Dear Carolyn:
I'd love to send you the longer poem, but because of the layout it would be
hard to reproduce on e-mail. It is published in my book *The Disorderly
Soul: Aligning with the Movement of Love *which will be released tomorrow
or barring that send me your address and I'll mail you a copy of the
poem. I so hope it is of help. Your posts have been of great help to me.
Jan Crawford
On Fri, May 31, 2013 at 10:57 AM, Carolyn Zahner <cpzahner@xxxxxxxxxxxx>wrote:
**
Yes, Dear Zaquie, so, so many.
"...the victim does it out of love." One of the truths that it sits in the
child's experience. And yet, for me, it begs the question, "So what?" What
meaning do we make of that?
Blessings,
Carolyn
From: Zaquie Meredith
Sent: Friday, May 31, 2013 6:01 AM
To: ConstellationTalk@xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Subject: Re: [ConstellationTalk] Re: systemic understanding of child
pornography
Thank you Carolyn ! What an emotional truthful sharing.
It shows us again what Bert Hellinger taught us about child abuse: the
victim
does it out of love. It happened to you, to me, to a great number of us.
Thank you again.
From: Carolyn Zahner <cpzahner@xxxxxxxxxxxx>
Reply-To: <ConstellationTalk@xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx>
Date: Fri, 31 May 2013 01:31:40 -0400
To: <ConstellationTalk@xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx>
Subject: Re: [ConstellationTalk] Re: systemic understanding of child
pornography
Dear All,
Please be aware that I asked permission from Judy before taking the liberty
to post the following. I received her gracious permission and encouragement
to do so.
_______
Dear Judy, thank you. Thank you for offering your experience reflecting
expansiveness, clarity, maturity and responsibility. Thank you for teaching
us and modeling what we are called to do. This is what will end the cycle.
Dear Chris, thank you. I could not agree with your statements more.
And Janice, thank you for your beautiful poem. If you are willing I would
love to read it in its entirety.
As I read Judy¹s post, my healing experience with my own grandmother came
up
in my heart. (Judy and AlS you may remember my sharing some of this story
at
the last US Conference.) I would like to share it here in the hopes that
some might find it helpful.
Like Judy¹s grandson, I remember, at 6 years old, only feeling so very
close
and loving toward my father as he sexually abused me. There was no
violence.
In fact, we were either in a swimming pool or he had just finished reading
me a bed time story. From infancy to the age of 16, he took what he needed
from me. I gladly gave, cooing to myself, to my father, ³Poor Daddy - Poor,
Poor Daddy.² I knew I was taking such good, loving care of my Poor Daddy.
In Judy¹s vision she recognizes, ³Sthe dad¹s exquisite pleasure in his son
his experience of him as one with himself. There was no malice in him, only
pleasure.²
The child¹s needs and individuation are lost; the parent only sees the
child
as an extension of himself. The parent experiences only pleasure, which at
its core, is a shameful pleasure - or he would not be taking this from a
child. It is an action with its roots in the needs of the father; not the
child. Out of his own deep woundedness and in service to those behind him,
this is what he brings his child into. Judy knows her grandson¹s fear. In
loving service or not, this shame and fear is always a part of the child¹s
experience on some level it is in the family field - it is the cause of
the abuse.
I knew that deep shame. At six years of age, actually much younger, we are
already steeped in the cultural shaming of sexuality. ³Don¹t touch down
thereS don¹t touch others down thereSits nasty, sinful²S and on and on. We
know to ³play doctor² with our friends in hidden places. And yet, here I am
with my Poor, Poor Daddy. Even worse, my healthy, innocent child¹s body
responds. I must be causing it. Surely my good Daddy would not be to blame.
In ³regular² life, he did not like me; he would not look at me. The shame
was too great. I was bad, very bad - ugly, dirty, disgusting. My father¹s
eyes told me so.
As an adult, my six year old resided in my heart, always reminding me,
³Poor, Poor Daddy.² My six year old self would never let him go. I could
not
fully move into my own healing because it would require exposing my father.
