Tag Archives: body

way back machine 2

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Setting:  I’m 14.  We are in the pastor’s office.  He is in his big chair.  I am on the couch.  I was in trouble because it was found out that I hugged a boy that I was in a play with.

Pastor: So tell me what happened.

Teen Feisty: I saw C after rehearsal and he said, “give me a hug” and I did.

Pastor: That’s it?

Teen Feisty: yes.

Pastor: So, if any guy asks you for any sexual favor you give it to him?

Teen Feisty: What?

Pastor: He demanded a hug.

Teen Feisty: Well, he said it casually.

Pastor: And you gave it to him?

Teen Feisty: Well, yes.

Pastor: And that seems ok to you?

Teen Feisty: yes.  We all hug all the time.

Pastor: He’s different, he’s worldly.  When we hug it’s because of our love of each other and God.

Teen Feisty: Everyone there knows me and wouldn’t hurt me.

Pastor: A hug can be a sexual act.  Think about it, Suzi.  Your breasts were on his chest.  Your breasts were on his chest.  What did it feel like with your breasts on his chest?  Did it feel good?  Did you feel like a woman?

Teen Feisty: I didn’t think about it that way.

Pastor: What did it feel like?

Teen Feisty: Just a hug.

Pastor: You are getting big breasts, and every man that wants to hug you is going to want to feel them.

Teen Feisty:  What?

Pastor: You are not to talk to him again.

Teen Feisty: We’re friends!

Pastor: Better to lose a friend now than to be found unworthy later.

way back machine

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The setting:  I am 11 and I had a rash or something on my thigh.  Our pastor wanted to look at it because he had medical training and it probably didn’t need a doctor’s visit.  I am in the pastors big leather chair wearing a shirt and my underwear and a towel over my underwear.

Pastor: OK, let’s see the rash

(I show him and am careful to keep as much as possible covered because it’s at the top of my inner thigh.  I am really scared.)

Pastor: Hmmmmm.  It doesn’t look too bad.  Is it itchy?

Little Feisty: yeah.

Pastor: WHAT?

Little Feisty: Yes.  Sorry, Sir. Yes.

Pastor: It’s probably from your tights and dancing.  Do you wash them?

Little Feisty: yes

Pastor: Are you clean down there?

Little Feisty: What?

Pastor: Show me how you wipe after you go to the bathroom.

Little Feisty: um….

Pastor: You can show me over the towel.

(I pantomime for him, and it feels awful)

Pastor: OK good, that shouldn’t cause a rash.

Little Feisty: ok

Pastor: You might need to dance without tights for a while and I’ll have your mom sit you in an oatmeal bath.

Little Feisty: ok

Pastor: We need to have a talk.

Little Feisty: About what?

Pastor: Well, you’re in the older school with the older kids.

Little Feisty: yes

Pastor: And you’re the youngest.

Little Feisty: yes (I was very self conscious about being in my underwear and a towel)

Pastor: Do you like any of the boys?

Little Feisty: What?

Pastor: Do you think any of them are handsome?

Little Feisty: (I was silent for a long time, because I had two crushes and I was not sure where this was headed, but I had to come clean once I was asked) yes

Pastor: who?

Little Feisty:   J & B

Pastor: What does it feel like?

Little Feisty: What do you mean?

Pastor: What does it feel like when you are around them?

Little Feisty: I feel happy.

Pastor: What else?

Little Feisty: um…

Pastor: Do you feel it physically?

Little Feisty: I guess?

Pastor: where?

Little Feisty: um…. well (and I started to cry) I feel something in my vagina a little bit.

Pastor: What does it feel like?

Little Feisty: A little warm and tingly.

Pastor: And do you masturbate and think about them?

Little Feisty: NO

Pastor: you don’t?

Little Feisty: no

Pastor: You need to be very careful, you are growing up.  And getting toward a dangerous age.  Masturbation is a terrible sin.

Little Feisty: I don’t do it.  I know it’s a sin and I never have.

Pastor: I’m going to go talk to your mom, put on your pants.

