I
went back to school today. It was real
hard 'cause Karen's obituary was in the newspaper so a lot of the kids in
school knew she had died and kept coming up to me to say they were sorry. I don't know how I got through the day, I
felt so numb. I almost lost it in
English class, though. At the beginning
of the month, Mrs. Fulton had given our class the assignment to read, "A
Death Be Not Proud" about a young man who had a brain tumor. His father wrote the book about his illness
and it was supposed to be inspiring, but to me it was just kinda sad. Well, Mrs. Fulton got the bright idea of
asking me to stand up in front of the class and express what it felt like to
lose a sister. I just couldn't believe
she was asking me to do that. I couldn't
stand everybody looking at me with so much pity that I ran right out of the
classroom and started crying. Luckily
the bell ending class rang just a couple of minutes later so I didn't have to
go back to Mrs. Fulton's class at all today.
Hopefully she'll take the hint and not ask me again to "express my
grief", 'cause I'm not going to; not in front of the whole class I'm
not. I'll tell you, my Journal, but
nobody else. I'm gonna sleep as much as
I can that way I can at least dream about Karen. I do dream about her a lot, but I don't
usually remember it too good. I found a
story today that was in my handwriting but I don't remember ever writing
it. It was about a dream that I had
after her funeral. I think Karen must
have helped me to write it 'cause there's more detail than I can remember. Even reading it, I don't really understand
all of it. I'm gonna copy it into you,
my Journal and only friend now. Maybe
when I'm a little bit older, I'll understand it better. Well, here it is:
The original forward in my book was written by my therapist, Mary Jo Alburtus. I include here because it really well explains the process of healing available through a skilled therapist and the power of art/creativity.
Nothing Golden Can Stay
"Though inland far we be
Our souls have sight of that immortal sea
Which brought us hither"
- William Wordsworth;
Ode: Intimations of Immortality From Reflections of Early Childhood.
When I was first offered the honor of writing this forward, for some reason it became a challenge I avoided for months. Laurie's editor suggested the Chicago school of style and I rather trapped myself in my own dilemmas until I happened across this quote. I realized then, as I had reflected so many times to Laurie over the years in her work with me, that it was I now who was stuck "in my head" when the answer lay in the soul. For don't we all, at some level, rebel against visiting this deeper place in ourselves wherein this reality of the terror called child abuse resides but can no longer be hidden? It is with that in mind that I congratulate Laurie in the years long journey she undertook there and the book that is its result.
Child abuse, sexual abuse is primarily a wound to the soul. We can discuss in scholarly terms these days all our new scientific research into the brain and PTSD, evidence based treatment and results oriented approaches and this progress is a good thing overall but we fail both the victims of this abuse and our culture as a whole if we ignore that the deepest wound is in the psyche of the child to whom the nightmare has occurred. Just as tragic , once abused and humiliated this way, that child may lose all bearings of normalcy, all sense of whom and whether to trust and, since most abusers are known to the child, all prospects of escape and deliverance. Moreover, since the hope of love springs eternal in young hearts, sadly this abuse then renders them increasingly vulnerable to additional predatory individual who seem able to "see" an easy mark, setting a pattern for the re-enactment of dysfunctional and abusive relationships into adulthood as well.
And so the therapy must, if it is truly to be successful, call on the powerful resources as well as the deepest despair of that wounded child in the adult psyche if one is to finally assist the rebirth of that soul. It is a daunting, fearsome journey and one upon which few travelers will even embark, no less complete. Laurie Homan is one such individual and I am honored to have been asked to witness to her truth. The book, itself, will testify to whatever events Laurie chooses to share. Suffice it to say her victimization within her family, church and community eventually became too much to bear until she felt the only answer was the wrong side of a gun. Then some spirit, some spark cried out in protest instead and from there she began the arduous journey of gathering and nurturing all those child parts back into life.
At a time when treatment programs for abuse were few and far between, when we were even told by a prominent mental health agency of the time that this "was not a priority"(!), Laurie joined a group in our Monmouth County Sexual Abuse Treatment and Prevention Program and later began individual work. Each step of the way, Laurie was challenged not only in revisiting horrific memories and hear-wrenching betrayals, but in learning, as child victims must, so many missing parts of development tasks and issues if all those aspects cannibalized by abusive adults are really to heal. For until the psyche "sees" itself anew through all these damaged ages as still a beautiful, lovable child and is assisted as well to understand the lies and distortions that kept the abusers secret intact, the individual cannot hope to believe the new message of empowerment and self-value.
