Category: Uncategorized

Pain

Sometimes you can’t tell just by looking.

Maybe when I move, you’ll see a pause, hear my breath. But just a little.

You can’t see the fire I feel, the ripping burn that just settles in. The raw grind and pop. The loudness of it in my head makes it hard to hear the outside world.

When asked, I pause, ‘fine’ I say- it’s exhausting to talk about any other way.

The forced encouragement I whisper to myself to move, stretch, to do what simply needs to get done, to not cry or complain.

It’s always there.

Just by degrees

A good day( usually after treatment), it’s hardly a thought. Not forefront in my thinking, not in my way.

A bad day, sometimes there’s a reason, sometimes there is not. It creeps in like a spiked steamroller. The loudest voice in the room. Some days only one sings it’s angry song. Some days it’s a duet.

At this moment it’s a four part harmony with a smouldering back drop. No steadiness, no focus available, except to will myself to the task at hand.

I do the things I can and hope it’s enough, I reassure the frustrated tired me that relief will come.

It’s all I can do, because some days you can’t tell by looking.

Holocaust Remembered but what have we learned?

Today is Holocaust Remembrance Day,

What have we learned from the loss of millions of lives?
People who just wanted to live their every day. Some who may have been destined to do amazing things for the world. Most who just wanted to grow up, grow old, love, learn, enjoy the sun on thier face, a meal with their loved ones, read a book, write a poem, dance.

What have we learned from the loss of millions of lives?
People who were persecuted for their faith, for who they associated with, for who they loved, for their perceived shortcomings.

I ask again, what have we fucking learned?

Here we sit, denying our Indigenous clean water, yet can fund pipelines and war rooms
Here we sit, fighting over who has the right to call this country their home, yet our own fair skinned ancestors crossed the sea from another place, they were not invited nor did they ask
Here we sit, people being murdered because of their skin colour and or orientation, yet we claim to feel oppressed because ( how dare they) we are asked to wear a mask to protect those around us.
Here we sit, oppressed people fighting for education, fighting to have a voice and their stories be told, yet some of us outright deny and dismiss their histories and stories.

I ask again, what have we fucking learned?

WWII Holocaust 6 million mothers, fathers, sons, daughters- wiped out
Countless genocides throughout time in Africa, India, Central Europe
Cultural Genocides in Canada, US, Australia
The list is long and soaked with blood of innocents killed for no reason other than fear of ‘different’

So we give it a day.

What have we learned? What will you do? How can we take history and learn from it.

Blessed Be the souls of those whose lives were taken for no other reason than someone decided they were unworthy.
I will speak up for those voices stolen by greed and ignorance. I will use the lessons here to remember life is sacred, that we are all blood and flesh, that we are all made of the stuff of stars. That we are all one.
❤️

Broken stillness of the night

I woke up at 3. Shaking, not being able to catch my breath. The vivid remnant of nightmares clinging to me like webbing.

I can still see the house I was in, ransacked, ripped apart. Daylight coming through the cracks in the window coverings, dust drifting through the air. Stale smell of inhabitants long gone – desperately trying to hide things like pictures and journals for safe keeping. Things that prove I existed. Knowing with certainty the zombies were coming. Coming to consume me as they had the things and people around me.

Pain singing through the areas of my body that in waking time is my reality. Only here the wounds are visible, bruising, blood, oozing disease dripping from the bandages.

In this dream I am aware I’ve been battling a long time. I feel my child is still alive in this wasteland. I am hiding these things for her. With hope she finds them, a record of the loving normalcy we had lived.

The exhaustion running deeply, the fear that I am loosing the battles, the outer and the inner.

Waking up, I felt nauseous, unable to shake the fear. My shoulder burning, my knee locked in a useless position. My mind racing to what the todays doctor appointment will reveal.

The deep disappointment of still living with the threat of illness, loss of income in a situation I can’t control. At the mercy of ‘the people out there’. The dream very much a mirror of how the constant hammer of daily life is chipping away at me.

So I am awake. Sitting in the dark of my living room. The sounds of my house humming along as it does at the witching our, the furnace and fridge, low buzzing filling the space. The cat crunching kibble, the puppy sighing and shifting in her blissful sleep. Not affected by the webbing of my dream, the anxiety monsters poking at me.

