When my husband and I got engaged in 1997, my mother had just met the man who would become her third husband. They had a whirlwind romance and as we planned for our wedding, my mother suggested we have a joint wedding.

I had the wherewithal to say no.

She then asked if, instead of throwing my bouquet to all the single women at my wedding that I give it to her. I hadn't planned on a bouquet toss (I am not big on tradition) so I made a show of giving it to her during our reception. She and her husband were married six months later.

This past weekend I came across a candid picture of my mother and me at her wedding reception. There we are, our hands holding our forks the same way, our eyes cast downward at whatever it was were eating. She in the foreground, me by her side.

My body language says it all. Just looking at it I can feel myself shrinking, my body curling inward, my head bowed, almost like a turtle trying to pull its head inside its shell.

But still in lockstep with her.

It would be another 12 years before I consciously started to take back my life, and my power, from her.

That I had given it to her in the first place makes all the sense in the world to me now, but I shamed myself for years because in my mind, "letting her" have that power meant I was weak, pathetic, passive, and ineffectual.

What I know now is that "letting her" have that power was a highly intelligent adaptation my body made to keep me alive. Her fight was too much for my nervous system so it "chose" freeze/appease. It knew that fighting back would never work.

Which isn't to say I had no fight in me. I just turned it inward and hurt myself, quite literally.

Unshaming anger, and learning that it is a part of me that loves me and that I can trust (and more importantly be safe with) it has made all the difference.

Much, much love,

Karen