Tag: vulnerability

Contemplation Over Coffee

Four full days left of my 40s. I have made some positive changes, there are plans swirling around my head- but for the most part, that is where things are, my head. I feel like I have been sitting on my hands, so many reasons and excuses why I haven’t yet……… Letting modern life distract me. Phones, media, shiny things, telling myself that I will, and I can, then continuing to scroll.

My last post was contemplating how I am to ring in 50, glib statements on cliched expectations. I blame exhaustion. What has me exhausted? Life, the weight of my own expectations and inaction. Fear of what’s stirring inside me won’t be understood or appreciated. I can not house and honour my spirit if I let the temple crumble. And honestly I have been treating this temple the way a slumlord of the finest order would treat a low income apartment. A little paint here, cut rate fixes there and a poster over the holes on the wall.

I know there is much inside, and I am not sure how to access it, how to cultivate the Crone I am with still being able to manage the life that needs to be. I want to be creating, there are thoughts of magical things that are bursting like fireworks with in me. Spring Equinox/Ostara is upon us. The next few days will be an Altar change, baking and celebrating the emergence of life. I am a spring baby, born just the other side of the equinox. Perhaps that is why my heart and soul thrive at the thought of growth and change. Yet there are things that hold me back. Laundry, vacuuming, job responsibilities… the endless mundane drain that can fill a day and before you know it, the sun is down, it is time to sleep so you can manage it all again tomorrow.

Maybe something has changed? It wasn’t until I had passed the age my mother had lived to, that I started adorning my temple with magical symbols, the first were representing the lines from where I come, wards to hold the mental demons at bay, representations of the weapons I carry in my heart. This last round included a command/ reminder/spell to remind me that ‘I must write to empty my head or I go mad’ and ‘I create therefor I live’. It’s now a sign on the temple that must be observed.

For the first time, in a seriously long time, last night I took a crack at a little fiction story that has been wobbling around my head, the start was slow, 100s of words started, then discarded… A few little outside prompts and I was able to get well over 1700 words before my heavy eyes needed to call it a night. It was a fearful relief. Cracking open that vault is scary, as I don’t know yet how to tame the voices there to let each story flow the way it needs to be told. That goes for the stories that are true as well.

A few years back I had tried to disseminate the words that had piled up, I am proud of the stories that begun then, but there was a kind of madness that took over and it started to feel like I had to choose, staying in that creative space or being in ‘life’ and managing all the responsibilities that entailed. Do I feel better prepared on this precipice of 50, to wrangle the tangle of creatures and words that need to be told? I want to believe I am, I want to believe that there has been something in me that has gotten stronger and wiser (isn’t that what comes with age?).

But what of the temple? It is time to be serious about repairs, honouring the strength I will need to move forward, no longer allowing the things that defeat me to be a reason… hyper discipline and denial? No, not that road again. No punishing exercise, no ‘bad’ foods, no false positives. It is time to follow what I have been telling others for a long time. Meet yourself with love and compassion. What will keep the temple foundations strong? What is the fuel needed to keep the fires of creation and love stoked? What will keep the philosophies and ideas in the inner sanctum safe from the monsters that come to knock? What do I need to be of service but not empty? The big puzzle is how the fuck do I fit this into a day and still be a mother, wife, friend, run my business, teach and be a badass Witch?

It has been written in permanent ink on my body, the words I have long carried in my soul. If I can not live the embodiment of all that I have experienced until now, what is the point? I know that I do not have all the wisdom I need, but I have enough to know that I can not strive for perfection as that will keep me immobile, I must strive to feel and be immersed in every drop I have left to touch, taste, feel, listen, connect, share, create and love.

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

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.

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

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.