New Battle Plan

*trigger warning rape, sexual abuse, abuse. 

When you look at me, what do you see? When you listen / read the things I present, does this change your perception of who I am and what I’m capable of? I champion mental health with no shame. Yet if I feel I am being judged harshly for mine or my coping mechanisms I feel shame almost immediately. Humiliation, that at times I never feel good enough, stained, reviled. A very human fraud.

Even though I have struggled with my anxiety disorder for most of my life ( some periods more debilitating than others). I have always believed that I can find better strategies and healing. As I’ve gotten older I see where some of my survival techniques are becoming more habitual and more harmful than helpful. 
My need to please and be loved is a huge piece ( but not the only) of my anxiety. It takes up a lot of space in my head. My ego, fractured and vacuous- ‘Love me! Value me! Reassure me!’ And when you don’t…..‘Why do you hate me? What did I do? How can I fix it? Grovelling? Blood? My soul? What did I do? Tell me, love me, look how awesome I am!!!’ When I win forgiveness I am temporarily satisfied. When I don’t, well, I take that as a very keen assessment of how horrible I am. And I will berate myself for failing the other person (right or wrong on my part). Now to be somewhat fair, I am happiest when I can be of service, when my ego and monsters stay out of it. But when they don’t, I am easily hurt, resentful and paranoid.
I want to try, after all these years, to quiet those monsters, if not get rid of them completely.

To know my monsters I need to acknowledge their beginnings. In the beginning this dance of doing the right things and not making waves was a protective motion. I grew from alcoholism, violence, having a terminally ill parent, loss of my two protectors ( Mother and Nana at 12). If everyone was happy, no one got hurt. I needed to be quiet and not bother anyone, there was enough going on without me being a bother.

There are many layers to this I have discovered, my Mother being sick and dying for a quarter of my life, has created its own brand of monsters. A mentally unstable alcoholic father, who threatened suicide often, pulling guns on me and my mother. Being sexually molested repeatedly as a child and later raped and assaulted as a teen all fed into me wanting to hyper-please, not make waves and give into the needs and expectations of those around me. Because if everyone is happy no one gets hurt. If I can be good enough my worthless self maybe redeemed. I will always be the one to make amends, I will apologize for being angry at you (even if it was justified). I will back down, just to keep the peace.
The real trouble comes now, when expectations come into play. Why am I not getting the same as what I give? ( asked the damaged pieces craving grace) Because you have never been worthy ( giggles the monster)  If I try harder, give more? Dampen down more of me. Be beyond expectation. Then surely I will be loved ( pleads the broken) Not when they see you for the worthless used trash you are ( grins the monster) I shall apologize for doing it wrong, be more of what’s expected…. but I’m tired ( the broken prostrates) You won’t matter ( the monster roars until all is drown out) you didn’t then, you don’t now. All they know is you are weak and damaged.

So stupid, this drama. It is false. I am not perfect, I’m not everyone’s cup of tea. But there are people who love me. I have done good in the world. I have accomplished a lot, given where I started. I truly aspire to help those around me, to connect and encourage. It is a beautiful moment seeing the light on someone. A beautiful moment of connection to feel that you have truly made even a small difference. And yet this can become misunderstood and tainted if it appears I am only doing this for self gratification and/or to seek attention. When I do allow that vulnerability to ask if things are ok? Or if I’m too much? It can be off putting and appear overly dramatic. Met with frustration and dismissal. I can move into passive/aggressive mindset as a protective armour. That manipulation is never my intention but can get easily twisted. And yet the monsters over shadow my true intentions, they steal joy, deflate relationships, create horrible communication patterns all to prove to my self I am the broken, and not worthy of respect, compassion and to just be.

I do not want this. I am not responsible for the inappropriate violent things I was subjected too. I am not responsible for these survival mechanisms created, at the time they did their job. I am responsible now, to address that these are not serving me ( and have not for a long while) any longer. That my need to be needed and reassured causes harm to myself ( can’t say no, try to be too much to too many, devalue my own needs and wants) and to others ( misread intentions, exhausting intensity).

