The Mystery of Our Blood by Bendis
The Mystery of Our Blood by Bendis
Posted April 23rd, 2009 by Anonymous
The Mystery of Our Blood by Bendis
As girls growing up, our life experiences affect our feelings about our bodies. Sadly, many of us had to deal with frightening and traumatic events which cast dark shadows of what should be joyful and celebrated moments.
When I was six years old, my sixteen-year- old baby sitter exposed himself to me. I had never seen a fully erect penis. What six-year-old has? He wanted me to touch that thing! I was so grossed out; the repulsion lasted for years. From then on, because of the revulsion I felt from that experience, I was not able to discuss anything that had to do with my body or sex. The questions most kids ask - I never asked - never. I did let my parents know what had happened and we sent that boy off never to be seen again. However, for some reason, conversation with my mother about things that should have been talked about just did not happen.
When I was ten, my bus driver sexually molested me. On top of already existing bad memories, my body had now been violated. Again, I reported it to my parents and I am sure they did the right thing. I honestly do not remember; much more was going on inside with my emotions. I think my mother must have realized at that point that she never had that "mother- daughter" talk about the birds and bees. I am sure she felt some guilt for that oversight and I know I held some responsibility for that, as I had not asked either. But then, I was a child. To make up the years of silence my mother told me everything in one sitting. From ovum and sperm, to sexual intercourse and menstruation - she told me all of it. All, while I was in total trauma for having had that gross man’s fingers in my vagina. As a result, I shut down even more.
I was late having my first period - not until I was almost 14. When it did start, I knew what it was but my feelings of disgust and shame for my own body were so mortifying I could not tell anyone. That first period really was only spotting - I never had a “flow” but it lasted for 18 days while I did the best I could with toilet paper to keep my clothes clean and to keep anyone from knowing. Eventually the toilet paper did not work and I spotted on my bed sheets. My mother came to me immediately and was so upset that I had not told her. I did not have an answer as to why I had not told her because I did not really understand myself. I cried - she cried - she gave me some pads and a belt (ye gads, pads and a belt - yes, it was that long ago). Not having any understanding herself of the beauty of why we bleed, she gave me nothing other than methods by which to cope. It did nothing to help me welcome the changes in my body.
When I think about it now, I feel deprived of something that could have been wonderful. They called me the ice queen in high school because I would not let anyone touch me. Bless the Goddess I discovered that I was a passionate women who enjoyed all aspects of sex, able to give and receive fully. I relished all things about being a woman, conceiving and birthing my children with ease. Every month I was so ill I had to go to bed. I almost hemorrhaged each time, passed huge clots, and dealt with waves of nausea and diarrhea with almost unbearable cramps. At the age of 43 I had a hysterectomy and ignorantly, felt blessed by the occasion.
I will never know if my experiences with my moontimes were negative because of what happened to me in childhood. I will never know if it would have made a difference if my mother and I had celebrated the wonderful occasion of my first blood. I know that it matters to me now and it has mattered to me since I found the Goddess and my family of women. Sometimes I feel robbed. I had already had my hysterectomy when Goddess came into my life. I believe that sense of loss greatly contributed to what motivated me to become a priestess and to serve the community of women.
It is so important that we share the Mystery of our Blood with our daughters and with our granddaughters. When my daughters bled for the first time, while we did not have the kind of ceremony I would have now, we did celebrate. It was a BIG DEAL! There were no surprises for them when it came to their bodies. They knew what love, sex, joy and menstruation were. In our home talking about our bodies, about menstruation and about sex were as natural as talking about “what’s for dinner.”
My oldest granddaughter and I had a private party. She spent the night. I gifted her with red beads, lacy red underwear and a beautiful red velvet box to keep special memories in. I shared stories of strong women with her and we marked our faces with “warrior marks!”
I know it matters. I know we must reawaken in our daughters the celebration of our bleeding times. We must make it possible for them to see that our red blood is a gift, a gift given only to women. It is a gift that as women all share - the red blood of life. The Goddess Blesses Her Women.
