Tag: heart

Containment Disaster

I search for stillness

There is fire burning with in

But the noise keeps the heat contained

It’s burning like a fever

To fuck

To create

To run screaming searching for an entry to the Ether

I search for stillness

The fire threatens an explosion but the noise and distractions don’t stop

Embers become white hot

Being dissolved from the inside

So much to get out

Words, feelings, colour

Need to touch, speak, release

This is not living when the spirit is contained ignited and starving for space and oxygen

Rage ( Pt2, the Kicker)

The kicker

I’ve worked so hard from where this knocked me to the last time I was finding ‘self’.

I built hope

Hope that there was misinformation and miscommunication that could be healed

But I was so far down, buried in shame

Things I held true disintegrated like my hard fought ability to trust

But I resolved to build, trusting the vision I had would come, it feels like it is meant to be. The feelings of love in my heart would build a better foundation

Every baby step I make, a look or breath of a word can knock me down.

I resolve to lead by an example.

I resolve to lead without shame

I resolve to stay open to love and trust

I resolve to stop letting myself down and treasure the very humanness I am told is what shines ( not shame as the whispers say)

Rage -venting the feelings (pt 1)

Rage

Don’t pay me lip service

If you ask me what I need

That is not enough – not without action

If I ask you to come to my playground because I’m always at yours

Don’t decline because it ‘doesn’t suit you’

Raging about my gender will upset me

Raging with out room for learning and compassion will shut me down

Making it know that parts of me, things I care for and hold dear are ‘not your cup of tea’ so

you ignore them completely, shows me you do not accept me for who I am

Your rage breaks me apart. My shame can bury me. This time my rage will help me rise

Here we are again

You only listen when you like what I have to say

you only look when it suits you

you will talk and talk and talk and talk

and it doesn’t seem to matter

the parts of me that make you uncomfortable

the parts of me that frustrate you

the parts of me that are trying to grow and express

Are time and time again

told

too much

too much

too much

there are times I can carry this

use it to fuel me to keep growing

there are times when it guts me

and leaves me bleeding on the floor

unseen unheard unalive

Mamas

I want to acknowledge those of us who work so hard to be good moms, to be present moms, to be loving moms, to be firm moms.

I want to acknowledge all those women out there who don’t have a great relationship with their own mothers, the ones who are trying to learn to be better, the ones who need to heal from the damage inflicted upon them, the ones who struggle with the heartbreak and the disconnect of not having a mother present in their lives.

I want to acknowledge all the mamas out there who have hard relationships with their children, who love them, who’ve tried their best, who hold love and hope in their aching hearts.

I want to acknowledge all the mamas of all the rainbow children and of all the children resting in heavenly arms, the ache that you feel for a child you’ve always wanted to hold and perhaps could not.

I want to acknowledge the mamas who made hard decisions to allow someone else to raise their children because they knew it would be best for them and it was done with the utmost love, I see you too.

I want to acknowledge the women who have, whether by choice or by fate, found that motherhood isn’t for them, but who offer unconditional love and support to all the children and other mamas in their lives. I see you too.

I also want to shine a light on all the grandma‘s out there who’ve been present for their daughters and for their daughter’s children to carry on the strength of maternal love and bonding, you’re appreciated and loved to.

I want to acknowledge those of us who’s mothers are not present in our lives, those of us who have parented ourselves, we may feel a hole at this time. Healing is hard, and you too are loved.

My 40s in Symbols

I didn’t get my first tattoo until I was beginning my 40s. In a few days, I’ll be 49. Today I just got my 9th tattoo.

Each tattoo is a symbol for something. This past decade I have been through some very dark moments, and have shed many things of myself.

This was the first. I had just surpassed my Mother’s age of death. This is my blood, my Celt roots, my Nan, my Mom, my son and my daughter. This was my mark to celebrate the gift of life.
My Ouroboros and Pentacle. My rebirth into my spiritual practice. Something in me felt a deep pull to learn and reconnect to the things that speak to me. This would be more important than I would have ever guessed.
‘Witch Know Thyself’
This sigil is a reminder I am stronger than my demons. At this point in my life I had made a kind of peace that anxiety and CPTSD may always be a part of me, but they would not defeat me
Next in Moon Glyphs I choose to keep another version of the elements with me. The Pentacle being the other. The two on the top represent balance and life. It was a reminder that I will strive for harmony with in myself and my environment

Things started to get a little shaky for me. Mental health wise I shut down. A mix of burnout and elevation of anxiety and old trauma surfacing. Being compounded by upheaval and high tension around me.

