. Someone that you can trust to give you the space and guidance that you need to explore.

With a guide, you can go back to the point in time where the cycle started. The first blip in your programing. We go back and diffuse the energies trapped there. In so doing, we are given the opportunity to integrate what she knows (the information that has been trapped with her) into our lives today, filling in the potholes.

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In a meeting with a medicine man a while back, I was given this opportunity… and the experience changed my life forever. This is one of the experiences that has lead me to spend my time helping and coaching women who have been “running” from their thoughts and fears. So they too, can experience the freedom that comes with not letting their abusers (whether sexual abuse, child abuse, or domestic abuse) control their thoughts…and run their lives.

While going for a walk with my girls in Baltimore, we pull into the parking lot; on the opposite side of a swinging foot bridge, is a Medicine Man in full dress. Our eyes connect. He nods. And I go on with my girls. I let the image go, not for certain if he was real or a figment of my imagination. I had been struggling with the dynamics of a relationship at the time. I could see the cycles of communication and dominance play out, but couldn’t make a move. It drew me in like a home cooked meal. I wanted the hurt… the dysfunction to stop. But I had no idea what to do different. These were my thoughts as I continued. When we get back to the beginning, to the parking lot, the man is waiting patiently at our car.

“I have been waiting for you,” he says. I nod. I look back at the girls as he takes my elbow and guides me away, out of earshot. He had much to say about women and our journey in this culture today. He spoke about the lack of respect of women. Not only by men, but more importantly ourselves and each other. He spoke about the divine cord that connects us to the Creator. Through this cord, life is created over and over again through us. He spoke of the responsibility that comes with our choice to enter the world as female. To sign the contract that makes us responsible for the safety and welfare of other humans. We did that. We birthed and mothered each and every human being here… or not. Collectively.

Cycles run backwards and forwards, weaving themselves into the fabric of our lineage. To stop it we must go back to the beginning. Back to the first big blip that started the wheel rolling. He then pressed a coin in my hand and said this is where it all started for you. The alcoholism… the domestic violence… the child abuse. The coin bore the likeness of Sacagawea. Ironically my girls are direct descendants of Toussaint Charbonneau… her abuser. Their child’s name… John Baptist.

Back to the beginning.

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