I am intelligent, creative, spiritual, caring, kind, empathetic. I have compassion and the ability to communicate love and to be trusted. I do not want to loose or shut these abilities down because of my monsters taking over.
So, I’m committed to learning about myself, with clear eyed compassion and analysis. Owning where I have hurt others, apologizing when I can, trying to not have the expectations of forgiveness. Being mindful of what I need, setting the boundaries and using my voice to champion myself. A new way of thinking. A new way of doing. Lots of breathing and patience on my end. Fear. Knowing I can not control what happens next, just because I’m ready to change these things does not mean my world is ready for me to change them. Risk. It will take time, it may not be 100% but I know that I will never be defined by my traumas or my mental illness. I will be defined by how I lived in spite of them.
Thank you for reading. ❤️ 

I am

To commit to change. To commit to recognizing that the only thing you can change is yourself is just the first step.

To admit what you have been doing no longer works and you need a new plan is the next step.

To admit the actual pain and rage you feel comes next. Not to play the victim ( that means you have moved into this space)but to allow yourself to feel it, understand it, let it move through you. Sometimes this feels never ending. You realize that these are some of the tethers keeping you bound to where you no longer want to be.

Forgiveness eventually will come, but not for others- do it for yourself.

If you have wronged someone, or your behaviour pattern has harmed someone own it, apologize if you can. But the lesson here is not to attach expectations of forgiveness or even feedback here. It will not come. No one will invest in your recovery/growth more than you will.

Then comes faith and hope. Spiritual practice is so important at this time.

Know who you can count on, this nay surprise you.

If you feel alone, professional help may be needed. And this is good. Guidance can be important.

Express your gratitude to yourself for your willingness and commitment to yourself for betterment.

You are important

You are loved

You deserve to be the best version you can create.

Don’t let anyone own or take it away from you

❤️

Rant

Fuck lip service
Fuck idle promises
Fuck waiting for the return on what I’ve invested.
Fuck my mental illness
Fuck the pain I have
Fuck asking
Fuck ranting
Fuck believing the things I thought I’d built meant half as much to anyone as they did to me.
Fuck waiting for help that will never come
Fuck being kind
Fuck doing the right thing
Fuck compassion for/from others
Fuck being a non priority of convenience
Fuck expectation
Fuck this hollow place I’m at.
Fuck the fact I know if I go quiet nothing will get noticed
Fuck fighting to be valued
Fuck being ignored till ‘needed’
Fuck my cheerleading, helpful, stupid useless way in this world, it will never matter much.
Fuck them
Fuck me

Being overwhelmed. An understatement.

 We’ve all felt it. We’ve all muddled through. There are degrees. 

It’s a silent thing. Sometimes it’s a response to mental health issues. Sometimes it’s a trigger for them.Sometimes, even when help is offered, we are so far down the rabbit hole we don’t know where to begin. The fear that if we open up, the tidal wave that may come out won’t stop. So we don’t. Vitriol and sarcasm leak out instead. We detach from those that can/want to help. We hyper-attach to people or things that may serve as a temporary distraction. We fix a mask to our faces and hope it holds for public viewing.

We look at others who seem to manage and think we are just weak, disorganized, deficient in someway that we can’t handle our day to day. We choose to see their mask, not the chaos.

This is a marker in my own mental health. Over the years I have been working hard at certain aspects of my mental illness, digging out triggers, learning new tools to work through an anxiety attack, working through buried trauma and anger. Over time I did a lot of things to distract myself from the day today overwhelming crush of life that I could not manage while the battles raged.

I was pretty decent at giving the appearance that I could juggle it all, marriage, motherhood, career(s), creative outlets, working on my anxiety disorder, a social life. I even fooled myself, until I couldn’t.

