Sharing Life With Light

Tags

alive, art, art therapy, connection, healing, health, hope, invitation, journey, life, Life WIth Light, light, meaning, mental health, moving, My Life, new blog, path, purpose, relationship, therapy, value

Hi friends and followers,

Lol, it feels like I’m saying something like “Greetings Earthlings.”  Sorry.

I really just want to discuss some new things that are happening with anyone who has kept up or been keeping an eye on my blog here.

If you’ve noticed (or not! and no worries if you haven’t!) I have not been posting a lot to this blog.  It is not because I am abandoning it or am in the dark.  It is more that I am moving on. The light has been with me, and I have been with the light…and we’re starting to have a relationship.  And as relationships go, they take a lot of time, commitment and energy.  It’s an exciting time, especially when a relationship is so fresh and new, so I don’t want to leave you out of it.

The light has taken off in me, and I am taking off with it.  My new blog (and one which I believe is more permanent) is here.  http://www.LifeWithLight.wordpress.com.  Here, I am exploring Life With Light through my Art Therapy Journey…It’s about life, art, and what it all means to me.  (And it means a lot!)

Please feel free to join me there and connect with me as I have also created a related Facebook page where I can share on a different level and, hopefully, maybe even get to know you.

I value my relationships and connections so know that I have tested out these new waters before bringing you into the tide.  The waters at Life With Light are moving, but a lot more stable and clear.

I am ever-growing through this journey of life and I have faith that I am going somewhere (without knowing where the Light is exactly leading me) with these tears of happiness and relief even among the pain and grief that I at times still sift through.  It is all part of the beautiful experience called “Alive.”

Thank you for sharing your life with me! Hope to see you at the new pad! 🙂

 

 

 

Somedays

Tags

again, all over, ALONE, alone again, anger, bad, bad day, cuss out, dream, Fuck, fucking, God, job, losing family, loss, Merlot, mother, oh yeah loss again, Profanity, release, repeat, Shit, shit filled, shitty, tattoo up your ass fundraiser, the end, wine

Somedays, when the days are so good, I cannot fathom coming here to spend one single second, and for that, I’m sorry.  I’m sorry because I kept it all for me and didn’t share and because I did that I also cannot come back here to see that good day in action when it has, inevitably, and once again, fallen down into the deep dark.

So here I am.  Dark again.  So dark I’m blind and dizzy.

I’m drunk with restrictions.  Restrictions of all kinds.  I’m ingest them fervently.

NO food, NO breath, NO light.

I am angry for my ability to say no to all that is supposed to be good.  Because it seems like the only thing left to say no to. Because it gets twisted and contorted into some kind of goodness to say “no” to such things.

I had a dream that included my therapist  (when I was still drunk and sleeping) last night.  The first thing I heard this morning when I opened my eyes, “Wow, you really cussed “B” out last night.”) According to my husband it was pretty intense and so loud that I woke him up and I was saying “Fuck” a lot.  Fuck.  And my day has followed that kind of feeling pattern ever since.

My dream (or rather, hearing about my dream) left me feeling very vulnerable and unsafe and alone.  I depend on the space of therapy for a lot of my stability right now.  Therapy gives me my practice space in life.  Therapy is where I can stand up and let go a little and maybe even take a few steps.  Then I grab back on as I head out the door with the knowledge that I did let go and I can risk doing it again outside those doors.

But sometimes I fucking crash and land on my head.  Hard.  And it splits open and shit gushes EVERYWHERE.

Fuck.

And that’s the kind of day it has been.  Except for I’m pretty much sure I didn’t let go of anything.  I’m pretty sure all this gushing spewing out of me is because somebody to a baseball bat to my brain.  There is not possible way this is of my own doing.

Bad day.

Really bad day.

Extremely bad day.

The kind of day I sit back at the end, now, and hope to God I’m going to wake up and my husband is going to tell me I  had this really crazy, loud dream and it won’t be real.

But my husband is upstairs sleeping, and I am not.

Maybe you’re wondering why I was drunk last night?

It’s because I had to go to a (f-ing, I’m trying so hard not to cuss because I want to be a christian girl…and fuck me, why can’t I be like those ones who never swear?) It’s because I had to go to a lovely hoity-toity fundraiser where you can buy a table to sit and immerse yourself in bullshit and bad food for a measly few grand with my husband on the “invitation” of his boss who kindly suggested this might be where we  should be on an otherwise lovely Saturday evening.

