One of the big points that Barbara Sher makes in Wishcraft is that you are a genius. That each of us is a genius when we are born, full of curiosity and passion and talents and all the other things we associate with genius.

She offers exercises which are similar to the one Penelope Trunk suggests that I wrote about a few days ago. I’ve found it incredibly useful to look at the things that overjoyed and fascinated me as a child through Wishcraft, and now to look at how my childhood memories can teach me about what I need in my adult life and work.

Tonight, all of this came together in my head and I suddenly understood why I am so awesome.

You see, babies are awesome. Little kids are totally awesome. I personally think this is a universal truth. It was obvious to me with my own kid, but I figured I was biased. But it’s also obvious in every other child I encounter, and especially with my girlfriend’s nieces. Meeting a kid is just like being whacked with the awesome stick. They don’t even know how awesome they are. It’s like fishes and water. They can’t see it because they don’t know any other way to be. (Or, with the sad exceptions, they don’t know they’re awesome because they’ve already learned from their parents that they’re not – even though that’s not even remotely reasonable.)

Proof?:

 

(Sadly, I could not find my favorite baby picture, but I think these add a little something too! How cute am I with those little chocolate eggs?)

Well, a huge part of recovery for me was first learning how awesome I was… slowly becoming aware of the great things about me, my strengths and beauty and character, and slowly becoming willing to accept those things. Learning that the negatives I brought to my life were old coping mechanisms, old responses to abuse, and that I didn’t need them anymore. And, eventually, becoming willing and able to SAY that I was awesome – in front of other people and everything! – without immediately having to shame myself, hedge it around with conditions, trying to keep them from thinking I thought I was TOO great.

I’ve come to see myself, more and more, as (on one level) a spark of universe-stuff. A little bit of what everything else is made out of, connected to everything, with all this stuff that makes me a separate person important because it’s part of my experience now, but not all that relevant to who I am deep down. And that’s how babies and very young kids look to me too – just big SPARKS.

Tonight I saw that I’m awesome for the same reasons, in the same ways, that babies are awesome. You are, too. We are all born with all this great joy and energy and potential. We are born worthy and loving and lovable. Wonderful and good and loved. We are born perfect just the way we are.

We are all incredible, awesome, exciting people. We struggle, a lot of the time, with past traumas and with the crazy messages and old painful coping skills we’ve learned from them. And sometimes we act out, like cranky tired children, because of all that stuff. But that stuff is all layered on later. It’s learned and it can be unlearned.

One reviewer wrote, “Most books on life planning have, to my mind, two fatal flaws: they assume that your ’strengths’ are an infallible guide to what you ’should’ be doing with your life; and they then attempt to map this to a ‘career.’ Barbara Sher starts with the basics: what is most important to YOU? Given that, how are you to get it? (And this doesn’t necessarily translate into ‘career’!)” It’s true: often the things we think of as our “strengths” are the ways we’ve learned to cope. We’re proud of coping, of surviving, sometimes at a cost. Sometimes we don’t notice that we’re choosing painful situations over and over again, things we’ll need to cope with, because we’re so focused on those strengths at the expense of ease and joy.

The weary battle with negative coping mechanisms – aka the effects of abuse – can eclipse the truth: The stuff that’s actually part of us, at our core, at our birth, is pure AWESOME. That’s the stuff we really get to own, and live with, and enjoy, forever.

Well, I guess it’s obvious that abuse, addiction, and recovery is my favorite social issue. It sounds like three things, but it’s really all one smooth loop: being abused, acting that abuse out on ourselves, and learning to love ourselves and end that cycle.

This week’s Weekly Geeks topic is to pick our favorite social issue and list books that we’d like to read about it. So I thought I’d combine it with Thursday Thirteen and come up with thirteen of them.

I felt sort of resistant at first. I want to be done reading books about abuse and recovery. I want to know everything and be an authority and be the one writing stuff that blows people’s minds. And for some reason, I think that those are mutually exclusive. How silly is that?

I tend to feel resistance to reading books about abuse, no matter how interesting they sound, for what I think are pretty common reasons. They seem scary – another case of associating talking about trauma with the trauma itself. And another case of the common problem many abuse survivors have of being afraid of our feelings. Like if I read a book about abuse, instead of feeling fascinated and validated, I’ll be overwhelmed by all the feelings I experienced while being abused, and drown in it.