Blessed Be,
Bendis
Posted April 23rd, 2009 by Anonymous
The Mystery of Our Blood by Bendis
As girls growing up, our life experiences affect our feelings about our bodies. Sadly, many of us had to deal with frightening and traumatic events which cast dark shadows of what should be joyful and celebrated moments.
When I was six years old, my sixteen-year- old baby sitter exposed himself to me. I had never seen a fully erect penis. What six-year-old has? He wanted me to touch that thing! I was so grossed out; the repulsion lasted for years. From then on, because of the revulsion I felt from that experience, I was not able to discuss anything that had to do with my body or sex. The questions most kids ask - I never asked - never. I did let my parents know what had happened and we sent that boy off never to be seen again. However, for some reason, conversation with my mother about things that should have been talked about just did not happen.
When I was ten, my bus driver sexually molested me. On top of already existing bad memories, my body had now been violated. Again, I reported it to my parents and I am sure they did the right thing. I honestly do not remember; much more was going on inside with my emotions. I think my mother must have realized at that point that she never had that "mother- daughter" talk about the birds and bees. I am sure she felt some guilt for that oversight and I know I held some responsibility for that, as I had not asked either. But then, I was a child. To make up the years of silence my mother told me everything in one sitting. From ovum and sperm, to sexual intercourse and menstruation - she told me all of it. All, while I was in total trauma for having had that gross man’s fingers in my vagina. As a result, I shut down even more.
I was late having my first period - not until I was almost 14. When it did start, I knew what it was but my feelings of disgust and shame for my own body were so mortifying I could not tell anyone. That first period really was only spotting - I never had a “flow” but it lasted for 18 days while I did the best I could with toilet paper to keep my clothes clean and to keep anyone from knowing. Eventually the toilet paper did not work and I spotted on my bed sheets. My mother came to me immediately and was so upset that I had not told her. I did not have an answer as to why I had not told her because I did not really understand myself. I cried - she cried - she gave me some pads and a belt (ye gads, pads and a belt - yes, it was that long ago). Not having any understanding herself of the beauty of why we bleed, she gave me nothing other than methods by which to cope. It did nothing to help me welcome the changes in my body.
When I think about it now, I feel deprived of something that could have been wonderful. They called me the ice queen in high school because I would not let anyone touch me. Bless the Goddess I discovered that I was a passionate women who enjoyed all aspects of sex, able to give and receive fully. I relished all things about being a woman, conceiving and birthing my children with ease. Every month I was so ill I had to go to bed. I almost hemorrhaged each time, passed huge clots, and dealt with waves of nausea and diarrhea with almost unbearable cramps. At the age of 43 I had a hysterectomy and ignorantly, felt blessed by the occasion.
I will never know if my experiences with my moontimes were negative because of what happened to me in childhood. I will never know if it would have made a difference if my mother and I had celebrated the wonderful occasion of my first blood. I know that it matters to me now and it has mattered to me since I found the Goddess and my family of women. Sometimes I feel robbed. I had already had my hysterectomy when Goddess came into my life. I believe that sense of loss greatly contributed to what motivated me to become a priestess and to serve the community of women.
It is so important that we share the Mystery of our Blood with our daughters and with our granddaughters. When my daughters bled for the first time, while we did not have the kind of ceremony I would have now, we did celebrate. It was a BIG DEAL! There were no surprises for them when it came to their bodies. They knew what love, sex, joy and menstruation were. In our home talking about our bodies, about menstruation and about sex were as natural as talking about “what’s for dinner.”
My oldest granddaughter and I had a private party. She spent the night. I gifted her with red beads, lacy red underwear and a beautiful red velvet box to keep special memories in. I shared stories of strong women with her and we marked our faces with “warrior marks!”
I know it matters. I know we must reawaken in our daughters the celebration of our bleeding times. We must make it possible for them to see that our red blood is a gift, a gift given only to women. It is a gift that as women all share - the red blood of life. The Goddess Blesses Her Women.
Blessed Be,
Bendis