Altering my Story • by Julee Hermann

Flashback: I’m 8 years old. Sobbing. Shocked. As a little girl just hit over and over again with a 1970s riveted belt ... raw. Bruised. Sitting on the edge of the bed wishing my dad were here, because certainly if there were another adult in the house it would stop. Confused, I think, “I hear that hitting isn’t OK, I definitely am not supposed to hit my little brother, so why would my Mama do this to me ....” My little girl soul feels all jangly and disconnected, somehow like it is separating from the physical body ... the fight or flight response is at work, but I cannot physically match the grown up beating me and I cannot escape ... flight in this case means a fracturing of the spirit ... a little at a time ... I read to cope. I build tiny worlds to imagine myself into and I feel a sense of freedom that I’m terrified to experience in real life. It seems as though making yourself vulnerable is a dangerous proposition so I learn to be bubbly and a friend to everyone, but never expose myself fully.

Even more bruising is seeing the same thing happen to my little brother ... the bruises on my backside were hard for me to see, but I saw them on my brother time and time again ... he wet the bed and he’d be hit. Hard. Over and over. And he’d wet the bed again. When I was big enough, I would get him up and help him get his sheets in the washer, clean the mattress and get him into clean jammies, and then tuck him into my big double bed, just hoping that if it wasn’t more work for her she wouldn’t hit him ... sometimes it worked ... other times she’d put his mattress on the front porch “to dry” ... humiliation cannot heal a wounded heart. He started finding his healing early through music. He writes poetry, sings, and plays the guitar ... music is his release and it saves him. What do I do ...

Being Held & Healed
I have continued to meet this lesson, which I am beginning to understand ... it’s OK to be vulnerable; you’re safe now. These days, in creating these tiny shrines — of one kind or another — I make myself vulnerable by putting them out into the world and learning to express my full self. Through teaching I am encouraging students to “Make the two foot drop from head to heart and work from there.” To me that means to be brave, to embrace mistakes, to grow... when we’re in our heads we are mean to ourselves, but when we’re in our hearts we are expressive and passionate and that is the place where art is made.

I create with ease in my heart, reverse engineering much of what interests me and tweaking it to fit my interests. If I don’t like what I make I can throw it away knowing how I’ll do something differently. I escape through art, but running isn’t the answer, I’ve learned to process things through the meditative space I’m in when I am lost in the creative process. Instead of escaping from the pain, I open to it and unfold; I allow myself to be held and healed to move through the pain to see what it is teaching me. Art allows me to get there.

I’m altering that old story. I’m turning that all around through art. Looking to the pain, questioning, what is the lesson, how can I build off of this? What art has taught me so far is that I am more than the sum total of my parts ... imagine if we looked on a Picasso as just some paint on canvas or looked at a famous symphony as just some instruments and a guy with a baton? We would miss the art ... the beauty ... the pain, the celebration and expression of humanness. We would miss the point.

Missing the “Jul”
To identify only with my individual facets would mean missing the “Jul” :). I am more than that childhood pain that many of us suffer in one way or another, I am more than a failed marriage and abusive relationships patterned after my childhood. I am also more than Mommy to a beautiful girl, more than Wife to a dashing husband, more than Student or Teacher — I am more than the little parts ... I am a whole person living in this beautiful life. I feel most in my wholeness when I am teaching art to the little kids in our neighborhood ... bringing them on hikes, teaching them to stand in their power, to embrace the girls in their lives, to be BRAVE. All of the nurturing I longed for I am putting into my classes. Crafting is fun and a useful escape, but not away from the pain put into it. The mundane act of spreading paint or glue allows my mind to shift to a place of relaxed zen where I mend the broken pieces and learn best practices from my successes. It’s where I go when I am making art that allows me to come up with new innovative and creative ways to move forward ... whether it’s figuring out how to knit my to-do list together to accomplish all of my tasks or troubleshooting while making a piece of jewelry ... creativity loosens me up for the real work of soul searching ...

How about YOU? How do you take care of yourself? When do you feel most whole? Who inspires that in you? How have you altered your story?

To learn more about Julee Hermann, visit heartcollective.blogspot.com.

Comments

[linda]

What a touching story... I agree that it's okay to be vulnerable and we certainly can change our story...make it what we want...

[Ellen]

I admire your courage to tell your story! I want to give you a hug; the sweet girl in pink whose soul was scattered, by abuse. You found ways to put the puzzle pieces back together and create your own world, your own life. I am so happy you have been brave to alter your story and fabricate your heART
n' soul. We all have many facets; Julee you are a jewel! I am so glad you turned your world around, to see the diamond in the rough. You found a way to allow your light to shine~

[Nancy C]

Thank you for sharing this ... These are words spoken from my own soul, too.
If you don't mind, I'm going to print this to put in my journal.

[Libby White]

Thanks for your story, esp. the happy ending. My story is very similar to yours but I haven't worked my way completely through the bitterness that seeped into my soul. Your success story tells me to keep working and keep zenning to a good place. I shouldn't let the past own me now.

[pam warden]

I can very much identify with your story...it is the back note to all of mine. That is one reason why my Heavenly Father means so much to me. Thank you for sharing.
Love and hugs,
Pam

[wendy baker]

you speak for many. thank you... wendy

[Marilyn Weyman Kegg]

You're also more than a friend, Jul. You're a beautiful person inside and out, as well as a wonderful artist. Big hugs and much love, Marilyn

[Ceparie]

Helps to read this, but I admit difficultly in doing art when my heart is hurting. Nice to be reminded that I just need to start and the good of it will follow. Thank you for sharing your story, you made a difference tonight.

[oliveappleby]

what can you say.... my heart was so sad, makes you wonder why some people become parents. You are obviously a bigger person, you are what you are from where you come from and through. Thank you so much for sharing...... Keep safe. Ciao

[Candylei]

You are not only a "whole person" you are a "beautiful person." Amazing. I'm glad you were there for your little brother, but I wish there would have been someone there for you besides your imagination. Keep creating!
Candylei

[Jen Clark]

LOVE this, Julee!! I especially love the part comparing our lives to a symphony or a beautiful painting...I've also read a poem about a beautiful carpet before, that the Master is weaving...and that without the dark strands of pain, the carpet wouldn't look the same in the end - it would be without depth and character. While I don't think we can ever fully understand the "why's?" of this world, when it comes to such hurt as you've described, I do hold on to the hope that comes from knowing the incredible good that can come out of such pain. Thank you for sharing your story, and for the good you are allowing to form in your life as a result of what you endured. (And as a p.s., as a social worker who has removed many children from abusive parents, I am SO sorry there was no one there to rescue you and your brother. :((( )