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- Pain Contemplation

‘You deserve to be pain free.’

This statement has been sitting with me for a few days. A simple statement. One that felt like it had been in a foreign language I had never heard. I hadn’t realized until that moment that I hadn’t believed it to be true. A statement that pierced something deep- my reflex was to just talk/excuse over it. But here it sits, still rolling around my brain like a loose marble.

These last few years have been really hard on my body. I have been hard on my body.

My mental health monsters cause physical pain.

Past and current injuries sometimes sing in unison, sometimes compete for the lead.

There is not a day where I am not aware of something, burning, aching, stabbing, tightening….

It is not as though I don’t do anything for the pain I feel.

But the levels are now consistent and high enough that over the counter pain relievers don’t do a lot.

I still use them, along with multiple other things to help keep me functioning in my life. I use hot and cold, stretching, topical potions, cbd/thc and massage. Most giving me a few hours of decreased pain, massage being the one that brings better, longer relief, yet still temporary. The one thing I haven’t added in was any form of prescription pain relieving narcotic.

I have a complicated history with most pharmaceuticals. They often don’t do what they are meant to in my body. My genetic history is riddled with mental health and addiction markers. I am very reluctant to use strong pain relievers, especially in the opiate family.

‘You deserve to be pain free’

So why did this statement hit me so hard?

It was nothing I had considered before. My reasoning makes sense in many ways. Worry about side effects, cost and the biggest worry falling into addiction. It has me contemplating my hard stance.

That statement reminded me it doesn’t have to be all or nothing. That with care, consideration and proper support, it is an avenue that may be of service to me.

That gentle statement has led me to contemplating more…..

Do I punish myself? Am I resigned to carry this physical discomfort with restricted relief.? Why is this ok? How do I allow this with myself? Do I feel supported? Where do these barriers come from……

Deeper into the shadows I go for more answers.

When the Levee in My Head Breaks

The screaming in my head leaks out

Every sensation amplified and painful

Control is lost

Monsters move in

I can’t speak words

I cry, rage, fear, disappointment

Irrational

Shaking till it feels like I will explode

Curl tighter and tighter into that ball

‘I’m sorry’ are the only words that can be made of out the mush in my mouth

Why sorry?

For all the things I’ve ever (not) done

For breaking

For being

What triggered this? You want to know- all of it, none of it- the crowded loneliness in my head

The work I’ve done, today feels for naught

I am so far away- what do you need? I’m asked. I don’t know -comes the swift reply

I need this to stop

I need to be truly heard

I need quiet in my head

I need the pain to go away

I need the weight of responsibility lightened

I need to be held together till the shaking stops

I need it to be recognized it was never all mine, even though I took it, it was never all mine

Not praise nor encouragement for accountability

But understanding it’s too much and it was never all mine

I make a deal with the monsters, they can have their space,

just give me enough clarity to keep one foot in front of the other, a thought or two and a dry eye when others are near.

Fix the mask once more- temporarily hope it holds. Ignore the discomfort, swallow the bile building in my stomach.

Let’s just play pretend on more day.

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

No Longer

I no longer fit.

Every title

Every category

you’ve ever given me

no longer applies

by your terms.

In the same breath

to cross my lips

would be

thank you fuck you

It’s been exhausting to

Please

Defy

You –

much is met with indifference

Horror

Admiration

I shrank to meet your comfort

I bloomed for your

Entertainment

I died a thousand times

To be remade in desired image

Ignored

Bled dry

Imprisoned by Worship

Impaled by disdain

I no longer fit

I will grow

I will learn

Defined

by my own Terms

Opaque

Where does this empty come from?

What am I looking for?

Maybe… it’s nothing? But it feels like everything

Why is the validation so needed- to prove I am here? I exist? I made a difference.

I imagine this is what a ghost feels like

A neat anomaly- presence sometimes detected

Rarely seen

Rarely heard

Do they go on day to day? Doing their ghostly things to keep them busy. Hoping for relief from the empty where they are stuck. Do they hang around to see if their existence made a difference? Do they feel the same there as they did in life?

Maybe I am a ghost. Doing ghostly things. Sometimes being heard by those who are sometimes sensitive- sometimes being seen when it’s time for parlour tricks.

The Risk of Speaking

When I was a child I don’t remember being comforted often when I would cry or was fearful. The few times I recall my Mother comforting me, would have been when my father was on a drunken tear, or we were on the run. When I was twelve and my Mother was dying I never really cried in front of anyone. Not even at her funeral. I tried hard to never complain. I was praised often for being strong.

Even before this, in my family, openly expressed emotion other than rage and anger was never safe. Rebuked for being pouty and weak, tears, pain and fear were to be kept hidden. Eggshells must be walked to keep this peace.

Then came the praise. ‘You’re so strong. We never have to worry about you, you just get on with it.’

No one helped me or showed me then, that sorrow, grief, fear and vulnerability are all acceptable and worthy of support.

This burying of emotion became a lifelong destructive habit.

Fast forward through added trauma of rape and abuse in my teens.

I can tell you with clear eyed accuracy what these events have done to me. But the open vulnerability, expressed pain, tears – that was only expressed alone, often late into the night. Curled in a ball, howling, searing pain, hot uncontrollable tears. The breaking moments often resulted in self harm, cutting, hitting myself until raw and bruised. Praying for death but not wanting to hurt anyone who might be affected by it. Eating until I was numb. Trying to gain control. Manic in achieving what no one believed I could.

