The Benefits of Brainwashing

I know the term "brainwashing" has a negative connotation.  Usually you hear the term relating to cults that rape young girls and commit mass suicide.

Those are rather extreme examples of a belief-changing technique that advertisers and society uses on all of us daily.  Perfectly sane people would not spend so much money on brand name crap otherwise.  Or think that formula is better for babies than human milk...but that's a whole other rant.

Today, I want to talk about the benefits of brainwashing.  You can use this very same technique to cleanse your own brain of beliefs that are detrimental to your well-being.

Think about how advertisers inundate you with pleasurable or scary images, repeated the same key words and phrases over and over.  Some of them try to guilt you into following their orders.  Others try to lure you by presenting something you might want.  What they are really doing is nurturing the fear of lack - of not being, having, doing enough to be accepted by our peers.

Fear of lack drives our economy and our society, but it doesn't have to rule our lives.

You can wash your brain of that scare-mongering bullpoopy.

You can replace your fear-based beliefs with beliefs based in love and trust.

I'm not talking about religious beliefs, although those can certainly change too.  I'm talking about your day to day beliefs about who you are, what you care about, how other people are, how the world works.

The truth of the matter is that if you believe you can't do something, you won't be able to do it.  You won't even give yourself a chance to try unless you have a little spark of hope inside you, just waiting for it's chance to ignite into a purifying blaze, transforming that old limiting belief of can't into the empowering belief of can.

If you didn't have that little spark of hope inside you, you wouldn't be reading this.  So read on.  Hope is the key to happiness.  Hope opens the door to love.  Love is the cure for fear.

It's a simple formula, but not even remotely easy.  When you've been afraid all your life of not having enough, not doing enough, not being enough, raised by a society that runs on those same fears, it takes a lot of work to ignite that spark of hope into the cozy ember of love.

Most of us can't go from one extreme to another overnight.  Most of us can't go to bed believing nothing we do matters and wake up believing that everything we do matters.  Most of us have to go to the "maybe I can do something that matters", then to the "this thing I do matters to me, so it probably matters to someone else," before we get to "Yes!  I'm making a difference!"

You might find the following questions enlightening if you answer them honestly to yourself.  It works best if you only do one fear at a time.  If you make a list of fears, you'll probably find that many, if not all of them, are related.

1. What are you afraid of?
2. How does that fear interfere with your happiness?
3. What belief does your fear reflect?
4. What do you need to believe in order to change that fear?
5. What steps can you take to make that change?

I'll go first.

1. I'm afraid that I'm not good enough to be accepted and supported by my peers.
2. This fear keeps me from speaking my truth, from finishing my passion-fueled projects in a timely manner, and from going into situations where I might make new friends (or be rejected, or worse, ridiculed.)
3. I think this fear reflects a belief that my worth lies in the opinions of others.
4. In order to change this belief, I need to find worth in myself in order to replace that fear with love for myself and trust in the universe.  I need to believe that I have inherent worth, or at the very least, that I have created value with my life and actions.
5. I can repeat an affirmation to myself many times a day along the lines of, "I am valuable."  I can make a list of all the things that I've done that have helped others.  I can make a list of all the positive things others have said to me reflecting how valuable I am to them.  I can put both of those lists in places where I can often see them, and make sure to read them every day or whenever I need the boost.  I can choose to cut people who say negative things or inspire feelings of unworthiness in me from my life.  I can choose to stay away from images, talk shows, "news," and other media that inspires negative feelings in me.  I can treat myself with the same unconditional love with which I treat my child.

The list in number 5 could be longer, but I didn't want to bore the pants off of anyone still reading. ;)

Sometimes I think I believe something, only later to realize I was wrong.  For example, for most of my life, I thought I was very mature for my age.  Last year I underwent some major healing, and when I looked back over my journals from earlier in my life, I was shocked at how immature I'd been.  And at how damaged I'd been.  I'd known something was wrong with me, but I'd had no idea how bad it was. I couldn't know how bad it was until I healed enough to see it.

I didn't think of it that way at the time, but I healed myself by brainwashing myself.  I isolated myself from the people and media that felt bad to me.  I repeated positive affirmations to myself over and over until I believed them.  I took care of my body's needs first, and then started working on my mind and spirit.  I'm still working on my heart.