And then, too, I have more than five years of recovery under my belt and I feel frustrated and bored by some books, the ones that just go over the same basic ideas
about abuse and recovery (you are not alone, make a safe place for yourself, punch a pillow, blah blah blah) or worse, parrot the same misconceptions (falsities like it’s always men abusing girls, very few boys are sexually abused, you can’t trust recovered memories, blah blah crazypants).

But as I keep rejecting the idea of writing about abuse-related books I haven’t read this week, the universe has kept on throwing them at me. It seems like every website I go to or email I open is saying “Remember this book you set aside to look at? Remember this wish list you made at Powell’s?” So I might as well face it: there are still books that I can get delight and clarity from on this subject. Damnit.

In no particular order:

1. Betrayal Trauma: The Logic of Forgetting Childhood Abuse

This one is a classic. Jennifer Freyd is an amazing psychologist, who took the even more amazing step of speaking out about her parents’ abuse and writing this book which for once and for all answers the question of “why would anyone forget such a huge traumatic memorable experience?” Even when her parents threw a fit and founded the idiotic False Memory Syndrome Foundation.

2. The Body Remembers: The Psychophysiology of Trauma and Trauma Treatment by Babette Rothschild

This came up when I searched for Betrayal Trauma. It looked interesting, so I clicked through and saw that readers have said it “thoroughly explains the importance of “body memories” in trauma processing and discusses many ways in which to help clients both elicit and integrate dysfunctionally stored cellular memories,” and that “After more than 20 years treating trauma survivors I all too rarely find a new book from which I really learn something that I can immediately apply to my work. This is such a book.” Sounds good to me!

3. Waking the Tiger: Healing Trauma: The Innate Capacity to Transform Overwhelming Experiences by Peter Levine

I saw this book at Black Oak Books a while ago and really wanted to get it. (And Diesel Books too, come to think of it.) It looks very motivational and peppy, all about what awesome mad recovery skillz abuse survivors have to share with the world and what awesome things we can learn from animals about our own healing. Of course, I could be wrong, since I haven’t read it. It also looked like a fairly simple read, which is nice next to books with words like “psychophysiology” in the name.

4. A Young Person’s Guide to the 12 Steps by Stephen Roos

Actually I want to read this more for research because I am writing a guide to the 12 steps for kids. I suspect that mine is more for the 8-12 range, and I know that this one is aimed at teens because I’ve flipped through it in the store. But the steps have amazingly good structure and tools for dealing with the effects of abuse, and it’s always interesting to hear a new perspective on them. Plus, only 128 pages!

5. Clinician’s Guide to the 12 Step Principles by Marvin Seppala

One reviewer wrote, “The most interesting thing about this book is the unapologetic way in which the critical element of spirituality is addressed. For too long sprirituality has been a taboo subject in the cooly rational world of medical education. This book emphasizes that spirituality is the foundation upon which recovery from addictive illness is built one day at a time.” I’d love to see how they explain that to doctors and therapists.

Mainly, I think this sounds wicked interesting because I’ve worked in the recovery field for a while and I am constantly flabbergasted by how many people doing counseling for alcoholism, or running rehab centers or whatever, have no understanding of 12-step programs – even while they refer people out constantly to the few that they know about.It often seems to be more like “Well, I know you need this and these people will be able to explain why.” One of my goals is to educate people in the field about how they and their clients can benefit from the tools and information in 12-step programs, what the programs actually involve and how it all ties together holistically. So I guess I should read this book, huh!

6. The Mother I Carry: A Memoir of Healing from Emotional Abuse by Louise Wisechild

I read another book of hers, The Obsidian Mirror: Healing from Childhood Sexual Abuse, and really enjoyed her clarity about what was going on with her and her explanation of what she went through on this journey. Little did I know it was a sequel! (No, wait… it’s possible that THIS is the sequel. I guess I’ll have to read them to find out!) The Obsidian Mirror has a better first sentence: “Since it is inappropriate to discuss religion, I will begin there.” But both of them look funny, bold, and direct as hell, which are things I look for in personal writing about abuse.