So I had to.  I had to have the first, second, third and fourth glass of Merlot.  Except for at the end when the Merlot ran out and they gave me Cab.

at least 400 calories wasted on miserable fundraiser people.  And believe me, I like to raise money for a good cause and would never complain, but the cause was not for anything with soul or heart.  It was for old money with tattoo’s in their ass crack who, therefore, had to walk around with their cheeks very tight together so nobody dare see.

I’m moody.

I think I’m pmsing.

And I think this is the worst day of my fucking life.

And I want to cuss out my therapist for no reason that I am aware of in my daily life, but I sure as hell want to tell him the fuck off!

Why?

Why why why why why.

This day  and night is so bigly bad I can’t even get into it.  This fucking little posting box is just pissing me off more because it cannot hold all that is inside me right now.

God, why didn’t I get to be a good girl?

I always wanted to be one of the ones that was sort of born that way.  One of the ones that maybe forgot once and wore a skirt two mm above their knee and not all the way to the ankle.  One of those girls who are soft and wholesome and don’t say fuck.  Fuck.  Fuck Fuck.

P.S. Good Days Happen

Tags

friends, God, good days, healing, hope, life, light, Marriage, motherhood, My Life, parenting, recovery, relationships

Even if a day is neutral in itself, I’m convinced the reality is that some of them are, indeed, good.

I have rather enjoyed mine!

More to come.

The Meaning of the Word

Tags

change, chaos, consciousness, dream, feelings, healing, journey, life, light, My Life, new, reconciliation, spaz, story, uncomfortable, Words

It’s been a while since I’ve been able to get here.  Life has been very busy, especially in my head!

And everywhere else too, it seems.  My body, my heart.  Inside and outside.

I came out of the dark, or the dark came out of me or I just moved to another place…something somewhere has shifted and I no longer feel like I can’t go on.

I have been busy reconciling things, and it’s funny to me that the word “reconcile” popped into my brain to describe what is happening on this journey now.  I’m not sure I even know what reconcile means!  It reminds me of one of my dreams I had last night (I had many mini dreams.)  In one of my dreams, which I have to note I only remember very vaguely now, I was in a situation (can’t remember the situation or where I was, but I feel it blurry and whizzing around in my head) where I was given a pouch of words or letters and I was to randomly pick a word/letter out of the bag and do something with it.  I think I was supposed to write about it and how it related to me, in the dream.  And then I was supposed to do something else with it, I think share it with a room full of people (who I was with…don’t ask me who or where we were.)  And in the dream I only know the word was not  reconcile!  It was some other word that I did not know the meaning of…but unfortunately I quickly forgot the word (I am pretty sure it started with an “A” ?) when I came to consciousness (and a consciousness discussion is way too deep for me right now, but the consciousness issue always make me want to go on an exploratory tangent, so I’m restraining myself for the sake of sleep tonight and possibly receiving a second chance answer to what that word was from last nights dream that I can’t remember now.)

(See what I mean when I say my head has been busy?)

Anyway, where was I?

Reconcile…(from http://www.freedictionary.com)

rec·on·cile v. rec·on·ciled, rec·on·cil·ing, rec·on·ciles v.tr. 1. To reestablish a close relationship between. 2. To settle or resolve. 3. To bring (oneself) to accept: He finally reconciled himself to the change in management. 4. To make compatible or consistent: reconcile my way of thinking with yours. See Synonyms at adapt. v.intr. 1. To reestablish a close relationship, as in marriage: The estranged couple reconciled after a year. 2. To become compatible or consistent: The figures would not reconcile. [Middle English reconcilen, from Old French reconcilier, from Latin reconcilire : re-, re- +concilire, to conciliate; see conciliate.]

The American Heritage® Dictionary of the English Language, Fourth Edition copyright ©2000 by Houghton Mifflin Company. Updated in 2009. Published by Houghton Mifflin Company. All rights reserved.

Hm, no wonder I had to look it up.  There has not been a whole lot of this word in my life!  But I was right, as I stated earlier.  I have actually been very busy reconciling.

Might I say…it’s loaded?  “Loaded”…I’m not sure if I look loaded up in the dictionary if the definition would quite meet the depth of how I mean ‘loaded’ to be here. Because how this feels to me is not even identifiable.  It’s not of a world I have ever been in.

So, I am working on things.  I could have said that and made this post a lot more succinct, but…I’m getting into details more now, I guess.

