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.

🙏🏻🦋

Rubbing Against Old Patterns

I am writing a book/book proposal; working hard to manifest last new moon's intentions. I have always wanted to be a writer. And, I am.

I am grateful for this platform in this technological and connected age. But, I want more. I want books in print, partly for ego, if I'm being honest, but mostly because I have something to share. I completed a Masters degree in Writing to support the manifestation of this dream. I started this blog to support the manifestation of this dream. I went to the Writer's Workshop to manifest this dream.

And this week, I found myself rubbing up against the same old conditioning that has plagued my life: fear.

That I'm not good enough.
That I'm not unique enough.
That I have nothing new to say.
That no one is really interested.
That I'm not good enough.
That I'm not good enough.
That I'm not good enough.

Fleeting thoughts, not deep enough to upset me. And, real enough to paralyze the free flow of my writing.

I combat these thoughts, this fear, and keep doing it anyway. This is what is different now. I push through in spite of the fear. I haven't given up. I continue to torture the words, forcing them into uncomfortable positions, making them do my will.

And then Saturday morning comes, I watch some inspirational videos, and I remember to trust myself, and I remember to trust the universe (or God), and I remember that every path I take leads me closer to my enlightenment.

And I hear the higher voice reminding me to be authentic, telling me not to do what other books have done, do what you do best Tina, and I recall a message I received last week from my long term friend and sister, Crystal, and she was already reminding me of what I needed to do. It took me a couple of days, that's all, for my mind to catch up and trust.

That pesky voice who lives in fear, man, it comes at the worst times, and it inhibits growth and movement, and I forgot to acknowledge it and tell it that I hear it, but it has no power here anymore, because it found a different way to get in. It didn't come in and stop me from starting, it waited until I was in the writing groove and then it struck, mercilessly. It camouflaged itself, and it has taken a couple of days for me to see it for what it is.

But I see you now, fear, little f, and I am telling you again, you don't live here anymore.

And so mote it be. Vanquished.

Time to write.

A Focus on the Dark

Write the book you wanted to read when you were younger.

Thank you, Higher Self.

I had the title for this post but then became stuck. Where to from here? Not dissimilar to when I start first writing a novel or this new book. I have massive inspiration, can't wait to get started, and when I do, I start tripping over myself.

It is temporary. It is vital. And, it is very annoying.

My question was going to be, what would you want to read? My Higher Self responded as above.

The first couple of chapters will outline my personal experience with abuse, both sexual and physical. Later on in the book, I focus on the emotional and psychological impact of this.

Fractured memories is how I have titled it. I remember snapshots and sound bytes. Nothing else really. This frustrated me for a long time. People need proof and they need to know what happened for you to be credible, for it to be validated. Sometimes this isn't possible for a variety of reasons (after all, even if you do remember it in excruciating detail, you may not be able to voice it).

The impact is a self-doubt and a feeling that you are creating something bigger than it needs to be. Not entirely true. This doubt starts to manipulate your confidence in other areas, detracting from your sense of self and belief in self. Questions sometimes erode trust.

How do we move past this?

Expression. Stand in your truth. Even if you can't articulate it to others just yet, say it to yourself. Own what you do remember. Trust those feelings. Work through them.

Another person's perception of your story is just that, perception. They aren't living it. And if your perception is a little blown out, working through it will bring peace to that need too. If we are feeling something, it is coming from somewhere that needs to be addressed for health. Trust it. Work through it. Heal it.

You will be okay.

Sliding after the High

For the last four to five weeks my life has been go go go. For this introvert, there has been very little down time. And there have been trends in emotion, mostly very high.

Today, I am so drained.

My soul is positive. I know that days like today are temporary. I am doing what I need to do, and very little else.

I have finally arrived at the point in my evolution where it is okay for me to say, not today, without guilt.

I am eating well. I am still drinking my crystal water. I am sleeping (albeit last night on the lounge, waking up disoriented at 5.18am, swearing to myself that I'm sure I got up to go to bed). I am living my life, answering the calls from the universe.

