The Bitch & The Bastard

Within each of us lies the potential for us to act with the grace of Gentlewoman and Gentleman or alternatively with ..... the aggression of a full flight Bitch or Bastard.  On any given day we can choose to be either ....a shining example .... or a bloody good warning.

I noticed my Warrior Bitch pick up her verbal sword last night and was able to observe her, speak with her, and calm her.   As a result, she did not go into full on battle, but acted with integrity, which she has always had if others took the time to understand her rather than attack her.  She lowered her sword and apologized to my husband for her misunderstanding.

I am becoming more and more successful at communicating with this dimension of myself these days, and feel a great peace when I am able to respectfully approach my Inner Warrior (who can easily be mistaken as a fully blown Bitch) without alarming her further.

From my birth (1962) until 1995, I lived in deep emotional trauma and hid my fragile and wounded heart from the world. Throughout my teenage years into young adult hood, I became a fully blown addict/alcoholic and as a result, my Inner Warrior was always on guard.  She needed more and more chemical stimulants as the years passed to stay alert, but to also help medicate the pain from my untreated heart wounds (childhood sexual abuse and domestic violence).  I rarely felt safe as a child and in teen, then adult life, around men or women.  The only humans I felt safe with were little people. 

Back in 1995 when my recovery commenced my sons were toddlers, so when I was alone with them and no other adults, I felt safe and would allow my heart to drop its anchor.  My Inner Warrior woman could then have a quick cat nap and put down her sword for a while, and take a long deserved rest.

I notice these days when I am working with others in emotional recovery, regardless of whether they are in a detox, rehab or jail, living the high life as a celebrity or sports hero or they are a regular mum or dad, son or daughter just trying to learn how to become a better person ..... the common denominator most of us struggle with is fear. Fear of ourselves or our shadow or darker side (inner bitch or bastard), and fear of others.  

I remember watching "I dream of Jeanine" as a little girl.  For those who are not from my generation it was a sitcom back in the 60's and 70's where an astronaut and a blonde, pink clad magical Jeannie lived together.  The biggest appeal of this show for me was Jeannie's wonderful bottle.  When she decided she wanted time alone, she could shrink herself down and retreat into her private paradise within her golden bottle or genie lamp.  Inside it were wonderful silk cushions, gilded gold trinkets and everything a female could ever need.  It just looked like a divine feminine place to retreat from the world to find safety?  I longed for a place like that.  I remember also being enchanted by another sitcom called "The land of the Giants" and a movie called "The Borrowers".  I longed to be able to make myself miniature and able to hide is small places where no big people could find nor reach me if they ever discovered my safe hiding place.

An image of a big savage dog, comes to mind, digging at a small opening where these little people where hiding in one of these fantasy stories.  The visual was terrifying for me as a little girl, but what was truly wonderful to witness was that the little people were safe.  The dog could bark, snarl and growl all it liked; there was no way it was going to be able to bring any harm to these wonderful spritely, clever and brave little people.

I longed for a mechanism to protect me like that, so I could keep myself safe.  So what I invented at around age four was these internal tunnels that I could visualize inside my own body.  There were about ten of them that went down to ten different levels.  Number ten tunnel that went down the deepest was the most elaborate and beautiful and at its base was a safe pink paradise.  It was a bit like the interior of Jeannie's bottle. 

Today as a grown woman my dressing room, looks and feels for me,  like this secluded pink paradise did when I was a little girl.  It has fairy lights, wonderful flowers, divine fabrics that adorn my dressing room sofa, and it is just a feminine delight.  It is my space.  My safe feminine space.  And I am grateful to say my sons now grown men aged 23 and 21 and my divine husband Mr. Delicious are very respectful of this room, and seem to understand it is my Queendom, and a sacred space for me.

As a little girl, my Inner Warrior used to come and get me and carry me into a tunnel when violence or abuse was about to take place.  She could detect the level of alcohol in my abusers system with her acute sense of smell, and hear by the tone of the adult voices that were arguing around me how dangerous the enemy was becoming and how deep we would need to go into the fairy tunnels.  My Inner warrior was (and still is) a lot like Xena.  She was a tall, magnificent Amazonian woman, strong, powerful and relentless.  Whilst my four year old little heart was hidden in the deepest tunnel, she stayed to protect me on the coal face of the attack,  in my body.  She mastered how to not make a noise nor beg, cry or give away my power.  She was stoic.  Her ability to be silent in the midst of great pain, helped diminish the amount of violence my little body had to endure. 

As a young teen when my sexuality started to blossom my Inner Warrior took me away anytime she could from people places and things that she deemed were a potential threat.  So as a result I spent my teens doing what recovery circles call "geographicals" I was on the run. I hitchhiked around Australia and Europe still naïve enough to believe that if I ran away my hearts wounds would go away too.  In my early twenties I knew I was ready to breed, so I choose an athlectic, handsome man who looked to me like a blonde surfer Viking Warrior. It was when my two sons were born that my Inner Warrior learned how to master the verbal sword and she graduated to become a full blown Warrior Bitch .  Like an animal snarls and goes on the defensive when threatened,  became an incredibly territorial woman and mother.  A smother mother really.  When a woman becomes a mother she understands that she never gets a day off from protecting her children.  So Warrior Bitch had an overwhelming amount of traumatic memories from my  past of what can happen to little people if big people are left alone with them, so she exhausted herself living in consistent fear for their safety.