Science is now acknowledging in its positing of the need for right/left brain synthesis in the treatment of PTSD what many of us intuitively believed for years. Since "memory doesn't know how old it is," it will be the "child" who inhabits that feeling right brain waiting to be rescued that the "logical" left brain's wordiness cannot "hear" and therefore cannot incorporate and "save". Therefore, interventions beyond words become crucial to the inviting of the psyche to cross these barriers and slowly, safely - above all, safely - "learn" about "each other," join the cognitive with the emotional at last in a much different manner. Laurie's persistence and refusal to abandon again all those waiting parts was nothing short of heroic. Her spiritual quest and the gradual development of the enormous creative forces in her writing and art as she deepened the healing process strengthened her adult self to invite the lost and forgotten places within her into a new sort of being.
I could go on in my testimony to Laurie and all those men and women like her who have faced down the demons of sexual abuse and emerged out the other side, still scarred, still sometimes vulnerable but no longer victims and, in the end, victorious. They have reclaimed their "children" from the pile of lost and forgotten souls that abuse creates. I hope this will be an inspiration to those still trapped their own suffering. In addition, I take this opportunity to thank Laurie those I have seen in therapy over the years for the inspiration they provided to me as well - it is this spirit and perseverance that has allowed me to continue doing this work in one form or another for 35 years. It is also what allows me to be able to truthfully promise others beginning the journey when they ask, "Does it get better?" that, yes, it will be painful, sometimes terribly so, but there is also a rainbow at its end, even if it is a bit rusty in parts. It is a privilege and blessing to have know and worked with Laurie Homan.
Mary Jo Alburtus, MSW, LCSW
2/14/11
Stepping Over
It was through art that I was able to access and embrace the emotional journey of my life's experiences.
The Dream
I
was crying on Karen's bed when I heard a voice tell me not to cry. I looked around the room, suddenly afraid and
saw Karen sitting on the edge of my bed smiling at me.
"It's
okay, I'm really here with you."
Karen said softly, knowing and understanding my fear.
"Are
you a ghost?" I asked tentatively.
"I
guess you could call me that, but technically, a ghost is someone who doesn't
know that they have died. I know that I
have passed over from your world, died, so the correct term for me now would be
a Spirit."
I
was having a difficult time accepting her answer and my confusion must have
shown for she laughed, but not with any malice or spite.
"Weren't
you just praying for God to bring me back, Laurie? Why are you so surprised that He heard you
and answered? God has felt your pain and
sent me to ease your sorrow. He parted
the thin veil that separates this world and His. To show you what is real and what is
not. You and I are to go on a journey
together; that is, if you feel you want to and believe you can. There is so much more than just
this." Karen gestured with her
arms, indicating the room, the house, perhaps the world. "So much more than the pain we endured
together, the pain you will have to continue to endure alone now. Everyone here on earth has a purpose. Part of mine was to be with you in this life
and to now give you the strength to keep on living. There is so much left for you to
accomplish. This experience is to give
you the courage and hope to keep on trying." She paused and waited until I looked up. From across the room our eyes met, somewhere
between life and death our spirits met.
"Are you willing?"
From
the moment she began speaking, a peace I had never known before crept up and
overwhelmed me. I was filled with a joy
that cannot be explained. Only rarely,
in a brief flash, on an exceptional day, had I felt so good about myself; so
alive. Speech at this moment was
impossible and I could only nod my head at Karen. Yes, I thought, I would go anywhere with you;
you're my best friend.
Karen
stood up and closed the distance between us and knelt before me. With tenderness and compassion, she reached
for and wiped away the almost dry tears on my face. "Close your eyes and open your mind and
heart. Let me lead you through the
curtain separating us." Laying back
down on the bed, I felt myself relax deeply.
Now holding her hand, I closed my eyes.
It
was only a moment later when she told me to open my eyes. Slowly I sat up and looked around. My bedroom was gone. The walls, the house, everything gone. I was in a garden, the most beautiful garden
I have ever seen. The grass was a rich
green color and carpeted the entire area.
It was soft and rippled in the light breeze that blew across it. Moving and swaying together, the wind and the
grass were partners in an unbridled dance.
Every manner of flower bloomed and the air was filled with the sweetest
perfume. Not at all heavy, delighting
the senses, not attacking them. The
garden was not organized with one grouping of flowers here and another there;
it was at once wild and balanced. It was
vibrantly alive.
Birds
sang in tall trees scattered throughout the garden. The music touched a cord deep within me and I
felt that if I sat very still and listened very hard, I would be able to
understand their song. A large and
distinguished weeping willow tree grew to the left of a small pond. It was fed by a stream that gaily cascaded
over two large moss covered rocks to the right.
