This was the hairbrush that sat on my mother’s bureau. She would use it after her shampoo so that she could detangle her hair before setting it in curlers and putting on her curler cap. Really I didn’t want to go there and remember this brush – I most definitely didn’t want to actually talk about this – privately or in public because I was VERY well trained to keep all the abusive behaviors I experienced in my childhood secret and “not talk about those things” – but truth is if I am going to stand in the world as an Empowered Messenger I had to.
See this is the brush (the back of which – see photo below) she used to beat me with. In particular she used it to beat me when she found me in her bedroom when I was somewhere around maybe 9 and 12 and I was touching myself. Masturbating is what that’s called but of course that was a word that was a bit large for my vocabulary at the time.
When she came in and found me there with my hands on myself – she grabbed that brush and started beating. I remember screaming, screaming, screaming because she was hurting me. Not just my hands which she beat first. The real intense searing life scarring pain came when she went after my pussy directly. Right on the lips she beat me. Hard. With the back of that little green polyethylene Fuller Brush. I remember the shock and screaming at her that she was hitting my cunt – hoping desperately to get her to stop, hoping that somehow if I screamed the “bad word” that she’d come out of her enraged state long enough to realize exactly what she was doing.
It’s been coming to me lately that this was abuse. It’s also been coming to me lately that this “Family imprint” has been instrumental in a whole lot of dysfunction in my life. From abusive relationships with men to inability to orgasm for most of my life to “faking it” in bed when a man was slamming me hard because I had no clue that I was supposed to be feeling something pleasurable and had equated love with pain at the very core of my being – at the opening of the sacred portal that co-creates, carries and brings life into being.
Recently all this “woke up” in me. It started to wake up when the “grab em by the pussy” tapes were released during the election. I got further triggered when I chose my “word of the year” for 2017 which is EMBODY. Finally I spent two weekends in a row in January at events that were “Pussy-centric” and then attended another virtual event where I was informed that the “Lips of Your Yoni” are the place where our “family imprints” are stored. Well how do you like that??
My (lower) lips became inflamed and irritated just thinking about this. My eyes became filled with tears for the exploring child that I was who was simply discovering her own pleasure map – perfectly natural, perfectly attuned and pretty prohibitively shamed upon her discovery. They want to be healed – both sets of my lips and my little girl. My body want’s to let go of all the stored imprints of abuse – not just THIS incident although alchemizing this one should go a long way to bringing about a more healthy, joy filled, enthusiasm for embracing and embodying my erotic innocence. My soul wants my innocent child to be restored in her fullest measure. My mind wants to forget about that hard hard brutal brush. My spirit wants to feel alive again, free, easy, flowing and most of all empowered…. Not beaten.