Tag: anxiety

Shame- Awkward Tales from the Shadows -pt.2

In picking through all of this I have never felt so naked. Shame is so destructive. Shame eats at you, it disguises itself in behaviours, thoughts and actions. 

So does this mean I have been fake my whole life, that the things I have built are untrue? No. I do want to be of service. I don’t want to see people hurting. I want to help get you to your best place. The people in my life that I love and care for is truth. The beating of my heart is truth. My desire and drive for better are truth. But this time it will not be built to cover anything up. 

To get there I need to find what I can love about my self. I need to release the shame that I have been taught since childhood is mine to bare. I need to feel. I need to feel all of it. Not just view with a critical eye, not just be analytical in how I can explain. BUT TO FUCKING FEEL. To stop denying myself the depth of joy, love, contentment because I am sheltering myself from feeling all of the pain, fear and disgust that also resides here.

I have to first start with me. Looking from outside to see what those around me see. To quiet the voices that make up the story that all they see is a grotesque shell. That there are some who truly love me. Who value me.  I can accept they they know my kindness and care. They see me as flawed, scarred and beautiful. That they are excited to see what emerges.

The child I was need not be shamed by the abuse she suffered. That I am worthy of more than what I can give. The first man in my life was my father, he told me repeatedly that I was unworthy because of how I looked. That I was no better than a whore and that is all any man would use me for. That I should have died before allowing the bloodline to carry on. What followed was cycles of abuse and use by others for so long….. No more. 

I will find my voice. I will not give more to you than you are willing to share with me. I will not allow myself to be emptied and devalued. I will find pride in myself. I will not feel shame for feeling. I will not shrink silently in to the dark when I am wounded. I will not feel shame for asking for what I need. I will not feel guilt for saying no. I will not feel shame for expressing myself. 

I will accept if this is no longer suitable for some (this has already happened but my shame spiral took over the punishment). I will not grovel or chase. I will learn to love this scarred, imperfect human. I will learn to honour myself as much as I have honoured others. I will learn to trust that when i am told I am loved or that support is offered that it is truth, that I don’t have to perform to receive. 

There is no going back this time, no more building to cover up anything. I and finally going to build a foundation that will hold me up. 

At least this is my hope, that this is what is to come. But first comes the scary part, really allowing myself to feel, and to find a safe place to be supported as the facade of me falls away…………

Shame- Awkward Tales From The Shadow Side-pt 1

As you walk deeper into the shadows of your self work sometimes you feel lost. Sometimes you are shaken by what you find. This is the place where the moving pictures of the past reside. It is time to look past hilight reel. Do you dare? Do you dare peek at the out takes?

Sometimes with healing there is no choice.

Things I am learning, rather, finally harshly acknowledging.

The need I have to connect, to love and be loved, the need to be considered is just a gooey shell wrapped around a dark centre of anger. The anger I desperately want to say others are completely responsible for, is actually the razor weapon I have carried since childhood- but it too is a kind of a facade. Look deeper- yes this will cut but the core must be found. The atomic destruction weapon at the very centre is shame.

As a child I was raised in shame. Raised in varying forms of hiding. We hid what was happening in our house. We hid from the monsters in our house. I was shamed for how I looked. I was shamed for my needs. I was shamed for what my father was. I was shamed for having no mother. 

I turned that shame into anger, drive- I would be better, I could make myself worthy, even if I didn’t start there. What is the term- making a silk purse out of a sows ear? I would build a shell over top of the putrid thing I am. 

I will give everything, time, kindness, love, – please don’t look too hard or breathe too deep, you may smell the festering wounds. I will accept all, as I know what it feels to not be acceptable. I will listen to your story and brush aside my own with no more than an anecdote. I will deeply invest in you- who ever you are. I will forgive you infinitely. I welcome you to with a smile and a hope that I will be enough. I will do anything to ease your mind and your path. I will outwardly ask for nothing while inwardly begging you for everything I do not possess. 

This worked, sort of, for a very long time. Even I believed it. I believed I had achieved a place where I was loved, admired, wanted, needed. That I had healed myself, hidden the rot. I believed I was worthy of turning a light on to me. Surely after decades this was acceptable. 

The disruption this caused, the hurt, the confusion- this was not the game I had created, these were not the rules I had made. The first sign of push back and the fetid began to show. They figured it out. I wasn’t worthy. More shame. Shame for what had happened. Shame for trying. Shame for being the cause of anger, hurt. Anger, at first for not being worthy of encouragement, then anger for not even finding myself support worthy.

