Tag Archives: fear

Are you a fence post?

santa-rosa-fence-post via themartinfencepost.blogspotA few months ago I was at a program at Kripalu and while on a walk one morning I observed some people building a fence.

That in of itself was not a big deal, except for the tool that was used to set the fence post.

It looked like a metal hat that fit over the top of the post and was used the push the post into the ground so it would be as sturdy as possible.

I immediately thought about women who were beaten down by others into being submissive and “put in their place” so the family system could be supported, whether the system was healthy or not.

I imagined that every time a woman or girl was told to be silent about rape or other abuse, that she was like that fence post, rammed on the head to be quiet and stay silent so that the status quo could be maintained.

I imagined that every time a woman decided that it was better to suffer in silence than shed light on the inhumane treatment she was receiving at home, that she was the one who banged herself into submission.

I imagined that she saw herself as the post and the tool. Maybe the thinking is that she better not rock the post or the whole system will come crashing down and everyone will blame her.

These musings are of course my own imaginings and I could be very wrong.

 

I have no answers about why women accept abuse and why they don’t speak up the very first time it happens.

Perhaps if one of you reading this has been silent in the past, the image of being bashed over the head as if you are a fence post might help you to speak up and take action.

If you don’t speak up now…then perhaps you will in the not so distant future.

My hope is that you eventually protect yourself and protect the children who may be witnessing the abuse.

 

Love and light,

Indrani

Deep down, we all want to run around naked…

 

We cover our bodies to hide our imperfections.feet_earthing via wakeup-world.com

We use make-up to cover our blemishes.

There are so many products out there to cover up our flaws.

But regardless of what we look like on the outside, deep down don’t you just want to run around naked? Naked in that you do not have to cover up who you really are?  Don’t you wish you could let your flaws….the mole, the freckles, your imperfect smile, just be out there for everyone to see?  Wouldn’t it be great to be able to show our open wounds, our vulnerabilities, the scars from the miles traveled?  Imagine the freedom to be trusting enough to allow others see the tears on our face, the awkward jig we do around the room when we are happy and to hear us sing out of tune when our hearts are full of joy.

We have become obsessed with covering up our bodies, our emotions and our thoughts.
I say quit your grinnin’ and drop your linen!

Expose your body, your feelings, your soul….if not to others, then to yourself.
You’ll be amazed.

What would you do?

Answer me, oh my love, just what sin have I been guilty of?blame-on-women via spirit21.co.uk
Won’t you tell me where I’ve lost your love?
Please answer me sweetheart….so goes the first verse of an old song by Nat King Cole.
I grew up with this song….I can hear my father crooning the words along with the radio and I remember thinking that my Dad was such a great singer.

These words popped into my head, quite suddenly, as I was pondering how to start writing about a violent interaction I recently witnessed at Union Station in NYC.

I was walking along, happy that my legs were carrying me and that my eyes were still amazed at the sights around me.

Then my ears heard loud shouting and screaming. The voice belonged to a man and I began to look around to see if I could possibly be in the line of fire.

Then I saw her, SHE was in the line of fire, not me. She was pushed up against a fence, his face was pushed up fiercely against her face, and she was cowering and trying to squirm away.

THEN he drew his head back as if he were cocking a gun and he let the SPIT fly from his mouth right into her face.

She was stunned!
She tried to wipe it off, but his face was once again smashed up against hers and she could barely get her fingers between the faces to wipe off the spit bullets.

I am barely 5 foot 1 inch tall….man, did I wish I were a six footer and young so that I would have felt strong enough to pull him off of her.
I thought, “This is definitely NOT What Would You Do, and there is no John Quinones to come out and allay my fears for this girl.”
I felt helpless.

After a few more well chosen words, he huffed and puffed away.

She finished wiping her face and pushed the baby stroller in front of her. The innocent was still asleep.
I hurried along side of her and begged her to let me help.

I offered to walk with her, to take her somewhere, asked what could do to help.

