Avoid Common Dating Mistakes with These Key Tips
Description :
Why I Keep Falling for Nurses and Teachers
Holiday Gifts to Avoid While Dating
Avoiding Dating Pitfalls with These 8 Mental Trick
A Look at Hollywood’s Relationship with Black Pain
Wild Cherry Flags
The Perils of Past Relationships
Jealousy: Wasted Energy or Relationship Fuel?
Master the Science of Getting Dumped with Style!
My reflexes are all wrong and I am working every day to create normal behavior. But fear is my companion, moment by moment. I flinch at loud noises, at traffic sounds, doors slamming, sudden cries of the young.
I trance out and visions fill me at the drop of a hat, then the cold spot from everything you agreed to being a joke and the sound of screams rise and I’m balling up and “too late, too late could I have done more” wars with “she never listened anyway you are nothing and the pain for her rises and ….”
I speak in poetry and melodrama to shield myself from having to say any of this. I make up a me and let it play for you. I’ve gotten so good at it I can just go hide in the corner while my fingers type and my mind runs on. I can write for facts and I can also write for feelings. Those feelings are over there and I don’t have to handle them except in lines of print. I polish the lines of words until it becomes the music and songs that let me hide.
CS: Do you think other people were aware of your mother’s abuse of you and your sister at the time? If so, in what ways did they respond?
MG: You assume that I would have felt free to say anything. There was always drama and there was always the invisible blade of what would happen if all of this dreadful secret got out. The atmosphere of fear of discovery was simply everywhere and there was no place to hide.
Worse, I was ashamed. When you are small you believe stuff, and I felt with my whole heart that I was responsible when she would go bad. There was absolutely no way I was gonna drag the mountain onto my head. And that made every day a drama, a thick clogged tube of waiting for the dreadful, the un-nameable horror.
And nobody spoke. Everything was always fine and that was my clown suit. I thought everyone knew and that I was such a bad person no one would speak to me. My echo chamber filled me with such fear of exposure I would do anything to make the shadow go away. And I did. The shame paints my world yellow and pink and brown. I don’t want to say these things any more.
Marion Zimmer Bradley’s star rose with the feminist movement. She was a luminary for feminists who were seeking a form of spirituality they could call their own. Her Mists of Avalon, published in 1983, provided just what many of these women were looking for at just the right moment; as the cheesy New Age spirituality of the 1970s wound down, Bradley’s invention of a world of Celtic druids and priestesses struggling against fierce Saxon masculists and Roman Catholic patriarchs offered a mythology that many Anglo women could relate to on a deeper, ancestral level.
Holiday Gifts to Avoid While Dating
Avoiding Dating Pitfalls with These 8 Mental Trick
A Look at Hollywood’s Relationship with Black Pain
Wild Cherry Flags
The Perils of Past Relationships
Jealousy: Wasted Energy or Relationship Fuel?
Master the Science of Getting Dumped with Style!
My reflexes are all wrong and I am working every day to create normal behavior. But fear is my companion, moment by moment. I flinch at loud noises, at traffic sounds, doors slamming, sudden cries of the young.
I trance out and visions fill me at the drop of a hat, then the cold spot from everything you agreed to being a joke and the sound of screams rise and I’m balling up and “too late, too late could I have done more” wars with “she never listened anyway you are nothing and the pain for her rises and ….”
I speak in poetry and melodrama to shield myself from having to say any of this. I make up a me and let it play for you. I’ve gotten so good at it I can just go hide in the corner while my fingers type and my mind runs on. I can write for facts and I can also write for feelings. Those feelings are over there and I don’t have to handle them except in lines of print. I polish the lines of words until it becomes the music and songs that let me hide.
CS: Do you think other people were aware of your mother’s abuse of you and your sister at the time? If so, in what ways did they respond?
MG: You assume that I would have felt free to say anything. There was always drama and there was always the invisible blade of what would happen if all of this dreadful secret got out. The atmosphere of fear of discovery was simply everywhere and there was no place to hide.
Worse, I was ashamed. When you are small you believe stuff, and I felt with my whole heart that I was responsible when she would go bad. There was absolutely no way I was gonna drag the mountain onto my head. And that made every day a drama, a thick clogged tube of waiting for the dreadful, the un-nameable horror.
And nobody spoke. Everything was always fine and that was my clown suit. I thought everyone knew and that I was such a bad person no one would speak to me. My echo chamber filled me with such fear of exposure I would do anything to make the shadow go away. And I did. The shame paints my world yellow and pink and brown. I don’t want to say these things any more.
Marion Zimmer Bradley’s star rose with the feminist movement. She was a luminary for feminists who were seeking a form of spirituality they could call their own. Her Mists of Avalon, published in 1983, provided just what many of these women were looking for at just the right moment; as the cheesy New Age spirituality of the 1970s wound down, Bradley’s invention of a world of Celtic druids and priestesses struggling against fierce Saxon masculists and Roman Catholic patriarchs offered a mythology that many Anglo women could relate to on a deeper, ancestral level.
Type d'événement :
Réunion en Plénière du collectif
Début de l'événement :
07.10.2021
Fin de l'événement :
09.10.2021