Retreat, the defence up- you think what you have done can hurt me? I will destroy myself a thousand times before you get another shot in.  I did not see it at the time, I retreated to what I believed was more acceptable to some around me, to make it better- to go back to being loved, needed, belonging. But I was wrong. I felt sick, I hid the wounds under layers of more destructive behaviour, food, drink, disassociation…….

I have been so angry. At first it was all outward. All about the recent, not really wanting to see how it was the same ride in so many ways. Shadows of the same cycle I was born into. So angry at the others- why? Why so much hurt? Was I not what you wanted? Did I not create the proper being to be loved? How did I get it all so wrong? Was the truth that I was not meant in this life to be unfiltered, raw and a little wild. Was I not to have a me- just the thing that fit you best? In the darkest moments the monsters that the anger and shame have fed grew, the razors slowly turning inward. 

Yet I know I can not totally go down with out a fight. My children deserve a better Mother. Not something to be ashamed of or to hide from. I will not be my parents and I sure as hell would not wish my children to be me.

Awkward Tales From the Shadow Side: Self Owning the Ugly

The rage is almost unbearable

I want to scream till I am spent

Childhood lessons:

refining sensitivities to others, anticipate the needs to keep the peace, prove my worth.

Do not ask, do not demand, it is selfish, you are not worthy to ask so much.

Adult lessons:

I taught you how to treat me. She is kind, giving, forgiving and hardly asks for a thing, we love her.

But when she does she’s needy, an emotional sucking hole that has the audacity to want to be first. Know your place.

The rage ( at self) comes from trying to change and loosing out when I’m no longer suitable. The rage ( outwards) comes from not being considered, from not having someone, anyone anticipate how tender I am and how I might be affected. The disgust I feel ( at self) for this ridiculous notion and foolish hope.

The sadness and exhaustion comes from knowing what saved me in childhood can be dangerous to me in my adult life if I am not careful, also knowing that my empathic skill can still be a superpower.

Rage at seeing the cycle, more rage at the seemingly inability to break it meaningfully. Disgust knowing I can not demand to hold value with others until I hold value within. Frustration knowing my self worth has been dependent for so long on how others need me.

She beats her fists against the glass and still insists she’s a valid lass

Awkward Tales from the Shadow Side: Reflections Underneath

I stand in front of the mirror

Armour on

Battle worn, cracked and brittle

Some areas thick and rigid with hasty repair

Is this the way you love me?

Lifting the helmet, what can’t be seen, as they reside so deep, are the howling banshees who live inside. Burrowed in, born of survival, fear and pain. Revealed, tired, wanting eyes.

The cuirass goes next, throat exposed

Words have died here

Breath extinguished

Fine network of scars unseen but felt

Pauldron lifted, the weight had held my arms in place to brace against the blows. Shoulders curled forward with the phantom weight of all that was, without the bindings now threatening to disengage

Plackart next, twisted scars over where the heart resides

Thick, thorny vines at once piercing and protecting the beating centre

Jagged lumps of torn tissue across the upper back holding my arms in place

Faulds removed, one by one, exposing my sex. Sometimes taken, sometimes gifted

Mistaken often for the sole root of power – it is but one area I can hold sacred

The cuisse loosened to fall away, revealing legs with nearly invisible trails of scars, some inflicted through war, some used as a release to quiet the banshees on their terror.

Here I stand, the mirror reflecting all that was hidden beneath the armour

The ugly truth of the damage. The damage that created the need for the armour.

Can you love me this way?

Can I love me this way?

Bad Saturday Poetry

I want to tell a chapter.

So easy to write of dragons, heros, battles and mystical villains.

But this chapter is ripe with horrible truth. One that runs on a loop in my head.

To tell the story, I need the words, but they have disappeared.

Fear, anger, a sadness so deep I don’t know if it has a bottom.

To keep it trapped in my head will surly pull me back into muck that I’ve fought my whole life to get out of.

I want to tell a chapter but it’s ugly and dark. It is not for everyone. And I can understand. But I can’t hold this on my own.

Trust, the words are coming. I’m trying. Trust, I am not alone. I’m trying.

I want to tell a chapter

A Message on the First Night of Yule

The 12 days of Yule have begun. It is also the night before Winter Solstice. I had been thinking over the weekend how I wanted to honour the start and celebrate my Ancestors, my Kin and my own Spirit.

The Universe directed me. I have hit a wall, a hard one. Physically, emotionally and mentally.

By the time I finished my ‘official’ day yesterday I was done, my body and mind were heavy and exhausted.

I went to bed early. Knowing enough to try to rest as today was another full tilt one.