And yet...

I feel like a totally different person.  A happier person.  A healthier person.  And I still have a lot of healing ahead of me.

I've been thinking about this for weeks, so I thought it was time to share.  I hope the ideas in this blog post help unlock something in you.  <3

On the Path to Healing Anxiety

I was thinking yesterday about my path to healing, and how that path is reflected in my writing.

In my first memoir, I show the extent and causes of my personal damage and my first steps toward healing and empowering myself.

In my second memoir, which I'm working on now, I show my experience with homelessness, faith, and healing the Major Depression that plagued my life.

In the third memoir, which I'm living now, I'm figuring out how to heal my Post Traumatic Stress Disorder and resulting anxiety.  Now that the depression is gone, what remains is fear.  I've felt the fear for so long, as long as I can remember in fact, that I had to recognize myself in someone who suffers from severe anxiety before I really noticed it.

There are so many sources for my particular brand of PTSD.  I could have felt my mother's fear while I was still in her womb and my father was abusing her, and I'm sure I witnessed the abuse as a toddler.  My mother abused me when I was a child, and died while I was a child.  I was raped at 17, and three more times when I was 18 or 19.  (One of my coping mechanisms is poor memory.  I don't remember most of my life.  Which makes memoir writing even more of a challenge!)

Somehow, though I was diagnosed with PTSD when I was a teenager, I only recently realized that I have anxiety issues.  Bright lights, sudden movement, sudden noises, loud noises, repetitive noises, subwoofers blasting bass, and suddenly becoming aware of someone's presence...these things don't just startle or irritate me - they terrify me and set off my fight/flight response.  My body responds to those everyday occurrences as if its life was in danger.

First I tense up, adrenaline flowing freely.  At that point, I might notice what's happening and calm myself with breathing exercises or a change of scenery, or even a bit of humor to diffuse the tension.

But if I'm distracted and don't notice my need for relief, or if I'm unable to get away, the tension builds and the fear turns to rage.  Like the incredible Hulk, but way less dramatic.  It's a fear/rage monster, and if I haven't had enough food, sleep, or stress relief, that monster can and will take control of my body and say and do violent, abusive things.

When the monster takes over, I don't have to throw things, or scream.  All I have to do is look at my poor toddler, and he will burst into tears and run away, and I will realize that he saw the monster in my eyes, calm myself the fudge down, and go find and comfort and apologize to my baby.

Thank the Gods I know my triggers, how to calm myself; how to take care of myself, to step away from my baby so I don' t make him a victim; how to apologize when I hurt his feelings or frighten him, and how to get us both laughing so we heal those little wounds before they become scars, or worse.

My plan is to heal the anxiety, not just manage it.  I'm learning how to trust the inherent goodness in myself and in the Universe.  This time next year, I want to truthfully say, "I healed my PTSD."  I want to be able to sleep soundly through the night, feeling totally safe and secure.  I want to know in my heart as I know in my head that everything is and will always be exactly what I need it to be in the moment.

I want to teach my son to have that faith, that trust, that security.

Ramblings of a Mama in Mourning

I'm reeling, and I have to write somewhere, so I'm writing here.

When my mother, Susan, died at 32, we saw it coming.  She had an incurable disease, got sicker and sicker, and died slowly at home, surrounded by loved ones.

Tonight, my friend Susan died.  She was also 32.  She had a 2 year old son who won't remember her except through the stories of the many people who loved his mother.

I met Susan when my son was 8 months old and we both attended our first "baby-que."  Susan and I, and many many other mamas, had chosen the same midwife, and our midwife hosts a baby-cue every October, bringing together hundreds of her mamas and their babies.  Susan was pregnant when I met her, and she resembled my mother a bit, and had my mother's name, and I thought that was a neat coincidence.  We sat together in the grass and chatted most of the time I was there.

I think I told Susan about the mothering group I'd joined a few months earlier, and either she already knew others in it, or she joined shortly after.  My life started falling apart after that baby-cue, so I lost touch with just about everyone I knew.

Susan and I could have been great friends had I remained in Orlando and active in the mothering group.  When she suffered a stroke Monday morning, I discovered that we had dozens of friends in common, in and out of the mothering group.  People I'd known in high school somehow even knew her.  And every single one of us was praying, lighting candles, sending love, healing, and positive energy and asking all our friends and all their friends to do the same.