Oh, a lot going on.  A lot I don’t even know of, a lot I am only half (give or take) aware of even, which brings us back to the whole consciousness topic, and I’m devoted to not going there tonight.

I am working on things.  I don’t know what that means yet either, it just dawned on me.

But…regardless..no doubt I am.

 

Breathe Down the Defenses.

Tags

abuse, armor, breath, breathing, children, energy, feelings, Forgiveness, grief, healing, Heart, life, Marriage, Max Strom, My Life, pain, parenting, recovery, relationships, release, shame, story, therapy, yoga

I haven’t been in the mood to write much.  I don’t know why. Maybe I feel vulnerable.

I surprised myself and attended all of the workshops with Max Strom I signed up for last weekend.

After “The Healing Power of Forgiveness” lecture Max presented, I stayed awake late into the morning hours because I couldn’t sleep.  I wasn’t really thinking anything, so it’s not like my thoughts were keeping me up.  I was just filled with energy.

So much energy.

I still actually feel that way, even though I have been extremely tired/wiped out at the same time.

I actually told some of my friends about Max coming to town because I had already shared about his “Learn to Breathe” DVD on Facebook before I ever knew he was coming to town.  So one of my best friends and her husband decided to come with me for the Forgiveness lecture.

It was nice to not be there alone.  It’s been so long since I haven’t felt alone in this healing process (if this process is a healing process and not something else I don’t even know yet.)  There are still times I feel really alone, but the structure of my life –and me– is changing.  I’m a lot more open these days, more uninhibited, more real (I’d say,) and less ashamed.

(As an aside, I did get to use my special Forgiveness Tissues I mentioned in my last post. I even got to share them. )

The shame waves still take me down every once in a while, but they don’t seem to be as high as they used to be.  Not as powerful.  Either I’ve gotten stronger or the shame has become weaker…or maybe both…which is extremely cool.

I’m able to step back when it feels like I’m about to go down and say, “Wait a minute, that’s shame and it’s not really mine.”  Or…which isn’t quite as fun (but no less useful)  I am able to step back and look at what I’m experiencing and see where I need to step up and grow beyond myself a little bit…or a lot, but with realistic expectations.

Oh, this growing thing.

I have therapy tonight.

I sometimes wish I could just punch things into a computer and put all the pieces together to make them whole again without all the elements having to actually go through getting where they need to be.  But then it wouldn’t be real life, and real life is what I’m after.  I don’t want just a virtual life.

The part that is so hard is looking up,  making eye contact and not just watching images interact on a screen.

In his workshops, Max actually spoke on how with the technologic developments that are going on robots are becoming more human and humans are becoming less so.   It’s easy to see and say that, harder to take responsibility for our humanity and counteract it.

Especially when so many people are hurting.

It’s sometimes seems easier (and better) to stop breathing and let the robots do it for us.I know it’s a lie.  Most things that steal true, authentic life away is a lie.

But lies can be enticing, even when you know what it is.

The lie says you can do that (in this case, not breathe) and still get away with it.

LIE.

Anyway, Max didn’t talk about lies.  He talked about breathing.  And he didn’t just talk about it.  He demonstrated and taught how to do it too.

I like lectures, but I’m always getting myself caught up in these damn experiential things! lol

A word about Max Strom that I haven’t really read anywhere else.  He’s known as a respected yoga teacher and somebody who teaches deep breathing (the kind that actually gives and sustains real life,) but nowhere have I ever seen that Max…is for the children.

Yes, Max is a teacher who gets it.

Hang in with me here as I try to explain…

He understands about the hurt and pain and struggles of our lives, but he’s not blind to the origin.  Our pasts…and most commonly, our childhood.  Without saying a word about creepy inner child stuff (Inner child stuff is not really creepy, but it has always just creeped me out.) he speaks to the inner child (through teaching breath, it’s the inner child part of us who I think has stopped breathing, and we just follow along…my words, NOT Max’s…so this part is my spin on what I learned from him this weekend)…and then once he sees that he had taught our inner child (or teenager) how to breathe…he reaches out to the children who are really in our homes.

I can’t even name the times Max directly spoke about the children in our lives and in our world who need us to breathe down the defenses of our armored lives, our armored chests.

‘Breathe down the defenses’ are my words too, but that’s how I interpreted what I learned.  And…it’s what happened in the space of the hours I was in workshops this weekend and what I’m committed to working on from here on ever-after.