She kept shaking her head from side to side, saying a shame-filled, non-verbal NO as her tears began to flow.

I cannot stop thinking about her.

Where is she? Did he kill her? Is the baby safe? Did she finally decide to leave him?

SHE is not the only one in such horrendous situations. SHE is EVERYWHERE!
Are you one of those women?
Are you being tormented by someone who used to love you?
Is he telling you that he still loves you and that this is entirely your fault?
Do you believe those lies?

Have you lost your will to fight anymore?
Do you feel worthless?
Do you sit and wonder what you can do to win back his love?

I encourage you to put your last pieces of energy into learning to love yourself.

Even if you feel that you are not worthy of love, try to find a friendly ear to talk to so that you can get some of those dark feelings out.

No one should have to live with violence, whether it is sexual, verbal or physical!

Some people have told me that my definition of abuse is too broad, I disagree.
I believe an abusive action is ANYTHING that makes you feel unsafe and fearful.
If people cannot control their anger and blame you for THEIR explosion, that is pure BS!
We are all PERSONALLY responsible for self regulation!
They are responsible for their inappropriate behaviors and you are responsible for your safety and happiness.

If you cannot even think what to do next, please call a shelter close to you. There are many support groups ready to help you find some answers.
Please do not seek help from your friends who accept abuse themselves.
Do not let anyone tell you “it’s not so bad.”

Seek help from qualified people.
Often it is better to go outside the family to get objective advice.
Telling the abuser’s mother that you are scared of her son will do you little good, she is HIS mother. You need to find objective support.

Be safe.

Love and light,
Indrani

De-friending fear…

 

Oh how Facebook has reduced us to junior high feelings all over again.

online drama via living.msnThose feelings weren’t that great the first time around. Now they are possibly worse because, on top of the same old teenage insecurities floating to the surface we have that feeling that OMG, really, I am a grown adult and am so emotionally involved in who is my friend or not on Facebook.

REALLY? Grow up!

The inner monologue goes something like this:
Will you be my friend?
Did you like my post?
Why did not you like my photo?
Why didn’t you comment on my post on your wall?
How come you didn’t Facebook me?

The inner voice is louder now: “What’s wrong with me that you do not want to be my friend or like the shit I post?”

Any of these statements ring true to you?

I shake my head in wonder of myself.
I recently had to de-friend someone who I thought was my friend but who did not act like my friend.

My finger hovered over the button to click as I planned on de-friending that person.
Oh the shame to de-friend….
The shame that I did not want to be their friend.
The shame that I was being mean or I was acting like a bitch.
The shame I would hurt their feelings.
The shame that as much as they wanted to be my friend…..I did not want them to be mine.
But the shame is that other person did not respect me, my rules, terms, conditions or non-conditions (as the case may be) of being MY friend.

Why should we feel shame de-friending someone who is not being a friend.

I click “de-friend”. I did it.

Oh the guilt. I have been de-friended and I know what it feels like to be de-friended. It’s like HEY I thought we were friends what the HELL is wrong with you to de-friend me? What did I do wrong?
Oh the guilt, will they call, text or email me asking me why? What will I say?
The guilt if I made someone feel less of a person because I did not want to be their friend.

It is amazing how this thing called Facebook can evoke these and so many emotions.
There is my Facebook friending insecurities rant.

Now I have one less friend….so friend me, I have a spot to fill!

What am I angry about…?

 

You’ve probably had situations like this…Frustrated Woman
You can’t put together a sentence.
You have something to say but the words don’t come across.
There is sound from your voice but no one seems to be hearing you.

I recently wondered what I needed to do to be understood because my words were not coming across to others.
I so desperately wanted to be heard. I wanted to jump out of my skin I so wanted to be heard.
It was frustrating.

Then I became angry.

I am angry because they are not hearing me.
I am angry that my message is not being understood by them.
I am angry because I am not getting the response I want from them.

What I realized is that my anger is not so much about them but about me.

