I have a friend …

I know, lucky me. I have a friend. The ellipsis suggests that there is more to this sentence though for those giggling ๐Ÿ˜œ.

I have a friend who is on a rigorous healing journey. Who is confronting her demons and holding her ground. And, who is absolutely shit scared, every day, of what this could lead to.

When we embark on a healing journey, we first spend time holding the truth within ourselves. We go over our narratives so many times that we can finally feel ‘comfortable’ within them. We start to own our narrative in more than just a debilitating way.

We almost start to feel safe that this is who we are now, and we start to use the labels: survivor, victim, me too. We also brand the trauma: sexual abuse, physical abuse, dysfunction. The labels start to define us. They hold us tightly, but in a way that makes us feel, I don’t know, connected, maybe, secure, even.

This part of the journey can last many, many years. Some people become ‘stuck’ in this part of the healing and they, in essence, hide behind these labels. The labels and the trauma become safe. They, in turn, become the labels. This isn’t healthy.

The next part of the healing journey takes place when we start to share our narrative. We talk to other people, we write, or we create, in some way, to share our narrative. The courage it requires to share is significant. It’s like stepping out into the humidity after a big storm; the fear smothers you until you acclimate.

Sharing comes at a cost. You fear that you won’t be believed, that people will judge you, invalidate your experience (and you), and look at you differently. Sharing makes you very vulnerable, scarier for someone who already feels invalidated.

Rarely, depending on who you choose to share with, will any of these things happen. More often than not, people will support you, commend you on your bravery, and ultimately, start to share their narrative.

This phase of healing helps you to develop strength. It is usually at this point that you start to think outside of yourself. You start saying things like, I want to help others, I want to make a difference, and I need to get my story out there because this needs to stop. Most of us start changing our little parts of the world here. We share and by doing so, we empower and inspire others to share. We start to impact the broader social narrative (this is where #metoo gained real traction, just as a current example).

Some people then move beyond their own circle. They start blogging, writing books, making movies, giving speeches, designing workshops, to get their narrative out there to impact even more people. I think, it is at this point, that the trauma stops defining you. It is a subtle change. But, importantly, I think the healing starts to define you at this point, for most people.

Again, this is terrifying. Even more terrifying than first sharing your trauma with close friends and/or family.

It is here when you start to worry about the impact sharing your narrative will have on those in your narrative. We worry that relationships will change, and be lost. We worry that the pain of others will be exacerbated unwittingly as a result of sharing our narrative. We worry that we will be shunned by those we love.

It is at this point that we weigh up the value of what we are doing, for the world, the community, and ultimately, ourselves. And then, if we proceed, we try to do it sensitively.

Owning our own voice is so important in the healing journey. Owning our voice and our truth.

We are raised to believe that truth is a singular concept. Something is true, or it isn’t. Defining truth, this is ‘true’; however, when it comes to our stories, my truth could be different to someone else’s truth because of perception.

If, in a situation, someone’s action impacted me more than others around me, I might remember the action more than the other things happening at that time, and others may not remember the action at all. This impacts my narrative.

My truth can be different to someone else’s. Both are still valid in the context of a life. Because healing needs to occur from where we are, not from where someone else is.

Someone can say, That isn’t true. It might not be for them. For the person sharing it though, it is. And, as a result, they need to rebalance (heal) it. Standing in our truth is frightening. We all want to belong. By standing up, we risk losing our sense of belonging.

It is important to remember, at this point, that whilst some will turn away from us, the universe always ensures balance, so others will come.

My truth is just that, it is my truth. As I move through my life, striving for harmony and happiness and all things beautiful, I need to do what empowers me to achieve these things. I need to be sensitive to the truths of others without compromising my own truth.

My truth is as valid as your truth. Even when they are different. Healing ourselves, heals others.

Let’s share our stories, rebalance our perceptions, and attain happiness.

Illness or Purging?

I was feeling very shoddy when I got home yesterday afternoon after a wonderful afternoon with my road tripping friend. In true form, road trips are never dull with Margo and we were caught just outside Hill Top in a hail storm. She knew it was coming; I told her not to put the energy out there. Her reading of the clouds was strong; it was too late either way. The weather has decided.

Super full moon. Energies all over the place; even the heavens needed to release what no longer served them.