7. Stop Walking on Eggshells: Taking Your Life Back When Someone You Care about Has Borderline Personality Disorder by Randi Kreger

I checked this out of the library and then stalled on reading it for pretty much all the self-faking-out reasons described above. Plus, I think that on some level, now that I have no one in my life with BPD, I want to avoid reading about it too – as if ignorance protects me! It is, in fact, exactly the opposite that is the case. The author has put together a lot of really helpful and clear information about borderline personality disorder and its effects at http://bpdcentral.com, which definitely makes me want to read the book more!

8. Understanding the Borderline Mother: Helping Her Children Transcend the Intense, Unpredictable, and Volatile Relationship by Christine Ann Lawson

My mother’s not borderline, but I still found this book helpful even simply when flipping through it in the store – especially in its descriptions of different “types” of borderlines like the Queen, the Waif, the Witch, and the Hermit. It really helped me identify when people in my life were undiagnosed (as far as I knew) borderlines, and make different choices around them. I’d like to read it all the way through!

(The link to abuse, for new readers, is that untreated BPD often leads people to become extremely abusive, and that borderline personality disorder is very much caused by abuse and neglect.)

9. I Hate You, Don’t Leave Me: Understanding the Borderline Personality by Jerold Kreisman

I want to read this because I have a copy and therefore I hope it will be good and useful… but I have my doubts. One review ended by remarking, out of nowhere, that “This clinically written primer leaves the reader with the impression that BPD syndrome is a catchall category.” Others commented on the fact that it leaves borderlines feeling hopeless because it was written before people knew about medication that could help – but surely by 1991 they knew about therapies that could help? and the book’s own description seems to claim that it will show people how to cope with and treat it. Sounds like it was groundbreaking at the time, when there were no other books on BPD, but hasn’t stood up well or been updated since. On the other hand, a lot of non-BPD readers said they found it very helpful in learning how to interact with borderline folks, and praised it to the heavens.

10. Sometimes I Act Crazy: Living with Borderline Personality Disorder, also by Jerold Kreisman

This is pitched as a follow-up book, published 15 years later. It got much better reviews; people who are borderline and people who love people who are borderline say that the anecdotes and personal stories in it really helped them identify with and understand the disease better. I’d like to read it because my main experience with BPD is as the victim of people who had it and had not begun healing from it, and it would be great to be able to understand the BPD experience from a compassionate place and have a better understanding of what helps with it.

11. Dr. Bob and the Good Oldtimers

Another book I have and have not read. I love history, I love old-timey writing, and I love hearing about the history of the recovery movement; why have I not read this yet? Maybe because it was buried under a stack of magazines.

12. Bluebird : Deliberate Creation of Multiple Personality by Psychiatrists by Colin Ross

I always think that the title totally plays into those FMSF lunatics who want us to believe that therapists are creating repressed memories and multiple systems. Specifically, that all cases of either are caused by therapists. Which is not true at all. Instead, Bluebird is an intensively researched book about government ritual abuse, using primary source documentation (that is, documents that come from the people who were doing this stuff, generally via the Freedom of Information Act) to expose and explain gruesome attempts at mind control by different governments. One reader adds that “Ross has an entire diagram of the MK-ULTRA projects and sub-projects, where they were, who ran them and where the funding came from,” which provides some idea of how detailed he is in his writing about these things and how much time he spends connecting the dots. I’ve read some of it; not nearly enough, but it inspired me to the level of research I used when writing about Project Monarch/MK-ULTRA myself.

13. The Addictive Organization: Why We Overwork, Cover Up, Pick Up the Pieces, Please the Boss, and Perpetuate Sick Organizations, by Anne Wilson Schaef and Diane Fassel

I have this at home, borrowed from someone, and I have to say, I flipped through it and I was disappointed. It’s a follow-up to When Society Becomes an Addict,
which of course I’ve written about here and here, but it looks much drier – written in more academic language, and, in my edition at least, also in much smaller print! But it is supposed to talk about the same principles and how they play out in organizati ons, which is important for anyone who works anywhere or does activist work… so I’m hoping that giving it an honest try will pay off.