A symbol to honour the Goddess Morrigan. I had connected with her to help guide me as I found my self in a very dark, anxious place. This was a reminder I was not alone in this pitch, she would prop me up when I fumbled.
There can be a point when it feels like all your pieces have blown apart. A raw exposed nerve. I felt so ugly, shamed, worthless. This piece ( The Enzo) represents finding beauty in unfinished imperfection. Even though I did not feel beautiful, I could identify with not yet being finished.
A very tumultuous time preceded a much needed break and reconnecting trip with my husband to my spiritual home – New Orleans
This was at the end of the first year of Covid, I knew my mental health was taking a hit. I was struggling under the weight of old trauma patterns I wanted to break. The uncertainty of the world, and a deep disconnected feeling. The arrow was to remind me know matter how far back I feel I’ve gone, my trajectory is forward. AKF has been an important part of sustaining me. It’s a wonderful online support ( Always Keep Fighting)

I have been doing intense work over the last year. Working on releasing trauma patterning, learning about myself, the light and dark. At times the realizations have been hard. The pain uncovered, the isolation. Things I want to repair but am unsure how, setting firm boundaries. Again I’ve called to the Morrigan to remind me that I’m am strong, a worthy warrior.

Which bought me to this, as I’m days away from my 49th. A reminder of the armoury I am building. I have defences that are not toxic, but are strong. It is within hands reach.

I do not know what this last year of my 40s will bring, what I do know is, that this past decade has had incredible highs and lows. I’ve gained and lost so much. I am hoping my 50s will be more learning but less drops. I know it will be recorded, the pictures on my skin a reminder to myself of my journey, my growth and my power.

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?

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.

What is ‘Awkward Tales From The Shadows’ about?

Hello readers,

Until now this blog has been a stream of consciousness for me, often revolving around my battles with anxiety, some poetry and a few political rants. I’m going to add a couple of other streams of writing. I’m searching for my bravado to start adding some of my fiction to this site, and that will come. But the newest addition is going to come in a journal type format.

It will be identified under the heading of Awkward Tales from the Shadows. This is my journey of healing, determination, acceptance and accountability.

I am aiming to have a narrative about what I’ve actually been doing to work through my dark night ( well a three year night, but who’s counting) of the soul. The Shadow work I’ve undertaken, the revelations that have come from therapy, the revelations that have come from diving into my Pagan spiritual work and the physical work I am undertaking and how all of these things intersect in the relationships I have with others and myself.

I do not have a degree in psychology, I am not a doctor, what works for me, may not be suitable for you, dear reader. I am not writing this as a how to guide, each of our journeys and needs are unique, there is no shame in medications, therapy or any other help or healthy tools you need to grow in your life.

The truths are mine, the perceptions are mine. The losses and victories are mine.

Some people won’t like this, and that’s ok. This isn’t for them. I’m not writing this to punish or blame anyone- we all affect each other. I will not name people outright. But if they’ve had a part in my journey, for good, bad, ugly or a combination of all, then they will appear here. There are wonderful moments and people that have also had an enormous effect in shaping who I am. These are just as important to acknowledge as the trauma side of things. There are things that have happened to me that were not fair, kind or wanted. I do not have false gratitude for these events, but what I am working on is appreciating what I have been capable of doing to survive.

I’m on a mission. For myself, for my children and for anyone that may find a kindred spirit or inspiration in what I’m doing. This may not be easy, it may not be pretty, but I also know it will not all be heavy and dark.

“Share your knowledge. It’s a way to achieve immortality. One learns so much just from living a lifetime. Share that knowledge with the people you come across, it can only help them in their journeys. Even more important, share your failures so that others will not repeat them.” Jordan Lejuwaan