In my mind, I had prepared a magnificent ritual for full moon for last night – you know, in honour of my intentions for ritual this year. I felt like utter crap.

I did a very downsized version of what I had planned. I’ll post the video here, but you must ignore the perspective because I couldn’t hold the phone in a more flattering way ๐Ÿ˜‚

One of the benefits of aging, I’ve lost ego over my appearance always having to be perfect; what I’m doing is more important.

Anyway, I wasn’t sure if I was sick or if I was creating the sickness. I woke up this morning and if I’ve manifested it, I’ve done a pretty good job. Felt like utter shit all day. I achieved three things, two of them very early. I took the boys to the groomers, vacuumed and mopped the floors, and then slept on the lounge all day.

That’s not the third thing.

The third thing was yin yoga tonight. My body told me that no matter what, I needed to go. So, I did. My body was just blah and my belly so bloated. I started to get nauseous in some of the poses and then I did that vomit in the mouth thing. Gross, right. What can you do. It was only a tiny bit. Just enough to taste it.

The meditation was amazing. I went swimming with whales and went deep inside and deep under.

Came home. Showered. Vomited. Feel better. Sort of.

Now, I started thinking about the things I was going to release well before last night’s ritual. If you watch the video, you’ll see what they were; I can’t remember them all now (because I released them). I’m now thinking, I’m not sick, I’m purging that which no longer serves me.

I had another flashback to sexual abuse during one of the poses. Remember, I’ve Demartini’d my abuse. No emotional response. Acknowledged it. Breathed it in and then released it on the exhale. Did that a few times, moving deeper into the pose and pushing through the flashback. Kept breathing. Nothing negative. No emotional response.

Amazing.

I went outside last night to take a photo of the moon (wish I was a photographer with a camera at times like that) and a blue orb turned up in the photo, but I also saw it away from the screen. Googled it. Starseed. Yep.

Anyone that’s had a conversation with me about my adventures in Minnesota last year know I was activated and believe I’ve lived on other planets. Starseed has something to do with that.

Here’s the video, after the photo:

Haters gonna hate lol.

https://tinakmeyer.files.wordpress.com/2018/01/img_7488.mov

Motherhood

I had a friend come over with her two young children today. We started several conversations. I don’t think we finished a single one. She is a great Mum. She doesn’t stop.

I spent yesterday afternoon with another friend of mine. Her two children had friends over. They are all a few years older than today’s children. She is a great Mum. She, also, doesn’t stop.

My nephews and a niece were here last Saturday. My niece is old enough now to look after herself. My nephews still need time and constant effort. My nieces used to be the same. Both of my sisters are great mums. They don’t stop.

Last week I spent time in Wagga with some friends I have had for over ten years now, since their two were 10 and 8. They are very easy to look after these days, but it hasn’t always been the case and they still require time. They are great parents. They still rarely stop.

Parenting, and mothering in particular, must be the most thankless and the most exhausting job of all time. Kids take you to your limits, and then push you that little bit further, just to see if you can endure it.

They need constant entertainment, they always need to be learning and having behaviour corrected or praised, they are always hungry, and they truly believe the Earth exists solely for their pleasure. Lol. Okay, some of this might be exaggerated. Sometimes.

They are relentless hard work. Just on their own, with their contexts just perfect, without trauma and without anything else impacting.

Realistically, most mother’s lives are not just perfect. Most mums work in and out of the home (and truthfully, inside is more than enough for anyone) and in contemporary society, most mums come from trauma or hardship (seventies and eighties were not kind decades).

Battling and resolving your own demons, whilst trying to provide the very best for your offspring, catering to everyone’s needs and demands, including society’s, and finding time to still be who you are and have some balance, makes existence really hard.

My mum, born during World War Two, forced out of home to live with other people so that she could be educated, leaving her home country of Finland ๐Ÿ‡ซ๐Ÿ‡ฎ to travel, finding ‘love’ in Australia, and marrying to settle here, did not have it easy. The marriage did not work and she was left with three daughters to raise on minimum income. Hurt and feeling betrayed, lost and lonely, she did the best she could with what she knew at the time.

I am grateful for that and for her.

For a while, I blamed my parents (illogically) for my inability to conceive. My non-biological daughter came into my life as a teen so I missed the chaos and self-doubt of raising a young child. I see that fear and self-doubt a lot in the eyes and words of parents, especially mothers. They worry that they aren’t enough, that they are messing up their kids, that they aren’t doing enough, that they are in some way failing their children.