When I was in Vancouver last year with a dear friend for the SPN con, I was blessed to spend time with another lifelong friend I hadn’t physically seen in years. We’ve always had a bond that can not be explained. We talked late into the night. He has struggled hard over the years too, and last year was one of the hardest. I supported as best I could, from the physical distance that had separated us. I was so relieved to finally look into his eyes and see he was finding solid ground.He took my hands and looked me in the eyes and said ‘enough’. He could see my through my mask. He knew I had hit a critical time. And he lovingly called me out. He saw all the cracks in the facade.

There were other profound experiences and conversations I had that weekend ( who knew a tv show convention would lead to profound life changes?!) that began to percolate ideas in my head and heart.

I had been rocking the bright red hair for some time prior to this ( ‘hey look, i’m good! I’m vibrant! I am a spectacle to enjoy!! I am on FIRE!!!!) It represented the ‘fiery drive’ I was bringing to my 40s. Living past my mother. Determined to prove I deserved to do so. In Vancouver I dyed it black/purple. Initially it was for cosplay, so, I could have done it with a temporary or a wig.But I knew in my heart the redhead was not coming back from Vancouver. She couldn’t. The next step could not be done by her. The wild red needed to be grounded and brutally honest with herself.

In my juggling act of the last few years my anxiety would often take over and I would go back and forth between proving all ‘ I am!’ And lamenting my torment with some of my monsters and how much of a failure I was…. it’s funny, because at that time a newer friend would take pains to remind me I’m human, and that was ok. I’d feel disappointed and angry at this, which looking back now, I didn’t want to be seen as mere mortal, I wanted to believe I was ‘better’ than that because ‘look how many plates I can spin in the air!All while battling my monsters!’( please pay no attention to all the broken plates on the floor). 

There have been a few catalysts since my return in September. Situations presented to me that forced my hand to truly be accountable, not just for what’s going on, for what’s been avoided, but the fall out on others around me. I had to take a long glaring look at what I was avoiding and why, my boundaries, my actions and really decide what I was going to do.

I realized I had let so much fester in the background, that the ‘hidden’ clutter in my head and house could no longer be ignored. I was and had been, for sometime feeding some of my own monsters. All the while, dear reader, sharing some of the battles with you, raising battle cries, encouragement and showing how much I was learning about my own mental health struggles. I was and am still determined to help myself and the people I care about.But in someways I’ve failed you all dear readers. I kept to the light and didn’t really jump into the muck until the fall. I had risked relationships due to the clutter, disorganization and noise.A few situations came to a head. 

It is hard. Small chunks at a time. Set a new boundary here. Clean out that closet there. Get paperwork in order here. Hard conversation and accountability there.Still battling monsters. Trying to not chastise my self for the disorganization. Trying to not feel broken at the disconnect with others who had been pulled into my vortex. Hoping that I can be forgiven by those I’ve disappointed by the messes created. Hoping to forgive myself and be less disappointed that there was such a wounded duality. Learning to say no. Learning to hear no. Making it not so much about me. Making honest room for others. Work at undoing a trigger. Keep trying move forward and plan. Find forgiveness. Reconnect in healthy ways. 

Try to reestablish so much of the good, creative and ‘magical’ things I discovered about myself, my spiritual nature, and the world around me, during the last few years. And be the person I intend. The person I almost thought I was. All the while fighting the slippery slope of falling back into comfortable patterns that no longer serve a healthy purpose.
A tall order. With no guaranteed outcome. 

Reflected in the mood hair, I suppose. The red flamed out. With it, I hope, the burning chaos that cluttered the spaces, scorched myself, others and pulled all the air out of the room.In its place, a shadow of the embers. Dark, earthy. Rivers of purple and faint red wind through the pitch. Representing cool movement forward, I hope.