I wanted to believe that she was going to live.  Because perfectly healthy people don't just drop dead, damnit!

Susan was vegetarian, fit, active, radiant...and I'm morbidly obese, trying to be vegan, inactive, and radiance is my goal for this year but I'm SO not there yet...I know it's cliche to have survivor's guilt, but why the Hades is she gone and I'm still here?

And what are the chances that a person would know two women named Susan who would die at 32?!

And...

And...

I feel so helpless. 

I want to give every single hurting heart a huge hug, to help them to know that Susan has just gone Home, and she'll be there to great them when their times come, radiant as ever, and that if they just close their eyes and reach out with their hearts they can connect with her love and feel her wings closing around them.

I found out Susan had passed fifteen minutes before my tutoring shift was over.  I knew when the phone rang what I was going to hear, but I answered it anyway.  My student's brother heard me say that my friend had died, and just before I left he rushed downstairs to give me a picture he had colored to make me feel better.

I think it's a flower.

It does make me feel a bit better.  :*)

What can I say to someone bullying her kid over the phone?

Let me just ignore the 20 items on my to-do list for a minute because I can't do anything while I'm sitting here with my stomach churning and my hands trembling...except write it out.

My writing spot of choice is unfortunately limited to a not-so-local Starbucks, so I overhear a lot of things I'd rather not.  A few moments ago, I overheard a "preppy" mom telling her son over the phone that if she ever hears him cuss again, she'll punch him in the face, because he is a CHILD, and therefore he doesn't get to cuss.

So...what can I say to a mom who bullies her kid over the phone that will make things better for everyone?

Should I tell her how I felt when my mother spoke to me that way, how my mother died when I was 12, and 18 years later all I remember are the mean things that she said?

It feels great to be talked to as if your feelings don't matter, don't ya think?

Is it my place to pull a seat up to her table and ask her and her friends, who were laughing encouragingly as they listened to her side of the conversation, to really think about what they are teaching their kids when they threaten their children with violence, how they create either bullies or victims rather than healthy, happy young people who become happy, healthy adults?

It's a tempting thought, but I'm afraid I would just burst into tears out of empathy for their poor kids, for the poor kid that I was.

What can you say to someone you don't even know that might open their mind just a little bit, maybe inspire them to treat their children with love and respect?

Thanksgiving and the Not So Angry 95% Vegan

A few years ago, I was a student at UCF, walking to the student union for lunch. It was the week before Thanksgiving, and I passed a vegan friend of mine, who tried to convince me to go into a makeshift cavern plastered with pictures of the suffering of turkeys and other animals, designed to raise awareness of animal cruelty and shame meat eaters into quitting cold turkey (hee hee, couldn't resist the pun.)

I refused to enter the den of horror. Turkey was my absolute favorite meat, and I didn't want to feel guilty about it, or have my pleasure diminished by memories of horrible images. The anger of the vegan and vegetarian protesters made me feel unsafe and uncomfortable, so I avoided them.

Last week I experienced my first Thanksgiving as a vegan, and I wasted no time trying to guilt anyone into eschewing turkey. I have to say that horrible stories and images of animal cruelty have nothing to do with the fact that I am vegan now. Though I am vegan, I do not believe that people who eat meat are evil murderers. I do tease friends and family about their meat consumption, but I don't berate them for supporting animal cruelty or the destruction of the planet. I know that I cannot make positive change with negative behavior, or by evoking negative emotional responses.

I am not an angry vegan. I am vegan because it makes me happy. My friends and family see how effortlessly I've lost 80 pounds (so far!) They taste the delicious, nutritious food that I cook, notice my glowing skin, great mood...and how badly my health suffers when I fall off the no-dairy wagon. I inspire people to take better care of themselves...I don't try to bully them into changing their behavior or way of thinking.

I planned to bring my own meal to Thanksgiving dinner, but didn't plan well, and failed to bring anything. Never fear - my younger brother went to a great deal of effort to make sure that there was a vegan version of every side dish served that night, and even made a special portabello, spinach, and sun dried tomato dish just for me! He made me my own green bean casserole, mashed potatoes, stuffing with cranberries and apples, a stuffed baked apple, baby carrots, butternut squash, corn, dinner rolls, and sweet potato casserole (I pretended the marshmallows were vegan...how could I turn down any part of that meal, when he went to so much trouble? I did tell him that vegan marshmallows exist, though.)

