Starr Crossed Creations

Starr Crossed Creations
Pretty with a purpose.

Sunday, April 24, 2016

The Power of Abuse

A person abused as a child will normally see those patterns manifest throughout their lives. Children cannot control their perspectives. The teenage years are already filled with the hyper-anxiety of changing hormones. Not really the best time to consider circumstantial self-examination.

 This writing is for the adult survivors of childhood mistreatment. There are a bunch of us that actually did get out, somewhat ok. I grew up in a place and time where men, no matter how horrible they could be, were the lords of their domain. Any female was little more than a servant. My father was 10 years older than my mother. It made the generational divide even greater. My father truly was a foul-tempered, egomaniacal, obsessive-compulsive genius. He could cut you with no more than a look or a sentence. He was fast on his feet...and no attempts at reasoning with him ever penetrated his iron wall. He was notoriously right all the time. He beat me, lied to me, said I was ugly and stupid, and called me things you wouldn't say to your worst enemy. He despised me. And I him. For me, he was evil incarnate.....which brings me to my mother. A very beautiful, but continuously shrinking violet, she was too frightened to be alone. Every assault I withstood was one she didn't have to suffer. She was guilty by complicity. She would agree with me when he was out of the house, but would stand right by his side when he was on the attack. How sad that she refused to protect me.

 Of course, one gravitates towards the familiar. In short order I had a string of abusive men walk thru my life. There's got to be a good one somewhere, right? Disappointment after disappointment, I drudged through..this one, then that one. I would make excuses when my partner would behave inappropriately in front of others. All the while, blaming my upbringing and abusers for the way things turned out.

 Feel sorry for me. Boo-fucking-hoo.

 If you've been emotionally battered (especially by a parent), you are forever trying to find acceptance. When you want so desperately for people to like you, you open the door to even more abuse and the cycle perpetuates on its own. I had righteous anger. Some of it still remains to this day. But that alone wouldn't turn things around. Then, it suddenly dawned on me...I could use this. I could take all of that pain and redirect it for my own purposes. The chart of your life is an outline that you can re-draw when you decide to get the guts for it. It isn't easy, but it can be done. Walk away from that bad relationship, say no to what you do not want, hang up on the person that damaged your young self image. You might not gain their respect initially, but you'll get your own, and that's where it starts to turn around. You're a fighter, damn it. If you can survive being stabbed in the back by the people who are supposed to love you most, what could possibly come against you? You've already lived thru the worst kind of betrayal.

 Until next time, may you be blessed by the Gods.

Sunday, April 3, 2016

Being a Doormat

And speaking of being a doormat…here’s about the day I got truly cured…

I’ve done a lot of running in my time. Oh, not the kind of sexy, wind-in-my-hair, or I’m going to get some exercise type of running either. I mean the insane run to this appointment, that meeting, luncheon, work in the morning type of running. The ones full of movement, but without any real satisfying internal activity. It’s fucking exhausting. You can still wind up feeling like a slave to everyone else’s whims…what the kids want, what the mate wants, what the boss wants. Sometimes life is like a truly boring treadmill, and someone removed the damn stop button. I used to work in a building where there were elevator attendants (and as silly as it sounds, these were not old fashioned, gated elevators – think old movies). These were fully electric, push the button for your floor elevators, but the owner still thought the attendants were needed. I thought I had mastered the ability of getting myself to the fifth floor alone, perhaps others were not so skilled. Mr. Jackson was the attendant. One morning, I was running late. I scurried through the lobby where I saw one of the elevator doors still open. There was Mr. Jackson, smiling, motioning his hand down to slow me. “A queen does not run to an elevator, the elevator waits for a queen.”.

Now this might seem like a mere kind thing to say…but that moment changed my entire attitude about who and what I am. That sentence conveyed so much more than the words themselves. I instantly picked my head up and walked straighter. I understood, for the first time, that I could be someone for me. Not only did I have value, but it was my duty to represent that value from the inside out. I could consider my own desires, set my own goals, and behave in a regal manner. But remember that with great personal power comes great responsibility. This isn’t a license to become a bossy cunt. Rather, be someone that people might be inspired by. Move directly through the world. Be secure in your aim, your intentions, your motivation. Do what makes you glow. Make your happiness a priority, but not to the detriment of others. Be kind as much as possible, but within reason. It serves no one to give to the point where you are hurting yourself. Yes, you will continue to hear me say things like this often.

Until next time, may you be blessed by the Gods.