My Private War

In Tears and Healing,  I write about tears and how they can give us insight into our needs. In short, when we experience something that brings us closer to what our spirits need, we well up or cry. Almost always, this stems from what is imprinted in our memory about us, memories of messages that demean or harm us. I talk about this in Memory Shapes Us. 

As I write this, US forces press into the outskirts of Baghdad. I have been watching a lot of coverage of the war - I'm not sure why. But two very powerful messages have emerged for me.

You may not know My Story, but I endured almost 2 years of vicious abuse from a very disturbed wife. It's been almost 2 years since she moved out and I established my home as a safe place. But her impact lives on in my life.

I am not Evil: As I watch the stories of soldiers struggling to find acceptance among the people of Basra, I am crying. And it is not about Iraqis. I've gotten better at understanding what underlies my feelings. This one was so simple. You see, it is all about being demonized. The British soldiers say, "We want them to understand that we are here to help them, to make their lives better." But the people see them as evil. As hard as I have worked in the past 2 years to redeem my spirit and rebuild my faith in myself, the wounds from her abuse are still open. She tried to redeem herself by making me even more despicable than she was. She attacked me with most vicious accusations, clawing and digging at the slightest self-doubt and tearing apart my belief in myself. 

It is amazing how our unconscious minds make these pattern connections so quickly. Before me, these soldiers struggle with the same problem: a good spirit judged to be evil. The need here is to bring the messages from outside into harmony with what moves us from within. And to overwrite the memories of the wrong messages with memories that match our our inner drives. Their task will be easier than mine, I expect.

What is Happening?:  Soldiers with weapons and battle gear go house to house and crash through doorways in a struggle energized with the fear of death. Women and children huddle in fear as forces beyond their control rage around them. Again I am crying. Unfortunately, there is not much difficulty in finding the connection here either.

Good God, didn't the same thing happen in my life? My own home was a bloody battleground, and the force was overwhelming; impossible to control. And equally impossible to understand. 

It is terror; sheer terror inflicted on one human being by another. We need it to stop. They need it to stop. And I needed it to stop. And I could not stop it.

I don't like war. I don't like it in the homes of Iraqis, I don't like it in my home, and I really don't like carrying it around in my heart. 

© 2004-6 Richard, 21CP and Dalkeith Press