Yesterday was 50- How the rest of the ‘big’ day went

Yesterday I left my story unfinished about crossing the threshold to my 50s. I was feeling conflicted. I had not asked for fireworks or a big band. But I think part of me wanted that.

I had not yet passed noon of the day and conveyed that my feeling about the whole thing was deflated. I should have labeled that part one….

As the day progressed it was filled with sweet messages and unexpected gifts.

After putting the pity party to paper ( or screen if you will) the day began in earnest. A friend knowing I was chilling at home, whisked me away for a decadent cupcake ( for those of you near where I live Crave bakery are the cupcakes you need). A lovely bit of time spent in the cool sun with tea, conversation and cake!!

The best part of it, the part of my brain that was feigning dramatic disappointment in the first part of the day got to eat a little crow later.

My husband let slip there is a date awaiting Saturday night….. but no further details. I would love a clue about how I should dress and how far I need to dig into my closet.

Then we then went to dinner as our little family of three. I did choose the restaurant, a simple one, where we can count on the food being tasty and the three of us ate heartily. It was the laughter of my family filled me most. It seemed like a while since that had happened, but there was much wit and giggles. Back home to more magical treats of another deck of Tarot based on a family favourite movie ( Nightmare Before Christmas for the win), a beautiful dish for treasures duly guarded by a dragon and a cake, while not from my childhood favourite bakery, a wonderfully rich chocolate confection. After the wish candles were all blown out we dug in and filled the sweet tooth craving.

I went to bed loved and content. Relishing the moment where my brain was quiet, the monsters had nothing to chew on. This was the best way to enter 50.

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

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. ❤️