I appreciate all of you so much, those who have followed, read my stuff and encouraged me. I hope you will continue to do so. I hope my honesty will not discourage your faith in me. As I work at the changes in my real ( not online) life I also hope to find forgiveness from those I love. And forgiveness for myself.
Thank you all so much for reading. ❤️💜

Pillow Talk

Poetry dripped from her lips

rich, like honey

warmed by her breath

delicately teased a curious tongue 

Winding itself delicately, fluidly 

to your ear

a lullaby so sweet

you melt into its velvet deluge 

The pulse of the moon

moved her heart 

gentle waves 

of electric motion

Matching the beat

of the words as they flow

from the heart, the mind

the soul

Whispering of stars, 

reflected in the waters

realms known,

yet unexplored 

Plays and plans and life

My heart is aching this morning.
We’re told to envision what we want for our lives, when we create these plays in our heads, we have the other actors do as we need, do as we want, to create an idealistic dream.
Growing up I didn’t have a grand sense of community or family. There wasn’t the regular coming together of dinner or shared times, there wasn’t the effort put into building and maintaining deep connections, relationships, the practice of forgiveness or acceptance.I’m not faulting anyone for this, it just happened to be the environment I grew up in.
In my 20s I had a group of friends, that hung together all the time, we were in and out of each other‘s apartments, backyards, sharing drinks sharing laughs doing like 20-year-olds do. The tight bond of the time.
As we all grew into our 30s and started to create our families and “settle down “we tried to maintain what we could. We moved to different parts, got different jobs, headed in multiple directions. The ‘togetherness’ was less frequent, deep….Life began to change and grow and we meet new people, in part because of your kids, in part because your life takes different directions career and hobby wise, changes come again.
By the time I hit my own watershed at 40, I had a clear sense of what I wanted, what I wanted for my family.I wanted a regular village of people to come together, that were supportive, understanding, creative, calming, and that we would all look out for each other. Build a sense of community and a sense of varied deep connection that I’ve always yearned for.I wanted to have that for my own children so they knew in their hearts that there’s so many people around who love them and want to see them grow and flourish.
I wanted old and new to bond, grow, become my village, my family’s village. 
One began to emerge out of the ether, it was blending, it was growing, I could feel my creativity humming, joy at having multiple kids running around the yard, communal foods to prepare and share. People to rely on, being meaningfully relied upon. Laughter, ideas new and old to be discussed, challenged, stimulated. 
I envisioned an ever growing merry band of misfits that looked out for each other, helped foster our creative and spiritual natures, supported and gently challenged and nurtured each other. Creating a safe open environment for our children to learn acceptance, forgiveness and that vulnerability is strength. 
As fast as it felt it was coming together it seemed to fall apart. Why? Ego? Life? Pettiness? Misunderstanding? Time? Jealousy about perceived positions? Circumstances? No room for change, understanding, vulnerability, acceptance or forgiveness?I have been given many reasons, many ‘justifications’, and maybe I’m too naive or stupid to get it, but I never understood the actual why.
I just knew that no one read my play. No one read the words or understood the meaning. They all had their own stage production they were mounting. No one acknowledged how important these connections, village mind, if you will, can be for mental and emotional survival. How beautiful it could be. Especially given our current world state. 
So it collapsed upon itself. Seemingly having fault lines and divides appear. Coldness replacing warmth. Excuses to not get together, eventually no plans and in some cases silence.
I maintained hope that after a time it would come back together. I lamented to a friend about how deeply I missed all of it. I was harshly told I was being stupid, no one wanted to put the time and effort in. No one wanted these things. Just me, and I should knock it off. Although I was apologized to later and told it should have been put in a nicer way it didn’t matter. It stung and it broke my hope.
I withdrew. Fearful of trying to plan gatherings, bringing people together and the stress and anxiety this now caused.Sad at how restrictive it felt. Isolated that I was the only one who seemed to treasure and miss what had begun.Looking for contentment in smaller, less frequent visits with various people.
Today another friend who was a part of this mentioned to me how she too missed it and was remiss to mention that for fear of making my heart ache.Bless her. While yes it awoke an ache, no more so than FB memories from that time, (I choose to not share them. I sigh, shed a tear, stay quiet and scroll past, for fear others have a very different view and it will cause discord)I am so grateful that someone else misses it. Saw the potential for what it could have been. I don’t feel quite so stupid or naive.
I don’t know what may happen, if anything in the future. If my ‘play’ will ever come to fruition and who the ‘players’ may be.At least I know what is possible in the right time, circumstances and knowledge. And for that I’m gratefulI’m grateful for the connections I had and those I continue to have. I have gratitude for the abundance that is in my life. I am grateful for what is shared and can be shared.
Thanks for reading. 
💜❤️💜

