Category: Uncategorized

Your Prison

It’s ok.

Vulnerability is hard, but I don’t judge you for it.

I don’t judge you for not knowing. For finding it so difficult.

Your tears don’t frighten me.

Your fears don’t frighten me.

I see your overwhelmed humanness

I never had any other expectations- you had already placed so many upon yourself.

I can not fix it for you. But I will be here while you try. A hand to hold, a shoulder to lean, an ear to listen and a heart full of compassion to rest in.

The walls you built to hold you up imprison you with your demons. You have made it hard to reach you, the noise so deafening you can not hear. The frustration of self so loud you think the sound is outside your head and coming from my lips.

If you looked in my eyes, the reflection of you that you would see is one of gentleness, kindness, love

Not the unworthy monster you believe is lurking.

Yet- you think I must lie. How can I see your strength, your beauty, your worth? You demonstrated it over and over to those around, but forgotten to save a bit of light for yourself.

The light you gave me to hold once, when my own battle became so dark I could not see, is a treasure I wish to return to you, to light your way. But you can not see enough to take it.

My heart aches watching you battle. Seeing your wounds erupt from within. I can not love you enough to fill the holes you keep tearing. How can you believe your grace is poison?

How can you believe you are not loved?

I ask the Gods to help you, to hear you, to guide you through. I’ll always be here, when you release yourself from the dark.

Shame

Shame perverts everything we do.

Why? What do we have to feel shamed about? Emotions? Needs? The flesh that carries us? The mind that creates? Our desires? Fears? Our successes? Failures? Our mistakes? Our vulnerability? Our kindnesses?

The shame we carry can make us closed, cruel, judgmental – indifferent to expressions of gratitude, love, caring, joy.

It divides us.

We push it off on others, not acknowledging it is our own burden we carry. We believe that love, compassion and understanding are not for us. We are not worthy.

There is so much I want to write- so much I want to express. I just want to roar

FUCK YOU

I don’t want this any more.

Fuck you to anyone who has ever made you feel lesser than.

I will not be shamed for my vulnerability

I will not be shamed for my caring

I will not be shamed for my body

I will not be shamed for my willingness to try

I will not be shamed for my past

I will not be shamed for who I am

I will not be shamed for the love I give

I will not be shamed for trying to heal

I will not be shamed for my truth

I will not be shamed for asking for help

I will not be shamed for offering help

You can try,

by your words

your actions

your silence

to tear me down

to your level

Here I will not stay

You can keep your judgements

You can keep you helpful arrows

You can keep your cloak of shame

I will shed mine and rise above

Hold It

The sacred honour of holding stories comes with a price. 

The space I create for the words you need to spill, the poison you need to excise 

Burns

Burns a hole

Deep dark ugly secrets fester

I learned this lesson from the other side – so very few have I spilled my bile on…. 

watching them run in horror from my contamination- burning through the space they gave me

This place now locked. 

I believe this had fortified me from the same danger. That the space I could give was impervious to the acid of the tragedies you tell. I know what the poison will do if not relieved from self. I wear these wounds.

I must keep my neutral mask in place, my eyes have changed.

Will justice prevail? Not in the face of fear. Not this time.

Silence- I can only tell my story, but I carry the stone of yours, I see what is in your shadow.

It is not mine- only as a witness. I will soothe my burns, seal it up, create the space for another. Taking a moment to reflect if this is what my own toxins have done? Had it changed the eyes of others? Is this what made me invisible? Is this what turned them away?

I can clear the burning from my own eyes, I will still see you, just as I will see others.

The sacred honour of holding stories can come with a price. 

A Guided Tour of My Anxiety Attack

You work

You dive deep

You build and use your tools

You try to be accountable

Sometimes it’s little. A tightness in the chest. A tremor in the hand. Floating thoughts in tired chaos.

You work

It starts with a flutter deep in the belly. Temper becoming short as you try to hold on to the steady.

You try to be accountable.

Take a day to rest. The quiet makes the deep exhaustion deafening. Dive deep, use your tools.

The flutter grabs hold with claws and the world begins to roil. Coherent thoughts are just out of reach.

Sleep. Try to reset. Hold on to me so I don’t get carried away.