Unless you are not present, and by present I mean in full mindful presence not just physically around, you are doing a good job.

Are you perfect? No.

But, your imperfections will be teaching your children tolerance and resilience, and you are modelling that they do not have to be perfect to be more than enough. They are valuable, important and perfect just as they are.

And, this my friends, is the best gift you can give your children.

Tonight, as I write this, I know why I am a mother to many rather than my own. I don’t have the personality or the patience or the selflessness required to be a present birth parent. This is not to say I couldn’t do it. If I had to, I would have. I’m grateful I didn’t have to.

I love my life as much as my friends with children love theirs. It is okay to be different and to follow a different path. It is important to own our limitations, and to be good with them. Mothering is an exceptionally important job, more important than it is given acknowledgement for. So, I acknowledge my friends that are parents. I acknowledge my sisters. I acknowledge my own Mum.

You are all more than enough. You are doing a phenomenal job, even when you are in the shower, or in your bed, or in the car, sobbing that you fear you aren’t, or that it’s all too hard, or you just want five minutes alone. I am grateful to you. It is hard, but you are succeeding, even when it feels like you aren’t.

I hope your children show their appreciation this Christmas. You deserve that.

My three kids are kids I can handle … shameless plug for my alternative children.

An Unfortunate Culture

I woke up this morning to my Facebook feed, as I do most mornings (this from a person who in the early nineties was never going to get the internet because only bad things could come – insert forehead slap here).

Van Badham, an Australian commentator, has shared an article about Don Burke’s predatory bullying and misogynistic behaviour, and how the Channel 9 Television Network took no appropriate action because he was their cash cow. They acknowledge, at the least, that there was gossip about Don Burke’s behaviour, but nothing was formally reported.

Who knows what is true.

In the comments, often the best part of anything on the internet, was a seemingly harmless comment along the lines of, “This is so sad if it is true.” The man, probably thinking nothing much of the words he chose, opened himself up to some not nice responses. In one, he was called a “douchebag.” He tried to defend himself by replying that he hadn’t said he didn’t believe it, but he was erring on the side of caution until Don Burke was in front of a court, rather than being tried on social media alone.

God love him. His argument appears logical. I lean towards agreeing with him. I do believe that any court would find Don Burke guilty; there seems to be a lot of evidence, a lot of reports with similar themes, and a lot of witnesses to the behaviour.

However, it sent me into a tail spin. I was drafting a comment to let him know that I had heard him, but I couldn’t find the words to express it clearly, without sounding like I was supporting Don Burke’s disgraceful behaviour.

That forced me to look at my own potential biases. Where does my need to defend this man come from? Am I being so careful to not become part of a witch hunt that I am complicit in seemingly condoning bad behaviour? What is right and what is wrong?

I get that the man who commented and was then attacked, probably didn’t think his seemingly innocuous comment would unleash what it unleashed. Probably didn’t think. Probably doesn’t need to think. It is obvious from his replies and attempts to protect himself, that he didn’t mean harm and was not condoning Don Burke’s behaviour. The responders didn’t want to see that.

But, our society’s culture did and still does permit Don Burke’s behaviour. Women and girls are still routinely subjected to comments about their appearance, their sexuality, their personalities, their everything, and much of it is demeaning.

We are held to ridiculous standards of beauty and minimalised for our opinions if we dare speak them. For Christ’s sake, our first female Prime Minister was routinely attacked for not being married, for being childless, for her clothing choices, for the size of her bottom and for the colour of her hair. And so many moronic imbeciles condoned this behaviour from the media, and it validated misogynistic behaviours and attitudes from unintelligent people who then felt they had a public platform and public permissionto air this vitriol.

Australia went backwards at this point. Thank you, Tony Abbott and Australian media.

We then had the atrocious behaviours from Harvey Weinstein in the US made public, following the #metoo movement (interestingly, following on from the allegations against Bill Cosby which did not give rise to such a furore – I wonder if colour plays a part here). This opened Pandora’s box. In the US and here too. And, rightly so. For so long there has been none or not enough public condemnation of this type of behaviour.

I used the me too hash tag. I debated using it. I read articles from women who were against it, believing it marginalised men and vilified innocent men. It may have done. It was also argued that no woman should feel pressured to own their abuse/assault in a public forum. I don’t think there was pressure; it was personal choice.