Sent from my iPhone

Winter is Coming

Today I asked the Goddess what it was I needed to know
I felt a moment of stillness and I looked into the snow 
To remember what we are in our perfect state No pain, no anger, no disappointment, no hate 
Dismantle constant comparisons, superficiality  Revel in the magic that inherent to our primality  The sparkle of the sun, diamond twinkles full of promise of the magic yet not spun.  She whispers in my ear,  hold steady, keep going you have nothing to fear 

But you seem like you have it together……. 1

I have what is classified as a Generalized Anxiety Disorder, with a small side of PTSD and BFRB.
GAD- or generalized anxiety disorder makes it sound so mild. It’s not. Even when it’s not in the forefront, it is still there. The following are symptoms I can have to varying degrees at anytime.
Physical feelings of anxiety (e.g. heart racing, sweating, stomach discomfort) Feeling fidgety, restless or unable to sit still Feeling irritable, getting easily upset, snapping at people for minor reasons Sleep problems: this can include having a hard time falling asleep, waking up frequently during the night, or having a restless and unsatisfying sleep Difficulty paying attention or concentrating Being easily fatigued Muscle pains (often in the neck and shoulders) Paranoia that I am disliked, being set up, used, laughed at.  Digestive issues ( mine were some of my first symptoms and originally diagnosed as IBS) that get bad enough I can’t eat.

PTSD- or post traumatic stress disorder is actually one of my milder issues ( although for many others this is a devastating and debilitating condition in its own right). I only seem to get involuntary physical/emotional reactions when certain areas of my body ( neck, jaw, shoulder and feet) are touched without warning and/or I am already in an anxious state.For the most part my PTSD has just resulted in a ‘Swiss cheese’ type memory, periodic runs of vicious, vivid nightmares, relating to the first 20 years of my life.
BFRB- or body focused repetitive behaviours. Again this is relatively minor for me, but can have serious repercussions for others. I continually bite the inside of my lip, tongue and cheeks.
A few other symptoms I can have are: Tremors/ shakes in my hands ( mostly left). Again my left hand will tightly clench into a fist at night. Issues with my TMJ, chronic headaches. My breath can become ‘hitched’ like I’ve been crying and can’t catch it. The inability / fear to talk on the phone. Areas of old physical trauma burn like they are on fire. Defeatist/ negative talk becomes overwhelming. 

When I was young and running the gamut of trying to get a proper diagnosis ( no I’m not depressed, hysterical, just trying to get attention…….etc) I was medicated often. I self medicated often. I acted out, stealing, promiscuity, cutting, drug use……
I discovered that the standard medications had very negative effects for me. My symptoms would get worse or the side effects, even the most obscure would be unbearable. I am grateful that these medications exist, I know they help some of my most beloved friends and family. It just never worked for me.
With varying degrees of success I had begun to build coping strategies/ mechanisms.
I replaced promiscuous behaviours with trying to eat myself to death ( 400+ pounds is where I topped out at 28)
I became a driven achiever 
Cutting became less frequent, but well hidden outbursts of hitting a wall or something equivalent until I was bruised became a more ‘acceptable’ outlet.
I would write, but the ‘characters’ I would create to be my avatars always met a vicious and violent end.
As I became a Mother and have gotten older there are better strategies I have created, a much cleaner diet, more physical activity, massage, alternative therapies, meditation. I still write fictions and battles but now the avatar finds strength, sometimes help, sometimes faith, but ultimately overcomes. Beautiful symbols and art are now tattoos that have replaced the ugly scaring of self harm. Making sure to get family time and time outside can also help. Getting time to shut down and be alone is also necessary. But the demons are still there, pretty quiet at times, raging psychos the next.