I’m sure there’s a lot more that will come out as a result of what I learned.  It’s hard to put it into a summary of words because breathing (in my mind) is such a right-brained thing, even if breathing deeply takes some focused effort.  Maybe the effort lessens some after you’ve done it longer.  It’s too bad we take one deep breath when we’re born and then it seems they get shorter and more shallow as life progresses.

I say, let’s reverse that trend.

I’m going to do my part!

(It’s simple to join me.)

ps.  I don’t make any money off of this! 😉

Ready: Ready or Not

Tags

breath, breathing, feelings, Forgiveness, God, healing, health, life, Max Strom, My Life, path, relationships, story, yoga

The day has come.

I knew it would come.  I’ve prepared for it for years.

I don’t know when it hit me that I knew this would be part of the story, but the feeling/knowledge has been around seemingly forever.  Maybe it’s something as simple as breath…and it originates with the breath and wherever breath comes from.

Simple, huh…that breathing thing.

Yeah.    Right.

A couple of months ago I posted here about breathing and a guy, Max Strom, who teaches people how to breathe.

A few weeks after I discovered Max Strom and his dedication to breathing I went to a yoga class at my local studio and learned that he was coming to see me!  Ok, maybe his intention was not to come see me, but he was coming to lead some classes at the very studio I attend!

And it all begins tonight.

What begins?

FORGIVENESS.  Oh yeah, forgiveness.

Forgiveness?  I thought this was about breathing!?

It has sometimes seemed almost like a dirty word.

In the world of healing it’s one of the very biggest words I can think of…just to even think of.

Loaded.  Like guns are sometimes loaded.  Big.

Max Strom, the guy who is a respected yoga teacher who also understands the importance of breathing in life is starting off with a bang by presenting a lecture aptly titled, “The Healing Power of Forgiveness”

I have an inkling that these tissues I picked up recently are soon going to have the perfect occasion for their début.

Forgiveness Tissues?

Some years ago, after the abuse from my former therapist and after the extended stay on a (emotional) trauma unit in a hospital, I picked up a book titled, “Daily Affirmations For Forgiving & Moving On-Powerful Inspiration for Personal Change” by Tian Dayton, Ph.D.

Like I said, I knew a long time ago this day would come.  I at least hoped for it to.  It was at least on my mind.

My heart wanted to want it.

I am heart-scared.  I am the cowardly lion.

I’m walking into that realm.  I’ve had this book and scary thoughts and deep gut feelings for years that one day dealing with the topic of Forgiveness would enter onto my path.  I tried to look at the “Forgiveness Book” when I purchased it, but never really made it past the title, itself.

I didn’t know what exactly was in there, but I wasn’t ready for it.

It was foreign.  It even seemed insulting.  Yet, I still knew I needed it.  I wanted it.  I spent my hard-earned cash on it.  At the time I was single and not even close to making ends meet and I still bought this book.

Now, I know there’s no magic in this book.  There probably won’t necessarily be “magic” in Max’s lecture tonight, as much as I’m extremely excited about being in person to hear it.  But the magic-or the real scary blessing-is that the presence of this in my life has arrived.

And the timing, of all things!

And here’s another interesting tidbit.  I had even forgotten that I had the Forgiveness Affirmations book until yesterday when my 10-month old baby daughter was checking out the bookcase and started pulling books off the shelf to show me.

Guess what she handed me….

You got it!

So, tonight I’m attending Max Strom’s lecture on The Healing Power of Forgiveness.  And if you’re wondering, I did actually purchase his breathing DVD titled “Learn to Breath to Heal Yourself and Your Relationships” like I said I would in my February post. It’s still sitting, safe and sound, in the hidden darkness of it’s DVD case.  I took it out once to preview it while I cleaned the house.  I thought it looked exceptionally good and like something I really needed.  And that’s where my breathing practice ended.

But now here it is.  The real deal, living and breathing right in front of me.

And I’m ready, ready or not.

It’s going to be a busy few days.

I am signed up for tonight’s lecture on Forgiveness as well as Movement and Breathing workshops for Saturday and Sunday, consecutively titled, “Avoiding a Near Life Experience” “Transformational Breath” and “Your Next Fifty Years: Breath and Balance Workshop”

And on a completely different, but potentially related subject…On Sunday, after my workshops with Max are complete, I’m heading immediately across the street for a sewing class I signed up for (without knowing I already had all of this other stuff going on)…another skill that I haven’t mastered that I think could quite possibly be essential for life!