I think it was powerful, ultimately. I think it provided an alternative platform for women to own their assaults/abuse (the distinction being that abuse is longer term). It was empowering. For me, who speaks and writes openly about my life, it wasn’t too big a deal. For others, who don’t, and who chose to use the hash tag, it was empowering and unifying. They knew they were not alone.This enables and empowers healing. It strips shame away. It makes the abuse the focus, not the individual.

And, the hash tag wasn’t gender specific – males suffer abuse and assaults. That is undeniable. The impact of violation does not discriminate; however, for way too long, too many women have endured the shame and guilt that comes with behaviour that is not condemned by our society. And I feel myself checking myself, too many people.

Gender politics. I am a feminist. I have been marginalised because I am a woman. I have fought harder because I am a woman. I have been abused because I am a woman. And, a strong woman at that. Intelligent, compassionate, articulate, informed.

I have also been privileged to work with a therapist who has empowered me to see what I have yielded as a result of the abuses against (for) me. And I mean privileged. So many are not in the position where they can afford or access this type of therapy (Demartini).

For every male student who has disclosed abuse to me, I have had five female students disclose. Neither is supported adequately at the end of the day, despite all of the child protection rhetoric. It’s all about ticking boxes. And this entitled behaviour from all genders needs to stop.

But, we all need to understand that change is a process and learning the right language takes time, and at the end of the day, only compassion and love will move us forward.

Abuse, assault, bullying, aggression, unkindness, violence – it all stems from the same place – disconnection. We need to work together to change this unfortunate culture, not against one another.

A Modern Day Witch Hunt?

Western society is currently experiencing a flood of Entertainment Industry sexual abuse/assault claims. A flood. One after the other coming out to share their story, either in support of others or to point the finger at their own perpetrators.

I think that any victim finding their voice and minimising the shame that victims experience is brilliant. As a person who has experienced sexual abuse, I find it refreshing that the media is shining the spotlight on the issue. However, I am not sure that shining the light is all that is required, but more on that later.

I was at a Trivia Night on Saturday. One of my best friends said that she didn’t believe that a couple of men who have been vilified are actually guilty of what they have been accused of. I couldn’t believe it. I think, in my disbelief, I may have made her feel less than. I hope not, but I shall discuss that with her later. Ultimately, I don’t know. Maybe they are guilty. Maybe they aren’t.

Yesterday, I had a conversation with one of my other best friends about the proliferation of claims when she asked me why I thought it was happening. We discussed reasons why and where we thought this might all be leading (hopefully, towards enlightenment and transformation on a grand scale).

This morning I read and shared Facebook posts written by Ellen Page and another by Caitlin Johnstone about this issue. And then, I paused.

George Takei is the most recent to be accused and he is emphatically denying the allegations. I don’t know whether he is innocent or guilty. I like George. I love and follow his Facebook page. And so now, I understand why my friend has reservations.

And, then I started a dialogue with myself. How do we know who is guilty or not guilty? After deliberation, I discovered the answer: the volume of claims made against an individual. Yep. That’s how we know.

And, then I had a flashback to one of my all time favourite plays by Arthur Miller: The Crucible. Abigail managed to manipulate many fraudulent claims and then the witch hunt (literally) started. From there, I made the natural leap to the McCarthyist era in the US and in Australia during the fifties and sixties.

And, realistically, the volume of complaints used as a barometer of innocence or guilt could only make many ‘normal’ people, without a massive media platform, feel disenfranchised because they have no means to assess the volume of victims who suffered at their abuser’s hands. Myself included.

So, how do we know?

We don’t.

It is important to validate the experience of victims. It is also important to exercise caution in our judgements as the momentum continues to spiral. Some people facing allegations levelled against them will be innocent of those allegations. And, their lives will be impacted as much as the fabric of our society will be (hopefully in a good way).

As for the light that is flooding on the issue now, that is not all that is required. This is a first step. The next step must be education and support and resources and real change in the attitudes of people who use sexual behaviour as a means to power and control over others. No human being is the toy of another, or the property of another. And sexual behaviour, should never ever be used to control or marginalise another.

I am sorry, NS.

