Tag: hope

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?

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.

Awkward Tales from the Shadows- Start Point

Other stories on this blog do a decent job of explaining a few things about me. As this journal progresses I imagine so much more will be revealed. But a little back story to what brought me to this ‘start point’.

I’m firmly entrenched in midlife, chronologically but in my head I still feel like I’m in my early 20s- I’d like to think that is perpetuated by my eternal curiosity.

I had a lot of trauma in my younger years. I have GAD ( generalized anxiety disorder) and CPTSD, those two combined at time are a big rollercoaster of hellish fun.

I struggle with chronic pain, some resulting from my mental health issues, some from old injuries and sadly I’m sure some is a little from age.

I am a practicing Pagan, a Grey Witch ( if such a title is needed).

I am a survivor of rape and abuse.

I work as a massage therapist, energy healer, teacher, tarot reader, intuitive and writer.

I am a mother to an incredible teen daughter and a biological mother to an amazing young man.

I am a wife, sister and friend.

I am amazingly strong and easily hurt.

I have hope that seems to stay like a beacon of light even when I feel taken down by despair

How did I come to the ‘dark night’ awakening?

I can not pin point one moment, but a cascade of things.

I dreaded my 40s for as long as I could remember, a fatalistic view really. My mother died at 44, I was 12. That death shadow hung over me, somewhere in my head I had always believed I too would be gone young. To that end, I did enough for my mental health to ‘survive’ to keep a lid on all the poison. I had fooled myself into believing I had a handle on my ‘stuff’. Because honestly could someone who didn’t ‘have it together’ how could I achieve so much?

I thought I had begun to do positive work, building a strong life.

Just after my 45th birthday there was a tipping event involving betrayal, abandonment, humiliation and a break down of self.

I was so lost, just trying to make it through the day and fill the expectations of the roles I play. My anxiety was getting worse, social anxiety symptoms that I hadn’t experienced in years took me down hard. To complicate matters, within a year, as a planet we entered a pandemic that is ongoing and we are feeling the acceleration of the effects of climate change. The darkness and fear was closing in. The grasping of things, friends, comprise of self, use of substances for escape all becoming a sand trap I was silently drowning in.

The cross roads epiphany struck like lightening ‘work through this, find your life spark or face soul and/or real death.’

First came the stacks of books, workshops and podcasts. I journaled, I had recognitions, insight and so much, however the amount of information and emotion surfacing became overwhelming.

Then the inner knowledge I need help filtering the all information in relation to myself. Due to the tipping event I did not feel that anyone in my circle was a reliable source of deep support. Also knowing that I was entering a place of really wanting to be able to observe myself with a ( hopefully loving) critical eye, professional help was needed. This was hard for me, I had not done therapy since I was a kid, I’d always believed I was self sufficient/smart enough to work through my things with books, workshops and podcasts. Finally making that decision, I was choosing self love. The Shadow work was really about to take a deep direction.

And so it began…

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