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Wednesday, June 27, 2012

The Plucking Story

For a long time now, I have been going through some difficult things in my life. I have leaned on some of the strongest and kindest people to get through all of it. Those people know who they are, and know how much I appreciate them all…I am forever grateful to all who have offered me such comfort. I found much comfort from many of you online, and from a few true friends that live here. It was sometimes easier to share with my online friends, because they were non threatening...non judgmental and they were offering an unconditional comfort simply because they cared. I thank you all who have such beautiful hearts. It is now my turn to offer some unconditional love.

It has come to my attention that there are a few of my favorite people going through similar difficult times, and I wanted to share a story that gave me comfort when I needed it. It was told to me by a lady from victim services one day when I was in the deepest depths of my despair…and I have thought about it a lot ever since. Often during my darkest hours this story would somehow comfort me and make me feel like there was hope.

Ladies…this one is for you…I hope it stays with you…and reminds you that you are never alone…ever…and that this is just a stop on the way to a beautiful transformation for you.

"Life is ten percent what happens to you and ninety percent how you respond to it." ~ Lou Holtz

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She arrived into his life a brilliant bird with crimson feathers. She delighted him, intrigued and amazed him. Soon, he asked if he may pluck just one feather, and she let him. But then as they grew to know each other longer, he plucked another one and then another and another. As the days of courting ceased, he took the liberty to pluck a few more, this time without asking.

Gradually, he was taking her feathers when she was not looking, until she noticed one day that patches of her body were just about bare! But, there were still lots of feathers left she realized…and she was relieved.

As the days wore on, he found her less and less radiant. Splotches of white skin were showing here and there, peeking out trough her few remaining soft scarlet feathers. He still continued the plucking of these feathers late late at night when she was defenseless and tired …or at weak moments when she needed him most.

One morning, after he had gone, she looked at herself in the full length mirror (something she has become increasingly reluctant to do these days) and saw that she was completely bare. Not a feather left. Nothing. She was a bald, pale, naked, embarrassed bird. She did not even look like a bird anymore at all.

“I wonder what he has done with all of my feathers…” she said to herself. “He must surely have wanted them for something.”

As the day wore on, she looked around the house. She found a couple of her beautiful crimson feathers in the ashtray under the butts and ashes. There were a few amongst the dust and lint behind the television. He had been using one to apply glue and it was caked and dried on the table beside his model airplanes. A bunch of her feathers had been used to wipe up paint and were wedged into a corner on dirty newspapers…and downstairs, she found a whole pile of them that had been stuffed along with old worn socks and broken shoes into a big plastic garbage bag.

“My lovely crimson feathers!” she thought, shivering and nude in the cold.

He called her later that day to tell her he didn’t need her anymore, so she went off alone to try to recuperate and wait for her feathers to grow back. It was not easy for her… she was afraid, broken and alone. It took a long long time…it ALWAYS did.

The little bird went off alone to think about what she needed and wanted to do to begin healing and regaining her feathers back. The little bird realized that she could not do it alone, and that she needed to talk.

She sought out a group of other birds, that had the same number of feathers as she did….NONE. There, in that group of birds, the little bird felt protected and safe. She had found a haven where she could begin to grow new feathers. These beautiful new feathers were bigger and stronger than before. Still alone and frightened, the little bird began to take piece by piece, the nurturing from her new found flock. She found the hope and strength to keep on working on healing herself. She struggled each day with reminding herself that it was possible to get the feathers back and that it was not her fault that she had lost them in the first place.

Within the group, the little bird learned not to blame herself. She began to get stronger as a result of her experiences within the group. Every day, she took a little time to love herself. When she needed to, the little bird called on the strength and support of the group. Day by day, the little bird found herself getting healthier and stronger.

As her feathers started growing back, she began to notice the brilliant colors of her feathers and she began to notice the beauty within herself. What she noticed most about her feathers was that they were equally as beautiful as they had been in the past, but that they were stronger and they were un-pluckable.

Her feathers were warmer and they protected the little bird when she needed to be protected from others. Then the day came that the little bird realized she had enough feathers and that she could choose to give some away…but only to fellow givers.

The little bird chose to never associate with takers again. Now that she had her lovely strong feathers, she decided that it was time for her to spread her wings and fly….AGAIN.

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I do hope you enjoyed my little story today…and to those who needed to hear it…I hope it helps. I am sending you each a great big hug…and reminding you that there is always a friend right here, if you should need one. You know who you are!

Until next time….love ya!!

*)*)*) to my special three: ”… never EVER play head games with someone more prepared than you are, and "Don't ever start a fire you can't put out." -anonymous

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`*.¸.*´Glenda/Tootsie
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