Redefining Sexual Abuse

This post may contain some triggers for sexual abuse survivors. I would also like to point out that this post represents my own current state of healing. There are no rights or wrongs, just differences.

Today I attended and participated in my second session with Mai Mai to dissolve the emotional charges on significant events from my past. I’ve had a fairly full on emotional processing week since last Friday. This has resulted in an almost constant headache, which I’m okay with. I’m making good ground ๐Ÿ˜‰.

In Manly for two days, I almost completed the first chapter for my book. It provides the context for my healing paradigm, and thus, the book. In the first chapter, I cover physical and sexual abuse, IVF and the Investigation. Not comprehensively, but a solid overview. As I wrote, I found that some elements created an emotional charge which I Demartini’d as I went.

This morning, when I read my list of memories, as a result of my writing, I found that I could tick off most of my memories as resolved. There was no emotional charge anymore.

I asked if we could focus on my relationship with food, and I recounted two significant memories for me. In our discussion regarding those, we moved into the area of sexual abuse. I can’t remember the exact topography now and it probably seems a bit far fetched lol, but it is what it is. It was logical I assure you.

Anyway, Mai Mai asked me to think about the words sexual abuse and how the language already connotes a negative association which is a judgement. I think an underlying component/understanding behind dissolving the charges is removing judgement from our memories and the associations from our memories.

I had to think about this, the meaning and connotation and inherent judgement in the language. It is very confronting in so many ways. Predominantly, because we are conditioned by society to ascribe moral judgements to things like abuse and ideas that disrupt that conditioning require processing.

The Demartini Method, to bring balance, requires us to focus on the perceptions that we hold, emerging from the notion that negatively impacting perceptions are often unbalanced. This means that we have focused more on the drawbacks in the situation, rather than equally focusing on the benefits we gained from the situation.

Thinking about early sexual encounters in this light is very confronting. I discovered this morning that playing a victim role has brought me benefits even though I have focused on the drawbacks.

Mai Mai took me back to my first memory. I recounted it for her, as honestly and comprehensively as my recollection allowed. The drawbacks were easy: fear, no choice, no control, discomfort, through to shame and guilt.

People have often said to me that writing my posts demonstrates courage. I have not understood that until this post. I am feeling exceptionally vulnerable in this one. I told things to Mai Mai today that I have never shared and I intend to keep that honesty going now, even though I will not reveal all of the details I shared today including the identities of the perpetrators. This might be confronting for some people who have encountered/experienced sexual abuse or uncomfortable sexual encounters.

In the context of the specific memory, Mai Mai then asked me to focus on what I gained from the encounter, the benefits. Whoah! Confronting.

Mai Mai tempered this by asking about what I could have controlled in the situation. Again, confronting. However, being honest, I acknowledged that I could have left the space we were in, I could have shouted out for help, and now I realize I also could have punched him probably.

It was at this point that my perception of the situation started to change a little, and the emotional charge started to temper. I was consciously changing my frame of reference.

I then focused on the benefits: I was a victim, I received attention, I felt seen and acknowledged, my body felt aroused, I felt that my existence was validated. It is important at this point to highlight the context I was living in. My parents fought a lot and I didn’t feel seen or safe.

Mai Mai then asked me to focus on how this perception of myself and the situation had then continued to serve me throughout my life.

Illumination! I could rattle off exactly how the labels of victim and the benefits in the situation had served me throughout my life to lead me here.

I then sat there, more than a little stunned, because my perception of the situation had become filled in, expanded, changed. I no longer felt like a victim and I no longer felt negatively towards the situation. Again, I moved to feelings of gratitude for the actions of the ‘perpetrator’.

Not only that, my beliefs are that I had a soul contract before this incarnation started and that I had selected all of the lessons that I wanted to learn. I also had people from my soul tribe offer to be the ‘perpetrators’ of yuck and violence against me to enable the lessons and empower my learning. There is a moment when our beliefs and life events hit a moment of complete connection. Today’s session served to remind me of all of this and see how the theory of my beliefs actually manifests in real life events.

I am seeing the bigger pattern now. I am also remembering my lessons. I am moving from teacher to healer, starting with my own healing. I am flourishing. And, I wish this for everyone. I’ve been reminded of my soul’s purpose. Power.

Happy to answer questions about this one.