Middle of the night- clammy, claws have worked their way to the chest. Monsters screaming so loud, pulling my knees in, hands over my ears, trying pointlessly to keep out the screaming that’s inside.

Apologies tumbling from my lips, washed away by the downpour of tears. Shaking so hard, my seams threatening to tear.

Sometimes there’s a why. This time there is not a single, but fragments of everything. Real, imagined and all in between. A single why can be rationalized. The shame, I can’t get through the fragments cutting me from inside.

Shame and anger, gains feel lost.

Breathe.

Fucking breathe. Meet the monsters with compassion.

I don’t live here anymore. This once was the home in my head always. But not now.

No anger for the rushing back.

Compassion for the now.

I am human. I have cracks but I am not broken. Lean against the steady.

Breathe, held in place

Arms guiding me back to now. Keep breathing.

There will be fog. Use the tools. Medicine to dull the edge. Know that today you’ll struggle in the thick muck. One foot in front of the other.

Breath in, breath out.

The day will carry on.

You eventually will come to the other side, to begin again

You work

You dive deep

You build and use your tools

You try to be accountable

A Guided Tour of My Anxiety Attack

You work

You dive deep

You build and use your tools

You try to be accountable

Sometimes it’s little. A tightness in the chest. A tremor in the hand. Floating thoughts in tired chaos.

You work

It starts with a flutter deep in the belly. Temper becoming short as you try to hold on to the steady.

You try to be accountable.

Take a day to rest. The quiet makes the deep exhaustion deafening. Dive deep, use your tools.

The flutter grabs hold with claws and the world begins to roil. Coherent thoughts are just out of reach.

Sleep. Try to reset. Hold on to me so I don’t get carried away.

Middle of the night- clammy, claws have worked their way to the chest. Monsters screaming so loud, pulling my knees in, hands over my ears, trying pointlessly to keep out the screaming that’s inside.

Apologies tumbling from my lips, washed away by the downpour of tears. Shaking so hard, my seams threatening to tear.

Sometimes there’s a why. This time there is not a single, but fragments of everything. Real, imagined and all in between. A single why can be rationalized. The shame, I can’t get through the fragments cutting me from inside.

Shame and anger, gains feel lost.

Breathe.

Fucking breathe. Meet the monsters with compassion.

I don’t live here anymore. This once was the home in my head always. But not now.

No anger for the rushing back.

Compassion for the now.

I am human. I have cracks but I am not broken. Lean against the steady.

Breathe, held in place

Arms guiding me back to now. Keep breathing.

There will be fog. Use the tools. Medicine to dull the edge. Know that today you’ll struggle in the thick muck. One foot in front of the other.

Breath in, breath out.

The day will carry on.

You eventually will come to the other side, to begin again

You work

You dive deep

You build and use your tools

You try to be accountable

A Guided Tour of My Anxiety Attack

You work

You dive deep

You build and use your tools

You try to be accountable

Sometimes it’s little. A tightness in the chest. A tremor in the hand. Floating thoughts in tired chaos.

You work

It starts with a flutter deep in the belly. Temper becoming short as you try to hold on to the steady.

You try to be accountable.

Take a day to rest. The quiet makes the deep exhaustion deafening. Dive deep, use your tools.

The flutter grabs hold with claws and the world begins to roil. Coherent thoughts are just out of reach.

Sleep. Try to reset. Hold on to me so I don’t get carried away.

Middle of the night- clammy, claws have worked their way to the chest. Monsters screaming so loud, pulling my knees in, hands over my ears, trying pointlessly to keep out the screaming that’s inside.

Apologies tumbling from my lips, washed away by the downpour of tears. Shaking so hard, my seams threatening to tear.

Sometimes there’s a why. This time there is not a single, but fragments of everything. Real, imagined and all in between. A single why can be rationalized. The shame, I can’t get through the fragments cutting me from inside.

Shame and anger, gains feel lost.

Breathe.

Fucking breathe. Meet the monsters with compassion.

I don’t live here anymore. This once was the home in my head always. But not now.

No anger for the rushing back.

Compassion for the now.

I am human. I have cracks but I am not broken. Lean against the steady.

Breathe, held in place

Arms guiding me back to now. Keep breathing.

There will be fog. Use the tools. Medicine to dull the edge. Know that today you’ll struggle in the thick muck. One foot in front of the other.

Breath in, breath out.