I am afraid to be 100% honest about what I need which makes me angry……angry because I don’t feel safe enough in a relationship to be honest.
I am afraid of offending someone which makes me angry….angry at myself for being afraid of the truth.
I am afraid of losing their friendship which makes me angry…..angry because if they are my true friend then, damn it, I should be able to be truthful.
I am afraid of losing their love which makes me angry…..angry that I may not be lovable enough that they will still love me even if I tell them what I need.

And if I did offend, lose their love or lose their friendship then perhaps they are not someone I should be speaking to.

So the next time you are talking with someone and they don’t seem to be hearing you, ask yourself:

Who am I really angry at?
If you are angry at yourself, ask yourself why?

Once you answer the “why” the other answers become clearer.

At the masquerade….

 

For me, a masquerade conjures images of the Victorian elite with masks hovering over their eyes.  Or The Phantom of the Opera, whose true physical self is partiallymask via cathyberggren.com covered by a mask of white….and those at Mardi Gras wearing colorful masks which allow them get away with all sorts of mischief behind a veil of secrecy.

But do we need to wear something on our face to hide our true selves?  Do we need sequins, and face paint to hide our pain, or our looks, or to protect ourselves from the judgment of others as we actually try to be our true self?

I look at the masks I wear to create the illusion of what I want people to see and sometimes I wonder who that illusion is for?  Is it really for them or me?

I am not sure what is scarier….to drop the mask and have people see me for what I am or for me to see myself, perhaps for the first time, as I truly am.

Either takes courage.

Can you pull the mask from your eyes?

OBEY….

 

Such a small word….yet, so many hidden consequences.

I do not know if modern wedding vows still tell a woman to obey her husband…this always bothered me.
Who decided that “certain” groups should OBEY certain other groups?
Children should obey their parents, even when the parent says to NOT tell the truth about sexual abuse within the family?
Wives should obey husbands, even when they are being instructed to do demeaning and sub-human activities? Or being treated like a slave, not receiving any respect or shown any kindness?

When abuse is taking place within a family system, this concept of OBEY becomes extremely problematic.
Should we obey to the point of emotional death?
Should atrocious acts against our person be allowed to continue because our Holy texts admonish us to OBEY?
Should we continue to accept the truck loads of blame dumped on to us because standing up to the in-house bullies will be seen as treason and disobedience?
Is keeping the family secrets more important than treating ourselves with love and kindness?

These are questions we must all answer for ourselves.

I hope you chose to treat yourself with kindness and respect even if those with whom you live refuse to give you the time of day except when they yell, shout and berate you.

It takes great courage to look at your tear stained face in the mirror and say to yourself, “No more will I accept this treatment, these hateful words and this constant barrage upon my soul.”

May you be blessed with courage, vast and strong.
May you be blessed with compassion for yourself.
May you be filled with self empathy and self resilience.
May your heart be free of all past burdens.

Love and light,
Indrani

Spit in my face? What does that mean?!

When you spit in my face…what does that mean?ashamed-woman via zawaj.com

A few weeks ago, I saw a man spit in a woman’s face.
He straightened up and spit, aiming right for her face.
She was stunned.
She froze and she looked like a deer in the head lights.

What was he trying to communicate?
What words would he have chosen if he had chosen to speak words instead?
What could he have been thinking when he CHOSE to spit in her face?

Will she choose to go back to him?
Will she choose to forget her humiliation and her embarrassment?
Will her friends and family make her feel like she should put it behind her?
Will she succumb to the voices that say it may have been her fault?
Will people expect her to explain her behaviors?

What else might he do?
What other insults has she or will she suffer?
When is it enough?!

What have you been exposed to that has made you feel like this woman?
When will enough be enough?

Who can decide?
ONLY YOU.
Only YOU.

Love and light
Indrani

Cleaning MY side of the street…

Cleaning MY side of the street..

