The Time is Now to Step Up, Again

This design was created by Shasta's Auntie T
in Point Reyes Station, California, for
her annual New Year's haiku greeting.
It seems to so accurately depict
the zingy energy
that abounds these days.

The time is now for me to step up and join the momentum fueled by the #ME TOO movement by republishing a post that I removed from this blog in 2011. The movement is coming forward to deal with the oppression of patriarchy in our country. Women and other sentient BEings are not property to be owned by white males who consider themselves to be dominant rather than equal with all sentient BEings, each with innate value in and of themselves. 

The turmoil of the time brought forward by the 2016 election of Donald Trump has created an opportunity for monumental and much needed change in our country. Issues heretofore swept under the carpet are now exposed. This turmoil is affecting each and every one of us; and it is creating much discomfort among all peoples of our country. From this turmoil and discomfort a more just and inclusive cultural story can be created for our country IF we all take part and confront our own individual "demons" related to patriarchal dominance. 

So offering my own personal life experience starting with early infant trauma, again, is my commitment to support the shift from patriarchy to honoring all sentient BEings with equal measure.

Dwight and I opened MuRefuge to share my whole ecology garden with his many sculptures through the Second Annual Sebastopol Center for the Arts' Gardens with Sculptures.  Hundreds visited.  And what a surprise when I looked up to see Shelley standing nearby.

When we hugged, my reality tilted (have any of you had this experience?).  Grandma Haynes and I were hugging. And then I returned to MuRefuge talking to Shelley.  I was so happy to have family right there at MuRefuge since

remaining family is scattered all over the United States.  My sister and I are estranged, my oldest brother is no longer in his familiar physical form and my youngest brother living in a Kansas City suburb is very private.

Our Haynes’ aunts, uncles, parents and grandparents have all departed their bodies.  As sad and grieving as we have been of this generation’s passing, I for one am releasing the multigenerational dysfunction that has been passed to each of us through the spirit rebirth (genes is another way of saying this) over many, many, many, many years.

In Victorian times there was an epidemic of gonorrhea wide spread over much of the European continent.  At that time, there was not the knowledge of how gonorrhea was transmitted; now we know it is transmitted (by Neisseria gonorrhoeae) through an infected penis. This secret and hidden practice or habit of oral sexual abuse of infants and small children arrived with our European settlers to this country.

When I got a divorce and before I was consciously aware of the horrific trauma that occurred in my infancy, I decided to legally change my name to my mother's maiden name because I did not want my father’s name. My father verbally and physically abused me when he lived with me and my siblings before my mother divorced him when I was sixteen.

The Universe aka Divine played a joke on me!  Or perhaps it was my personality’s habit that did? I did not have a clue at the time of the multigenerational and patriarchal deviant behavior on my mother's side of the family.

As I was advancing through nursing school, one Thanksgiving weekend when I was back on the farm with Mom, Steve and my siblings, we received a call that P.C., my mom's youngest brother, had shot himself.  As I talked on the phone to his wife, Nell, in El Paso, Texas, I heard a very quiet, gentle voice say, “you will eventually discover the ‘why’ for his action.”  After getting my nursing diploma I moved to El Paso where I lived a year. Interesting move . . . huh?

As I edit this removed post, I am aware of how cold I feel: fearful I am! And I

Many relocations, aka moves, later and BEing stuck, I found my way to Northern California knowing it was only a matter of time before I would no longer work as a registered nurse. My focus shifted from workaholism to finding and healing myself. The spirit of my Grandma Haynes visited me often, saying “Do your Work now so you don’t have to do it on your deathbed.”

In spite of this shift, I got what I call “the cosmic kick in the butt” to leave nursing, when one morning I could not make myself get out of bed to go to work.  Then deep Work began when I went to a weeklong laughter workshop in Santa Barbara with Annette Goodheart, a now passed psychologist specializing in laughter therapy and assisting those who have been sexually abused. During that week what had been locked in my unconscious became available to me, providing me with “the missing piece of the puzzle” for my healing work and access to body memories from my early, preverbal trauma.

When I was four, Grandpa Haynes tried to molest me.  I ran away from him for which my mother admonished me for “not loving my grandfather.”  Annette pointed out to me that a four year old who had not been previously sexually abused earlier would not have reacted as I did.  As she worked with me

body memories from age three to six months came forward.  My uncle P.C., who was living with my mom and me at the time, orally sexually abused me repeatedly. 

After many months of Work with Annette and for many years on my own, which included confronting my mother, I have been able to heal. My mother did not deny that sexual abuse had happened to me. And, although she exhibited many symptoms of the same abuse, she could not admit to what had been done to her. I did not need or want to traumatize her any further.

Part of my healing has included understanding P.C.’s despair around his father’s oral sexual abuse of himself and his repeating of this learned behavior.  In the 1960’s the psychological life of individuals and of our nation was so very different than it is now.

I was driven to recognize, admit, bring out of hiding the family secret, and heal myself. Annette repeatedly reiterated that the most important Work an individual can do is heal herself. The ripple effect is enormous. Now with the support of #ME TOO women are individually sharing their secret and thus are  collectively changing our culture in a much needed and healing way. HURRAH for all of us!

This healing journey has essentially been done away from my family.  Perhaps in my very early adulthood as I finished nursing school I KNEW distancing myself from my immediate family was necessary for me to heal. This healing of my life altering auto immune disease (auto immune disease has its base in the self not being able to differential one's own cells from others') could not have gone forward had I not met and connected deeply with Dwight, now my husband, whom I met 30 years ago this past Thanksgiving.  

My last name remains Haynes.  Haynes reminds me of all I have experienced: the early oral sexual abuse AND the deep healing which has freed me of the debilitating body flash backs.  The latter began when I was in elementary school when we moved to Shenandoah, Iowa, and continued throughout my life until healing from the autoimmune disease. It has now been years since I have had a "flashback."

In the very first blog post I equated healing the raped landscape of MuRefuge to healing myself. This initial post was a less explicit version of my healing and the first public written acknowledgement of my early trauma.  

Now as the hands Dwight sculpted for MuRefuge's artisan well offer water to the water spite living below the surface, I am once again offering my #ME TOO story.

To discharge emotions as they arise I continue to