Muted

It felt like a sigh

But really it was a deflation

To be heard, felt, understood.

This is where heaven lies.

But words had failed

The barbs she tried to pull from her soul

To show, to show what it felt like in her head

Somehow became seen as weapons

Her ugliness rebuked, disdain, failure

Then came the sigh

Wrap the ugliness in the deflated self

A costume again applied

To be accepted to the proper place again

My Voice

Hand across my mouth

Arm across my throat

Words slapped from my lips

These are things that stole my voice.

Speaking to the ether

Not being heard

being told ‘you didn’t say that, I don’t remember, that’s not the way it happened’

These are the things that stole my voice

‘Do not speak until spoken to, no one wants to hear your opinion, no one will answer your screams’

These are the things that stole my voice

Years of tangled compression, oppression these are the things that have stolen my voice I can raise my voice to stand for you

I can raise my voice to stand for social justice Hear the echos? They come loud and clear

But when it comes to self, when it comes to me , it fades to silence

The old compression, oppression, squeezing in, taking the air, taking the sound,

restricts, constricts

My wants, my needs, my feelings, my thoughts I want to stand firm to say NO

No that’s not what I want

No that’s not who I am

These are the things where I’ve lost my voice. The sticky weapons of violence and cruelty that is wound around my voice for years and years and years

Squeezing away the sound, the breath, the air this is the tangled mess I seek to undo

to breathe life

this is where I want to find my voice

this is where you will hear me clearly say

No these are the things that hurt

No these are the things I don’t want

Yes these are the things that are right

Finally my voice will match my world voice

I will be heard

I will be heard

A Prayer for Chronic Illness

Now I lay me down to sleep

I pray the pain is low and meek

If it rises before I wake

I pray for the right meds to take

Now I lay me down to sleep

It’s quiet here, so I can weep

The smile I wore all day was fake

It’s almost more than I can take

Now I lay me down to sleep

I pray for rest, for I feel weak

Let the monsters be still, until I wake

So to the next morning I will make.

Writers Block

I’ve been trying to write for weeks.

It is something that sustains me, it is something that heals me and when I don’t feel heard it as a way to make my voice amplified, to connect and not feel so stuck in my head.

There’s been points in my life where I stepped away from it, much to my detriment.

A few years back, with a renewed energy the stories began to pour out, I committed to working on the shadow side of myself, and from there a few narratives were born. There was some collaboration, tidal wave of inspiration and such trust that the stories and essays would flow.

While this particular bout of writer’s block feels like it came on just after the start of the pandemic, truly, when I look back, it has been a slow death since last fall.

First the fiction. There was the death of two cherished characters. They showed such promise and longevity, and were exhilarating to write.

But unfortunately that once promised epic story has became representative of what has become a bittersweet and painful period for me. In a tortuous narrative, (as devastating as I felt) they met their end. Silenced, stopped in mid journey. In the ether they now languish.

Though I did find the courage just before shut down to submit a short version to a few publications.

There has been a fair amount of interest in what may have come next and some suggestions for editing. The real possibilities to see it in print.

But now I am frozen. I can not bring myself to open the file, to polish it up and let it move forward. I did not anticipate how raw I still feel about all that was lost at that time, including the grief about the two leads. How much I miss them. How much they still have to say.

I’ve been able to hiccup some poems and the odd paragraph out, but even the ability to write essays has withered.

Those are my best connection to navigate the world around me and my mental health. But it has been near impossible to write anything I feel confident with.

I want to add hope, insight and support to the people that read my stuff. But all I can muster is despondent rage, and no adequate words to explain.

Life as we knew it has always had its hardships. But this global clusterfuck has added a layer of grimy soot that has not left anyone untouched.

I wait… wait for the words to come. I hope that there are characters choose to speak. I hope the characters ( myself) I laid waste to may someday forgive me. I wait for wisdom, knowledge and hope to share. I wait for the insight to be able to move through, over, under or around this block that feels insurmountable.

I wait….

Tired Thoughts

Vulnerability is to be strong. So I have read. We all have the desire to be loved, encouraged and accepted for who we are.

There was so much more I was going to write. And part way through, I realized it is pointless.

Wether I am kind or cutting. Giving or closed off. It will never be correct as people put their own meaning on the things others do. We will always be the bad guy or the weak jerk in someone’s story, no matter the intent.

It’s easy to let that removed judgement defeat us. Turn us cold, label people as toxic, cruel – hold on to anger, hurt.
To stop trying, loving, understanding, trusting, accepting, respecting, connecting……. we do not allow vulnerability, where true healing is found.
We turn this on ourselves, to reinforce kindness comes with payment, we are unworthy of love and acceptance, we are unworthy of working towards better.
And so the cycle goes.

