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

Quiet quitting isn’t just for work

Do you know what the true quiet quitting is?

When you want the time, attention, effort and energy you put out to be appreciated and in some form returned and you come to the realization it is not.

When you yearn so much to be validated, seen, and heard, and when you recognize it doesn’t materialize and you just give up.

Quietly of course, your opinions get quieter and smaller, you begin to ask less, you begin to do less and you feel the shrinking taking place.

It happens in small ways at first, and not in every place in your life at the same time. It’s barely even noticeable because nothing was noticeable to begin with in that space.

Until finally the space that you took up is all but folded it on itself and winked out like a little fairy light.

That my friends is a quiet quitting,

everyone trying so hard to be heard and very few taking the time to listen. We eventually stop putting in the extra time and attention in the places we feel undervalued.

This happens in every place we inhibit, work, school, friend relationships, family relationships- our daily lives.

Nothing is ever truly balanced, that is one of life’s hard truths. Another, is that no one ( not even ourselves) can live up to the expectations we create. Compassion and understanding are needed for moments of unbalance, but should not have to be the space you always operate from.

Perhaps this is the truest form of self love? To often this disconnect is unnoticed, or blame shifted to the person receding. A reaction of fear that the person/place being receded from may need to be accountable.

What are/have you quietly quit? What was the outcome? Who has quietly quit from a work or personal relationship with you? Do you understand, will you admit your role in the dissolution? Have you ever noticed the places you quietly quit on yourself?

How Trauma Can Break the Nervous System (aka) Why (Good) Body Work is Important

I have anxiety and CPTSD.

I have spent the last 4 years digging deep trying to understand my mental health. To understand what has happened to me, what I can heal and what I need to learn to work with in a healthy way.

3 weeks ago we had a random event happen in our home that triggered a major anxiety CPTSD episode.

In the 3 weeks since I practiced all the things I have learned. Sleep, reduced sugar, no/reduced alcohol and caffeine, exercise, nature, massage and meditation. It has been slow going, some things more successful than others.

On the surface I believed I was systematically undoing the high alert that was tripped. My body had other ideas.

I have been with my massage therapist for about 5 years now. He is aware of the trauma I have experienced in life. He is mindful of the peaks and valleys of my mental health. I am grateful that he has compassion and understanding/intuition when to push and when not to.

Even when I am cavalier about wanting deeper work, he knows when to follow his intuition rather than my verbal cues. It has become an integral component to my health.

The last couple of massages it was noted my neck was resisting the attempts to soften it up. This week was by far being the worst my neck has been in a long time.

I did my home care right after the session ( a habit I’m working on building), gentle stretch, warm shower, lots of water. About an hour or so later I felt it ‘let go’. This can be very common after a treatment and one you want to make sure your clients are aware of.

It is a warm feeling like no other. It’s like the muscles get the message through to the nervous system that it doesn’t need to be so hyper vigilant. My shoulders dropped with a big sigh. There was a moment of peace, of deep relief. One I feel in various ways after almost every massage.

One of the other things the body can do when releasing a hyper vigilant state is become violently ill. The exhaustion from masking, fighting, and just trying to pull off day to day lands like brick. The chemicals that my body produces to keep me in that state are making hard for the happy calm chemicals to take hold.

This does not happen as often as it used to, like when I first started getting regular massage. But this time was different

It took about an hour and a half for the blinding migraine to take over, another 15 minutes before my body purged everything and dropped me into a dead sleep.

I felt a little better when I woke up. Ate lightly, medicated heavily ( THC candy and advil) and wrapped my head in ice as the pain once again crested.

Times being what they are ( and a friend I had been with recently testing positive) I took a Covid test the next day. It came back negative. But that is not to say in my crashed state I don’t have it. I’m vaxxed and boosted so maybe not enough to show up on the test, I am now on day 3 of the migraine but I’m quarantining like it’s Covid. Also because I don’t have the energy for interaction.

The pain has just become a lightening bolt between my eyes. I feel like I’ve been driven over, ridden down the rapids and hung to dry. This is much better than Wednesday afternoon. I had been deeper into that vigilant state than I realized.

Sleep has been my friend. Today I could tolerate light for more than a few minutes. So that’s a win.

I’m doing my best not to feel guilty for just lying in the dark for the last few days. There was tears, weird dreams and exhausted pain. My body needed to purge poison from long ago, poison that was kickstarted a few weeks ago. I could not push my body or mind to do more than basics, there was no way I could/should work.

I am horrified, intrigued and grateful all at the same time. I’ve been able to journal some today. I can feel something uncoiling still.

Often with trauma we loose connection with our bodies, but they store everything. A skilled therapist helps ground you and reconnect to the present. Also helping to release pain that is tied to mental monsters.