This morning I had a headache and I felt like I ran a marathon ( this is a common body response when my anxiety has been high). While I have had some anxiety peaks in the last month, I did not feel this was the sole cause of my malaise.

I am burned out. The stress of the outside world has pecked away consistently at my armour. I have been on go for so long I’m not sure, other than when receiving a massage, when else I’ve actually hit pause. Even sleep feels like a momentary dead drop and right back at it.

It’s almost amusing, because one of the things on my never ending ‘to do’ list is to rearrange my schedule in the new year to have more ‘life, quiet, creative, connection time.’ It moved up the list to a top spot.

On this first day of Yule, the day to honour the Mother, the strong feminine, I honoured myself.

So today, I hit a full pause. I am grateful for the clients who understood, rebooked for another time and encouraged my day of rest.

I kept my pjs on. I ate light, I slept, read, listened to podcasts, curled up with my dogs.

I honoured my wisdom to listen to my body, my strength to not push through, I nurtured myself.

There is guilt lurking in the back ground, things left undone, not productive enough for the day. But the self talk I am practicing is that, this is what I needed, this was critical soul food. That in order to be present and participate, I needed this recharge.

Do I feel whole? No, but I feel a little more peace. The burning stiffness that anxiety trails through my muscles has softened. The pounding in my head receded. I don’t feel as emotionally drained.

I am not the only one. But I am one of the few that finally gave myself permission to stop.

I should have done it sooner. I have been the one who did not listen, who crashed hard with illness and yet kept going. Waiting for someone else to tell me it’s ok, that I am deserving to rest.

Do you feel this? Are you just trying to carry on despite everything?

On this first night of Yule, my gift to you is permission to hit pause.

You are worthy and you are very deserving.

Rest, move mindfully and know that’s more than enough.

Awkward Tales From the Shadow Side – for the child that was me, for the child I have, for the children lost and not yet found

There’s so many things crashed inside my head right now. The weight of the world seems to be bearing down today, I’m not a damn thing I can do about it.

Universally I feel devastated today, I can’t help but think how we have undercut and undervalued whole peoples because they were different. I think of the thousands of Indigenous children who were stolen, abused, and murdered. I think of all the parents and families that felt that missing piece, who feel that missing piece and that there is no way to make this right. The best we can do is shine a light.

Universally I feel crushed by this never ending pandemic, the reality of how it affects mental health. How exhausting it is, to be in a push/pull of society between trying to do what’s best for the ‘we’, with out a heavy cost to the ‘me’.

Today I also feel in my own personal heart space a confusion of heaviness. Grieving for the devastated child that still resides in me.

As I am on the cusp of parenting a newly minted teen ( in less than 72 hours she will officially enter the teens), I feel so much loss and grief. I did not really expect it. I did not expect to remember the loneliness I felt at her age. The fear. The deep abandonment of loosing my Mom the year before and an absent alcoholic father.

I feel lost now. How do I parent her? How do I protect her from the horrors of this world, that I keenly experienced? How do I know if it is the right guidance- what she needs VS what I needed/wanted at that age. Her situation is so very different than mine. I try to never impose the ‘me’ needs over the reality that she is not me and she has different needs. That was good until she surpassed me at still having both parents, intact and present.

I had tried to set up much in the way of distraction today, but it all has fallen apart.

So into my head I will stay, for just a little while, I’ll listen to the little girl with the wounded heart. Who is still so frightened and alone. Who navigated a dangerous place and came out with scars and wounds yet to be healed. But grew into someone mostly intact, praise her for growing into a loving mother who cares, who worries, who’s willing to grow.

I will go stand in the sun, and remind myself that even though I did it alone, my daughter isn’t. That she is a fortunate one, not like the thousands of children still not yet found but always cherished.

I know that if I lead with my heart and that she knows I’m leading with my heart, it will all be OK. And in the future, hopefully, she won’t be sitting on a warm fall day, with tears on her cheeks, mourning for the child that she was, for the child that felt abandoned and lost and hopeless.

That she will be sitting on a warm fall day with a smile knowing deeply how much she was loved and cherished and protected.

Awkward Tales from the Shadows- The Present Reality Needs Change

Change.

Change in the midst of chaos.

The only static thing you can rely on is change. But it is up to you if it is within or around you, or if you can find the harmony of riding both waves.

I have witnessed some very big and very subtle things. It is hard to put words too. I am seeing extreme fatigue. An increase in body pain and chronic illness symptoms. Complaints of short tempers, brain fog, being ‘over’ emotional, and feeling detached. Wanting to do things to improve the self, craving change of some sort- yet having no motivation, direction or drive to do so. 