I am now in my mid forties, a mom of an amazing 11 year old girl, in love with the same man for 25 years. I run a successful business. I’m still plagued by demons. I have for the most part kept myself busy enough that I could out run them, ignore them because I didn’t have time to deal with it. What I had been doing up until then had got me far, served me mostly well. Just keep plugging along. Break in the shower, keep the ‘twitches’ hidden as best as you can. Write a little, work harder, achieve more……

Circumstance, age, chronic injury and fatigue have forced my hand into reexamining my mental health, coping mechanisms, accountability, boundaries and complacency. This has not been a fast paced journey. This has been a brutal path. Exhilarating, terrifying, beyond challenging, emotional and definitely not for the faint of heart. Four years ago I knew something needed to change. I just didn’t know what that was going to look like. I didn’t know the work involved. I had no idea how much of my darkness I have faced and continue to do so. This is where the spiral begins……..

Massage and Loyalty- a love letter


This morning while I was stretching out my grumpy shoulder I was thinking of my clients and how blessed I am for their loyalty and the care they reciprocate to me.
Some of them have been with me since the beginning, two decades ago. They have rallied to look after me with my chronic shoulder difficulty, chiding me if I over book. Knowing I make outside referrals from a place of love if I’m not capable of caring for them. But they stick by me.
Trust built -With some I know they find comfort in what we do. I have learned to read their bodies. I know the patterns of job stress, family stress and weekend warrior shenanigans. We have been with each other through so much of life. Birth, death, marriage, divorce, new jobs and ventures come and gone and retirement, it has been a journey I’ve taken with many and treasured each moment of grace and learning it provides.
With some it was hard won trust. They came broken, betrayed by circumstance, life, people. Not wanting to let anyone in. Not wanting touch but needing it so badly. But we stuck it through, they know I accept their scars, their history, the fear that they have in healing, in not ever healing. I have sat with them in darkness to offer what I could. I have watched as they have moved forward as best they can, I’m blown away and inspired by these people. I am honoured to have earned their trust, been a part of their personal healing. I do not carry any of this lightly.
These are the ones most concerned about my leaving the profession some day.
I always kind of understood that when you find the ‘match’- the one who learns to read the tissue, has the skill and the insight you stick with them. ‘There’s no one like you.’
I was, for most of my time in this field, a massage hopper. Try anyone once or twice, a good tune up here and there, pretty much all good but no ‘ connection’. Until the shoulder.
I have a long, sorted history, like most of you. There is traumatic memory deep within my body. There are things for the safety of my sanity my brain does not actively let me remember unless it needs to.
When I started getting signs in my shoulder of overuse, I really didn’t think much of it. I know a plethora of skilled RMTs to handle simple tendinitis……Only not so simple. Often the act of touch can awaken a sensory memory- and this was a treasure trove of awful.I was fortunate that the RMT who has guided me this far, has been able to build that trust, been kind, patient and understanding when I flinch, hold my breath, speak my fears, and just try to keep my body from hitting fight/flight mode as the areas of pain are soothed for another week.
I get it now, really. Some of my clients fear, when I said I have to cut back and it is always a possibility that I don’t have as many years left in my career as I’d like. Their fear of having to, but not wanting to, build that understanding and trust with another. Their want to keep me around as long as they can.
The thought of having to explain the origin, training the body and mind not to react with fear as the scar tissue gets worked. Building trust. Fear of judgment where we feel weak.I can understand that reluctance. I would never choose to have to go through some of the more fearful moments and what that brought up for me with anyone else ever again.
I am honoured by this trust, this faith that I can care for them. It is sacred to me.
As I stretched the grumpy shoulder out, measuring my schedule against how long it is until my own next treatment, I am resolved to do what I can, for as long as I can. Maybe it’s because I see both sides now. Maybe it’s just who I am.But for all those who have stuck with me and continue to do so. Know I do not take that lightly. Ever. ❤️💜