A bright light caused everything to sparkle and gleam, but somehow it
did not strain the eyes or cause one to squint.
I do not know how long I sat there and looked around; drinking in
everything I saw and heard. Karen sat
quietly beside me, content and at home in this place, waiting until I was ready
to go on.
"Where
are we?" I whispered, for it did
not seem proper to talk loudly here.
"This
is called the Gardens. This is usually
what people with near death experiences remember most of all. Isn't it beautiful? Come, let us walk."
She
stood up and reached for my hand, pulling me to my feet. Standing, I noticed for the first time that I
was dressed as she was, in a soft white tunic that came down almost to my
knees. It had a V neck, no sleeves and
fit me like a second skin. Barefoot, we
walked through the garden, around the willow tree and up a small slope,
following the river.
Karen
seemed to be looking for something and curious, I followed her, knowing that
what I would see would be something very special. She went to the bank of the river and after a
moments glance, turned and beckoned me over.
"Do
you see that statue, over there in front of the Halls of Justice." She pointed to a large, white domed building
in the distance. I could see something
in front, but it wasn't very clear.
"Sort
of." I answered
"Keep
looking and believe you can see it and you will."
I
shrugged my shoulders, why not, stranger things had already happened. I continued to look at the place where I
thought I saw a statue when all of a sudden, I found myself standing directly
in front of it. I took a step backward
and found myself gaping at a statue of the most beautiful woman I had ever
seen. She was powerfully feminine,
gracefully strong. I loved her on sight. "Who is this?" I managed to ask.
With
an understanding smile, she replied.
"This is Azna, our Mother God."
"God
is a girl?!?" I know I looked as
surprised as I felt and Karen burst out with such joyful laughter, I had to
join her.
When
I finally stopped laughing, I noticed that we were no longer directly in front
of the statue, but back where I had been when I first looked for it. Everything that was happening caused more
questions to fill my mind, but first I had to know more about Azna.
"Now,
seriously, is God female? You said
before that God was a He. So which is
it?"
"First,
you must understand that there is, always has been and always will be, both a
Mother and a Father God. Azna is our
Mother God and Om is our Father God. Om is
pure intellect; Azna is His perfect Counterpart, the emotional part. Do you understand?"
"I'm
not sure, keep talking." What she
was saying echoed deep within me, but complete understanding was still beyond
my reach.
"Just
like you and I were taught in Sunday school, God is omnipotent, all knowing and
all loving. We were also taught that all
people have been created in the image of God, both men and women. Wouldn't it make sense then, to understand
that God is both male and female, and that together, they are our
Creators?"
"Well,
when you put it like that, yes it makes perfect sense. So why didn't we learn about Azna in Sunday
school?"
Karen
turned from the river and began walking further inward and upward. I followed, moving slowly, still taking in
the idea of having a loving Mother God.
"Back
in early times, people knew Azna, worshiped and petitioned Her. The native people in many cultures still
recognize a Mother God. Native American
people call her Mother Earth; earlier civilizations referred to her as Isis, Ishtar
and Theodora, among others. She is known by many names." She paused waiting for me to catch up.
"Okay,
I've heard of Mother Earth, but I still don't understand why we aren't taught
about Her in church." I wouldn't
let go of the issue.
"Your
world on the other side is currently and has been for some time, extremely
patriarchal. Women have to fight for
even the most basic rights that are routinely granted to men. How comfortable would men be with the idea of
an Omnipotent Mother God when they can't even allow their own wives or
daughters to hold any power? Since men
have been in positions of power politically, financially and spiritually, they
have effectively hidden the truth regarding Azna and made it sinful to worship
Her. I can tell you that the time is
coming when Azna will no longer be denied and She will be recognized and
worshipped once again." Karen
remained quiet, giving me the opportunity to digest everything she had said so
far. Even before she began to speak
again, I was ready to move on; I wanted to know everything.
"Tell
me more, tell me about why we go to earth.
Why would we leave this beautiful place?"
"Our
bodies are merely an illusion. Our Spirits are not born surrounded by flesh,
but born out of the fire of Azna and Om 's love. Once a soul is
born, it continues to grow and seek the light.
What better way to find the light then to enter the darkness of life on
earth. Not all souls choose to be
encased in flesh. Bodies can be very
limiting, although they are excellent mediums to experience growth. There is no darkness, no evil here. We chose to leave to experience living so
that we can stretch our Souls." We
were walking slowly side by side, the grass cushioning our feet, the sun
reaching through the trees to caress us with it's warmth and light.
