You have no power over me

Following yesterday's blog post I received this story from a young woman, she has asked me to post it up for her. Perhaps you can comment on her story below and share what you have learned from giving and then taking back your power.

 

 

You have no  power over me.

 

Being relatively young my loves and loses are few and have been less serious that a lot of the people I ask advice from, my mother, aunties, father and friends.

My little heart has taken a few beatings. I've been caught up with people who have done me no good. I've watched people self destruct, become victims to vanity and drugs and felt completely heart broken at not fitting the mould that what i felt like was 'the perfect woman', and in turn the perfect girlfriend. 

The most hurtful thing anyone said to me was that "they wanted to settle down and get married, and I just wasn't the girl they wanted to do that with". I spiralled, getting sadder and sadder that no matter how I behaved that I was never going to be good enough for anyone.

I stopped eating, I would take laxatives and self harmed. It was easier for me to understand the physical pain of heartbreak than try and confront the notion mentally. I allowed myself to be taken advantage of thinking that it didn't matter.

One day I saw the light, me and the bad man who had told me that i was not enough for him, who had cheated and treated me badly throughout the year we were together asked me to come round. Naively i went, I hadn't seen him in a year or so, and i couldn't help myself. 

I stayed in his bed, but the more he spoke the more disgusted I was with him. He made moves to have me again, but unlike before, where i had been weak and had so little self worth that I had given in, I said no. 

The no that issued from my mouth felt empowering, I felt new, I felt healed and I felt strong again and I left.

I was reminded of labyrinth, with the heroin reaching her destination, overcoming all obstacles and fighting hard battles to save her brother, but also coming of age in the journey. When she is offered what she has always wanted, she finally realises, that that fantasy, is no longer a good thing, no longer real.

"You have no power over me".

I felt that. I felt that, finally no-one would have that power over me. I was no longer shackled to some idealistic fantasy, and i didn't want to chase something that was not mine.

As i sit writing this, I am healing from a relationship, but a relationship that has been good, loving and deeply happy, I needed that bad man, to show me how strong I am, to find someone who did treat me with all the love and kindness that I deserved. 

The experience, with a bad man taught me, that no matter how much you might want something, or someone, you can always take strength, maturity and do whats best for you, putting your feelings aside and objectively looking at a situation, you can command to be treated with respect and dignity. 

The pain I went through was necessary, and there are days where i still wonder what might have been, with each lover i've had.

But I know, in my heart of hearts, whoever is lucky enough to share my mind, my body and my soul, will never treat me like that again. And I don't hate the bad man, in fact I wish him luck and hope he is well, I hope that he learnt as much as I did about relationships and respect.

I hope that anyone who reads my story, who has felt as though they have been chasing air and smoke, are strong enough to stop running, are strong enough to give up and be selfish enough to fall in love with themselves and realise their self worth, beauty and strength. You are good enough, and if someone can't see that, they will never be enough for you.

Tell me a story

Do you remember how in the film "Forest Gump", Forest's story unfolds as he tells his story to people he meets by chance while waiting for the bus?
Well this blog post is about how chance meetings bring about the telling of stories, I hope that you will be encouraged to share one of your own. Here's how mine goes....

Many years ago, perhaps as many as 20, I worked as a University researcher in North Wales. One of the studies I was involved in required me to go and talk to elderly people about their experiences of being in hospital and then discharged from hospital and going home, it was a piece or research I called the  'patient's journey'. I had been collecting data for a couple of months and had met some lovely people, many of whom were keen to have a conversation. While I heard many stories during this time one in particular has stayed with me. The person who told me the story was a lady who no longer lived at home but resided in a nursing home. She was very happy with the nursing home and in particular with the food, this was a common feature in all my interviews, it seemed that the quality of the food was an indicator of contentment no matter where my elderly interviewees found themselves. Anyhow the lady, lets call her Violet, kindly answered all of my questions about her 'patient journey' and then as our interview was coming to a close she looked out of her window to the sea and said,

 ' You know I often think about how frightened my great Aunt must have been when she made her journey, she must have been terribly afraid on that boat crossing the sea'.

I was used to having some random things said to me so I didn't miss a beat and replied, 'Where was she going'?
My initial thoughts had been that Violet's great Aunt had gone across the sea to Ireland but this idea was soon knocked out of my head by her next response.

'To Siam'.

' Your great Aunt went to Siam? Why was she going there?'

'She was going to teach English'.