Naptime, Surgery and…Life?

Tags

conversation, family, feelings, God, home, housewife, inspiration, life, Marriage, motherhood, My Life, parenthood, Passion, pray, story, surgery, truth serum, work

I just gotta say, before I even get started…it is naptime again.  This is the only time I get to come here to write and share my world that is so unwritten, so not waiting on a free moment to give me to process it!  So my baby will probably wake up long before I am actually done with a complete working of my brain’s thoughts right now.

I survived surgery.  I actually talked through the surgery with the surgeon’s nurse about aging and choosing whether to age with grace…or not.  She is outspokenly of the latter.  However, I think grace looks decidedly better.  And I kind of told her.  I was probably injected with a truth serum.  I named Jamie Lee Curtis and Helen Mirren in my defense.  (And the many less named women in the world…the real masterpieces of our landscape…ah you know them when you see them!  Fought for wrinkles that usually crinkly around lit up eyes and mouths…that’s who I want to be anyway.)

During surgery my tattoos and my “interesting” life also came up.  My surgeon’s nurse wanted to know what made me classify my life “interesting” and I laid there, kind of unable to move, more than just because there was a surgical instrument stuck in my side.  I about choked on the oxygen that wasn’t over my mouth.

I said, “I’m not sure what you really want to know.” Lol.  My surgeon seemed to get it pretty quickly.  “Is it like family stuff?” he said.  “Um, yeah.  You could say that.”  I’m pretty sure my surgeon and his nurse made eye contact after that and then decided to move on without probing anymore than they already were in the process of doing because there was a silent pause and a few more moments than normal before conversation started up again.  And at that point I don’t even remember what was said. I think maybe it was a compliment about how amazing my red hair looked inside the blue hair cap/covering I was wearing.

Anyway, I’ve decided recently I need more time for myself.  Like, I want to go back to work.  Not that I don’t work all day everyday and all that jazz, but I want to do more work.  I need some help with the baby to do it.  I’m not sure how I’m going to acquire that help or how I’m going to manage my second work schedule around the first one I’ve already got, but it must be done.  And I’m pretty sure it will be done.  Well…I’m trying to trust that if it has anything to do with God’s Will it will be?

I am really trying to learn.  Really trying to breathe and let go and just live this amazing incredible life that I feel I am trying to cram so much into.  I can’t seem to get enough time at any given time.  I just feel this push and drive for time.  Like my time is limited. I know it’s limited.  There are ALWAYS limits to anything.  But I just feel like there’s so much to be done.

And as much as I want to be the mother that loves being a housewife…I’ve kind of changed and I love my family and my husband and children…but “housewife” is not me anymore.  It feels like I have been a housewife all of my life, from the time I was just a little girl.  And there’s something else inside of me.  I know this is temporary and life goes on and children grow up and it is precious time and on the outside I know “I’m what dreams are made of.”  This is my mantra during every miserable housewifeish task I complete every single day.

This just isn’t me.  What if I’m actually a better mother if I’m…just not this?

Omg, I have SO much energy.  It’s incredible amount of energy bursting inside me.  Maybe it’s this cleanse.  Maybe it’s that I haven’t had sugar and its subsequent crashes for 6 days now!  Maybe it’s because I’m coming clean…coming clean with it ALL.

I’m not really happy doing this!  So I’m working on finding a way to make it work and I will work to make it work and  work, work, work and think think think and pray pray pray and keep moving my feet and my heart and walk the walk.

I’m afraid this sounds like I don’t love my family, but I do!  It’s because I actually do that I am “going there.”

It’s April, after all, and I’m still alive.  Thank goodness I didn’t die 4 months ago.  Or maybe I did and I’ve been reborn?

I just don’t know.

I just don’t know.

 

There’s just so much more…and I can’t explain.

Time’s up!

 

I remember that.

Tags

cleanse, family, feelings, life, massage, memories, My Life, remembering

When I was little I always hoped that I would be adopted.  It didn’t matter that I never was in foster care or that anyone hardly noticed I was alive…other than when they did notice (and, then they noticed a lot) and always seemed to be really upset about it.