Little Feisty:  ok

Then we went home.

how can it be this good

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Every touch.  Every kiss.  Every hug.  Every look.  Every time we cook and dance in the kitchen.  Every time we talk and come to resolution.  Every time we watch a movie and turn our bodies into snuggled up pretzels.  Every time we wrestle.  Every time we go for a walk and hold hands by the lake.  Every time we dance in the grocery store aisle because we like the song and sometimes you gotta break it down next to the hummus.  Shamelessly in love.  I sure didn’t know love could go this far or feel this good.  I sure didn’t know that it could make me feel this mighty.  I sure didn’t know that love could make me feel safe enough to look into me and know that no matter what it’ll be ok.  He makes me want to do things I’ve never done before: listen and compromise.  This is a crazy new world, my friends.

OMG TMI

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“Really, Suzi?  Wow.”

I’ve heard it a million times.

TMI!!!

I thought of this when I was blogging yesterday about what do you tell a client about PTSD.  What do you have to tell a client or a boss about a trauma, a disorder or a mental illness?  I don’t know.  Mine makes me kinda flippy outty and tactless and times.  There’s the crying.  People kind of notice.  There’s the good days where I’m not triggered.  Or the OK days where I can bottle it down into a nice little coal in my gullet.

But gullet coals aside…  Why the oversharing?  Why the saying too much?  It’s been hard on relationships because I’ll be out to dinner and the start a relationship with…”so the other day in bed…”  Keeping it classy.

So, I was thinking about it, and talking (too much jk) about it.  And then I went to therapy and danced and screamed about it, and it hit me.  Not literally.   But the cult maintained control over us by brainwashing us into over-confessing everything.  We were trained to tell every thought and every feeling, or we would feel awful-nauseous.  If we ever saw someone from the church and had a bad thought about them and didn’t tell them, it was a sin and we had to tell them before the next communion or it was like the sin was locked in forever.

By making us a self policing congregation it really cut down on enforcement.  Which is actually good business automation practice if you think about it-but back to the cult…

So, I am in pain if I allow myself privacy.  I feel like I am lying to you if I know something that I haven’t told you.  It’s misery.  And if you confess before something gets found out the punishment is somewhat lessened.  There is a constant paranoia scan in my head that is looking for wrongs committed…

So, this over-confessing still makes sense.  I’ve adapted it a little.  In the past few years, Ive been more jokey about it so that I can still make sure that I’ve said everything but in a jokey way so that I don’t get looked at like I’m a martian all the time.

I’m practicing privacy now.  Which is one of the reasons I’ve been so silent on the blog.  I’ve been evaluating again: what do I want to say?  Why do I want to say it?  What do I want to get out of this?

And so I don’t know that I know what I want.  But I know I have more to say.  And this is my forum.

A tiger is a tiger not a lamb

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When choreographing, just like any art form people can tell when it’s not from the heart. I was so used to working with women. That was at a time when I was really connecting with women. It was hard for me to be in a heartspace or open to the sensuality or the sexuality of men.

So, when drawn to the idea of choreographing a male version of “Mein Herr” from Cabaret, I was thinking drag and camp. When I called the dancers and asked them, they were mostly in. But if they were going to dance the dance, they didn’t want to clown around. They wanted to bring the heat.

You have to understand the way I am, Mein Herr.
A tiger is a tiger, not a lamb. Mein Herr.
You’ll never turn the vinegar to jam, Mein Herr.
So I do…
What I do…
When I’m through…
Then I’m through…
And I’m through…
Toodle-oo!

Three gorgeous guys, trusting me to get over my fear and sexism and give them moves from my heart that would make them look amazing and seduce an audience. I was expecting that they would lip-sync, but they surprised me again when they wanted to and could sing.

Bye-Bye, Mein Lieber Herr.
Farewell, mein Lieber Herr.
It was a fine affair,
But now it’s over.
And though I used to care,
I need the open air.
You’re better off without me,
Mein Herr.