'Wow. That is adventurous, did she enjoy it, what do you know of it all?'

'Well yes she was adventurous, I don't know if she was always that way I think it was more a case life making her that way. To be honest the stories the family know are mixed up now but yes I think she must have done, at least some of it or she wouldn't have stayed so long. Mind you she had few opportunities back home, her husband being dead'.

'So she was on her own?'

'No, she had her son with her but yes in reality she was on her own because he was very young.'

'How long did it take her to get there? Did she write to you?'

'Weeks I should think. No she never wrote to me. What we know of her are stories that have been passed around and down.'

'Well we never know what journey we are going to end up on do we? or who we are going to end up being'?

'No, that is very true. I mean who would have thought I would end up here and she would end up there.'

'What was her name?'

'Anna, they made that film about her with Yul Bryner, you have probably heard of it. I have a picture of her somewhere'.

Well now this last bit probably had the same effect on me as the stories Forest told the people he met at the bus stop, my first thought was wow that is one hell of a story, my second was was it true. Anyway it stopped me in my tracks so I sat back down and listened to Violet, and by doing so heard more stories about her life.

My response to Violet's story hasn't changed over the years, I still think it was wonderful that Violet told me the story and although I don't know if she was Anna's great niece it doesn't matter. I have come to realise over time that it isn't just the story that people tell that is fascinating but also the storytellers themselves and Violet was a fascinating woman.

Why am I telling you this? Because we all have opportunities to tell and listen to the stories of others, we should take time to share them. If you have any you would like to share then I am ready and listening.

Ain't I a Woman?

The inspiration for today's blog comes from two sources, the first is from a lady called Sojourner Truth; Sojourner stood up and uninvited and unannounced spoke out at the Women's Convention in Ohio, in 1851. I came across her speech while studying on a course that was about the science of learning.
Her short speech is stunning because it is truthful. Sojourner spoke out for equality regarding women and men's rights to work, food and religion, and also pointed to the hypocrisy underlying women's loss of freedom. The trade off for being protected from the harshness of life was only forthcoming if the female in question was rich and white. Her experience of being a black woman meant she had no rights, not even those of a mother to keep many of her children who were all sold off into slavery. The speech is in full at the bottom of the page.

The second source comes from a conversation I was having with my daughter over the weekend, the conversation went like this,
'So how was the gig?'
'Great, it was quiet at first and I was a little worried 'cos it would have been rubbish for Mr. Scruff to play to an empty venue as he is so good and he may have thought bugger it I'm not playing there again which means we lose out in the future. Anyhow about 11 o'clock it filled up and it was great, me and Beth danced like mad'.
'Sounds good, I'm glad you two had a good time'.
'Yeah we were dancing with a couple of guys who were real fun but then they turned a bit weird but Beth came up with the best put down'.
'Oh yeah, what happened?'
'They followed us out of the club and kept asking us to go for another drink, "Just one more,please we have had so much fun with you girls. Just one. Come on. Just one." But we just kept saying no we had to leave as we had work the next morning'.
'Then what happened?'
'Well this one guy just kept going on about how great we both were then he said "Come on we'll buy you drugs".
'What?!'
'Yeah, I know what a wanker'.
'So what did you do?'
'Well it was Beth, she just turned and looked at them and said "We are not drug whores" and the guy who offered us drugs just looked kind of winded and then stumbled off! I mean all we had been doing was dancing, what made him think we wanted or used drugs.'

Ok so how can the experiences of Sojourner, my daughter and those of my own be connected? Well it got me to thinking as to how we define and respect ourselves as women. How do we stand up for who and what we are?

I recall many years ago being called belligerent, I didn't know what it meant at the time but I knew it wasn't meant as a complement. When I found out the dictionary definition meant 'war like, aggressive' I warmed to the description because at the time I was a student nurse arguing with a clinical supervisor on what I thought to be an unkindness towards a vulnerable human being. As a woman, I stood up for what I saw as my responsibility to care and protect this person and I wouldn't quit.
My daughter and her friend very bluntly put the drug offering scum in his place, they stood up for who and what they are because they are strong young women. They have a sense of self and a sufficient  amount of belligerency to defend what they are and state clearly what they are not.
Sojourner's actions, my daughter and her friend's actions and mine are all connected because by speaking out we define who and what we are as women.  Defining ourselves may sometimes take the form of small individual actions but we need to keep taking these so that we are able to face up and take some of the bigger one's in our lives.