I could never ever do that! He was the suffering one, not me. The flowing
love we witness in Constellations is the pure love on the part of the child
and misuse of that love on the part of the adult; even if the adult does
not
know it. That misuse is, in fact, the core of the abuse. We, as
facilitators, certainly do not need to tell the client that his/her father
suffers too. The client knows that all too well. It perpetuates
powerlessness to heal as the focus is again put on the needs of the father.
The facilitator says, ³See your Poor Daddy, Poor Daddy.² Ease and comfort
are found in the family field as the ³perpetrator² becomes the one to
attendS and all things stay the same. The wounds of the inner child go
underground again.
I began working as a direct service social worker with abused children in
the late O70¹s early O80¹s. While my memories of sexual abuse were totally
repressed, I was aware of emotional abuse. My mantra was, ³My parents had
done the best they could and it wasn¹t that bad.² And I had the perfect job
to strengthen that belief system. By seeing the most horrific abuse of
children, I could minimize my own. It also validated my knowing that most
of
these parents truly ³could not help it.² On a deeper level, I needed to
save these children (myself) because no one else would.
But then, in 1985 and 1988 I gave birth to my children. As is not unusual
among survivors of childhood abuse, my memories of sexual abuse exploded as
I looked at the two beautiful, innocent and totally vulnerable beings in my
care. My heart was broken open; my healing process begun.
At that time, I was very involved in my Christian faith; my personal
spiritual experiences being a major part of my healing. Along with my
therapist, my Church minister (he called himself a closet mystic) was a
significant part of my healing. He was not limited to the shaming dogma of
the fundamental Christianity of my ancestors. Over the months, I would
share my journey with him, always repeating how wounded my father was, how
he could not help it. It was necessary that I be seen as loving and
non-judgmental. My minister, Pastor Bart, always listened to me with the
most open heart. One day, he listened carefully and then very gently said,
³So what? I know about your father¹s suffering, but what of yours? You were
abusedS the deepest abuse, the abuse of your total unconditional love. So
what if he could not help it or was, himself, deeply wounded? You have a
rightS even a responsibility, to see and heal your own pain.² He was
challenging me to move beyond focusing on my father¹s pain. He was not
asking me to deny, hate or exclude Poor Daddy but to INCLUDE my own pain as
well.
With that radical opening in my soul, it was not long before my
grandmother,
my father¹s mother, entered my soul to aid me on my journey. Along with my
Christian faith, I was also studying earth based indigenous traditions and
healing methods. I had not yet heard of Constellations. I participated in a
workshop with Malidoma Somé and his then- wife Sobonfu. During the ritual,
I came to know the strong and incredibly loving presence of my father¹s
mother she stood behind my right shoulder.
Finally, I am a grown woman and my grandmother is no longer among the
living
on this planet. Finally, she can come to me and do for me what Judy is
doing
for her grandson in the NOW of his experience. My grandmother held us both,
her son and her granddaughter, in loving arms, grieving for the pain my
father and I suffer; grieving for her own pain and all those who came
before. My father was a victim himself. No one knew that better than my
grandmother and me. And yet, like my minister, my grandmother said, ³So
what?² I could no longer shut down my pain or avoid my own healing with
that
platitude.
She took her son from my arms. Taking care of him was her job, not mine.
She
knew that my serving him out of a child¹s unconditional love did not mean
³consent.² ³Consent² simply cannot exist between a parent and child. The
total love of the child, the ³willingness to serve² is not consent. If
there
is not consent, there can only be abuse. My grandmother knew that his
taking
in of precious life force, the Tree of Life that Judy so beautifully
identifies, needs to be found in his parents, not his child. The Tree of
Life that is found through human sexuality needs to be found with a
consenting adult without the shame and filth that resided in the bed of
incest. Through my grandmother¹s teaching, I had permission to know all
that
I needed to know.