But… ‘Hey, you’re so strong, look at you! You moved forward, away from it.’ Physically yes, but those monsters are beaten deep down into me.

No one saw me cry, or held me through the pain of giving my son up for adoption. Praised and congratulated for making such a wonderful decision, a needed and good decision. I’ve never regretted it, but as any mother knows the pain of separation from your child rips through you and you are not sure how you will survive.

More praise for my strength, my fortitude and my ability to make something of myself. This, I had read as, to not crack in front of anyone, to never really let anyone know that I don’t have it together, I am in pain or that I am unsure of what I can do.

Praise for my ability to be such a great open support for others. Always a shoulder, an ear, a firm unwavering hug as one would melt down and open up. I never blink, condemn or walk away from anyone in these moments. I give freely what I crave so deeply.

I cry in movies, tv shows, certain books have opened flood gates and being witness to other people’s tragedies can bring heartfelt tears quickly. I have the added good fortune of being an empath through and through. Often chided for being so affected by the things and people around me.

More praise for how open I am about trauma and my journey. The wonderment at what I’ve built, how far I’ve come, my ability to always have a survival plan when shit goes sideways.

Plaudits for being able to describe the inner battles with my mental demons and the hard painful darkness where my mental health battles take place. Yet- it is not allowable for anyone to see the physical release, the raw vulnerability of my emotions.

On the rare occasion the actual emotion bubbles out ( not the description, or the story after the fact), it is met often with

‘Don’t cry, I can’t handle that right now.’

‘You’ll figure it out, you always do.’

‘It’s not so bad.’

‘You’re strong, you’ll get through it.’

Well meaning most times, but reinforces in my head that I am not allowed this vulnerability, it (I) will be rejected.

My fear is that I will be abandoned, viewed as ugly, unhealed and unworthy.

The more praise I get for who I present that I am, what I do and my strength and compassion, the more stifled screaming in the shower, pinching and scratching takes place in the dark.

A few years back, there was a moment in time, that by circumstance and a series of things happened, triggered emotional responses I could not control. Significant losses coupled with burgeoning self realization cracked wide a firmly welded shut box of yuk. By some strange timing/alinement there happened to be a witness to these moments. It was someone I did not know well, but seemed to connect quickly to. At the time this person seemed to offer a non judgmental, safe friendship. I was not judged or stifled, I was validated and allowed the space to express. I felt like I had been heard and seen and not found to be disgusting. I had experienced a moment of safety.

This lasted a short time, as my fear was soon realized that this person, while kind at the time, eventually saw me as damaged and ugly… too much. I believe now, that in the instances I allowed my self the humanness, the vulnerability of raw expression in their presence, they felt trapped and forced to support.

There was a cold abrupt ending to this. I was too much. I had heard later from another, I had been actually seen as a triggering shrew. This was never said directly to me, just cold silence- no matter how I had tried to make amends. Falling into the old patterns of apologizing for my human failings and pain. Desperate to reclaim my value and worth despite the ugliness I could not hide. Again my monsters read this as proof, I am a helper not allowable to be helped. I have not openly wept in front of another person about how I am affected by life since then.

Please note- I am not relaying this to paint the other as intentionally hurtful or cruel, they too are to be given the grace of being human. I realistically understand most reactions (as are mine) are personal and a preset in that own person’s journey and I am not belittling this. However this is told from my perception and with lack of communication to understand the other’s point of view I can only operate from my own experience.

Fast forward a little more. I still share my journey, analytical, smooth writing, story sharing, describing emotion in order to connect with others ( a safe, removed way of partial vulnerability). Still open and unblinking in my support of others. Ready with space, a hug, acceptance of their dark, steady while their tears flow. I champion that expression and vulnerability to be allowable, acceptable and supported.

Those who’ve known me longest still praise the stoic. I’ve set up cycles where if my live emotion is detected it must be solved immediately to avoid inconvenience and discomfort.

After my most recent experiences in trying to find acceptance for my human reactions I collapsed deeper into distrust that I could find that safe space. I have been working on changing this, on being ok to risk that openness, but trust is a gossamer thread. When you open up and allow your vulnerability to be see by anyone and it is rejected, ignored, derided or completely trampled on, intensionally or not, it is devastating.

I asked once, why, when I ask for support or help I feel that I’m often denied the space, or my need is minimized. I was told I am at fault because I have set up the view that I can move forward and get through anything on my own. So no one believes I may need more.

My own survival techniques have failed me here- but my acting must be stellar.

I know there are beautiful souls who would offer me this grace and have. But the minute I perceive that they may allow me this, I freeze, stiffen and do not allow more than dry words to express where/how I am. No tears, no confusion, no real time release. No chance of rejection if I don’t allow it.

I don’t know how to change this. I don’t know if I have it in me to risk that part again. Yet I know how vitally important this is.

I am unafraid of seeing another’s deep wounds, but deeply afraid of showing the live versions of my own. I am working on this. I am hoping to be better at choosing the places where I will be safe. But for now this is my safest place. Flat descriptive words for sharing. Loud music and the shower for expressing.

I’m grateful to those who see me as safe and are willing to share. It is an honour to be a part of the journey. I’m grateful to those who read, converse with me and tell me they have space for me, when and if I am ever ready. But for now the risk of speaking triggers an immediate danger response I have yet to figure out how to cut the wires to.