The day will carry on.

You eventually will come to the other side, to begin again

You work

You dive deep

You build and use your tools

You try to be accountable

A Guided Tour of My Anxiety Attack

You work

You dive deep

You build and use your tools

You try to be accountable

Sometimes it’s little. A tightness in the chest. A tremor in the hand. Floating thoughts in tired chaos.

You work

It starts with a flutter deep in the belly. Temper becoming short as you try to hold on to the steady.

You try to be accountable.

Take a day to rest. The quiet makes the deep exhaustion deafening. Dive deep, use your tools.

The flutter grabs hold with claws and the world begins to roil. Coherent thoughts are just out of reach.

Sleep. Try to reset. Hold on to me so I don’t get carried away.

Middle of the night- clammy, claws have worked their way to the chest. Monsters screaming so loud, pulling my knees in, hands over my ears, trying pointlessly to keep out the screaming that’s inside.

Apologies tumbling from my lips, washed away by the downpour of tears. Shaking so hard, my seams threatening to tear.

Sometimes there’s a why. This time there is not a single, but fragments of everything. Real, imagined and all in between. A single why can be rationalized. The shame, I can’t get through the fragments cutting me from inside.

Shame and anger, gains feel lost.

Breathe.

Fucking breathe. Meet the monsters with compassion.

I don’t live here anymore. This once was the home in my head always. But not now.

No anger for the rushing back.

Compassion for the now.

I am human. I have cracks but I am not broken. Lean against the steady.

Breathe, held in place

Arms guiding me back to now. Keep breathing.

There will be fog. Use the tools. Medicine to dull the edge. Know that today you’ll struggle in the thick muck. One foot in front of the other.

Breath in, breath out.

The day will carry on.

You eventually will come to the other side, to begin again

You work

You dive deep

You build and use your tools

You try to be accountable

Healing Without Apology

Oh Gods, the hurt, it’s dizzying ….. The song came on, it had been ages, yet once it started, there I was, the door kicked open. Back to where I could feel the magic that once existed, back to where pieces of my heart and soul had been sacrificed on the Timeless Altar of Everything.

Feeling so broken and pieced out, every ounce of courage I had at the time, to push it all away, the music, the verse, the intense joy within the circle that had been created, every bit of strength to slam that door shut. I could not hear the music with out feeling the blood drain away from me. The loss of magic, cruelly stolen. I can not look at the verses that had been written. To try to remember the joy, with out feeling the loss is a futile effort. Time does not heal wounds, it allows for scar tissue to grow thick, to dull the pain that will always be there.

The next song starts. For a brief time I had been seen, (had I?) only to be cast unwhole back into the shadows. To once again fight to repair myself, questioning the point of it. Watching the monsters rising from my blood and fragments of who I thought I was. Hot tears, burning my cheeks as I screamed to the Ether- demanding to understand why? Only echos from my monsters coming back in return, had my spirit had been broken for nothing more than sport?

For a long time, I couldn’t. Not the music, not the words, not the contentment of exploring the Divine magic. Sometimes I think I had met the Devil and fate was sealed when he looked me in the eye and called me Witch. Even now it steals my breath. So many unfinished words, unfinished spells, unfinished………

Another song begins. It feels as though I am late to this vision. The Tower breaking sent me running for cover, placing the old shell of who I was, firmly around me. Retreating, pretending to heal. It has only been the last few risings of Mother Moon and time at the Altar of Everything that I can now begin to see through the fog.

It was never about that. I see now the destruction was inevitable, if not that Devil, then another would have appeared. It was about unbecoming, to rise again. It was about breaking away from the chains that held me down. It is about casting the spells for myself alone. The words that tattoo my soul that need to make it to paper to speak my truth, mine alone.

The last song plays. Oh Gods the pain……the dizziness swirling around my head. Truths mixed with lies, spells and curses alike tied up in what was and what is to become. There will always be the unfinished, there will always be bittersweet sadness. This now will get laid on the Altar of Everything. The rubble of the Tower still smoking after all this time. Finally discarding the shell. This Witch may be scarred, still bloody, but my sight is getting clearer. The human heart will heal, the scars will thicken. I don’t need the Devil to tell me who I am. I don’t need the chorus to tell me who I am not. I am. Is all any of them need to know