But she wrote something today on her website that I feel is so poignant and necessarily vulnerable yesterday's tragedy that I think it needs to be shared. This is what I've come from and what I find strength in, and the kind of mother that I hope to be to my children someday. My mother has taught me everything I know about what it means to love and be true to yourself. I hope you find some connection in it, too.
A reblog from Laura Brown at intuitivepainter.net:
I am not going to argue here about the merits or disadvantages of guns, controlling them or any body's "rights". I simply want to tell my story from my perspective in part because of the overwhelming desire to channel some of the energy we're experiencing on the planet now. Hopefully, as people work with the energies consciously, big dark shit like what happened out east will begin to be transformed.
The shootings in Connecticut. Yes, now we as a culture are faced with this gun thing again. It's the 3rd time in what, 10 days? The football player and his girlfriend, now leaving a little baby without parents. The mall shooting in Oregon. Now little babies, grade schoolers not to mention mothers and one obviously tortured soul, all of whom are someone's sibling, child, friend and loved one. We're also faced with what to do with these human beings who act out this way. I heard on the news that these guns were his mother's, purchased legally and that this young man had a history of mental illness. I know lovely people who have guns, clients whom I respect immensely, who carry dignity and grace with them and who use them in ways that are aligned with the earth. But what I don't like nor enjoy, nor think should be tolerated any longer is the idea that it's alright to have your guns while you live with someone who is mentally unstable. Why do we as a culture insist that this should work, when it clearly doesn't? To me it is an incredible amount of denial about both the sensitivity of some human beings and the insensitivity of others. It's like being pissed at the ocean when it swallows the house you built on the edge of it's mouth.
What strikes me as such the issue is not the guns. That's the surface bullshit we tell ourselves to ignore the fact that the gun has to be used by a person in order for it to fulfill it's purpose. Personally, I wouldn't have a gun, I don't want them any where near me. If someone wants to kill me with a gun, then so be it. I believe in many lifetimes and while I don't want to get wrapped up in someone else's karmic amends if they shoot me, I'm not going to play the "I've got to cover my own ass at all costs" thing either. I don't want to carry that fear of others around with me, it's hard enough without a gun, it would just up the terror ante to have one. I don't want to protect myself that way. I will say this, had I lived in my youth in a house with a gun, I would not be here now. It's highly possible that I would have taken someone with me, too. This is not a new thought, I've always thought this. I have always steered clear of guns out of that fear. When briefly dating someone who showed me he had a gun in a paper bag in his closet at home and the instant I saw it, I shut the door in my heart to that relationship. There was no way, with the way that I felt, that I was going to put myself close to helping the darkness I'd had in my head wipe me or any one else off of this earth. The pain I endured as a young person and the way it processed in my body and my mind would have had me killing myself, easily, if I had access to guns.
When I was 11 years old a darkness settled in on my soul. Depression literally hit me square in the head with such force and such power that I scarcely thought I would live to see 18, let alone my all the way to now. My brain would hurt daily, pounding and sending my ability to think clearly or function out the window. My throat hurt, my body hurt, my soul and spirit felt utterly and completely hopeless and without purpose. A heaviness came over me that I can only describe as black. It felt and looked that way and if any of you mothers have ever experienced true post partum depression, you know what that is like. It's utter darkness. Situational depression combined with young hormones(what my mentor Carol says is like going on hard drugs)that turned into chemical depression came over my soul like an engulfment. Having a sensitive system made it a piece of cake for the chemicals in my brain to freak out under the duress I was experiencing at home.
Before I hit my early teens, as a child, it had felt that things and people around me had things coming out of them, thoughts feelings, intentions that didn't match what it looked like their bodies were communicating. Big things with scary teeth would project in my mind's eye when certain family members would gather together for a benign Sunday dinner. Large shapeshifting beings visiting me all night some nights, things moving around my room, stuff I had no reference for. Peoples intentions came out of them in three dimensional form when I was around or near them. Feelings and attitudes went unsaid among the adults in my world that I would find manifesting in my own body, in the form of violent rashes or raging sore throats or just deep, bound energies pounding out of my legs and arms. I had no clue what was going on. As I grew into my teens and the situation at home became untenable, there was no longer an ability to cap off these crazy, wild feelings, they began to pour out of me and I began to act out. I became increasingly violent towards myself and towards my younger siblings, regularly screaming for those in charge to pay attention, to do something, to notice. Never mind that in reality my family was falling apart, that my mother had decided to check herself out as a parent with relationships and alcohol in order to get out of paying attention to what was going on(God bless my mother who would not do this as the person she is today, nor my father-they have made their amends). Also, that an active sexual predator and abuser was willingly invited into our house to stay. No concern that my father, who had spent all of my years up to that point targeting me with relentless and crippling criticism that had shredded any rightful sense of self, had suddenly left for another woman, leaving my mother emotionally hamstrung as a parent in the throes of her own deep abandonment issues. Issues so deep that she would ignore signs that her new husband to be was going to overtake and consume our household with his abusive behavior.