When a move didn’t work, it was a great collaborative effort. Just like so many things in my life, work like hell to create a framework and then stand back and let the magic happen. The problems come from controlling, fearing and not trusting in the inspiration that flows. And when you’ve got three guys writhing in unison in black on chairs that’s a form of inspiration.

Don’t dab your eye, mein Herr,
Or wonder why, Mein Herr.
I’ve always told you I was a rover.
You mustn’t knit your brow,
You should have known by now
You’d every cause to doubt me,
Mein, Herr.

The one on the left always had a sexy smolder in every movement. He could hold any position and would stick at a step until he knew he had it nailed. The one in the middle had the drama, his muscular shoulder would always hit that roll like it was the perfect punctuation. The one on the right was like engagingly aloof, undulating clockwork, and there was something in his eyes that made you want to be in on his inside joke. Each so uniquely perfect. The audience went wild. This dance and the feelings of healing and freedom of this artistic process remain with me and I hope always will.

The continent of Europe is so wide, Mein Herr.
Not only up and down, but side to side, Mein Herr.
I couldn’t ever cross it if I tried,
Mein Herr.
So I do..
What I can…
Inch by inch…
Step by step…
Mile by mile…
Man by man.

Sometimes, a song will haunt me. I will play it over and over again. It needs to come out. But I don’t have dancers or a venue to express it. I love to choreograph, and need to figure out how to express that in my life

Bye-Bye, Mein Lieber Herr.
Farewell, mein Lieber Herr.
It was a fine affair,
But now it’s over.
And though I used to care,
I need the open air.
You’re better off without me,
Mein Herr.

I have two songs in my brain, clanging around right now. But this memory of this dance has been banging around, I don’t know why it is. Maybe it needs to be written about.

problems with authority 3 or 4

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I have been in a lot of leadership positions, because I just thought it would make it easier.  If I am an (or the) authority then I know how to behave.  Also, I can be caring about other people rather than looking at myself.

My grandfather told me I was rebellious.  I told him that I wasn’t, because I didn’t recognize any authority in my life.

Being sober has been a revelation, I’ve seen a lot of the veneers I had put up in the past and how some of that is coming due now.   I’ve seen how in so many ways I’ve put myself in dangerous situations and tempted fate, just to shake my tiny fists at the skies.

Owning a business was an amazing experience, and I’m so glad I had that.  But I don’t know if I will want that again.  And it’s been an interesting experience to feel that and now be able to say it out loud.  I don’t want to own a business, I want to make a living.  I want a family and I want balance.

I want to put my focus on my health and happiness, my relationship.  I want to have kids and I want to relocate across the country to be near my brother and his family.  I hope it all works out.

problems with authority 1

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You may not have noticed, but sometimes I have trouble with authority.  Most recently this played out with my personal trainer where she said, come in twice before our next appointment-do these things or “you’ll be punished”.  She couldn’t have been more playful when she said it.

I even wanted to come in.  But I swear that phrase triggered me and my “fuck you shoes” were glued to the floor and I couldn’t go.  I said about a thousand times, I need to go to the gym.  I wanted to go.  But I couldn’t get there.  Why couldn’t I just get off my ass?

I felt weak and dumb.  I didn’t feel like I was “rebelling”.  I just felt like there was a force field between me and there.  Like I couldn’t get there.  I realized that between doing something or taking a punishment, I will take my autonomy and their punishment every time just because I can.  To prove my freedom now.

But seriously, I’m 35.  They aren’t going to get me anymore.  Half of my brain knows that, if I hold my head to the side and smack it, will my lizard brain get it?   It gets exhausting trying to prove myself to them, especially since they aren’t there anymore.  And since what I was rebelling against was healthy for me and something I wanted.

This is one of the consequences of emotional and physical abuse.  Now that the SCARY is internalized the problems with authority and internalized and I have to be at the gym in 42 minutes explaining how we’re going to have to come up with different language so that I can get my ass to the gym while I work on the cobwebs in this new dark corner that’s been lit up for me.  And not feel like a jerk or a delicate flower or make her feel like a jerk.

all you need is love 1

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I’ve been very silent and internal.  Having posted a blog would have been like reaching into a tornado and pulling out one piece of debris and saying this is my focus.  But I’ve had no focus.