Sometimes I had hopes about my own family.  I would get my hopes up when there would be a moment of laughter…which usually came after a really big fight of some sort.  There was so much tension all the time.  I think I took it all into me.  I was the youngest and the smallest, and out of the kids there were only the two of us.  I was kind of the runt.  And I didn’t mind being the runt.  Being the runt can be nice and safe sometimes.

I was always somewhere else.  I happened to get a massage today and went somewhere else.  I went a few places, actually, but one of them was my first grade classroom.  I remember it. Not vibrantly, but it’s not muddy either.  It’s blurry…but moving images are there.  And what I remembered today while I was in my first grade classroom was looking out the windows.  Our classroom had windows that lined one wall facing toward the playground.   I remember a sunny playground with black and white rock asphalt topping.  I don’t remember too much from 1st grade.  But when it comes time for me to answer security questions…i use info. from a memory i have kept about 1st grade.  Even if that means sharing that info. means my security questions aren’t as secure anymore?

It was really 2nd grade that I was thinking about when I went there.  I was thinking about how when I was in second grade I would never ask the teacher to use the restroom when I really had to go.  I was too scared to upset her and make her mad because I knew the classroom rule was that students were only supposed to be allowed to use the restroom at designated “restroom break” times. And believe me, I always used those times!  But sometimes I’d really have to use the restroom even more than that.  But I would never ask.  This started to cause a real and serious physical problem for me because I had undergone a surgery that was in “that realm” a few years earlier, and it was physically important that I have access to the restroom when needed.  I remember my mom telling me I didn’t have a choice about asking the teacher to let me go, even if it wasn’t a scheduled time.  I was always so afraid to ask.  Even though it’s what I needed, for real needed, and wasn’t just trying to get out of classroom time like most of the kids who always wanted to leave the room when they could find an excuse.  And also about second grade…I remember learning how to tell time and count money because there was a workbook that you tore out paper coins from and the teacher had us rearrange and count in all sorts of benign ways.  I was never really very good at telling time or money.  Oh, and I remember show-and-tell!  And I also remember one day where we had some kind of fitness drive going on at school and everyone participated in aerobics led over the intercom in their classrooms.  I remember thinking that was so bizarre and fantastic!

And I don’t know why I’m remembering that.

Maybe it’s because in therapy we’ve been talking about asking for things and making requests.  Maybe it’s because this cleanse I’m doing is in some odd way related.  (Even though it’s not really “clearing me out,” at least, yet.)  Maybe it’s because I’ve experienced so much fear lately, along with really having a strong drive to put myself out there in life.

Maybe it’s just because I’m growing and I’m processing little tidbits.  Maybe it’s like when you juice something.  There’s the juice, which is usually the goal, and then there’s all that pulp.  What to do with all the pulp?!

To get back to the present day, producing all that pulp has gotten me thinking about starting my compost again.  It’s still just a great idea in my brain and it needs to find a new home.  A home, like maybe in the corner of our backyard…or somewhere where the neighbors won’t complain about me having a compost. Again, scared of upsetting someone else for doing something on my own property that isn’t hurting anyone.

Anyway, I’m just getting really tired of doing this.  I’m not tired of the cleanse.  I’m not even really tired right now at all, even though I need to be sleeping because bright and early it is surgery time for me (see my last post if that seems an odd bit of info to introduce so late in the game.)

I’m tired though.  I’m just tired.

And I still wish I could be adopted.

I know it’s never going to happen.  I know I probably couldn’t even handle it if it did.    And it might not even really be what I want.

I thought getting married could sort of be like getting adopted.  I was seventeen the first time, so it sort of could have worked.  But it didn’t work out. No, it just didn’t work out at all.

I’m tired. Too tired for daytime, even if it’s 10:30 pm.

I’m going to close my eyes.  Sweet dreams.

(Wish me luck.)

 

Brutal Healing

Tags

danger, feelings, God, healing, healing from abuse, hurt, life, My Life, pain, psychotherapy, Rape, risk, scared, therapist, therapy

I want to heal myself.

It can be a frustrating and expensive endeavor to have to find healing outside of yourself.  And I understand that God doesn’t cost money and definitely is the ultimate healer, but sometimes a person needs the hands of another person God created.

It all just seems so dangerous to me.

Because…for me it HAS been dangerous.  On different levels it has been dangerous, and for a time it was the highest danger.  I was severely injured in my search for healing…

Healing…Healing is such a painful word for me.  When I think of healing I think of pain.  It hurts.  This is how it has been all of my life.  From the time I was a tiny tot.