Emotional Congestion

I am waking up every morning with either a head cold starting or a headache. I am Demartini-ing everything that comes up lol. My body is manifesting symptoms to keep me from sliding. I become conscious and I nurture myself.

Whilst away in Manly for thirty six hours, I finished (almost perfect) Chapter One of my book. It is about the context that lead to this healing year. There were potential emotional charges throughout it: physically damaging childhood, emotional abuse, sexual abuse, IVF, last year’s investigation.

As I wrote, I found that I was using the Demartini method as I went to dissolve the charges. It became a reflex. I shared this with Renee; I was so surprised and so happy that it was happening.

Changing the narrative is empowering and makes it so much easier to write.

At one point, on the way back to the unit, Renee (unintentionally) made a comment along the lines of all women fulfilling purpose by bearing children. Six months, even a month ago, this would have caused a twinge of emotion (failure/regret/loss) within me. Yesterday, it just elicited a facetious response, but more significantly, there was no emotional charge for me. I had to assure Renee I was fine, and I truly was.

Every step, every event, every single thing in my life has brought me to where I am right now, and right now, my life is charmed.

I am not wealthy, but I have enough, most of the time. I am healing and I am happy. I am surrounded and immersed in love always, my own and the love of others. I look after myself and I am very kind to myself. I am kind to others. I feel light. I feel fulfilled. I am creating my ideal life. I am blessed. I am grateful for all that has lead me here.

A human cannot ask for more.

Writing Retreat

My friend Renee and I have often said that we should take off for a few days to write. We always have hair brain schemes running. Not even half become real.

However, I have a book proposal due at the beginning of December and she needed some time to finish her memoir, and so this morning we came to Manly. After settling in to her family apartment, we went for coffee and started work. Every couple of hours we got up and went to a different cafe ~ great for the creative flow and for our writing.

I wrote over a thousand words and resolved my ideas. I edited this entirely and repeatedly. I’m almost happy with it.

I’m grateful. And blessed.

๐Ÿ™๐Ÿป๐Ÿฆ‹

Letting Go: Failed IVF, the Investigation, Fear and Control

Hi. My name is Tina and I am a recovering control freak.

As a child, I felt so out of control so much of the time, that as an adult I have tried to control everything.

I figured that if I had control, life would be good and I would become blissfully happy. I have spent my entire adult life controlling or trying to control everything. I have never really just let go.

Until now.

Thank you, Uluru, for your sacred healing energy that infused a trust for the divine into my soul. I am still, still. There is a calm and a peace in my depths that tranquilises any fear or anxiety that may arise.

I am very zen.

And as a result, obstacles are dissolving.

I only know this because I know the other side, too intimately.

For the best part of five years I tried to control falling pregnant and having a baby. When I did fall pregnant, my fear of not having control expunged the foetus from my body.

This was an opportunity to learn a strong lesson, that I failed to learn. The lesson was that I needed to trust the higher powers, whatever and whoever they are. I needed to trust the flow of life and the contract I made with myself prior to my birth into this incarnation. I needed to trust, full stop.

I then didn’t trust my family and friends to be there for and with me, and I tried to control that too. And so, I was alone.

Fear is a great controller. Broken, from failing to control everything, fear seeped into the wounds and kept me bound. I couldn’t move forward, or even see behind me. There was just the moment, and not in a zen way.

Failing at pregnancy, I turned to fostering. Again, trying to control, I wasn’t enough; my reason for fostering wasn’t enough. I was confused and broken, belittled and worthless. Again.

All the while, I was being bullied at work, reliving aspects of my childhood I thought I had resolved years before. I was used by people whom I trusted. I was belittled and betrayed. I tried to fight back without conflict, with understanding and compassion I told myself, but really, my fighting was fear manifested. I tried to control from a very weak and inauthentic place, and that resulted in poor choices.

The fear resulted in a ten month long investigation. Ten months of fear and anxiety, and a strong, visceral reminder that I control nothing. Subconsciously this fed the I am worthless narrative I had been telling myself my whole life. My desire and need for control was really just me trying to feel like I was worth something and trying to prove that to everyone else.

“I’m pregnant, look everyone. I belong. I am normal. I am one of you.”

“I’m a head teacher, look everyone. I belong. I’m normal. I am one of you.”

“I’m a foster parent, look everyone. I belong. I’m normal. I’m one of you.”