Me knowing in a matter of hours the people in this house will be up, navigating another day.

Still a slight shake of my hands. The paranoia that I may still yet disappear.

Trying to find, deep down inside the fortitude to face today. Another day of worrisome news, the hard to shake disappointment in humanity. Quick mental math, acknowledging the numbers out there vs the risk of leaving the house.

I must shake this off. I have people to care for. A job to do. Clients to treat, a class to lead. A child to parent. A partner to provide balance too. Friends to support and encourage. A life to live.

It was just a dream. Right?

What to do now

Inundated with the ugly of the world. Images of hate, frustration, disgusting lack of compassion, education and decency. It’s easy to forget that this is not all there is.
Yes, we need to bear witness to these atrocities so we can help change the narrative. We need to be aware so we can be the change.
But the constant drone of the shit becomes defeatist. It can leave you numb, spiteful and slowly turn you into a version of the monsters we are so badly trying to beat back.
So as a reminder of why these things need to change, why inclusion, humility, kindness and love of creation need to prevail I am redirecting my focus today.
Today I am focusing on the good, the inspiring, the beautiful.
There are people out there with things to celebrate
Birthdays
Anniversaries
Hard won accomplishments
There are people out there bringing love and gifts of time, connection and grace.
There are beautiful places in nature, in our neighborhoods, in our homes that bring sanctuary and peace.
Today I turn my attention ( posts and personal notes, calls) to these things. To strengthen my resolve to get back into the ‘battle’ with my heart, compassion and values in tact.
Radical love. Radical compassion. Today this is my armour.
✌🏻💜🥳

The Faithful Witch, or why I don’t need to ‘find God’

Sitting in the soft glow of the Christmas lights on the Tree and those shining from my Altar. Drinking coffee and contemplating faith.

I document some of my mental and physical health struggles. I have a biting sarcastic sense of humour ( carved well from surviving trauma). I am an empath through and through. I am curious. I am kind. I have a temper. I take things personally that I probably shouldn’t. I believe in helping because it’s the right thing to do. I believe the body is only the house of who we are, I do not believe in judging on gender, race, orientation or colour. I have a strong sense of spirituality and faith. I am Pagan.

Working with chronic illness I encourage my clients to include a faith based practice. I tell them, that these practices and communities are so important to healing. It is another pillar needed for survival. I never tell them what it should look like. I tell them it should be what speaks to them, what elevates them to their higher good, where they find comfort and connection.

Do I think it solves everything? No. Do I believe that alone will heal? No. Do I believe it takes struggle away? No.

Being Pagan, for me, means I am not beholden to one God. I do not bow to my Deity, I do not hand over my ills, nor do I blame or credit them with everything that happens in my life. I believe we are all interconnected. We are the stuff made of stars, we are nature. I believe this interconnection ( magic) binds us to be responsible in our actions and their effects on the world around us. I believe that science and magic work hand in hand. I believe there are things unseen and unknown. I believe my ancestors hold wisdom that can guide me if I listen.

Do I believe this makes me better than you if our Gods do not share the same name? No. I believe all roads eventually lead back to the same and you put the face on it you are most comfortable with.

I do find offence if you’re God demands that you make others conform to your understanding. I am offended if your God leads you to believe you are morally superior because of what you believe. I am offended if your God punishes people for perceived ‘sins’ or character flaws.

I am not offended if you hold me in your prayers, if it is to protect and share love, for that I am deeply moved and honoured.

I am offended if you are praying for my redemption because I’m not like you.

I am offended if you are judging me on my writing, humour or very human flaws and struggles, because you believe these things mean I have yet to find god….. I am offended if your belief makes you think it is ok to tell me that this is what I need.

My faith has so far seen me through some very dark moments. My faith has helped me have compassion and purpose. My faith keeps me curious and in wonder. I have found Myself with in it.

As we move through this season, be joyful, be kind and be open. There are many of us celebrating many things, there are many of us struggling with many things, but I think we can all agree that we should celebrate together, work together and create something better than what we have. Together.

