By Carol Hartung
Copyright Untaming Programs 1998. This article may not be reproduced in part or whole without written permission of Untaming Programs.
She was a woman of power. With pride she stood tall and held herself apart from the crowd. She was a woman others feared. With a look she could create a boundary of strength around herself that most would dare not cross. Those who could reach inside her found a loyal friend, one who would fight to the end for them, but few ever reached inside. She camouflaged that entrance well. You could trust her with your life, but she would rarely open up and trust another human. Her dog was the one being that showed her true loyalty. Nothing frightened her, except the ghosts from her past.
As a child she was tough, a tomboy bred in the country, but a sensitive side popped up now and then. Pioneer woman was her favorite game with its mixture of domesticity and difficulty. She cried over sentimental things, Walt Disney movies were her demise. She never did make it past the first ten minutes of Bambi, the flood of tears were too great and swept her away. Her mother didn't understand her. She would say, "Toughen up!" and the tears would be pushed inside, hidden only for the rainiest day.
As the years went on and she reached adolescence, she had her share of awkward times. She was the target for other children's torment, which helped to solidify the tough exterior. No battery of words could ever harm the force field that she built. As the teen years followed, she blossomed into an enviable beauty. She was strong, tall, and radiant. The young men were drawn to her, but the girls were another matter altogether. Their attempts to undermine her only made her pull away. She didn't need to understand those other girls and she didn't want to be like them, after all she was the one with the power.
At eighteen, a young woman starting out on her own boldly walked in danger's way. She did not listen to the quiet tearful voice inside when it whispered for her to run the other way. She thought that she was capable of facing any danger, but this time she did not escape unharmed. She tasted true fear and the ghosts began to follow her every move. In order to survive the ordeal, she tucked the tears and fears away and vowed that no one would penetrate her shield again. No human would hurt her again, but it was the ghosts that terrified her the most. Eventually, she learned to ignore them but their presence perpetuated pain in her life.
It was that fear of pain, which drew more pain toward her throughout her life. She was intelligent, emotionally mature, and understood her problems analytically, but they still lingered. She could not break free from the chains of the ghosts. She could not let down her guard. She could not let anyone inside. When she tried to let someone in, she made poor choices and was wounded even deeper. The other part of her, the vulnerable part that cried when Bambi's mother died, was now screaming to heard. Even with her vast power, this woman could not hold back the softer side of her essence. The day came when she had to face the ghosts and allow herself sensitive side to speak. That was what it took to chase the ghosts away.
Although she had fought and studied martial arts before, it was the Untaming that gave her sensitivity a voice. As she learned to fight again, this time with supportive women by her side, she started to let down the protective wall that she had built. With each punch and kick her power was obvious, but as she sat and unwrapped her hands the quiet voice inside her yearned to speak. Fortunately for her, the other women reached inside and led her softer side to the surface. Even with all her power, she did not have the courage to let her sensitivity show. The group cared enough to help drawn it out. The tamed voice of her sensitive side grew stronger with every meeting. Each new punch gave power to that unheard voice. Each new kick fought back the ghosts.
I know this woman's heart and the depths of her feelings because I am this woman. Once I ignored a part of myself and tried to forget the trouble that I encountered along life's way. This method was met with failure. I couldn't hold inside a voice that cried so loudly to be free. As time passed, the voice gained strength. Intellectually, I had known that I must learn to embrace all aspects of myself in order to be truly whole. Yet, I did not know how to accomplish this task and break the pattern that had been created.
I had finally found a way to open up and to release my deepest pain. I Untamed the Tamed Woman inside me. I gave my power to the quiet voice of sensitivity that was buried so deep inside me. I learned to release my anger, especially the anger that I directed at myself. I gained a new kind of strength, by allowing my power to work in support of my vulnerable side. I confronted my deepest fear by learning to embrace my weakness. I learned to lose a fight. I learned how to win in the face of great difficulty. I learned to fall down and let someone else help me back up. I learned to stand up for what I believe, yet listen intently to others. I learned to hear my own whispering voice. I even learned how to show my tears in front of other women.
I tried every road that I could find before becoming Untamed. Each method gave me a greater understanding of myself, yet I still intellectualized the pain. Untaming, with its blend of physical movement and emotional support was the only way that I could let my softer side out and find a balance. Each time that we met I felt more relaxed and at ease with myself. When we slowly wrapped our hands while sharing our inner feelings I found that I was not alone in my experiences and feelings. Each time that we worked out, I felt more alive and more capable of living fully. For me, Untaming bridged the gap between controlled strength and sentimental vulnerability.
Through the group I found friendships that have endured. The greatest of these was the friendship with myself. The transformation that occurred during the workshop has gained momentum as I returned to participate in advanced Untaming groups. Over the past few years, I have embraced every opportunity to return and I have continued to grow and flourish with each punch and kick. Each time I wrap my hands and sit with the group, I discover more about the beauty and essence of sensitivity. Untamed, I now have a power that had eluded me for decades...the power to be embrace my own weakness.
Other References:
Beating My Story by Jen Hendrikson
Do the Hard Things by Connie Pruss
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