Two Realities, One Life

A photo of me from The Art of Strength taken in 2011

Photo from my book: The Art of Strength

Two Realities, One Life

This is not your typical love story. Although my family of origin taught me tough love, there was love. In their passing, I miss them all.

It’s easy to believe that incest is a relationship between the victim and the perpetrator. But it’s a family relationship that feels like a virus. It infects the hearts of every member of the family with mistrust, jealousy and fear.

My family was no exception.

My sister felt like I was the flower and she was the dirt. In dad’s drunken rage’s he would hit her; and, saved me for his more perverse character flaw.
I understand her lack of sympathy.

My mom was in denial and insisted that my history with dad didn’t leave any scares. “You’re fine,” she’d insist. She could never grasp that his pedophilia had nothing to do with her attractiveness and allure. She never even asked how I was.
I understand her distance.

I just felt like a piece of garbage, not worth protecting.
I also understand that understanding doesn’t change the despair I’ve had to sift through.

After years of being gaslit, my mind felt like Swiss cheese. What was true, and the fear that 3-years of incest was nothing to whine about, started to flip flop. If it weren’t for my body’s “tension patterns” coupled with the disassociated experience that rescued my senses from the events, I would have remained confused indefinitely.

The body can override the mind’s confusion. And more importantly, the body cannot be gaslit.

My body remembers the fright from the sounds, the muscular tension from protective posturing, and the frustration of a vocal freeze, from when dad repeatedly entered my room in the dark.

My body also remembers the safety when in a disassociated altered reality, the sense of belonging I experienced when my bones felt aligned with gravity, the freedom of a tension free body, and my senses being elevated out of dad’s grasp.

The fear, protective posturing, and vocal freeze from my reality could have taken over my life. But instead, I learned to embody the safety, belonging and freedom from my disassociated reality.

Mind-body or somatic therapies listen to the body’s version of a story. Asking the mind to take a break from its over-investment with emotional reactions. A mind-body approach recognizes the body’s remembrance of a story, tracking the “tension patterns” left over from protective posturing.

Because of my experience with dad, I created such a therapy that I’ve named BodyLogos—meaning the body’s Divine wisdom.

BodyLogos uses posture and strength training to track the “tension patterns” in the body, employs a technique that uses resistance to release tension as you create strength, and infuses the movement with transformational active meditation that replaces personal despair with hope.

BodyLogos is the healing art that elevated me out of despair and is how I bring hope into the world.

This is what healing looks like.

Some stories appear negative, yet have happy endings.

If anyone is interested in learning more about BodyLogos please reach out to me at mindthebody@bodylogos.com.

Untethered Through the Holiday

I was warned that losing a second parent would be heart-altering. What I was not warned about was that, being left with no parents, siblings or children, would be life-altering.

It feels like the taproot attached to my very core has been uprooted. The ground under me tilled, ready for mulch and seed. But the nourishment from rich mulch and chosen seeds not yet in place.

As soon as the funeral wrapped up, I was thrust into wrapping holiday gifts. A lonely undercurrent beckoning me to shift myself somehow.

The holiday was without any of my usual family traditions. I grasped for something that felt like family—I made twenty loaves of mom’s cranberry bread to share—desperately keeping what I knew alive.

I quickly realized that I needed to create my own sense of family within myself.
My taproot wasn’t gone. “I” was simply its only occupant!

I say this with enormous gratitude toward the extended family of nephews, cousins and friends, who held a safe space for me to land in the shattering of my family of origin.

I share this experience for the 13% of adults who have lost all family of origin kin. And, those who could join this small community.

Entering into this new year, I celebrate a new beginning. My authenticity a guiding light, as I embrace myself as the new matriarch of a clan.

I’ve come to realize, that I have an opportunity to empress the values I deem important on great nieces and nephews and second cousins. Values of unity and inclusion. Transforming duty to be what is expected, to loving the differences in each of us.

To be the last kin standing feels untethered, but this new position asks me to respect my own authenticity, as I had always respected the elders before me.

2026 is the year I claim a posture of authority in regard to my own life. Any remaining threads of victimhood attached to parental shortcomings to be transformed into compassionate overviews.

I used to resent having to invite myself into the lives of family and friends. Now I feel empowered to do so. It’s an expression of my love for them, not an intrusion of their time or an unwanted request.

The emotional armor I’ve worn to deflect the dissonance I’ve experienced within my family of origin is melting. It was so embodied, I didn’t know it was there; so reinforced by my own misaligned beliefs, I couldn’t alter its trajectory. It’s only through its retraction that it’s now palpable.

Loneliness no longer defines my untethered state, a new respect for authentic authority does.

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