I have not only witnessed this in my clients, friends and family but also in my own reflection. 

It was apparent before the pandemic caused the first shut down, that there were things deep in me that were not aligned, spiritually, physically or mental health wise. I had not yet realized the depth of my burn out. I did not know where to begin. My external relationships felt messy, I was constantly working but feeling like I was not accomplishing much, my anxiety was at an all time high. I had been living in survival mode and I had no idea how long this had been going on. The reserves I had to carry me through this survival living were beginning to slip. My saving grace of writing was lost to me. The comfort I had found in my spiritual practice felt painful and empty. The places I would have sought solace were not there.

In a way, that first shut down was a mixed blessing for me.

Work could no longer be a focus. I was home with my daughter. My husband was fortunate enough to stay working, so he became the designated ‘outside’ person. To work and back and essential shopping. There was no where my daughter and I could really go, we would take the dog to the park, go out to the back yard. She had online school- I had the noise in my head, and I tried to find as much as I could to distract myself. 

At first we fell in line with so many other people thrust into this, she did her best to adapt to school and not being with her friends. I jumped into checking in with friends and clients, making bread, making plans of all the things I was going to accomplish while I was off. Then it trailed off… I can’t say for sure what I filled my time with-  I didn’t read many books, I binged a few shows but mostly repeats of old favourites. Ate a lot of comfort carbs. Numbed the nagging feelings I was having with food, drink, THC. 15 week’s took forever and passed so quickly at the same time. Before I knew it I was back at work, and another 6 months went by.

More restless, foggy and disconnected. Constant pain, not only from existing injuries I am dealing with but my mental illness creates physical pain that had become a sharp constant. Emotional, angry, and a deep sadness I had not felt since my early 20s. I knew this place, yet I wanted to deny where I was. It might not have been the lowest bottom I have hit before, but I could not see the light. I looked at my daughter and I was so sad that this was the example she had for a mother. I was frightened for her… I felt I had lost myself, and was frightened of what she and her brother could lose too. 

For them I had to find it within myself, the energy, the courage to try to come back to me. 

Even though it felt like I had been reaching out and asking for help- I was adrift- yet still ‘functioning’. I was working, I was there for my friends, trying to be a good support in the midst of this impossible global situation we have going on. Trying to get educated, use the privileged place, even in my dark moments I was aware I am in. The dispenser of compassion, love, advice and humour. I kept trying tp pull the two opposing pictures of me that exist together. 

I found books on not wanting to be an empath, anxiety, CPTSD, children of alcoholics, abuse victims, trying to figure out how all of these things were surfacing now. I started exploring all the reasons how I had gotten here. I had started telling people I was doing my ‘Shadow work’. This was not entirely untrue, I was sticking sharp sticks into wounds that had long been festering. I was hung up on situations from the pre-covid world. A relationship catastrophe, not just one but multiple. I was convinced I was to blame and be accountable for all of it. That the trauma that had damaged me, ruined so much in my life. The refrains of what I had been told- ‘you weren’t you’, ‘you’re too much.’ ‘You’re different’ etc…..echoed constantly in my head. I have explored this hurt in other writings, and there is more to mine I am sure, however as much as this was a catalyst for my undertaking this darker self work, at the time my motivation was wrong. I wanted to ‘fix’ the parts of me that were too much, too different…… I wanted the people I had believed once cared for me to care for me again, not to see me as the bad guy, the ‘different’ one, the one who was the villain in the story. 

I began to gain a picture of my ugly side- but because I had not set up proper support to help me find the balance I was overwhelmed with my own accountability and making myself suitable to be forgiven and fix all that I thought was wrong. 

In true Witch fashion I have been learning about my place in the world, how it affects me and how I affect it. I grabbed on to my spiritual beliefs, I rallied, I conjured and I prayed. I have been digging deep into my own shadow work. I realized that I was looking in the wrong places for the help I need. I accessed better ways to help me sort all of this out. I realized all the ways I had been punishing myself. I knew this was not the way. This evolved from a deep longing for change. Change in how I feel. Change in my motivation. Change in the patterning. The change I see so many craving on a personal level, community level and global level.

Am I ‘there’? Do I have the answers? Am I healed? No, but I am on a much clearer journey, I have learned so much. I see the value in who I am. I see what I am capable of. I have a more grounded view of my purpose. While I still grieve somethings that were lost, I also know I am not the villain. I am so much healthier in my mind and in my body. I have better tools for when the bad days come, I am better at honouring my self and my time. I can see the magic in this life once more and everyday day I fall deeper involve with it, with myself.