Whether I am a good character or bad character in the story you tell yourself- I can not change this. But I am learning to accept I am a whole character trying hard to hang on in a world that makes it very hard to be vulnerable, content, kind and forgiving.

❤️

Tales From The Front Line- Virus Interruptus aka WTF?!

This is an uncertain time. It threatens to overwhelm anyone and everyone, but what about those with mental health issues? Anxiety, Depression and PTSD are difficult to manage on any given day, but watching the world be swept up by the very real fears of this pandemic. Fears about health, finance and scarcity. We are also reacting to those around us who feel like they are just hanging on. So what does this mean?

I am so grateful for the self work I have been doing in the last few months, it really made me look at what I can do to mitigate the monsters from taking over. 

I have been setting up new boundaries, I have removed close contact to those who are not supportive and set off my anxiety. Long breaks from social media- reorganizing what is in my feed. Being mindful about limiting caffeine (this is a regular fail…. but I try), decreasing refined sugar and taking my vitamins and drinking water. Working at regular exercise (injury has made this hard but not impossible). Getting regular massage has been so important to decrease the pain, increase relaxation and connection with my body. Meditation and finding comfort within other aspects of my spiritual practice. Creative outlets like reading, writing and painting. More time with nature. Asking for what I need and being mindful of my actions. Trying to be of service to those around me. 

Is it always a fail safe? No. But it’s what I have to work with. Refining this tool belt has been important, but I did not realize how much until now.

So in times like these how does that work? I am in contact with more people through out the day, offering support, and ear, a calm port. I have been on social media and news outlets much more than I have in the last couple of months. Caffeine has increased as I sip coffee mindlessly while voraciously reading what ever information I can find to give me an idea of what the future holds for my career (massage therapist) and family. My injuries have been in a flare up and exercise has gone by the way side. We have all been home together, eating comfort food. I have been taking vitamins, trying to get sleep, meditate, write (this has been somewhat frustrating), stick with my spiritual practices, be of help, but…… 

It is thin ice I am navigating. I would have to say that I have always been able to keep my preverbal shit together when there is a crisis, or big life shifts. My survival mode can carry me a long way. This could very well be where I am at. Months from now, there is a very real possibility that I will have a bad run of the monsters taking over for a good long while about seemingly meaningless stuff. What will really be happening, is all the emotion I may not be expressing/processing right now will find its way to the surface. But there is difference this time.

I am actually aware it is thin ice out here. That is a win, to be able to identify that I am in a place where I may get tripped up. So I am working very hard to stay within the boundaries I have set up for myself.  

I still limit my social media interaction, I am only looking at real information, passing on what is needed. Still limiting my contact to where I feel safe. Taking breaks to put my phone and computer away. I know I am being sought out for comfort, and I will continue to be a service. Which has me accessing social media more than I should. I recognize, if I am tired or expose myself too much to the fear and panic prevailing out there I am no good to anyone.  I must first create quiet within myself, so I step away. 

Today I also recognized some of my comfort behaviours (food, lack of exercise, too much wine, not enough sleep) will lead me to not be able to hold off the monsters very well and slip into old patterns. 

With my daughter being home it has been pretty easy to up my activity- but I think her and I will commit to at least 30 minutes of activity in a day, (not including outside- that is nature not gym class).

I will continue to observe my spiritual path and honour what I learn there, and try to apply it to my life.

Replace the social media distraction with creating of some kind , or quiet reading and reflection. 

Working on connecting with my self and my family. We have all changed and grown so much over the last few years, I think we need a better reconnect. The outside world is much less a distraction as there is no where to go. We must enrich our inner worlds. 

Love my body, and honour it, in all ways.

Practice kindness to my self and non judgment of others.

This is the ideal.

But realistically I am going hour by hour like everyone else in the world right now. Am I going to handle this incredibly intense period of time with grace? I know I am human, I will be ok, some of the time, and the rest of the time I am like everybody else. But I will come back to what I have been learning. Every time. I will come back.

We will come back. Have faith. Be kind. We will come back.

Clear Eyes

The ground is shifting

Everything is moving, yet we have to be still.

Come together to agree to separate.

The language is frightening

The reality of how frail our system built around money has become. 

Lives of many have been sacrificed for the economics of the few.

We can feel the disconnect,

Fear sits in the place of loneliness

Money rules, the masses

Rewards the few

But nature will still prevail

To show how fragile we are when separated

What is she really telling us?