I am grateful for what the massage kick started. Even though I feel like shit. I feel connected to myself. I know that this is part of the healing and I must honour the process.

But most of all, I’m going to honour myself by sleeping a little more and treating myself gently over the next few days so I can get back to my life. A little freer, wiser and a little lighter.

Not an Inconsequential Slip (ATFS)

Learning  how to work with my nervous system is not an easy journey. Just when I think I might have the hang of understanding my triggers and feeling pretty secure in knowing what throws me and the tools I have to undo an anxiety attack I get reminders I don’t know shit and the damage I believed was scarred over enough to be considered healed is not. 

This past weekend we had a random act of violence directed at our home. The place where I should feel safest. 1:30 in the morning and some shit head decided kicking our front door and screaming fuck you before squealing off in their car was a good (fun) idea. 

The police, in-between informing us how weird it was, felt it was random or a case or a wrong address. Not that, that made me feel any better- my heart paused for the intended victim. For anyone this would be a nerve wracking experience, but my family seems relatively calm and went back to feeling pretty secure with in a day. It has almost been five days and I am feeling like I am on fire.

Let me tell you, that hard crack of the door frame breaking, woke up a long sleeping panic twitch in my head. 

I grew up in a house that was fraught with subtle and not so subtle violence, cycles that continually repeated in my early relationships. As a child/ young woman I was often in hiding or on the run until the dangerous moment passed. I spent almost a decade of my young life being stalked and ambushed. There were many times when that same door breaking crunch was followed by threats, screams and violations of my safety. 

It has been almost 30 years since I had to worry about being followed, watched and in danger. Have I  become complacent? In a way I suppose. I felt it was what normal is supposed to be. We lock our doors at night and when we aren’t home. We have taught our daughter to be vigilant about her safety. I have worked very hard to not ‘go overboard’ or be paranoid given the history I grew up with. There is always a shadow that follows me.

I have CPTSD and anxiety. I have managed reasonable well. I succeed and fail epically with equal measure. Understanding that most of my ‘triggers’ are modes of (lack of) communication, lack of sleep, burnout and financial triggers. My daily mental health struggles cause body pain, brain fog and lack of concentration, but for the most part I am managing. It is not perfect but it is a far cry from what it was years ago. I don’t mask anymore, I give myself grace on bad days and make use of the tools I have created.

CRACK- FUCK YOU

And I have done just that. 

Sleep has been tricky, falling asleep and staying there, not twitching at every noise, not dreaming about the past darkness that created this. Trying to keep my thoughts from running away. Not wanting to lock my daughter in her room and lay off my (over blown) fears on to her. Holding back tidal waves of tears that just come on. Feeling the phantom pain from every injury I sustained in that time of my life. I thought the pain I felt these last few years when ‘triggered’ was bad, but it ain’t nothing compared to the last few days. 

Every ancient bruise, cut, break is screaming at me in the moments I try to find quiet. 

I was doing so well working with silent moments in my head, a relief that I had started to become accustom to. But right now I have music screaming into my headphones (Thank the Gods for Dave Grohl howling the pain I am feeling for me) to counter the screaming monsters.

I am bouncing from project to project. Probably annoying the eff out of people with bombing them with memes or random bits of conversation, keeping myself distracted from the old fear sitting in my stomach.

Along with this horrible feeling of not having control I am so angry. I fight so hard to be well, to not let these things drag me to the pit of self destruction. One stupid prank or ‘wrong house’ and I am on an exceptionally slippery slope. I can’t explain the depths this has pierced. Fuck you, you asshole who thought this was relatively harmless, or funny even. At other points in my life this could have taken me to a much darker place that I am currently fighting my way out of. But this is bad enough.

I will do my best in the coming days to reset my system, to have grace with myself. I will keep expressing my needs. I will keep trying for positive distractions. I will just keep trying.

New beginnings old ghosts

Lately the anxiety is bubbling just under the surface. I have had a wild month. Slings, arrows, bricks, mortar, silence and a deafening cacophony.

I had a big slip- with some help I fought back most of the way.

I have been fighting hard to breath life into the amazing opportunities in front of me.

To not be crushed by feelings of doubt and inadequacies. To not rely on ample input from the outside. To believe the reasons I’ve been given about why I’m the one who can accomplish these tasks. To trust I’m making the right choices. To not build my hopes of success by the involvement or encouragement of others. To choose carefully how I build, what I build and with who.

Trust trust trust myself

Today is shaky. Today is overwhelming. Today is very isolating. I know this place. And today, in this glorious Solstice, I cant seem to find it in me to get the monsters to be quiet, I cant seem to shake the dark. I cant seem to find my way. I am tired. I am sore. I have no voice but the inside screaming isn’t stopping.