I am heading to work early. At home, I will watch television. At the Library, I can write. I'm going to get a coffee on the way, and sit and enjoy today's writer's life.

I am nourishing what I would like to see grow. Feeding the intention. I'm going to start drafting my book proposal for Hay House.

This excites me. Even on a fatigued day, this excites me. Working towards my goals, manifesting the reality I would like to be mine, there is nothing better.

Full moon in an eclipse time. Emotions are going to be impacted. It's okay.

Deep breaths and stay the path; we will all make it.

Much love and big hugs,

🙏🏻🦋

The Importance of Voice in Healing Trauma

We all experience some type of trauma during our lifetimes; it is inevitable. The type of trauma can range from childhood trauma (accident, disability, abuse, you get the gist) to losing a child or parent or grandparent or friend or partner, or rape, unemployment, anxiety, the list is endless.

We are all different and we all come from different places; however, I believe that if we are to heal from this trauma, get to a point where we can think about it without anxiety, stress or pain, we need to give it a voice.

For me, the voice first came through when dealing with referrals at school, kids disclosing to me about their own abuse and/or trauma. I would then journal, always trying to get it out of my head so that it couldn't fester. My voice, unbeknownst to me at the time, has also shown itself through tattooing. My tattoos are all markers of moments, experiences and memories. Intermittently, I have journaled and spoken my truth during my life. In mid 2014, I started blogging, expressing my voice through written word to a larger audience.

As a result, I can speak about the truth of my experiences safely. Rarely does talking about, even my IVF journey, bring me residual pain that still needs to be resolved. Finding my voice and sharing my experiences has lessened the impact of the trauma.

It is through sharing (which requires a voice) that I have processed the events, re-lived them enough that they no longer hurt, and ultimately, become grateful for them because I am a better person as a result of them.

I would not be as empathetic, as compassionate, as sensitive, as loving, as resilient, or as inspiring without each of the traumas that I have survived and flourished from.

Finding and reclaiming my voice has been a long journey, starting from when it was first silenced when I was very young. Unfortunately, there are no quick fixes to healing trauma. For me though, finding and using my voice has been integral.

My voice is not your voice. But there will be a voice that suits/fits you. It might come through painting, or fitness, or drawing, or dancing, or running groups, or volunteer work, or traveling, or it could be like mine, through writing. I implore you, if you have suffered and endure trauma, give it a voice.

Share the experience. You never know whom you may help.

You can explore this journey with me further on my Facebook page Tina K Meyer.

Abundance?

There is enough for everyone.

I think I might finally be starting to believe this. It has taken me a week to process my Hay House Writers Workshop experience. And it was reading a blog piece by someone I met last weekend that has allowed the final piece for now to sit comfortably.

Since the success of my India experiment (answering the call, trusting I will be fine, being true to the experience, letting go of redundant labels like shy), I head in to each new experience with an infinite sense of trust and calm. I didn't know what to expect from the Writers Workshop so I chose to expect nothing; I answered the call and that was what I was supposed to do. That was enough.

I pre-booked my parking. I never do this. But I answered that call too. I missed the entrance. The GPS said I had arrived and did not reroute. I took a deep breath, and with logic and faith, I made my way back to the parking station. I lined myself up for a spot and a zippy car sped into it. I did a u-turn a little further down and came to park in another spare spot.

I tell you this because this run of events is usually so inconsequential in our lives that we do not pay any mind to them. As I tried to navigate myself to the Convention Centre, a lady asked if I was going to the Workshop. I said yes.

We started walking together, we registered, we sat together, we ate together, we met up for breakfast the next day, sat together, ate together, met new people together, had our books signed together, had photos together, and not ready to leave this 'new' friendship, had a drink after the workshop, together.

The conversation flowed easily and went deep almost immediately. Another of my tribe.