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I’m on the verge of giving notice at my job, at a place I’ve worked for nearly nine years, the school I came to straight out of high school. I have been here for 12 years, my entire adult life.

This afternoon I am writing the documentation that is the last thing I have to do before I go, and then, “out of nowhere,” I remember what a peanut butter and honey sandwich on Home Pride bread tastes like, and I miss my mommy and want chocolate milk, with the Nestle Quik crystals not fully stirred up so when you get to the bottom of the glass, there’s powder that isn’t even wet you get to scrape up with your spoon.

I cannot actually eat any of those foods. Not a one! I’m lactose-intolerant and gluten-intolerant. I am a sugar addict and a peanut butter addict and a caffeine addict in recovery. I don’t want the actual experience of chocolate milk and a peanut butter and honey sandwich (nor, incidentally, do I want the experience of being with my mother); I want what those things did for me when I was a little girl, or what I thought they were doing for me. I want the comfort. I want the familiarity. I want the sweetness.

When my mom abandoned our family, I couldn’t run to her anymore. And it was much too painful for me to even think of running to her. I felt so sad and so scared, and I wanted her to come and comfort me, but I felt that way because of her, so the feelings built on themselves. I was triggered, and when I sought relief, I became even more triggered, in a seemingly endless cycle.

I loved my food, though. I loved it and it comforted me. I stood in front of the cupboard after school, looking at the bounty and furtively gathering my favorite foods. I took out slices of white bread and spread them with peanut butter, chocolate syrup, and coconut shreds. I smushed them into my mouth as fast as I could so no one would catch me. At the kitchen table, I ate bowl after bowl of cereal, adding more milk in between servings. I ate spoonfuls of sugar straight from the sugar bowl.

I did other things, too. I read books and I watched TV and I pretended outside as long as it was light out. I went to church. I petted cats. I listened to my records and cassettes over and over again.

The food, though, goes straight to the core for me. It is unmediated. It is direct and primal and central. You eat to live. You eat to survive. Nourishment. Sustenance. I needed to be nourished. I needed to be sustained, and I was.

There wasn’t a lot of love or tenderness in my life. I didn’t get a lot of the things a child– or any person, really– needs in order to survive. I couldn’t make anyone hug me or hold me. I couldn’t make anyone tuck me into bed or hold my hand. I couldn’t make anyone tell me it was going to be all right. But there was food in my house and I could get it myself. I could make a peanut butter and honey sandwich. I could mix chocolate into milk.

And now, I could easily do the same thing. I am powerless over peanut butter and honey and chocolate milk and white bread. If I didn’t give those things over to my Higher Power, it isn’t just that I could eat the sandwich and drink the milk, it is that I couldn’t not eat and drink them. What happens when I don’t comfort myself with food?

I get to feel the sadness and pain and discomfort of right now. What it is like to lose this place that has meant so much to me, these people with whom I’ve shared my life. What it like to miss them, to miss a place. How scary it is to go somewhere completely new. How scary to be independent, my own little self in the world. And I get to feel all the sad from back then that echoes now: what it was like when I was little to have everything I had known taken away, to be devastated and scared and comfortless and alone. What it was like to miss her. What it was like to wake up in an unfamiliar life, to wake up in the morning and for a few seconds be untethered, unsure of where I was, before I remembered with a whoosh, Oh, she’s gone.

(It’s not that the peanut butter takes that away, of course. The pain and the memories are right there, underneath, where I can’t get to them.)

There’s something else here, though, when I let myself feel: there is comfort. I can hear my Higher Power calling to me, holding me, sustaining me. When I don’t put something else in her place, there is room for the Goddess in my life, space for her to come in and comfort me, and an opening (and openness) for me to receive. It is bittersweet. I get to feel it all at once, the pain and the fear and the sad and the comfort and the sweetness.

I’m leaving this comfortable job, too, for what I don’t yet know. I get to feel what is under here, too. There will be sweetness in that too.

(with thanks to Jimmy Eat World for the title)

This is a reading/blogging challenge put on by Renay over at Bottle of Shine. Basically, people list ten books they love, and/or go pick out three books to read from other people’s lists, and then review the ones they read.