❤️🔮

Inside war

This morning, I allowed my self to feel some of the anger that’s been bubbling. I looked deep into where inside this is sitting. I am so angry and disgusted with myself. As most of you know, simultaneously my knee and my shoulder have been failing me.
Three years ago I was building a strong body, I had found some relative freedom from my mental monsters. Through life circumstances and a couple of freak falls the physical and mental took a few hits.
The pain is constant, and some times workable. But has chipped away at my physicality.
Yesterday walking was nauseatingly painful. This morning, while I was achey I thought it might be workable. So I tried to stretch, a bit of yoga and a few other things to get moving. The knee and shoulder screamed all the while.
I crumpled to child’s pose and wept. I am so angry that I can not do what I could before. I am so frustrated I have all but lost the gains I had worked so hard for. I am so disappointed I gave into some old patterns. I am broken hearted that I feel so little compassion for myself.

I want to keep trying. I have to keep trying. There are a few things that I have kept with. There are a few things that keep me going. I can do my day to day. But these things were not done for self compassion, these were done for functioning, so I can work, so I can do the day to day. But not done of love of self. This makes me saddest of all.

I see this in others, I offer compassion and uncompromising care for them. Trying to let them know/feel that they deserve better. I have gallons of outward empathy. Yet inward is empty.

What is it that makes us feel unworthy? Being unseen for the beautiful creatures we are? Being told we are too much or not enough? Being discounted? Being shunned when we offer love and compassion to others- setting the seeds that even our best is met with disdain so me must be grotesque.

I am allowing the pain in today. In my body, in my heart, I will not dull with medication so I can ignore it. I will accept it as a part of me, for now. I will try ever so hard to find the compassion for myself that it’s ok to feel what I’m feeling. I will accept my disappointment. I will sit with this. I will try to love self despite these perceived failings, I will try to love these broken pieces too.

This world is hard. We all carry so much. Be kind. Be loving. To all. But most of all to SELF.
❤️

Lest We Forget

Today is November 11th. The day we use to observe the sacrifice that those that came before us gave, so we can live the life we have. I see continual posts of remembrance. Some very personal, sincere and with great understanding of the meaning. 

These Soldiers gave their lives, the ones that came home were changed, the families left behind were forever changed too.

But have we forgotten?

How do we honour them?

We bitch about the simple act of having to wear masks to protect each other DURING A PANDEMIC. 

We whine it isn’t comfortable, it’s stepping on my rights, the economy is more important, most people recover………

Covid is extremely dangerous for the elderly. You know those 639,900 still alive veterans (average age 95) we are honouring today?! The ones who fought to ensure our rights and freedoms. Whose families learned to live with less, because it was the right thing to do. The same families who took care of their neighbours in their times of need because it was the right thing to do. The same ones we are cavalierly marching toward death because they are old. The ones who are in underfunded care homes that are at high risk for outbreaks. The ones who are given so little financial assistance to live on from the Government and Country they once proudly represented around the world. 

How do we honour what they fought for?

They fought evil regimes that were killing people because of colour, religion, race, sexual orientation. 

So we have elected a provincial government that is determined to breed the kind of ignorance these elders tried to dismantle. 

A provincial government that wants to put at risk communities further at risk because they can. Because it is all about the economy that benefits the few, not the wellbeing of the majority.

Trying to take away safe spaces for our LGBTQ youth. 

Closing programs that were created to help people that have mental health needs, addiction illnesses, chronic illnesses, access to safe and timely health care. Whitewashing the history we teach and dismantling the education system that had potential to create forward critical thinkers that could make the world a safer, better place.

They skew the meaning of ‘freedom’ to allow hateful speech and actions to prevail, they sellout the ideals we think we uphold to the highest bidder.

I see the posts these “leaders” made today, thanking all that came before for their sacrifice, it leaves a bad taste in my mouth.

I want to honour what these people fought for. Not just for one day, not idly repeating ‘lest we forget’ and promptly forgetting. I want to uphold their ideals. I want to improve upon them. I want my daughter to understand these sacrifices are not just stories, that what they fought for meant and still means something. 

That ALL of us, regardless of gender, colour, race, religion, ability, deserve to be supported, deserve to find our place in society. 

So I will continue to make noise to help: 

Get clean water to our Indigenous Peoples

Lift up POC and call out the injustices I see there.

Ensure our LGBTQ community have safe spaces and are welcome everywhere

Mental illness be normalized and those who have it are not shamed but supported with what they need

That our education and healthcare systems are supported and accessible to all.