We have come together, collectively 

To sing to one another

Keeping distant, to remain together

She is showing us where the cracks are

Reminding us where the power lies.

Don’t be afraid

There is a stillness

The system is rearranging

It is uncomfortable

It is scary

But we have each other

Tales From the Front Line War Cry

I have been committed to working on myself in one form or another for some time now. However there was a series of events ( some unfortunate….. oh Lemony Snicket, insert eye roll here), slowly happening over the last couple of years, culminating in a few things last fall that showed me there are things in my life that are not working for me.

Coping mechanisms I use, that no longer help as well as they once did. Things I believed I created, that would protect and support me, now proving to be much in the way of smoke and mirrors. Loop around patterns that get me no where. There are beautiful moments of grace as well, but all have obvious signs that I need to be doing something’s differently. By the Goddess’ grace I am only half way through my journey on this plane. I know I have work to do, and I need to do it with out always having a battle going on in the background. I deserve better. 

When you decide to make changes, level up, go to battle purposefully with the monsters in your head, there is not a single battle front. The offence/defence must be mounted on multiple fronts. I had to look at the health of many things in my life, my physical health, mental health, the health of my relationships, the health of my relationship to my self. I have to be willing to be honest, to own what I can. To find acceptance of self, light and dark. To see the beauty and power in all of the pieces of me. To change what I can. So I had to start somewhere.

Physical help: For me, conventional anxiety/depression medications have not proven helpful. I am grateful they exist and so many are helped. But for me the negative side effects far outweigh any positives. In my profession I am a vocal supporter of patient knowledge and advocacy for diagnosis and medication. If a client tells me something does not seem right I encourage them to keep on their doctors, research and ask questions until they get answers. I did not do this well enough for myself in the last few years. I have been on a drug for the last four years, ( it’s very common) that I take as prescribed for a genetic condition. The whole time I have been taking it, my doctor has been upping the dose, to get me to the documented acceptable level. The current dose I am on was prescribed 2.5 years ago. Too high of a dose of this medication can have similar symptoms to my GAD. I had noticed that I was beginning to get hot flashes, my anxiety levels were climbing and my ‘control’ tools were not as effective. Then I asked my doctor if the meds were perhaps the culprit, I was met with, ” we have the textbook level we need in your blood, you are heading into your mid 40s and probably menopause and you have existing mental health issues.” I was inclined to agree with him. But no less concerned at the blazé way my concerns were met with. Even if this was a result of the inevitable menopause, this does not sound like a fun way to live, so perhaps some suggestions?!

I did a little more research into this medication on my own and found that a too high dose can result in muscle pain, anxiety, short temper, skin issues, changes in menstruation and ‘foggy’ brain. Now to be fair my diagnosed GAD does present with many of these issues as well. I have over the years employed coping mechanisms that would help me manage or mask in a situation. Those coping strategies seemed to no longer work as effectively as they had. I felt twitchy most of the time. I am now working with a new doctor who is willing to explore the idea of adjusting the dosage to see if it will lessen the GAD symptoms that seem to be heightened.

There were healthy habits that I let go by the wayside. Three years ago, I was doing some kick ass exercise, I had never in my life looked so physically good. The shear physical challenge of it was also helping to keep my twitchiness at bay. It worked well for a time. I was strong, I was confident. But slowly the monsters in my head starting getting fed. I have a super power of being able to overthink a conversation and distill all the meaning out of it. I will analyze, and at times laser focus on a statement, a nuance, and it will burn into my memory. Well, these beasts fed off of comments said in frustration and perceived slights. These things really weren’t rooted on my physical changes, but from other life issues, but man oh man can those monsters twist and hyper focus like pros. These barbs took root and poison bled from them. Vocally however, I mostly used my shoulder injury as the main reason I stopped exercising.

It was so very wrong of me to give up. To fall into the entrenched pattern of ‘fixing’ things by being destructive to myself. Of course this created another chorus of monsters reminding me I am not worthy to be noticed. I am not worthy to be confident in who I really am. I am only valued when I am who others want/need me to be. This struggle has lamely toggled back and forth for the last year and a half. A couple of weeks ago I recommitted to building my physical strength again, for myself, monsters be damned. But this act did open the gates of hell in my head. I am still trying to nail that shut. I am fearful for phantom reasons, and I can recognize that. But I have begun.