I admit, my brother's consideration moved me to tears.  I have so many things to be thankful for this year, and my brother is definitely top of the list.

And while I'm on the topic, I am also thankful for:

• Reconciling and building a better relationship with my father
• The warm and wonderful connection I have with my sister
• The joy of motherhood and the precious blessing that is my son
• Having a home with my new sister, niece, nephew, and...baby-daddy/sorta-brother-in-law
• The opportunities to make my dreams come true one by one
• FINALLY earning my MFA
• Achieving my first publishing contract
• The love and support of my friends in Orlando and beyond
• and much, much more. :D

Happy Holidays! <3

<-insert Xena's warrior cry here->

I need to talk about just how messed up I was up until not even a year ago.

It amazes me that I could be an inspiration to other people, such a help to other people, while simultaneously hating myself.  It amazes me that I was so out of it, so off-balance, that the only self-worth I could garner came from trying to please everyone else.

This face about sums it up.

For context, in case you haven't read my earlier blog posts, let's summarize my childhood with a single word: abuse.  Let's summarize my young adulthood with another word: rape.  Okay, I can summarize my life up until November 2010 with one word: victim.  Or, survivor.  Depending on how you look at it.

Becoming a mother was the beginning of healing for me, though things got a lot worse before they got better.  In June 2008, at the age of 27, I found out I was pregnant.  At the time, I was in a co-dependent "friendship" with a woman who conned me out of $14k over the course of six or seven years, who was also mooching off of me, living in my apartment with her then-boyfriend. 

I discovered my unplanned pregnancy the same week that I was laid off from my job, high school teacher, the thing I had always wanted to be when I grew up.  I had just started a new relationship, but was impregnated by a different man, the only "friend-with-benefits" I'd ever had. 

The moocher "friend," a woman I trusted and loved with all my heart, took off a few months into my pregnancy, leaving me a 10 page letter about what a horrible person I was and how sorry she was for my child because she was sure I'd be a horrible mother.  My baby's sperm donor had no interest in our child.  My boyfriend started treating me like crap early on, but I had already broken the lease on my apartment and moved in with him.  I felt helpless.  I felt trapped.

Don't we all look so happy together?

I tried to focus on the positive.  I had my heart set on a happy ever after...with a misogynistic deadbeat who sexually assaulted me every single night for two years - and I didn't recognize it as sexual assault until last month, when a friend who had read my memoir called it what it was!  I kept making excuses for my ex, to myself as well as to my friends, until the night he left me and my one year old son penniless and homeless, in November 2010.

Hello, rock bottom.

I was an exceedingly lucky homeless person.  I didn't have a home for a few months, but I always had a bed to sleep in, people to help me search for work and to watch my son while I searched, people giving me whatever they could spare, even if it was just love and support over the internet.  My son and I never had to sleep on the street, never went hungry, and never went without knowing that we were loved.

It still amazes me how empowering an experience it was for me.  There were dozens of people helping however they could, many of whom I barely knew, all cheering me on, encouraging me, telling me I could do it, pushing me to prove to myself that I could.  I couldn't let myself fall to pieces or give up, because I had a precious toddler depending on me.

It probably goes without saying that I was depressed as all hell during all that.  I was so scared, and so angry, but I suppressed all my negative feelings as well as I could.

Holding it all in was killing me.  The optimistic, light-hearted, playful, affectionate, nurturing woman I had been locked herself away in some hidden corner of my heart.  I felt like a hollow automaton, just going through the motions, doing whatever I had to do.

My love for my son, and my determination to give him the best possible start in life, kept me from killing myself.  My beliefs about positive, conscious parenting drove me to seek out methods of self-healing so I could be the best mother I could be.  My spiritual path and experiences provided the tools I needed to put myself back together, piece by piece, and pure Divine Love provided me with a home in the last place I ever would have thought to look.

In this home, I am loved, supported, valued, and given the space I need to heal.  Gratitude really isn't strong enough a word to express how I feel.  I truly am blessed beyond my fondest dreams.

