Healing is Messy: Step into the Arena

I am starting this post with, I am good and I’m in a good place. But, healing is messy and it is unattractive and it is an individual process, and as a result, can be quite shameful. Mental health still has a deeply ingrained stigma attached to it that is entirely unwarranted and socially unhealthy for us, people.

My perception of my childhood is that it was traumatic. I have resolved a lot of the deeper stuff, but every now and again, another layer becomes ready to be peeled off and I need to put the work in to do that. I’ve been doing this work on myself for thirty or so years.

I live a blessed life because I worked hard to create it. I’m a strong, wise, resilient and empowered woman because I do the work and own my truth.

I would love for it to be finished, but it isn’t.

Last weekend, I was at an intensive training weekend for tuning forks for my Diploma in Sound Healing. It unlocked another hurt that needed to be healed.

Healing is a process.

First, there was the unlocking of a deep hurt. I cried and cried and sobbed and ugly cried and then cried some more.

It took a few hours of just sitting in this teary grief before I felt an old anger pattern emerge. Anger that no one loves me, anger that no one reaches out, anger that I give so much to others and it never feels balanced or reciprocated or fair. Just plain pure unadulterated anger. Unreasonable, unfair, childlike and fully ego based and driven.

Then, well, then came the heaviness, the numbness, the desire to run away, the embarrassment, the shame, the fear that you’ve fucked your entire life up and scared everyone away because you are ungrateful for all that you do have and all the people you’ve shared time with throughout your life. And really, shouldn’t you be over this by now.

So, at this point, self care became important. For me, this means one breath at a time, and time for the soul to reconnect to source in nature. I did this yesterday. I left, breathing deeply again with a headache lol. But, balanced and calm.

This enabled me to work and to start sharing my energy again, in small doses with armour around my heart. Just the reality.

Back in this space, I can ask questions: what is the root cause of this grief, this recurring pattern, this destructive and intense emotional response?

The answers come. On the toilet this time.

Abandonment.

As a child, ideally, we feel supported and loved and safe and protected.

I didn’t feel this way.

The narrative I crafted for myself was that I wasn’t worthy of being held safely, I wasn’t valuable, I wasn’t good enough just as I was.

I give to receive. That’s the ugly truth of it. In recent times, I’ve shifted that motivation significantly and have surrendered a lot of that attachment to expectation, but obviously, not enough. I had never dig into the root cause, around it, sure, but not into its marrow.

The time has come for me to do just that.

From the abandonment fears, deeply connected to it, is a strong sense of betrayal and trust.

As I reflect to my miscarriage, I see these patterns and threads weaving together. As I reflect on the Investigation, again, these threads interweave. Now, my life is ready to do the deep soul work to correct and rebalance this imbalanced perception.

Before I could do that though, I needed to relive it one more time, out of a crisis situation, that I could understand it without the immediate intensity of emotion.

I share my journey because I think it’s important that we all share our stories to heal, not just for ourselves, but for past generations and for our world.

We don’t talk about the darkness and heaviness in ourselves and our world enough. We hide in it. And we do this because too many people don’t understand it. And we are scared of being labelled or stigmatized it judged.

A very well intentioned friend said that I was better than this. I’m human. I’m a work in progress. I have many layers and many faces. My strength in spirit comes from me standing in my truth. I still feel the shame of this though. I acknowledge it and tell it to fuck off because I think more positive comes from me doing this, than from hiding it. Time might prove me wrong. But I don’t believe so.

My truth isn’t always tidy; it’s very often a very messy conglomeration of different things. It takes courage to be real in a world where real seems to be a dirty word. I own my trauma and I own the impact. I’ve lost good people from my life as a result of my messy truth; I am an acquired taste and I can be intense. I can be mean and bitchy and ego driven. I can be selfless and wise and so loving.

I am all.

And I make no apology for that.

The Power of Words 

Warning:

I don’t want to say too much about this TED Talk; the power is in viewing it. However, it is about sexual violence and could trigger you if you have suffered or perpetrated such acts. 

I love that it humanises both victim/survivor and perpetrator; something I aimed to do when I wrote my final piece for my Masters in Writing a few years ago. 