And I wonder…Is it this way for everyone?  Does healing always hurt?

I am learning in therapy now that healing maybe doesn’t always have to hurt, and I feel so gifted to finally have found a therapist with such healing qualities.

Those same qualities scare me.  Because…why?

Because people (I guess one in particular who was in the helping/healing field) with those seeming qualities have also hurt me the worst.

Eight years ago I was hurt by a psychotherapist severely.  I…can’t really seem to ever find the words for it.  I haven’t been able to tell about it.  I can’t even really talk about it in therapy even now.  The therapist who hurt me so badly lost his license, and I later found out that I wasn’t the only one hurt by him, but that hasn’t cured the hurt.  It hopefully stopped him from hurting other people so much.

At times I don’t know how that psycotherapist/abuser isn’t sitting in prison right now. But at other times I can’t get the weight of it being my fault off of me.  I can’t surrender fully to either side.  If he had been a boyfriend or a stranger or even a family member maybe I could comfortably classify it better.  But he was my therapist.  It makes everything so confusing and it wasn’t an attack of brutal force, even though the force he used was more brutal, perhaps, than what is traditionally thought of as brutal.

What is rape?  I’ve gone over this so many times in my mind.  When the memories blast me it reaches right up into my throat and I can’t breathe.  Do you know the feeling?  It gags me from the bottom up.

And that is how I have lived this experience.  Mostly silently.

I’m not really angry at the person/abuser who hurt me in my search for healing (from so many other abuses.) But I need to tell.  This isn’t about wanting to hurt.  This is about healing.

i need to put it outside of myself somewhere so big that when it’s there, it is clearly there–so clearly not inside of me anymore.

I am ready to say to a broader audience.  “LOOK.  LOOK AT THIS.  This is what happened.” I’m getting stronger so that maybe even me, myself, can know what happened.

I’m hurting a lot.  Oh my God, I am hurting a whole lot.  Lots and lots and lots and lots more than I ever even thought I could…but what’s so strange about right now is that I also feel better.

I’m healing.  Maybe?

Is this what healing is?

I’ve never put the words rape with what happened to me in those dark dark places and moments in that room with him.

And nobody else has ever spoken that word for me.  Nobody.

Maybe it’s because I could never tell, so how could anybody ever know.

But then I go back to what constitutes rape and is there a difference between traditional rape and non-traditional rape?  Lol, I never heard those terms before, but…I don’t know.

And what about emotional rape?

I guess nobody really cares about that.

I’m sad at myself that i didn’t prosecute him.  I’m sad I didn’t have the strength to stand up and say, “No!  You can’t get away with this!” and I’m sad I didn’t know better when it happened to begin with.  He told me it was therapy.  Healing.

I only told a few sentences of things to the licensing board and it was enough for them to revoke his license so I never had to tell it all.

I am proud of myself that I finally reported it to the behavioral sciences board 4 years after it actually all took place, but I’m not proud of how it all arose to consciousness.

I hurt at myself that I hated myself so much…and for so long.

Even now the hate episodes envelop me.  I stagger through my life with it.

I’m tired of staggering.  I want to be a woman and healthy and strong and available to people.

Available to myself.

A significant amount of my life has been devoted to just this one event.  And there are so many others hurts that brought me to this “event” in the first place.  Don’t I think it’s about time to be free? I do.

I do think it’s time I got to live.

I will heal.

I’m risking my life to do it.

On This Day I Began to be Born

Tags

birthing, born, change, cleansing, cycle, dark, feelings, freedom, growth, labor, life, light, loss, mother, motherhood, My Life, pain, process, story, Yin-Yang

I’m not sure that I’ve read much about the loss within growth.

It is either the part they leave out, forget about, or I have blocked from my consciousness of seeing so I would keep watering myself.

I am certain there is loss [now.]

If there was only growth with no loss…how would there be enough space?

Loss make what remains so beautiful.

Some may frame loss more as a cleansing.

It is loss.

Even if it is cleansing and clearing, also.

I see it as a sort of yin and yang, even though I always get confused about which is yin and which is yang.

It’s the black and white circle dot dot thing…I know that.

Everyone knows about that, even if they don’t know anything about that.

Because that’s life…

Growth and Loss

in a great big sphere of grey.

Color erupts from the freedom of this truth

in the Light.

Let it be Spring.

 

 

(Today is the day my mother started laboring with me before I was born.)