Now, having finally learned to love myself, having finally healed to a point that I feel like a whole new person, no longer either a victim or a survivor...now I have too many friends suffering the same kinds of crap I suffered.

My inner warrior princess is shrieking her battle cry, ready to throw her chakrum and cut through all their chains, if they would just hold up their wrists at the right angle.

I want to help.  I want all that I suffered and all that I've learned from that suffering to help others, to empower them.  I wish I could just hold them in my arms and overwhelm them with self-worth, confidence, and determination to make their lives even better than they can imagine.

But I can't.  I can't make anyone feel, think, or believe anything.

All I can do is offer my unconditional love and support, guidance when they ask, and keep praying that one day soon when they look in the mirror they will see themselves as the beautiful, loved, powerful beings that they are.

But...dammit, people!  Life is too short to waste on misery!

If he's laughing, he's listening.

My seven year old nephew screams at my two year old son, then runs into his room, slamming his door.

One night, when this happens, I’m not in the best of moods. I yell through my nephew’s closed door, asking him what’s wrong. He ignores me, and I get angry, but he’s not my kid, so I feel powerless and resentful. Meanwhile, my son is crying his heart out, banging on my nephew’s door, trying to get in. Angry, frustrated, exasperated, I pick my son up and bring him into our room, calming him down and distracting him.

My nephew learns that his behavior is acceptable. More importantly, he does NOT learn an alternative behavior. As for me, I don’t finish cleaning the kitchen or cooking dinner because I’m so angry and exasperated, leaving everyone more hungry and more frustrated for hours.

A different night, the same situation happens, but I’m in a good mood. I immediately distract and entertain my son, and then talk to my nephew to find out what’s really wrong. He is too angry and resentful to listen to anything I say, so I finish cleaning the kitchen and cooking dinner. Two hours later, I finally get my nephew to smile, and I have an epiphany so obvious I should have a lump on my head from where the “well DUH” stick struck.

My epiphany was simply this – if he’s laughing, he’s listening.

Kids learn from every single thing they witness, but what they learn depends on how they see the world in that moment.

Every moment, every thing we do, or don’t do, teaches our children, but how our children feel colors their lenses.

That’s why it is so important to parent consciously – so we can be aware of what we are teaching, and what we grown-ups need to learn, as well as how our children are feeling and what they need help with.

When kids feel resentful, angry, or hurt, they can’t be considerate or patient. Positive and negative feelings can’t occupy the same space at the same time. But you CAN nullify one with the other. You can be patient with your child, and considerate of his needs, and thus help him let go of his unpleasant emotions.

The three P’s of Effective Parenting (according to me,) are Positive, Present, and Patient.

You have to be in a Positive space yourself. You can’t teach positive behavior with negative behavior. It’s just not possible. No, really. Think about it.

You have to be Present – if you are thinking about stuff you need to do or things that already happened, you are missing what’s going on right now. When you do one thing with your hands while your mind is elsewhere, you mess up, you lose things, you get confused. It’s like typing a text message while applying mascara and driving 55mph down the freeway…a disaster waiting to happen. Be present in everything thing that you do, and you will be amazed at how much calmer you feel, how much easier life is, and and how much you’ve been missing out on.

Patience is a requirement for effective parenting. You have to be patient with yourself, because you are going to make mistakes, and you are going to learn things that will totally change the way you see your kids and your role I their lives. You have to be patient with your kids, because they don’t see the world the way you do; they don’t have the experiences that you do, and even when you experience things together, I guarantee you that they got something different out of that experience than you did.

Getting back to my epiphany – if he’s laughing, he’s listening. If he’s laughing, he’s in a positive state of mind, he is present in this moment (not thinking about what went wrong in the past or what he wants in his future,) and he is patiently waiting for you to make him laugh some more…which means he’s receptive to learning. While he’s laughing, I have the opportunity to slip a lesson in there with the joke. As long as I keep the mood light and fun, he’ll keep listening.

Next time this scenario repeats, I plan to be present in the other room so I can see what exactly is setting my nephew off. I plan to be patient with him, and positive overall. And hopefully, I’ll have another epiphany and figure out how to solve the issue. Wish me luck!