I have opened space in my life by jumping this year. As a result, I have given permission to myself to explore new things, meet new people, and move more fully into who I am. My heart has opened, my mind has opened, and I'm living with more conscious purpose than I have in a long time. So, it follows, my life has opened.

And, the real beauty in this, is that my old life (the parts that served me – friends, working with kids, healing, writing) are staying with me whilst I build my new life (taking what serves and leaving behind what doesn't serve me any longer). I feel so liberated.

I am struggling to break old connections. Teaching in schools for money is the greatest obstacle I face; that routine and that connection have been my life for over twenty four years. I am still working on manifesting financial freedom, but I think I just need to relax into it rather than focus on whether I have enough money all of the time.

And trust in abundance; there is enough for all of us.

Dr Ali Walker spoke at the workshop. She resonated for me. She had set her intention to become a Hay House author, put symbols on the fridge, focused entirely on it, and when Hay House rejected her manuscript, her life as she knew it, ended. The intention had not manifested and she was emotionally broken. Knowing her message was important, she started over, more relaxed, and Hay House has published her message.

I need to relax. I've set my intentions. I need to now release them for manifestation, in whatever way they will serve me best. I trust in this.

After all, there is enough for all of us.

Setting the Intention

Since I was a child, I wanted to be a writer. At first I didn't think I knew enough. Then it didn't pay anything. Then I took on teaching as a back up, which I'd also wanted to do since I was a child.

Last weekend I attended the Hay House Writers Workshop in Sydney.

Needless to say, I now want to be published. I realize I publish here relatively regularly. But as a book. That I wrote. And marketed. That bit is scary but I've decided it is do-able.

Originally, I wanted my first published book to be about this year. Then I realized that whilst this year has been amazing, the book I need to be writing now is my journey healing from a childhood of physical and sexual abuse. That is where my message lies: self-empowerment and happiness.

To that end, I have created a Facebook page for myself in the role of writer. It is my professional page. Each Sunday I will post a video – yikes – relating to the issue, my book, the process. Whatever is appropriate for that week.

If you like reading my blog, especially the childhood trauma and healing stuff, and you want to be updated each week and contribute to my process, please give me a like or share via Facebook or Instagram. My professional name is Tina K Meyer on both.

I will be grateful.

🦋🙏🏻

A Very Quiet Week 

Warning: further on in this post there are potential triggers for survivors and victims of childhood sexual abuse, and their parents. 
Between the business and casual teaching, I have had a work filled week which has permitted not much of anything else. But it’s been a calm and soul filling week. 

The kids at the school I am working a lot at are getting to know me and I am getting to know them. I like the staff I work directly with and am becoming a little emotionally connected. I have some blocks coming up too. 

But the exciting news is that tomorrow I leave for the US. In forty eight hours or so I will be reunited with two of my tribe (from our meeting in India last year) and I am so excited. Nervous – I hate being in the way (a value thing) – and excited. I can’t wait to be in their space and share energy with them. 

And the following week I head to Las Vegas for a friend’s wedding. And we are getting tattooed at Pussykat Tattoo Studio. And then she gets married and then I go to the Grand Canyon and then I fly home. A whirlwind trip incorporating time in two places I never thought of going to. 

This is what my gap year/mid life crisis is about: exploring life’s potential and trusting that where I am drawn to, I am meant to be. 

I have found a stillness within me. I’m meditating more and there is a calm in my mind and life. I am finding it infinitely easier to be and to exist for sustained periods of time in the present moment. I talk to my fear, to the odd pop of anxiety, to acknowledge it and then let it go. As a result, I am enjoying the things that I do because I am wholly present in them. 

Teaching is my means to an end. It pays the bills. My business, my study and my writing is my soul work. These light me from within and bring me home. 

I have always struggled to find inspiration and creative freedom to write whilst working, until now. During the week a block that I have found whilst writing my novel was lifted and I have been able to write in small chunks of time, at lunch, between clients, wherever I can, and it has just oozed out of me. 