I have been given an amazing opportunity to clean up some “stuff”.
Relational “stuff”… the kind that is easier to let fester and rot and stay away from. The kind that is easy to not think about…the kind that makes it easy to keep myself busy with other “stuff”.
I am one lucky woman!

In speaking to a mentor about how to clean up my side of the street and how to find the mess that I contributed…I began to see how it is easy to avoid personal responsibility for the “stuff” of life. My mentor allowed me to speak at length about the whole dang thing and then he asked simple questions?

How was that your business?
When did you begin to move in fear?
Did you know that as soon as fear appears, trust and love disappears?

WOW…I intellectually knew all of this, of course, but to suspend judgment of self and others and to bear witness to my process was
fascinating. I could “see” myself doing the dance, saying the words, feeling the emotions. I saw it all, EXCEPT the fear.
The fear crept in, got comfy and seduced me with “I know what’s best here, leave it up to me.” I listened, I allowed fear to speak AND I was not aware of it.

It all boils down to this…I was not aware that I was in the state of vulnerability.

I was scared and vulnerable and confused and yes, afraid.

One of the biggest gifts we can give to ourselves is to have a partner to converse with….to help us keep things in check. Playing the same tape in our own heads just means that the record is stuck and making a deeper RUT. The neuro-pathway is getting more deeply etched and we can never get any more clarity without bringing some fresh, qualified thoughts to the situation.

If you have a relationship that is in jeopardy, then you have to clean up YOUR side of the street.
Their side of the street is their business.
Put on your overalls and your work boots and maybe even some gloves (not boxing gloves) because you may get dirtier before you get any cleaner.

This is not recommended if you expect to be fault free.

Happy cleaning!

Love and light,

Indrani

Can you hear my heart beating?!!

A few days ago, I did something that terrified me. I rode a bicycle in the heart of NYC.

I was going to be there for a short while and did not want to interrupt my training schedule for my MS 150. In order to do this, I had to summon the courage to ride a bike in New York City.

I was petrified. I knew that I was scared, but the level of fear did not really hit me until I was actually standing in the bike shop and was ready to wheel the bike out. I must have fiddled with my helmet for 15 minutes. The person helping me was so patient. I told him that I was scared and that I had never rode in traffic before.

He said that I had every right to be scared and that it should make me hyper-cautious. He told me to keep my head on a swivel and be ready to make defensive moves at a moment’s notice. He showed me the second set of brakes…which he called the “panic brakes.”

The name did not help to lessen my fear. In fact, it revved up my level of “?&#$, what am I doing?!”

I took a deep breath and I wheeled the bike onto the sidewalk. The pedestrians did not care that I was shelling a bike; they scurried around me as fast as they could and my first defensive test came as I had to ask someone to please let me thru.

I wheeled the bike to the street and waited for the traffic to slow down and I entered the road. The first few turns of the pedals felt like I had never ridden a bicycle. I was wobbly and shaky and the bike was riding me. I got off, stopped at the sidewalk and told myself that I am a good rider, I am a defensive rider and I know how to handle this bike.

When I mounted again, I had a different feeling and even though my heart was still beating hard and fast, it now felt like excitement and not doom. I kept my eyes on the road. I stayed present to everything that was going on. I followed all the traffic rules and I made it safely to where I needed to be.

The feeling was that of elation.
The feeling was familiar.
The last time I felt this alive was when I crossed a marathon finish line. I was energized. I was on a high.

I know that you have heard the saying, “do something scary every day.”
I see it all the time on the Lululemon bags that I have in my closet.
The problem was that I did not know how to find simple “scary” stuff to do.
I thought that it always had to be huge like learning a new language or training for a new event. I did not realize that doing something familiar could be the very definition of “scary.” A simple thing like riding a bike, but in an unfamiliar place, gave me the heebeegeebees….but I didn’t let it stop me, and for that I am proud!

At 58 years old, I rode a bike through the streets of NYC for the first time and I conquered my fear.

What scary thing will you do today?

Love & light,

Indrani