Like most blog challenges, the benefits are that we get to discover new blogs, meet new people, have our blogs discovered by new people, get some writing inspiration, and in this case, read some awesome new-to-us books.

So, after much thought I came up with ten books that I LOVE that are in some way connected to this blog’s theme: abuse, addiction, and recovery. I think this list reflects how that theme plays out in real life: they’re about learning how we work inside, how the abuse in the world and in most of our families affects us on a very practical and everyday level, and how to make our lives freaking AWESOME. That last part, pretty much, is the core, the essence, and the damn point. In fact, I guess if I thought there was a question about “why we are all here anyway,” that would be my answer: to understand and love ourselves and each other (but especially ourselves) in order to make our lives freaking AWESOME, heLLO.

I highly, highly recommend reading each of these anyway. Obviously, if you have I would love to hear about it, and if you have reviewed them somewhere (including in one disgruntled or excited sentence in your blog) I will be thrilled to link thereforunto.

1. Repressed Memories: A Journey To Recovery From Sexual Abuse, by Renee Fredrickson
I’ve written about this book before, and I will probably write about it again. The very nature of repressed memories means that we can’t just assume we don’t have any. Everyone should learn about what they are, how they work, why people repress things, what indicates that someone has repressed memories, how to distinguish between memories and fears, and (my favorite part, maybe) how dysfunctional families work and how people’s roles in them affect the rest of their lives. It’s just an incredibly well-informed and information-packed book for something that looks so tiny!

2. Sensual Living, by Claire Lloyd
Not about abuse, but a great help to me in my recovery. Sensual Living is about the tactile, beautiful, sensual delights of the objects around us, with a specific aim of showing readers how to make their surroundings more enjoyable to each of the five physical senses. It’s very calming and nurturing to read, and even more so to live. From a survivor standpoint, it’s a wonderful tool to use in overturning the deprivation we often bring to our living environments without realizing it.

3. Wishcraft: How To Get What You REALLY Want, by Barbara Sher and Annie Gottlieb
This book is fucking brilliant. It’s divided into two portions: the first part helps the reader explore what they always wanted to do, what their passions are, and especially what interests and talents they have smothered because of, basically, abuse, or for any reason at all. It explains very clearly that (and how) we are each born geniuses, and how that potential gets smooshed away inside many of us. The second and I think part is about getting what we want. She is incredibly creative in this. My favorite angle is that we often don’t have to wait to become rich or famous or work for years to become actors or pilots or whatever our dreams are; we can figure out what we actually want from that goal (to travel, to be admired, to perform, etc.) and see what ways there are of getting that sooner. And then she outlines how to do even that. She’s just merciless in breaking down exactly how to do it every step of the way, which is my favorite kind of writing.

4. Facing Codependency, by Pia Mellody, Andrea Wells Miller, and J. Keith Miller
I admit it: I haven’t read much of this. I’m familiar with it, though, and I love it from afar. I love, especially, the way that they explain very clearly how abuse causes codependency, and its relation to other addictions, and what it is. These are really important points that should be taught in the most basic psychology classes, which instead many therapists and other mental health professionals are absolutely clueless about. And I love books like this that break down a complicated subject into a series of often mind-blowing yet simple links.

5. At The Speed of Life: A New Approach to Personal Change Through Body-Centered Therapy, by Gay and Kathlyn Hendricks
This book changed my life. How often do I get to say that? Well, every time I mention this book, anyway, so I guess as often as I want! It’s written by a husband-and-wife team of somatic therapists, aimed at other therapists but with plenty of tools and stories for lay readers – and I have to admit that I love learning about how professionals in any profession think and what they know that we aren’t supposed to. The basic subject matter here is how to recognize when memories and emotions are trapped in our bodies, and how to (safely) “get them out.” To that end, they’ve filled the book with fantastic breathing techniques, ways to explore the feelings in our bodies, detailed explanations of verbal and physical “flags” that signal repressed feelings and memories… it’s just crammed with helpful stuff that everyone can use.