I am at peace. I have found a type of balance. For now. Interestingly, I’m not taking a laptop with me on my travels – iPad yes, phone yes, laptop no. I hate taking it out of my bag continually at security checkpoints and don’t use it enough to justify it. I will use my phone and transfer it when I get home. 

My novel is about a teenage girl who is raped at a party. In the course of processing it, she learns more about herself, her friends, her family, and the world, than she ever wanted to know. It’s been easy to write at times and more difficult at others. I’ve been researching and have decided to include her mother’s perspective because the role of the mother, whilst pivotal, is never really explored. 

I think my recent experiences of helplessness – through the issue that resulted in the investigation last year – will enable me to empathise with the role of mother in these circumstances – the paralysis, the fear, the not wanting to open a hornet nest, etc. I will obviously also research in other ways. 

If you are the mother or father of a child who has been raped or sexually abused, I would love for you to write to me about your experiences if you feel that you can – not the specifics of the situation necessarily, but definitely your emotional/psychological journey. If you can

Our children live in such an unsafe and disconnected world, I fear for them. Manchester’s events rocked all of us during the week. Targeting young people specifically is a very cruel strategy. But when I reflected further, we always have targeted young people, just not as noisily or blatantly. 

The number of kids in care, or who should be, is ridiculous. The number of kids with parents who work so much they aren’t really present, grows. The number of kids subjected to sexual abuse, physical violence, neglect and emotional abuse, grows. CASA state that 20% of women and 10% of men have reported non-penetrative sexual assault occurred before they turned sixteen, and these numbers are significant disproportionate for indigenous adults. 

Childhood sexual abuse really has become and has stayed a silent epidemic. The long term impact of sexual abuse incapacitates adults, which impacts society. It is an issue that requires a higher social profile because it needs to stop. 

I know, am blessed to know many, and be, a survivor of childhood sexual abuse. I’m not whole. I am close to being whole. It has taken, and continues to take, effort and work to maintain emotional and psychological health. At forty six, the impact is significantly less on my life now than it used to be. I have worked hard and for a long time. 

I love that practice, I think Chinese, where the cracks in a bowl are filled with gold – a beautiful metaphor for survivors of trauma. It is our cracks that make us vulnerable to breakage but when filled, make us more resilient and more beautiful than we otherwise would have been. 

Yep. A quiet week but apparently not so quiet in my mind. 

Namaste 🙏🏻🦋

Between Places 

A part of me is afraid to let go of teaching. It’s a weird place to be. It isn’t surprising though. 

I wanted to be a teacher and a writer synonymously. Becoming a teacher was easier I think, and I was going to use it to support my writing. I just didn’t manage both. I gave all to teaching: becoming better at it, the students, their families, the school. I left no real breathing space for myself.

I was talking with one of my best and closest friends on Monday. I told her that I didn’t know when my passion for teaching went, when I stopped loving going to work every day. She told me that she knew; it was the last time I took leave without pay. 2008. 

And I think she is right. 

I had a few years in there, finishing prior to being under investigation, in the Creative and Performing Arts faculty, where some passion came back. The staff I was working with, and the Reading to Learn and ALARM programs rejuvenated that passion. I felt alive again because I was fulfilling my creative potential I think. 

There was no real passion last year, love but not passion. 

On Monday, whilst out with my friend, we ran into a few of my students. Oh my. I loved seeing them. I miss the play with the kids, the symbiosis, the laughter. I miss regular contact with some of the staff. I don’t miss the politics, the gossip, the egos, the welfare, the long hours and the frustration. I do miss my classroom. 

I’ve been struggling to go back to one of my adolescent fiction novels about a teen who is raped at a party even though I’ve been writing it in my head. And I think it is because I am putting the writing first. Stepping onto that path and owning it has given me pause. 

I need to do what I usually do, acknowledge the fear and jump anyway. 

So, I leave you to pick up my laptop and to continue writing her story.