I could finally release my father. I knew that finally, my Poor Daddy would
be safe. His mother would not hate him; or me. She understoodS like me. She
would rock him and coo, ³Ah, My Poor Child - My Poor, Poor Child.² She was
safe to see his wounds nowS She could take care of him now. She could not
before. To have stopped the abuse, she would have needed to leave her
husband. In poverty stricken, rural USA during the Depression, there was no
where to go. She was locked in the powerlessness as a good Christian woman;
always in service to her Poor, Poor Husband. But now, her soul was freed
from the needs of the living. She could take her son.
And, finally, I could let him go out of my child¹s armsSinto his Mother¹s
arms. I did not have to hold him and rock him in my child¹s arms any
longer.
She was his source, his motherS his Tree of Life.
My child¹s arms needed to be free. My child¹s arms needed to grow into the
arms of the Mother so I could hold my own children. The healing required
that I find my anger; another face of love. My grandmother blessed me as I
reclaimed my dissociated parts that had been safely held in the hands of
grace until I could endure the return of Truth. My own sexual desires, she
blessed, allowing me to clear and cleanse the lies about the ugliness, the
filth, the whore-ness of my existence.
My grandmother permitted and empowered my rage; encouraging me to know I
had
a right to my own body, my own boundaries and the responsibility to teach
my
children the same. She opened me to the rage I would need when facing those
who would tell me differently. She honored and respected my need to rage to
transform the mind blowing, soul splitting craziness of it all. She
rejoiced
in my freedom to truly feel my rage. It is something she never had the
freedom to do. While I raged, she rejoiced and held her son in loving
embrace.
In Robert¹s post, he mentions the healing energy of KaliS she became my
savior and my guide. Kali is often known as ³the Destroyer.² But her true
manifestation is that of the Wholeness of Woman. She is the Great Divine
Mother and Lover. She is the awful and fearsome Destroyer. She has full
access to all that she needs. The aspect of her that we encounter, Great
Lover or Horrific Destroyer, is the reflection of our own hearts. I moved
far beyond the 5,000 year trance of Male God dominance to include the
divine
image of Goddess. Kali joined my grandmother, my gentle Presbyterian
minister and my soul connected therapist to aid me in the deepest surgery
required to heal the slashing of my soul.
I had the right and responsibility to take the time and space I needed to
heal and did not need to pretend the soul slashing was not as bad at it
really was. No one tried to sooth my soul or settle my anger by asking me
to
³take my father.² I had more than ³taken my father,² Swith my whole body
and all of my life. All I had ever known was that he suffered and needed to
be cared for. Now, I was accepting ³all that is²S and ³all that is²
INCLUDED
ME and all of my pain ...finally.
Grief and rage, once claimed, is simply healing energy unleashed to do its
work. It is the energy that, once found and accepted, transforms into the
ability to sit with countless others as they unfold into the place where
they too can include themselves enabling their arms to be freed to hold
their own children. It is the energy that becomes solid, steady and
grounded
as we continue to move in a world that still refuses to include the child;
to hold the parent responsible. Seeing this truth and needing to speak out
about it does not reflect someone¹s ongoing ³entanglement² that needs to be
fixed. Rather it indicates the energy of letting our parents hold what is
theirs while we move on to do what is ours to do. As Deborah so beautifully
states, we can ³hear her forgiveness [acceptance] and also hear and accept
that she [is] still angry.²
The energy and quality of sharing in this thread reveals the deep need for
ongoing dialogue around these issues. Beyond the public posts there are
many emails flowing in more private settings; one to another. Since my
first post, I myself have received 37 emails; 33 women, 4 menS from 5
different countries. Clearly, there is work to do here. What needs to be
known and seen about how we attend these situations in Constellations Work?
To Deborah and others thank you for sharing. To those who need safety and
privacy in their communications, trust yourself.
With Judy¹s wisdom, her grandchild will not have to endure the ongoing soul
splitting, craziness that occurs with the unrecognized abuse of his most
divine aspect, his unconditional love. May we empower ourselves to be that
Grandmother, that Grandfather; like Judy and Al. Again, thank you for
teaching us.