6. Double Vision: A Travelogue of Recovery from Ritual Abuse, by Anna Richardson
I sort of think this should go at the very top, “no particular order” or not. This book is gorgeously written, magnificently clear and full of hope and beauty and recovery rising from the chaotic wreckage of addiction and ritual abuse. Abuse writing is one of those genres where books sometimes seem to get published more because there’s a need for books about abuse than because there’s a need for that particular book; Double Vision, I think uniquely, could fit on any list of well-crafted, luminous writing in or outside of its genre. It’s about humanity and pain and joy and growth, in a way that transcends any concern of whether a particular reader will identify with the specific subject matter.

7. Workaholics Anonymous Book of Recovery
This might be my favorite book-to-do-with-twelve-step-stuff. It has lots of personal stories, different experiences with and tools for working the steps around work issues (and just in general) and a TON of other helpful tools. Every time I open it I learn something new about having fun, about balancing work and the rest of life, about how work issues can play out in any area of my life, or just about myself personally. Do I have to point out that work issues are basically perfectionism, codependence, and shame, that those three things are basically the same anyway, and that that all comes from abuse? So information like this is vital. And who can resist an approach to it that often boils down to “recovery is about joy and fun”?

8. When Society Becomes an Addict, by Anne Wilson Schaef
Even though, as I’ve said, I think Schaef missed the crucial question of WHY addiction is the way it is (that is, that the signs of addiction are also the effects of abuse), she wrote some intense and explosive stuff about it twenty-plus years ago. If you want a dead-on look at how addicts (abuse survivors) behave, how that looks when it isn’t about drugs or alcohol, and how it looks when it’s on the huge group or governmental level, check this out. If you want a dead-on look at how abuse affects people’s lives and why it doesn’t really help in the long term to get to “it doesn’t bother me anymore that I was abused” and then sell yourself short by taking off (as many therapists suggest their clients should do), likewise, check this out. (Or, more felicitously: if you want to get a good idea of what the effects are that we all get to deal with and see a little bit of how great and unimaginably different life is without them, read this book.)

9. To Be Healed By The Earth, by Warren Grossman
I really like books on alternative healing – really far-out (for us now anyway), wacky, hippie-sounding, energy-work alternative healing – written by people with serious medical degrees and decades of mainstream medical practice. Not only is it refreshing, but it often means the information is studied more carefully because they’re used to thinking analytically and applying hardcore principles of science and logic to what they do. At least, that’s the case with this book. It’s extremely practical, it doesn’t expect the reader to believe a word of it unless it works for them, and it is super-clear at every point about where it is coming from and what to do to see if it works for you. The basic premise is that spending time with nature helps us heal and feel more grounded and energized; I suppose that doesn’t sound very radical, but having a simple system of meditations and ways of lying or sitting or standing with trees and the ground, and talking about how this brought him back from death’s door, is both radical and wildly helpful to anyone recovering from anything, whether it’s physical or psychological – and of course, almost everything is both.

10. One Day My Soul Just Opened Up: 40 Days and 40 Nights Toward Spiritual Strength and Personal Growth, by Iyanla Vanzant
Spirituality is a huge component of recovery from abuse. Particularly when we are little, our abusers often seem like the mainstream image of “God”: they’re these huge creatures who seem to end up around where the sky is, from whence all food and shelter and safety and love come – and anger and judgment and abandonment and tragedy. Maybe the most important part of recovery is learning to separate our abusers from a loving source of guidance, whether we think of that as a God or Goddess or our intuition or the universe or love or some other wild thing. Because until then, our decisions are all informed at least partly by the burden of shame from the abuse, the crazy voices in our heads telling us that we don’t know what we are doing or that we need to be perfect or that we always fuck up or that something terrible will happen if we get another job/relationship/whatever.

To Be Healed By The Earth is one way to explore that spiritual area; twelve-step programs offer another space in which people often explore how all this plays out for them; One Day My Soul Just Opened Up is a third option. It is laid out as a series of daily readings, meditations, and writing exercises that explore issues just like this and many more. It’s basically a deep exploration of our relationships with spirituality and ourselves and others, done in about 20-30 minutes a day for a couple of months. (Plus, afterwards you have all this writing and highlighting and wild inspired or angry scribbling to look back at and see how far you have come!)