I really had to look at my mental health. I am very aware of my defined diagnosis, GAD and a few assorted add ons. But what I was really wanting to look at was my life and my mental health, I mean ‘How the fuck did I get here? How and why were these monsters created? What am I responsible for? Can I really change anything after all this time? Or will this be the same ‘wait it out’ battle for the rest of my life? I have known for sometime in my heart that things could/should be different. With help, I have been working with a program for the last month, it falls in line with behaviour modification and retraining the brain to respond differently, mindfully. It is hard, it is scary. I am honouring myself by taking it slowly. I have also incorporated more spiritual work in my life as well. Both the spiritual practice and the cognitive mental health practices I am working on have lead me to the same path. It is suggested in both places to be very specific about what I want to work on. Not to take on everything at once. To have patience and to trust. To ask for help when I need it, to be honest on my path and to help others where I can. To do my best to practice non judgment on myself. To accept the darker parts of who I am.

I decided to look at something that does not make me feel very good, it is hard on relationships and it is all around exhausting. I want to understand my need to be acknowledged, adored, needed and valued. It is a constant. It is vacuous, never ending yaw. It skews things for me. I am never satisfied, I am never calmed or reassured enough. Why do I fear being invisible, abandoned? The continuous need to be reassured that I am valid, seen. How was this behaviour created? Where do we begin?

Study your trauma (get help here if you need it), study your response, see how that pattern either serves or not now. In the spiritual world, you are doing shadow work. Have help, have guidance, have support. It may feel like a very lonely trip at times, being that far inward, but you will want to have back up. Some of the monsters you may encounter along the way were formed in traumas that for the moment may still have the ability to pull you apart. Have people you can trust, who will not judge, have professionals near too, just in case. Have your spiritual help, the Gods and Goddess’ that you can call upon, who will anchor you, connect with you, so you will know you are not alone.

Be prepared that some of what you may face may not be from this current existence. Generational trauma that can be passed in the DNA. Trauma experienced by the Mother while pregnant. Past life traumas, energetic bindings that may need to be explored, healed, repaired or cut. It is complex.

As you travel the road to your inner core self, keep in mind you will not like parts of who you are. You may also fall deeply in love with other unknown pieces of yourself too. You will not be able to change all of it to love and light, you should not want to. There is much to love and value in our shadow sides. Do your best with the wounds that fester and weep. Gently clean the scar tissue of other wounds and admire how all of this has brought you forward.

Strength, Determination. Love. Acceptance.

Draw your mirror, your sword, your heart and your breath. The Shadow work has begun.

Speak

It’s shaky at best.

The breath.

Everything is caught.

Stifled at the throat.

Screams. Howls. Sighs. Laughter. Moans.

Jammed so full, there is no room for air to move.

Nothing comes. Just shaky breath.

It will rush in a torrent, tearing through flesh.

Release of pressure.

Nothing comes. Just shaky breath.

It has come before.

Stuffed back in.

Swallowed in searing chunks.

Humiliation. Frustration.

Jammed so full there is no room for breath.

Nothing comes. Not even shaky breath.

But I am not ready

Today on my mind is pain. 

All those who really know me, know that my accidental choice of a career, Massage Therapist, beautifully turned into a life passion. I have been gifted to be with clients in birth, death and all states in between. 

The honours I have been trusted with:  life stories, vulnerability, knowledge- sacred and silly, wisdom, hurt, healing, fear, and joy. It has been such a cool, hard, interesting path. I have seen people and their perceived weakest (but the strength it took to get through it was amazing), their strongest, in pain, in triumph. 

 Once I realized that this is where I am at my best service, where I can do so much good, I realized this is also one of the most satisfying things I am capable of.

It has brought me to a place where I am entrusted with teaching the next generation of Massage Therapists. I have met some exceptional talents and hearts entering this field. I try to translate the wisdom I have gained over the years to them. To be humbled by what you are witnessing, whether it is an elite athlete getting back to sport, a mom reducing her pain to be able to play with her toddler, someone on their 4th battle with cancer, a Fibromyalgia patient being able to have a pain free day, or an over worked dad actively practicing self care to reduce the stress on his body and mind, or someone losing the ability to follow their passion and reimagining and finding the courage to change the life plan. There is a raw honesty we get to observe. We do our best to help the body get as well as it can. It is amazing.

The people I have touched, the marks they have left on me. I have whole families that I have been blessed to watch for the better part of two decades. I have celebrated and grieved in equal measure. Never once considering my own time may be finite.

Pain. 

The therapist has become the patient. 

It’s funny, I have had mental illness for most of my life that I have been dealing with, I am open and honest with all those in my life about those battles, but the other battle I have been waging for just over two years now, I have not been completely open with how I am dealing with it. 

