A blog about being the partner of a sex addict, and mother to a son with alcohol, drug, and emotional issues. "These sentences are how I solve the problem of myself."
Hey, you're welcome. :-)"Addicted To Perfection" is a good one in which she tackles a whole host of addictive patterns in women, and the causes. Good stuff, and soul- nourishing, coming from the feminine perspective.
I sometimes tend to avoid the "feminine" psychologies because they're often too abstract or light for my taste. Probably because I reject anything that suggests women are only soft. Of course, I do need to work on my soft side, but that's another post. :P I'll check out Marion's books and see what I think.
LOL—at first I thought you meant *me,* because I've been shoving Addiction to Perfection and The Pregnant Virgin onto people for yonks. She is a hardcore Jungian intellectual, much more so than Pinkola Estes or Jean Shinoda Bolen—the real thing, and plenty tough. Just my 2¢...I do love The Ravaged Bridegroom as well. Books that walked me through a divorce in 2002-2003.
Well, that seals it. I'll be perusing the bookstore tomorrow. Right after that meeting. ;)
Sweet! I agree with recovering jezebel that Woodman is every bit as intellectual, if not more, than Estes. I've been wanting to read The Ravaged Bridegroom for over a year, but something keeps stopping me. ? The thing I love about Woodman is how tactile and certain her language is. She can use metaphor but not get caught up in the cloudiness that some others do. She cuts to the chase.
"I will NOT fragment any longer, I am going to be WHO I AM..."
You know, the clip above makes me think of a time during a bad fight (so bad that I had started slapping myself) when my ex stood over me and in my face bellowed: "RAGE!" and I felt the truth of what Woodman says here—he was literally possessed by the archetype, trying to make himself be seen to himself (because it's we who now must mirror and see ourselves, as adults). He was regressed in that moment and I knew enough not to move, to freeze, and to just look up at him and say simply, "Okay. Yes. I see that." Then he proceeded to destroy his half of the bedroom, smashing and breaking. It was the worst fight we ever had. I wonder if Woodman goes on to explain the deeply destructive power of that archetypal rage, which has no object and no subject, but is like an out-of-control forest fire when acted out.