Drugs and alcohol helped Warrior Bitch stay alert and on the job 24/7.  Substance also are extremely effective at keeping childhood trauma suppressed... short term, not long term.  On October 12, 1995 when I got into recovery and put down the booze and drugs, my Warrior Bitch became more hypersensitive as she had no anesthetic to quell the pain from her past untreated battle wounds.

After years of therapy, physical and emotional detoxing, and consistent writing I have come to realize there is no need for me to be neither ashamed nor afraid of my loyal Inner Warrior woman.  These days I am doing my best to honour her, support her and thank her.  My body was my Warrior Woman's most effective tool prior to 1995.  When living in full flight fear and on guard she would use my body to punish and seduce men, alienate women and keep the sisterhood away from me, and sedate or accelerate energy levels with over eating, over exercising or starvation, caffeine and nicotine overdoses.  The cost of this was always my health... emotional, physical, spiritual and sexual.

So as I observed my warrior woman pick up her sword last night, I was able to be compassionate to her and make peace.  What triggered her was something quite harmless to anyone else, except her.   My darling husband was fitting a new larger screen into my sacred writing nook, and also fitting a Skype camera.

As soon as he started circling my desk and unplugging plugs and removing trinkets, she picked up her sword and became controlling and bitchy with him.  Like any figure of authority protecting or guarding an area would become with an intruder.  She took a no nonesense, "What the fuck do you think you are you doing" approach.  You see my writing nook today is like one of my safe and sacred inner tunnels.  It is a place of treasured solitude where I sit and write, and my heart drops its anchor. There is only physical and emotional room for one, me.   So when his big muscular body starting trying to share my small space, Inner Warrior took control and used her effective verbal bitch skills.  In a split second, I was triggered into feeling I was inside Jeannie's elaborate and delicately designed bottle.  Immediately he became the snarling dog at the entrance of my sacred tunnel activated.  The enemy in other words.

"Sweetheart, I am here to help you, why are you being short with me?" My wise husband has mastered his inner warrior (or bastard) and chooses to respond to my Warrior Bitch as a Gentleman. He has learned this is the most effective way to encourage her to put down her sword and remember he is not the enemy.  He reminds me with his respectful approach that he is here to partner me in keeping me safe and supported not start a war with me.

His gentle words, spoke to my inner Gentlewoman and my Warrior Bitch at once.    My Gentlewoman has become a working part of me now, and she loves, respects and accepts all of me, including my Warrior Bitch. I was able to bring myself back into the here and now and inhale and take a deep breath.

"He loves you, he is on your side, he is not the enemy, he is a darling man, who is trying to make your life easier." I was able to calm myself, put down the sword and let my Inner Warrior woman put down her verbal sword as well as my heart, and not run off with it and hide it away from him.  I have been extremely heartless with males in my past, as I never thought it safe to have my heart anywhere near them, let alone drop its anchor with them,  unless I was on guard, or heavily sedated (protected) with booze or drugs.

My heart can drop anchor safely now with My husband and a few other safe adults.  My Inner Warrior has now retired and instead of practicing her sword and verbal bitch skills because she is fearful of the worst in people, she prefers sharpening her meditation and yoga techniques that empower her to look for the best in people.  My Inner Warrior is now empowered by love however, she would still charge in to defend me, my children, my man or my intimate circle of dear friends, should anyone ever disrespect them in any way.  But this is a rare occurrence these days.

Last night I was able to explain within my apology to  my husband, what was going on for me and why my Warrior Woman (whom he also knows well now and respects)prematurely picked up her verbal sword.  He just smiled and accepted my apology with grace. 

It is interesting the more gentle I become as a woman the more gentle those around me also become.

When we stop warring with ourselves and learn how to own without harsh judgment and shame our Inner Bitch or Bastard with human compassion life becomes more peaceful.  When human beings feel afraid and on guard we become prickly and unattractive in our behaviors' so that people that we believe are our enemy will keep their distance.  A little like a skunk sprays an unpleasant scent on their attacker so they will retreat. Our Inner Bitch and Bastard are our defense mechanisms that we use when we feel unsafe.  So next time someone you love is in Bitch or Bastard mode around you, the challenge is to respond to the best of your ability with the grace of a Gentlewoman or Gentleman.  Love works miracles.

Thanks for sharing this space with me this morning.  It has been a pleasure writing to you on a huge new screen and I look forward to meeting you here next week if you get time.

I love these Word Vitamins from Marcus Aelius Aurelius for they mirror the message I tried to share with you within this blog.

"Waste no more time arguing about what a good person should be.  Be one."