What’s My Story?

“That’s a really bad photo.”

The words of truth are spoken to me by my husband, myself, even my children. I don’t have a knack for photography, not a nack, or a nak. Sometimes I luck out and get something halfway decent. When this happens, it’s usually a huge building in Europe that looms large in the scope of the camera lens so I don’t have to balance the field. And actually, what I said right there, I have no idea what I’m talking about. I just took the words my husband uses in his unsolicited Free Photography Lessons to Wife class.

I would love to take better photos, especially because I have some blogging goals that involve travel. Travel requires photos, right? I usually leave it to Kind Hubby to take the travel photos but it is time to break away from my reliance on him. I am traveling to Iceland next week with a friend and I will be responsible for taking my own (gasp) photos.

What to do? What to do?

When I unfolded my laptop this morning I saw some interesting little words from WordPress in my mailbox: Blogging U’s Photo 101 Course. I went to the link and saw this:

(Angels singing.)

The answer to my dream. Yes, actually, it was a dream. I had a dream three nights ago that I was a paid photographer taking candid photos of nuns playing baseball. They were laughing and having fun while I was hiding behind a bush capturing the Truth About Nuns.

So I entered my name right away in the little boxes and WordPress is going to give me FREE tips on how to take better photos! I can’t wait. And though I don’t plan on posting a photo a day, I do plan on reading and practicing with my phone’s camera. In Iceland. Behind a bush. While nuns play baseball.

You never know. Dreams can come true.

I hate Halloween. There, I said it. I don’t mind the macabre décor, the trick-or-treating, or the childhood joy of dressing up in a (hopefully home-rendered) costume. I hate that adults have assumed the same role as the children, disguising themselves as something they aren’t.

The recent unearthing of my childhood reveals a to-the-book case of emotional abuse, but whose pain is doubled as the family scapegoat. I was a sweet, innocent-minded girl who bore the brunt of blame for my family’s dysfunctions. My older sister was the Golden Child who was allowed to physically, emotionally, and verbally abuse me. My little sister was the funny girl. Nothing was ever their fault. It was always mine. Who caused my father to drink heavily because he couldn’t deal with his emotions? Who had needs that inconvenienced the family? Who had dreams and interests that were left unexplored? Whose feelings were dismissed as a phase, or overreacting, or selfish because Mom couldn’t cope with the dysfunction?

I was denied to feel angry. I was denied to feel sad. I was denied self-discovery, lest my self-esteem be boosted to a dangerous level. I was denied to blame the real issues. My family’s pain became my pain. My family wore the disguise of happy people living in peace, and a small seed of a child grew to believe that this was happiness.

“You do for family,” my father said. The saying was engrained into my psyche through the deliberate affliction of pain that I bore in order to be loved. And I did do for family because I wanted them to love me. I loved them. We ate popcorn together. We laughed at stupid jokes together. We loved our dogs together. We ate dinner every night together. We were a peaceful, happy family. In disguise.

The signs of emotional abuse are so subtle, so habitual, it can take a person many years into adulthood before they fit the pieces together. At 43, I’m on the young side. Family events and gatherings provide ample opportunity for the cycle to propel itself onto the scapegoat. Witnesses see it, but they aren’t sure what is happening. They might have a reaction such as, “Your sister was really lame to you, and your Mom didn’t do anything about it,” to which the victim replies, “I know.” It isn’t an isolated event, but the repetition and enabling of put-downs, condescension, belittling, guilt-trips, envy-making, general lack of respect for time and space, and denial of intention that fills the target with seeds of emotion. And when she finally reaches a point of explosion, it is a pumpkin eruption with seeds, stringy ooze, and meaty pieces flying every direction. She simply has no other way to let it out.

And the Jack-Ass-Lanterns respond, “You’re overreacting.”

This is emotional abuse. It is psychologically destructive. It is heart-sickening. It is intent to hurt the one who entrusted her goodness to the people who are supposed to love her more than anything else in the world.

It’s a disguise to weaken the one who is strong.

It’s a costume for the world to see.

Is it any wonder I hate Halloween?

Scapegoating is ABUSE. End it now. For more information visit:

• Signs of Emotional Abuse
• Are you the family scapegoat? Visit here.
• Why do families target one person? Visit here.

Today’s Photo Challenge: Cover Art

Graffiti art in Paris is sublime. This one pretty much blew me away.

“I am strong,” I said in my bare feet. I didn’t yell like I had something to prove to the world, but more as a matter of fact. The passers-by didn’t even hear me, but I heard myself and that’s all that mattered.

“I am worth it,” I said. My feet were washed of pain in the salty power of the Pacific Ocean. The waves crashed like the torments in our lives, but I let her carry them away to a far-off destination. And I took the strength from the mountains of water to heart, a gift that God and Earth provide in the skies, landscapes, and seas that have the capacity to empower our feeble minds. But only if you let them.

A story of a wise Rabbi explains that life’s problems are like waves. Some are gentle, posing no threat, and others are monstrous and can sweep you away, tumble you, and spit you out in any location. You decide for yourself how to confront the waves in your lives. You can approach them with caution, try to out jump them, let them dictate you, or you can confront them head on and dive straight into the wall that is blocking your path in life-letting the wave roll right over you.

The choice is yours. The power is yours. But only if you claim it.

Today’s Photo Challenge: Refraction

Move mountains with strength. And a unique perspective.