"Think
of souls like you do of infants on earth.
Both are pure and innocent but having no understanding of anything other
than themselves. A baby needs food and
nourishment to grow; the Soul needs light and knowledge. There are many ways to learn, but the most
productive way to learn the beauty of light is to live in the darkness and
separateness of the flesh. In body we do
not have the certain knowledge of God's existence as we do in the Spirit. With guidance, we plan and choose our life's
experience so that we may learn and grow from them. The challenge is sticking to the lesson plan
once we get there." Karen looked at
me to see if I was comprehending all she was saying. A part of me felt the rightness of what she was
saying while another part was still trying to grasp it.
"Do
you mean we choose the life we are going to have and then live it, like we were
choosing a book or a movie?"
"Not
quite, think of it more as going to school.
You have various subjects to take, you choose the curriculum but that
doesn't mean you stay in school or pass the class. Free will plays a large part in all our
lessons and growth. At any time we can
deviate from what we decided beforehand, although the lessons will just
continue to repeat themselves. You can
even choose not to learn, even though in making that choice, there is
growth."
"I'm
not sure I understand all of this."
I answered, shaking my head.
"How do you grow if you chose not to learn?"
"While
you do not remember your Soul's past while living in the flesh, your Soul
always remembers each life that has been lived.
You may not learn anything while 'alive', but the Soul learns from every
experience, good or bad. Say you plan a
life in which you are born a cripple and you do this to learn to overcome
difficulty. Then once you are living
that life, you turn from the path of living fully and become bitter. You are angry with yourself and with everyone else. You don't remember you chose this lesson
because you are so totally immersed within it.
You die an unhappy and bitter person, but your Soul returns here and you
remember all you experienced. You relive
and see the impact your choices have had on you and on others. You now understand why you were so angry, but
you also understand the effect that anger had on your loved ones and
yourself. You see the pain you inflicted
as well as the joy you brought. From
that vantage point there is only one thing to do and that is to grow. Does that make sense to you?" Karen asked patiently.
"Yes,
I think so, but why would you or I chose to be abused by Pop? I'm not sure I understand that."
"It
is a good question, but I'm not going to answer it right now. There are other things that you must see and
experience in life before you will be ready to learn more."
She
took my hand and we walked up a gently sloping hill that was covered with
baby's breath. For the first time, I saw
animals in the garden. A small rabbit
was sitting very still near a tree, it's nose twitching in the slight
breeze. Over to the right, I saw a deer
drinking from the stream; it's light brown coat gleaming in the sunlight. A squirrel was chattering up in a tree. I
could, of course, still hear the songs of the many birds either perched on a
tree branch, or flying by.
"Where
are all the people?" I asked,
curious that we seemed to be the only ones here.
"When
you planned this lifetime and added this experience to grow from, you knew the
time you would spend here would be limited.
The Council thought seeing all the friends you have here would interrupt
the lessons you intended to learn. You
agreed that it would be easier to maintain your focus without that
distraction. I know it may sound
strange, but everyone here knows you and loves you. They are only keeping their distance now
because they are respecting your wishes.
There is much you will be able to understand, but there is even more
that you cannot." Karen stopped and
turned to face me, taking both of my hands in hers.
"Everyone
here is very proud of you. Only the
strongest souls incarnate on earth because it is such a dark planet and I know
that it has become darker still since I left you." Karen looked at me with such gentle love that
it surrounded and penetrated my very Soul.
"I may not be in life with you any longer, but I will be around
you, always. I will be watching the
progress you make and I promise, you will come back to visit with me in your
dreams many times in the future, but for now you must continue to live your
life without me. You have planned your
life experiences well and there will be many good teachers along the way to
help you. You will learn how to
recognize them and appreciate them.
You'll also learn to hear and listen to your Spirit Guide, who will be
with you every single day of your life.
Now, my sister, it's time to go back into your physical body and return
to your life. I love you." Karen stepped back, then was she was
gone. When I woke up, I was alone.
It's been one whole year since Karen left me. I think it's fitting that she died on All
Saints Day 'cause she was like a Saint to me.
I still miss her so very much; it hurts real bad. My mom told me today that I've been in shock
for most of the year and she's very worried about me. Even Lisa said that Karen's dying might just
kill me. I sure wished it did, but I'm
still alive. I guess I've got to keep on
living and learning before I can see Karen again, ‘cause she doesn’t come in my
dreams anymore. I think I’ll always miss
her, but at least I can try to make her proud of me. I certainly can try. Bye for now.