Yet…. I have to, and I will do what needs to be done today. Measured breath, clenched jaw, head down and do what I can. Ride it out.

So tonight when I am finished doing what I must, I’m going to go to my favourite places amongst the trees, maybe find a Fae door or two. Breathe, ground, and let this finally wash through me. To let the God(dess) hold me steady, this too shall pass.

Motherless Grief and Wound Healing

Today would have been your 81st birthday. 37 years since you were on this side of the veil. In years past I often would feel a sadness or longing on this day.

But this year feels different. There has been much mental health and trauma work done this year. Uncovering some wounds that had scarred over, the scars had created a choking trap, I’ve finally found the courage to start undoing, breaking patterns, healing.

This year feels different. Longing and sadness are marred by hurt and frustration. I still miss you, I will always love you and I’m trying to find some compassion and grace for the choices you made. The choices that had consequences for so many.

A moment of quiet, a breath, remembrance, questioning and love. Happy Birthday Mom.

A Reminder

This week, my mental health feels like a yo yo.

One minute I am in such a good steady place.
So much had been poured into my cup this week. Cathartic laughter, time in nature, meaningful words, expressions of love, joyful moments of being connected. There was peace. There was easy breath.

One night of not great sleep.
One more reminder of what still needs to be done
One more heartache, added to the pile I was momentarily graced with putting down.
Only to lift once again.
An opening for those pesky little mental monsters to jump in.
They turn you raw from the inside out
They turn up the volume in your head.

Use the tools. Write it out. Distill the source if you can. Assess the reality vs fiction of what you are being told. Distraction of nature, family, comedy, story telling, conversations with friends.

My monsters are on point. They find the wee bits of unintentional salt in conversation, tiny sharp fragments observed in action. And grind them into the wounds that I am working to heal, scar over at the very least.
Misinterpretation. Misrepresentation.
This is what they do.

This too shall pass. More work. More curiosity. More understanding. More self compassion

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.

Shame- a fucking poem

Fuck you for misunderstanding me with out forgiveness

Fuck you for not trusting your place in my life

Fuck you for thinking I was not worthy of growth

Fuck you for wanting me to stay at your beck and call

Fuck you for pretending I mattered as a person 

Fuck you for expecting me to be your lapdog

Fuck you for your unacknowledged issues

Fuck you for being ok knocking me down

Fuck you for demanding I give things up that were making me happy

Fuck you for walking away

Fuck you for withdrawing your support

Fuck you for waking the unworthy feelings buried inside me

Fuck you for standing by while my mental health fell apart

Fuck you for deciding it was ok because I gave you your way

Fuck you for gaslighting me

Fuck you for not helping me get better 

Fuck you for being passive as long as I behave 

Fuck you for your lack of care for my pain

Fuck you for not being sorry

Fuck you for being angry 

Fuck you for being jealous

Fuck you engaging me and walking without explanation

Fuck you for breaking my trust

Fuck you for silence

Fuck you for not listening 

Fuck you for judging me

Fuck you for not caring

Fuck you for your possession

Fuck you for your temper

Fuck you for the guilt

Fuck you for the pain this has caused

Fuck you for the apology I will never get

Fuck you for your expectations

Fuck you for the sabotage

Fuck you for the fake support

Fuck you for every anxiety attack that grew from this poison

Fuck you for your lack of kindness

Fuck you for your lack of compassion 

Fuck you for waking up parts that were asleep

Fuck you for the binding

Fuck you for being a liar

Fuck you for letting me take the blame for everything

Fuck you for being ok that I gave up

Fuck you for the space this take up in my head

Fuck you for giving the monsters more fuel

Fuck you for shaming me for who I was growing into 

Fuck you for every tear I have cried

Fuck me for falling for it

Fuck me for taking the easy out

Fuck me for giving up

Fuck me for being silent

Fuck me for wearing shame like a cloak

Fuck me for trusting

Fuck me for not using my voice

Fuck me for giving up after trying my voice a little

Fuck me for only screaming in my head

Fuck me for fearing getting mad

Fuck me for being afraid of being abandoned

Fuck me for needing to be seen

Fuck me for being stuck in this place

Fuck me for believing in loyalty

Fuck me for not thinking I matter

Fuck me for not feeling strong enough to grow on my own

Fuck me for my lack of self love

Fuck me for my abundance of self loathing

Fuck me for expecting I mattered enough to apologize to

Fuck me for willingly taking all the responsibility 

Fuck me for hoping that someone would notice

Fuck me for shrinking inside

Fuck me for rebuilding my prison 

Fuck me for not being able to trust

Fuck me for not placing the good things above this

Fuck me for every tear I choked on because 

Fuck me for patterned self sabotage 

Fuck me for not screaming FUCK YOU