I am 46, the last 4 years are the healthiest I have ever been. I weigh 200+ pounds less than I did twenty years ago. I exercise quite regularly, I eat so much better than I did a decade ago, I actively work at my mental health. Two years ago my body told me that I was defiantly not young anymore. I have aches and pains, some related to the everyday, some to my anxiety disorder, but hey, I have access to some of the best massage, acupuncture and chiropractic out there, so healing and management are easy peasy.

I started to show signs in my right shoulder of tendonitis. Not surprising statistically, given my age, gender and career choice. I am so very lucky to have a very insightful Massage Therapist of my own. As I began to get my own regular therapy for it we realized as we ‘dug’ deeper into the tissue it was so much more. There had been long buried childhood trauma there. It would take work but I was hopeful to be fully back to myself in time. It is a blessing when a therapist can calmly walk this journey with you. To observe, compassionately adjust and continue momentum.  I was making great headway, modifying certain things like exercise, but healing was happening and it was not really interfering with my job. Eight months ago I fell, redamaged the shoulder, increasing the injury and setting the recovery time back. 

There was a little twitch in the back of my head that I needed to get a closer look at what was happening in the shoulder. I discovered there is damage that is permanent. So much that can be progressive in it’s destruction. At some point I will be faced with the very real possibility of surgery. But it will never be the same. There is now always some awareness of pain, sometimes it is background noise, sometimes it is so much at the forefront I can’t think. It is weak in certain ways, it makes sounds, it gets hot, it gets stuck. It now has begun to interfere with my job.

I am so lucky that I have more skills to explore and I don’t think (hope) I will have to fully stop being a massage therapist. But I am facing change. I was hopeful for a long time that with a few minor adjustments and strengthening I could be mostly back to myself. Over the last couple of months, the schedule I have been trying to keep and the daily demands I need to fulfil have shown me that I need to be realistic about what I need to/ can do.

Self care has been only consistent in the actual getting of massage, which keeps me working, and I have come to discover after missing the odd regular one that it has an incredible impact on my mental health. It is amazing to me to have had the academic/clinical impression for years of what massage is capable of but until it is experienced out of need I never really understood what a life line ie can be. I am trying to get back to how diligent I was before this happened, but I know it is hard to step out of the defeatist mind. It hurts so I can’t, well if I can’t exercise I will eat the sweet junk food that brings short term comfort, I will be angry and I will begin the cycle again.

 I try to exercise but am frustrated that I can not do what I could two years ago, that it fatigues faster and can not lift what it could. Where I could see six or seven clients in a day comfortably, I find now a max of four unless I am willing to compromise the quality of what I do and create a discomfort that gives me a hard time sleeping. Add that into some of my teaching responsibilities and that number I am able to do decreases.

Everyone around me is trying to be so encouraging. “You have other things you can do.” “It’s not like you have to quit all together.” I know this is meant to make me feel better but it doesn’t. 

I have worked very hard to build what I have, the relationships I have, the business I have. I know that cutting it back is not the end, but it means I am not going to be the therapist I was, the one that these people have all come to rely on. I thought it would also make me feel better if I built in some referrals that could fill in for me if my hours are too restrictive, I believe I have made great recommendations, but can’t help feeling like I have failed these people somehow. And what if I am wrong, and it proves that I actually can no longer massage at all? what about then?

It will also take time for the new skills to generate any income. So what am I supposed to do there? Bills, mortgage, school fees and life doesn’t  wait. 

I know people are meant to be kind, encouraging and supportive, but when I try to express genuine fear, disappointment and grief over this forced change I am given the ‘there, there’ treatment. It is well meaning I know. But damn it! This fucking sucks.

I hurt, my hands get stiff, my shoulder burns and aches so much. I’ve been so proud of what I have accomplished in this realm and do not feel like I am done yet. There are times, as I try to envision and get excited about what comes next that I feel the hot tears well up, the deep sadness in my heart that takes over everything. Add to that the frustration of the chronic pain. It can drive you mad. I cry. By myself, but the tears spill fast. What I need is for this to be seen, not with a bright side at this moment, but allow me to grieve, to be angry, recognize this fucking blows! Let me be disappointed, hug me, be empathetic, be disappointed with me- I will feel better when I have made peace, but I am not there.

I love my career, I love what I have built. I am fighting as hard as I can to maintain my place here, to take care of those that have honoured me with their trust. I know in my heart they all care for me as well. Today the pain has defeated me, made me tired, made me unsure. Tomorrow I will get up and try again, keep trying for as long as I have it in me. It is a big part of who I am.