Ensure systemic racism and sexism are rooted out, and change the system.

This is my plan to continue to honour those that came before me. I will continue to learn, I will continue to fight, I will continue to raise my voice for those that can’t, I will continue to try to do better to create the country they envisioned, the one they sacrificed so much for. And for as long as the need is there I will wear my mask.

A Moment of Healing

Trust yourself

Place your hands on the warmth of your skin

Breathe, you are here

There is no sting

Pressure of the phantom hand

Trust yourself

Place your hands with compassion, the places once scarred, mark the beautiful start

Breathe, you are here

Place your hands, the fleshy parts, once blue, now rosy pink. There is no harm

Only honour, only love

Trust yourself

Place your hands, over your heart. Offer compassion to the place ruined not by love but by betrayal

Breathe, you are here

Place your fingers on the softness of your throat, the strong vibration of words now clearly spoken, from a place once stolen

Trust yourself

Place your hands upon the place where your soul resides, accepting both the light and the dark

Breathe, you are here

Place your hands amongst the spaces where your power hums heavy, intimately yours, you owe it no access from others.

Trust. Yourself.

When a Trigger is Pulled – Reminders of Sexual Violence

Today was hard.

I teach massage therapy. Starting last year as part of the program we began to incorporate a guest lecture on sexual violence and trauma. It is needed, informative and very important for the students to have. I have attended this lecture other times and was fine. Today was different.

Have been fairly open in my stories and experiences and their effects on my life. I am a rape and sexual violence survivor. I have mental illness that presents as GAD and CPTSD. At times this manifests as elevated pain in areas previously injured by violence. This becomes more apparent the more stressed and anxious I am. Along with other signs of anxiety this can become a self perpetuating cycle. I lose my ability to speak my needs and boundaries. The pain can worsen, affecting other areas of my body, triggering more anxiety. The cycle goes until it burns out, I shut down or am able to use my tools to effectively work at stopping the cycle.

I have been ill longer in my life than I have been ‘well’. It started in childhood, I am now 47. Over the last 25 years there have been ebbs and flows in my illness, but in some form shades my life.

Over the last decade I have been driven to work harder at finding different therapies and combinations to decrease the effects and severity of the monsters that plague my mind and body. As of the last few months I have been engaging in mindful physical and cognitive work, trying to break the feedback cycle of ⬆️ stress/anxiety ➡️ pain ➡️ feeling helpless ➡️⬆️ stress/anxiety and continual looping.

This has been intense work. It has taken me to dark realizations and places. It has allowed for some of the deeper body’s memories to surface, be acknowledged and hopefully dismantled. I believe this can lead to transformation and as much healing as is possible.

Which brings me to the weirdness of today, and things I didn’t consider. I have participated in this class conversation before, yet today it triggered me.

Being the instructor I sat calmly, helped to facilitate and participated in the conversation. I could hear my voice, clear, firm and very much in command.

However on my head there was screaming, knots in my stomach, tears threatening to fall. I felt shaky, like a cat in a room full of rocking chairs, but outward appearances seemed calm. Some of the tightness and pain flaring up in the specific areas I’ve been working on. I did not anticipate this. Although in hindsight I see how I should have guarded and prepared.

I am in a strange place in my head. I feel the ground beneath my feet shifting, the growling and murmurs of the monsters waiting for the shift to show cracks, for me to fall through.

The cold finger of fear trailing down my spine.

I am doing my best to breathe, remind my body it is safe at the moment. There are no hands on me, betraying trust, causing pain. There are phantoms I don’t want to let in.

I must be attentive to my duties. Stay present. Do my job. Be here. The ground tilts. This is a test. A test of the new work, newer tools.

The head detaches.

It’s dizzying.

Maintain my ground. Find my safety.

Be gentle.

There was work done, before class, as part of my plan. I did not anticipate what the day was going to be. It feels threatened to be undone.

The ground beneath me pitches and rolls. The poison rising to be drawn out. The stench in the scar tissue.

Slow the breath

Stay present until I’m in a place I can let the wounds bleed to clean.

Shadow work is hard

Shadow work shows our fragility

Shadow work shows our strength

I honour myself

My work

In time