I mean, I’ve been focusing on my physical.  Which brings me right back to my emotional.  E’s and my living space that was quaint and intimate when we moved in has become neither and we need to go when our lease is up.  It’s an important part of our “stay in love plan”.

He and I went through a hard time recently.  There’s this sneaky person in me.  She used to sneak eat when she was growing up.  She used to get  tricked and then punished by authority figures.  She never could believe the reality presented to her was really what was going on.  So, this person (um…me) ended crafting her own reality in a lot of ways.  Becoming a kind of social manager, control freak, because if I know every thing that’s going on then there are no surprises.  I create the reality.  I am the knowing one.  I choose who to let in.  And while there aren’t a lot of surprises, there are surprises when you are with someone who actually wants to be with you creating your path equally.

It’s been so hard to let down the levels of walls and controls that I didn’t even know where there.  Manipulation that I didn’t realize I was spinning, so ingrained in me, until it was coming out of my mouth.  It’s been so hard to just be at peace and listen and be in a conversation without having to figure out what my move is three moves ahead.

So, to my credit I have a lot of successes in this.  A couple weeks ago, I didn’t have a success and this crack in the trust in our relationship is what led me to realize how deep this fear is of just being is.  Of believing that if I am totally honest and can have an open conversation about my wants and needs that it will most likely work out.  But if I am sneaky about it, it just won’t.

This has been a gift in our relationship, a lot of growing and healing has happened really fast.  I went and had some body work done and she hit an area where I had some stored trauma apparently and I cried for about 12 hours.   Then about 2 days later, I felt like 200 pounds of stone that I had been encased in fell off of me.

trigger (again)

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PTSD is just terrible.  I have spent the last two weeks just  completely triggered.  My hyper vigilance has muddled my thinking a lot so that it’s hard to think straight.  I can’t remember what I’ve thought or said.

It seems that continuity is a huge problem in my life.  Saying I’ll be somewhere and then not being able to cope and not going.  Or not remembering that I’ve promised something, and letting someone down.

 

I don’t mean to.  My memory isn’t mine any more.  And in the last two weeks I’ve learned more rotten things about me than I can even remember.  Actually I can’t remember.   I’ve gotten in touch with a very hurt 4-year old girl in side.  I’ve cradled her and held her, she’s inconsolable.  She doesn’t think she ever gets to play and that if we play we’ll get in trouble and they’ll get us.  So no breaks.  Everything is observed.

Even my art has far too many eyeballs than are appropriate in it.  I don’t understand the East Bay, and I think I’m glad we’re going to be moving away.  I have healed a lot,  but I also tend to pathologize myself here.  I don’t know if that’s good.

I just keep getting offered life lesson after life lesson and they are coming at a chest crushing speed.  I can’t keep up.  I can’t integrate the changes as fast as I need to.  I just have to try to remember to breathe.  And stop crying when I can.

Which isn’t very often right now.  Need some forgiveness for me, because I am feeling like a fuckup machine.

weight loss photos

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I hate the pre weight loss pictures.  They are unflattering.  Horrible poses.  Terrible lighting.   No personality.  Some people can be overweight and happy.  Dress in ways that are flattering or at least not boring and have fun.  This country equates fat with unlovable.

The post weight loss pictures always have a make over, better clothes, better lighting.  Whatever.

I call bullshit.  You are lovable if you goldang say so.  If you can love others.

So, here are some of my before photos.  But what is brewing in my head, is something different.  I think since I want to incorporate my love of dance and movement.  I think I want to post occasional videos of me moving and dancing.  Because I think it’s important to see attitude, spirit, soul.  And I’ve had that even when I was at my biggest at 265.

 

Age 14, weigh unknown - was a dance teacher and dancing competitively

Age 14, weigh unknown - was a dance teacher and dancing competitively

 

35th Birthday, about to get my present

35th Birthday, about to get my present

 

35, New Years

35, New Years

 

 

 

Weight as of this AM:  215