In Gratitude,
Carolyn
Carolyn Zahner, MSW, LISW, Inc
513-697-0260
Private Practice, Integrative Psychotherapy
www.carolynzahner.com
From: Judy Roberson
Sent: Tuesday, May 28, 2013 12:31 PM
To: ConstellationTalk@xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
<mailto:ConstellationTalk%40yahoogroups.com>
Subject: [ConstellationTalk] Re: systemic understanding of child
pornography
Dear Anni, Ursula,
Carolyn, Dan et al,
³I would invite everyone who reads this thread to
offer at least on thought.²
Thank you for all of
this. And thank you, Anni, for urging us
to share a word. Taking your words to heart has moved me to a deeper place
with
my own swimming in this lake of love. My husband and I are
experiencing this issue in real time.
I
am a silent reader and, for the last 5 years, not even a reader, a silent
cataloger, saving all the digests, knowing I want to keep these treasures
for a
time like this. When Al saw this thread, he encouraged me to start reading.
In 2008, I began 2 1Z2 years
at my dad¹s side after he¹d had a massive stroke. There I experienced his
psyche as I never
imagined in all my years of unconsciously, loyally imitating his
dissociation
as his daughter. For me, being his
daughter has meant trying not to feel a lot of things. While visiting with
me after a difficult
delivery of my second daughter, he had told me vaguely about sexual abuse
from
his parents¹ Christian Science adviser through much of his childhood. In my
weakened state, I didn¹t draw him out
further and the subject never came up again.
Now, in his disabled state, I was experiencing his terror with male
aides changing his diaper and giving him showers, feeling all the raw
emotion
he¹d suppressed as he raised me, one of 5 children. I watched his
strategies in dealing with the
aides, figuring how to gain as much control over the situation as he could,
while painfully unable to take care of himself any more. I let the aides
know about his history. That didn¹t remove his fear, but softened the
interaction and brought an air of contemplation to all of us as we lived
with
what was. Going through Dad¹s things to
move him out of his apartment, we found pictures of him with the man that
was
his ³abuser.² Now he had a face and a
name. I included him in a tabletop
constellation and felt from him a deep longing to belong to our family. I
held the piece of paper representing him
close, feeling the confusion of feelings, but no longer able to shut him
out
as
an evil force.
There was not a sense of
mastering the healing with Dad, but I just kept showing up every day I
could
and feeling my feelings. I felt his
heart opening up, his great joy when he¹d see me arriving and my heart
opening
beyond anything I¹d felt with him before.
Three weeks after Dad
died, our grandson was born, to the daughter who was the newborn, present
while
Dad first told me about his childhood experience. Then, last fall, two
years later, after my
daughter had broken up with her son¹s dad, I walked into a room and found
the
dad sexually stimulating his son. In
dreams or visions, I¹ve seen the dad¹s exquisite pleasure in his son his
experience of him as one with himself.
There was no malice in him, only pleasure. In a blind constellation we set
up, using
mats, we found the grandson¹s mat willingly underneath his dad¹s mat, in
service to him and his family. He felt
scared, but was willing. The dad was
reaching desperately; hungry for the life force in a mat we had called ³The
Tree of Life.² Both were in service to
the dad¹s parents and much anguish came from both of these family lines.
Because drugs are involved
and the child has nearly died from accidentally ingesting the dad¹s drugs
at
9
months, we¹ve gone down a path of legal steps, our daughter gaining the
right
to only supervised visitations with the dad, drug tests and counseling for
both
of them trying to ³keep the child safe,² gaining time for deeper healing
to
happen with all of us.
It¹s easy to get into
dark moods, contemplating how to handle each new challenge with this and
where
it will go. I see the darkness is my fear and I appreciate all of you for
bravely
exploring your own and others¹ experiences. You give me courage.
Love to all,
Judy Roberson
Media, PA
Gentle Health Assessments
610-566-5573
jl_roberson@xxxxxxxxx <mailto:jl_roberson%40yahoo.com>
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