I have been musing over what tune might accompany this posting and to be honest I just can't decide. If you can think of a tune that defines you as a woman let me know, I'd like to hear it.



Ain't I a Woman

Sojourner Truth,  Women’s Convention, Akron, Ohio, 28-29 May 1851.

 

"Well, children, where there is so much racket there must be something out of kilter. I

think that 'twixt the negroes of the South and the women of the North, all talking about

rights, the white men will be in a fix pretty soon. But what's all this here talking about?

That man over there says that women need to be helped into carriages and lifted over

ditches, and to have the best place everywhere. Nobody ever helps me into carriages, or

over mud-puddles, or gives me any best place! And ain't I a woman? 

Look at me! Look at my arm! I could have ploughed and planted, and gathered into barns, and no man could head me! And ain't I a woman? I could work as much and eat as much as a man when

I could get it- and bear the lash as well! And ain't I a woman? 

I have borne thirteen children, and seen them most all sold off to slavery, and when I cried out with my mother's grief, none but Jesus heard me! And ain't I a woman?

Then they talk about this thing in the head; what's this they call it? [Intellect, somebody

whispers] That's it, honey. What's that got to do with women's rights or negro's rights? If

my cup won't hold but a pint, and yours holds a quart, wouldn't you be mean not to let

me have my little half measure-full?

Then that little man in black there, he says women can't have as much rights as men,

'cause Christ wasn't a woman! Where did your Christ come from? Where did your Christ

come from? From God and a woman! Man had nothing to do with Him.

If the first woman God ever made was strong enough to turn the world upside down all

alone, these women together ought to be able to turn it back, and get it right side up

again! And now they is asking to do it, the men better let them.

Obliged to you for hearing me.

THE TIME OF OUR LIVES

As I was driving home from Liverpool today I got to thinking about time. A thought resurfaced which kind of went ....funny how it is that the older I become how the months and years somehow go quicker. When I was younger time seemed a commodity that I had in excess, it was something I squandered.
Now in my battered old car, driving down the A55 I wonder about the strange phenomenon of shrinking time, and as fate would have it a tune came on the radio by Elbow, it is called 'The time of our lives'. I didn't really listen to it properly until the lyrics ' Stitching us in to this tapestry vile'  came to me like a siren call and suddenly my thoughts turned to Africa.

Last year I was in Africa. I was in Africa until May. I had gone to Africa the year before to fulfil a long held wish to have an adventure, go travelling. The trip had been talked about for years, it had taken a year to plan, then off I went. I travelled over 16,000 miles across Africa. I have never known such freedom. I may never know it again because now I am back home my friends and family talk about my adventure as 'a trip of a lifetime', which to me translates into that's enough of that malarky and I should settle back to down being part of life's rich tapestry, a tapestry that includes doing 'normal stuff.

But what do you do when life's rich tapestry becomes the 'tapestry vile' that Guy Garvey sings of? And how on earth do we so often find ourselves stitched in to it? Ask yourself how many times have your feet walked a path not your own? How many times have you colluded with a part of yourself that stops you from pulling loose the thread and allowing yourself to be someone else?
I pulled the thread and off I went. Looking back on how people reacted to this I can see that those who wished me well were those who also wished to do the same if only life would let them, and although for whatever reasons life wouldn't let them they would have an adventure by proxy, they would tag on to my exploits and feel the joy and fear as I experienced it. Those who were less than happy about my departure were truly rattled, at first I thought it was because they were concerned that I might die but then I realised it was more to do with the fact that the hole in the tapestry that I left behind made them nervous. Not because they missed me, although I believe they did, but because it shook the order of things, the plan, the weave and weft of life.
When I returned, I was different, I am different. Cutting loose and experiencing freedom has given me what my Grandfather would call a 'weather nose', which means the ability to smell a change in the weather, in my case having a 'weather nose' means sniffing for a change in the weather so that I can run away with the circus again. I have tried to be part of the tapestry again but somehow the needle keeps dropping the stitches and I find myself with one foot out the door.

Have you ever itched to run off and join the circus, to have the time of your life? Are your wings folded so tightly that it would take a crow bar to loosen them so you could unfold them?  Have a listen to Elbow's song and just think about what you are doing with the most precious commodity you have right now....your time....and ask yourselves are you having the time of your lives? Do you have a 'weather nose' and if you do is it perfect weather to fly?

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NDQVIim8fr8&noredirect=1