Years ago, at a crossroads professionally, I went to a medium. She acknowledged my crossroads. She told me my two alternatives. Promotion at work, or book signings as a healer and teacher.

Fear, manifested as control, kept me bound, until the investigation and then India. Prior to the investigation, the universe had started to untie my bounds. I had paid my deposit for India. I had completed many natural healing courses. I had registered a business name and received an ABN.

Last year, paradoxically, I had my worst professional year and my best. I was amazing in the classroom; I was exemplary. I was an amazing mentor slash healer. I loved teaching and being with the kids. But, my life and my soul fell apart.

I was forced to relinquish control. I needed to find trust that I was being redirected. I was coming home.

But, in the midst of anxiety and fear, I couldn’t see this. Almost a year after the investigation concluded, I can see it. Clearly. And today, I can feel it. Freedom. Bliss. Purpose. Fulfillment.

I am a healer. I am a teacher. I am a writer. More than that, I am me. A recovering control freak, a survivor of childhood dysfunction, and a braver scaredy cat.

๐Ÿ™๐Ÿป๐Ÿฆ‹

Trust – Yikes.

As a result of the way I processed the trauma from my childhood, I really struggle with trusting people to support me. I don’t expect that they will because, ultimately, I believed the narrative I wrote for myself as a child: I wasn’t deserving; I wasn’t worthy.

As a result, I have ALWAYS struggled to ask people for help. ALWAYS. And, when I say struggled, I generally haven’t been able to ask for help because I haven’t believed it would be there and then the narrative would be true.

As I grew up, as I moved through adulthood, until recently, I shut down in times of stress and pain, rather than be told I wasn’t worthy or important enough to receive help. It was never helped that when I did find courage to reach out, I either wasn’t clear enough in my request, or it was too hard for people to support me (not knowing how, not realising how desperate I was, etc).

All legitimately, and often because I failed to communicate my needs clearly through abject fear of rejection. However, in my traumatised brain, the ensuing refusal to support or failed realisation that I needed it, only reinforced my childhood narrative. It made me shrink further.

I have been working hard on improving and healing myself. I have worked to remove blocks to abundance and worked to remove obstacles that I imposed in friendships. I have worked hard to become the very best version of myself, and that has also meant sacrificing control.

As a traumatised child, I had no control. As a damaged adult, I have over compensated the control area of my life. Detrimentally.

For years, decades, I have tried to control everything. The investigation last year was a real and significant turning point for me in my healing journey. I had no control over anything except me. No control. Read, nightmare.

But, it forced me to start to trust myself. And I started to trust and utilise my Higher Self and my guides (those nagging voices we sometimes here; call it what you will). I heeded the call and went to India, and my life completely changed. A true transformation to become my best self.

Very recently, I have struggled with some minor obstacles (first world problems completely) and I have had to reach out twice for real support. I struggle with this still. But I have grown enough to realise that I need to clearly communicate what I need. I also accepted that support may not be possible through no fault of the others; I was asking a lot.

Both times, my request for support was very lovingly heard and acted upon. I spent more time agonising than was necessary. More time stressing and feeling awkward than was necessary.

I am so grateful. Grateful for the support I received lovingly. Grateful that I am growing. Grateful that I have created a life where second, third, fourth and tenth chances are offered. Grateful that I can trust other people to support me. Grateful that I realise it is on me.

It is easy to blame others and say, I am always there for others and no one is there for me. I hear this often. I used to say it. Often. But, it’s on us.

The universe is a big place; there is enough for all of us to have what we need and want.

However, we need to clearly communicate what we want and need. And, we need to understand that to achieve it, we need to trust those around us. We need to provide the opportunity for others to support us. We need to accept that not everyone will or can support us, and this is not a reflection of our worth and value.

Easier to say than do, I get that. I am a forty six year work in progress. But, it is getting easier. I am surrounding myself with people who have been through a lot with me, who have tolerated a lot, but also, in the last four or so years, I’ve also become discerning in who I give my heart and trust to, and that is making the difference.

I am a giving person. I am a loving person. And, I am surrounding myself with like minded souls who get me. I am grateful for this.

Trust will be an ongoing journey for me. I feel guilt when I accept help. This is ridiculous. I would do what I could for most people, whether they are in my inner circle or not. I should at least expect and accept the same for me.

And, if this has resonated with you, so should you ๐Ÿ˜˜

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