In school, I saw my peers and the adults around me as just as neglectful in their awareness of what was going on. There were many, many times, when the way I saw children and teenagers act towards each other as deeply violent and uncaring. Bullying was basically a sanctioned activity, ridicule as well. No one stopped it, no one noticed. Adults regularly looked the other way. I remember it being incredibly difficult to pay attention in school. It was all that I could do on a daily basis to get there and sit in my chair, there was no more energy left to do school work or focus on a future. The pressure in my head consumed everything. In all four years of art class in high school, I finished not one piece-regardless of really wanting to. It seemed so incredible that the world I had incarnated in was so unwilling to wake up, to see what was in front of them, to behave as if everyone mattered. It all seemed so wrong.
That feeling of wrongness gripped me in a way that nearly killed me. Sometimes my head would hurt so badly that my vision swam around in my head. My hands shook, my legs stiffened. All I wanted was to somehow stop feeling what I was feeling and be normal, like the rest of my peers. I made multiple suicide attempts, I really didn't want to die, but I so very much wanted someone to pay attention and for something to change. I consistently thought of death, thinking my life was a mistake, there was no purpose. Anxiety woke me at 4 am every morning in high school, terrified. Later in my teens, having been thoroughly convinced that I was crazy and without purpose, I struggled with relationships with boys, only choosing those who would be the least available. My terror of feeling unworthy made it nearly impossible to be in a healthy relationship. When a man I had a crush on assaulted me after drugging me during a company picnic, I knew so strongly that it was all me, I was the fucked up one, the one who was nuts. Because of my deep rage and acting out, I became the family scapegoat, the problem, the nightmare child and girlfriend, the one who caused all the trouble saying shit that shouldn't be said.
It wasn't until I was 28 years old and finally in a kind and compassionate therapist's office that I understood what it was like to be heard. I began to walk through the experiences of my early life with a compassionate and clearer eye, purging shit that clung to me like the black gunk in my head. The experience of someone listening to my pain and perceptions and someone invested in my healing saved my life. In hindsight now, I realize that I was a frustrated and angry Lightworker, dying, literally to channel what I was feeling in a way that would be heard and utilized. My perceptions and my feelings weren't crazy, they were real, had origins, had something that was important to say about what was out of alignment in my/the world. This acknowledgement saved my life. It took a long time, by the way. Still to this day, I can slip into that brain pain, that place that says, there is no point. I know now how to redirect the darkness and transmute it to the Light. It can be done. I've been lucky though. Without my therapist, my mentor, my family, my mother and my sister-who continue to show such great courage doing their own healing work, my children, this channel would not be here. This voice. Now, the work I do brings all of that energy through a positive channel, into something that helps people be clearer themselves.
We are all channels, we are all trying to communicate something. The energy that comes through human beings is powerful. And we've been taught, repeatedly to ignore it. Often times it is the sensitive channels that appear to be the craziest. When they act out on this feeling of crazy, we need to stop and ask why? Are they really so very different then everyone else or are they not able, for whatever reason, to metabolize the crazy? Because capping off shit that's raging to come through doesn't work. It can't. It's basically the theory of displacement. If you push something down it doesn't go away-it's going to come out somehow. It's physics. A law on this planet, of this Universe. You want to break that law? Do you want to ignore that someone close to you can't seem to stabilize themselves, but heck you just want to keep those guns around anyway-to hell with that reality! What's the message there? Go ahead, I dare you? You don't think those nasty little demonic spirits I talk about clearing in Circle every week don't LOVE it when human beings ignore the obvious connections? Guess what? Don't be surprised when the gun and the pain make contact. Then someone is going to get hurt and the darkness wins, big time.
So why the hell don't we pay attention now? Before something happens. Why don't we look at what the heck happens to these football players who keep getting their heads whacked around and do something to acknowledge that it's causing thinking problems, tendencies towards violence. Why do we still want to go along our business as if nothing should have to change???? How long was it that this young man in Connecticut was screaming inside? When are we going to STOP, to see why our culture is so painful, so damaging, and so dismissive to live in sometimes for all of life. Why is it STILL that way in 2012?
And the arguing is not solving the problems. "I want what I want" and "other people are very, very bad" are somehow two sides of a very fearful coin. It's neither. We must see each other. We must respect each other. We must pay attention long before someone is beginning to go off of the deep end. Why are they doing that, what is going on? What's out of alignment right now? And, How can I go and do my hunting, how can I feel safe, how can I look at this cool metal toy I have and do it in BALANCE and HARMONY with my fellow beings on this planet?
So, there's a bit of my story. In truth it comes up for me every time there is something like this on the news-one crazy person falling into darkness and a whole lot of pain as the result. I've been that crazy person and it's possible to come to the other side. So many lives have now been affected. The Universe is screaming at us to pay attention. It's getting ridiculous how loud it has to yell now. We're not deaf, we just like to not be bothered or we like to endlessly argue. It takes energy to pay attention. This will change, we will get it. But we can do it a whole lot faster and without such pain and suffering. Can't we just listen and as human beings move ourselves out of this darkness, willingly, now?