I am excited for what is coming next. I believe that my continuing journey can be of service. That the knowledge and experience I have gained can be helpful to others. That my continuing willingness to learn, seek and evolve may help others find direction on their own journey. I can’t wait to get this officially up and running, added into the work I already do. 

Thank you for reading, thank you for being present.

Exhausted Disappointment

I could rant here- point the finger at Jason Kenney, Tyler Shandro- Covid deniers, personal freedom without responsibility twats, science deniers, the media at large, Adriana LaGrange, those determined to make human life politic, but I am tired and really deeply sad- the best word I can think of is…….

Defeated, that is the only word that is coming to mind right now. For so many reasons I feel almost hopeless. The last straw today was having to cancel an event (again), but it’s bigger than that.

There are people I love making decisions I don’t understand. Basic human care and well being has been politicized. We are are becoming a more entitled callous hateful species, than I ever wanted to believe was possible.There is a disconnect between understanding the differences between rights, choices, freedoms, responsibilities and basic science. The distrust sewn by the grotesque rhetoric spewed by politicians has permeated every facet of life. People are exhausted, angry and frightened. I am angry, I am so very sad and I am at the point where this constant distance and exposure to the vitriol out in the world is reenforcing the very thing I am working real hard to battle. I could post another rant, but what good does that do? I can’t make people care about anyone else. I can’t battle with misinformation and manipulated facts. I can add my angry voice to the countless others wondering what the fuck is wrong with people, why people are not being rational, kind or compassionate. Why we are a society of ‘if it doesn’t directly affect me I won’t give a fuck.’ But today I don’t have the energy.

I’ve done my best to speak up, support those that are in a more vulnerable position than I. I have done my best to check in on, lend an ear, provide a space, try to remind that I care and encourage hope. And what has it gotten me? Friends too exhausted, anxious or distracted to respond. Financial instability. Can’t turn on any media with out a barrage of opinions (rarely based in fact, but bloated noise fanning the fractures). And me trying so hard to work on pre-exisiting issues, build hope, protect my family and try to find the village I have been seeking out, in what feels forever.
Something I have been planning to help my own mental health is getting cancelled yet again.

Here’s what gets me:
Just over 3 years ago, events conspired in my life that triggered crippling social anxiety- I once loved to entertain and for many reasons I lost that. But I have been working really hard to come back from that. It used to be a very important part of my life. So I had an idea for an outdoor party- invite people that I have missed for a long time, bring my little community of people I care for together and try to begin again. The Covid numbers were reasonable low, it is summer and it just might be a turning point.
There was scepticism when our current government decided that Covid was over and we should throw caution to the wind, but there was a window of time that i might be able to reconnect.

I really wanted to support a friend of mine in her singing career, I adore her songs/stories and her passion and talent. I thought how wonderful if I can include this in my journey. And everyone I know likes live music. (You can find her wonderful talent in and around Calgary, on youtube and I believe Patreon. Sonia Deleo is her name, for those I invited, I am sorry I could not personally introduce her- check her out anyway!) It took me a long time to put it together, I was so nervous to invite people, to bring everyone together. People seemed receptive. I felt I could step into this risk. Some of the people I initially invited couldn’t come, I had to work at that a little not to perceive that as personal (this is such a mental battle for me), but it was coming together.

Then the fires and smoke. It made it impossible to be outside. So we postponed. Just by a few weeks. But this would take more mental work for me, but maybe it meant that this time all the people I had wanted to come could make it.

So here we are a couple of days away…… I put out a reminder earlier this week. I really didn’t hear back from anyone, not really with a yay or nay. But I had a bad feeling once again, I had been working hard to get myself to a place where I could just be excited about the prospect of having friends together, and it turns out again it is all for naught. Thanks to the grotesque mismanagement by the government we are in a crisis they are ignoring, the numbers are high for infections and hospitals are almost at critical mass. It is now targeting children (who were not eligible to be vaccinated) and even though the vaccinated get a much milder case, we still become sick and carriers. The right decision is to cancel again. All the mental work to conquer this hill is for nothing. A lost gig for my friend. Lost opportunities to reestablish connections. A lost moment to repair some fractures caused by my mental monsters. A great opportunity for some laughter and fun and a small amount of ‘normalcy’ to be experienced.

I am angry, sad and disconnected. I don’t expect this to matter much to some of you. I imagine some of you could twist this to fit your narrative. I know many people I would turn to for support have very little left for themselves, because they too are overwhelmed, frustrated and disappointed at humanity. mI recognize that there are far more devastating things happening, there is loss of life, but this was important to me. This was part of my mental health survival.