I think everyone should watch this, think about it and talk about it. 
Our story of rape and reconciliation https://www.ted.com/talks/thordis_elva_tom_stranger_our_story_of_rape_and_reconciliation

Institutions That Bind 

It’s been a while. The power of the institution has eclipsed me and I have felt bound. I am currently loosening the ties. 

However, yesterday a sportsperson has found themselves in a world of trouble for associating with an ex footballer, now known for their membership in a bikie gang and facing prosecution for crime. The sportsperson hasn’t commented at this point. What could they possibly say?

I’ve been told that I’m not allowed to choose my own friends even though I’m an adult. Or, perceptions are more important than reality or truth. Or, because of my community profile I’m not a person permitted the same freedoms as others. 

I don’t know the context of their relationship. I also don’t care, as long as no one is being directly hurt by it. If Haynes’ friend is a criminal, well, our justice system will take care of that. 

I do not understand why the institution of public scrutiny is given the power it has. It is absolutely ridiculous. People should be permitted to live their own lives, free from institutional intrusion, as long as they are not compromising the rights of others. This higher level of accountability and scrutiny is absolutely ludicrous. 

The binds of the institution likewise. 

For most of this year (seven months almost), I have felt bound. A circumstance I find myself in has changed me. It has instructed me to be someone I am not. It has forced me to question every choice that I have ever made. I do not walk this earth freely as a result. And I am filled with irrational fear and anxiety. 

And that is attracting like energy. I find myself feeling shame, feeling guilt, feeling fear. I second guess almost every decision, choice, action. I have silenced and castrated myself. Not a healthy way to live. 

But, the institutions of our society have power. It isn’t real power. I still have free will. Fear represses the urge to manifest it. 

I think it is similar to how victims/survivors of bullying, abuse, violence, addiction feel. That loss of freedom and trust in the self. 

I am moving through this. My core essence is still with me. The witch is trusting that magick will win. After all, persecution is not new here. This is not the first time she has felt silenced. But, this will be the last time. 

Some of our institutions have passed their usefulness. In this day and age, in this western world, we can choose freedom. It just means sacrifice. I am now preparing myself for that. 

New paths await. My soul is singing to soar. I will not disappoint it. 

Surviving IVF and Thriving

Every month as my period comes and goes I remember my miscarriage and the futility of my period. I will until menopause and I am sure that after menopause other triggers will take my period’s place. 

But I’m alright. I acknowledge my childlessness, even though I desperately wanted a different result, and I keep moving forward. Happily. Now. At first the happily was more a fake it til you make it kind of happily. Now it’s real. 

This doesn’t mean I don’t feel the longing to be a mother. I do. 

It doesn’t mean I can get rid of the baby clothes, toys and books I bought. They are still wrapped in plastic, just like Laura Palmer, waiting for their day and the mystery to unravel. But I do not know which box they are in. And that’s a positive. 

It doesn’t mean I don’t sometimes cry, and it doesn’t mean I can look at other people’s kids and hear about pregnancies without dying inside. 

I still feel pain. 

But I also feel like I am me again. I can be light in my soul and not feel guilt or the heaviness of grief. I am not who I used to be, and after years of ongoing grief, I can finally say that I am an improved version of who I was. I am stronger, more resilient, and significantly more at peace. 

After all, I had a dream and I found the courage to pursue it amidst much failure. I didn’t give up and I did all I could do at each time. In retrospect I could have done more but it wasn’t in me at the time. And I am okay with that. 

So I have survived IVF. My weight and the yoyo eating I opted for seems to be ‘surviving’ too but hopefully I will kill that survival off soon lol. 

And I am also thriving. Interesting that at first I wrote, “But I am also thriving” … Hmmm. Food for thought there (take note, an unnecessary food reference right there).

Meditation has strengthened my core. Spiritually. I can only dream of washboard abs lol. Acknowledging things for what they are has helped. Not expecting anything has yielded abundance. And physically decluttering my space and ultimately moving has shifted my perspective. 

I am happy. I see a future. A rich future. Ahead of me, for me. 

As Banksy says, “There is always hope.”