Let Me Be Light!: From Trauma to Snowflakes & Lighthouses

snow woman winter snowflakes
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I’ve been stewing all day. Heck, actually, I’ve been stewing all week. It was at some point in the day when the snow outside began softly falling that I grinned, ear to ear, amused that I had been granted my little wish. Something as simple as a snowflake would provide the shift needed to escape my cage and cause me to contemplate taking a new path. Admittedly, I’ve been too tired and exhausted to push forward. I’ve been halfway hoping that someone would just carry me to the place I long to be.

The cold, dark days of dreary drizzle had blended together, blurry and boring. Restless, I sought stimulation and solace in the darkest of places where the sun doesn’t shine. I ran back to an unhealthy preoccupation where I clung tightly to the familiar misery of desperately trying to win a rush. Ah, how the simple act of gambling serves as the perfect parallel of my life, always waiting and wishing for the crumbs of love to fall, like waiting for the buzzer sound that means I’ve won a few free spins. I’m so starved that I was nearly picking crumbs off of the dirty floor, devouring them, and scouring the surface for more. If only I could get a bonus or two, I reassured myself, I’d be sure to be back on top! It comes and goes and I am never satiated. But, every now and again, I win just enough to distract me from the love that’s leaving me, always leaving me, as time slips away and I make no move to seize it. Looking back, perhaps the one who is leaving me the least of the crumbs, is myself.

As the snow continues to fall today and the ground became completely covered, I’m struck by its stark beauty. This blanket of white is accompanied by a bitterly cold wind and still, it seems so peaceful and serene. It is soft and new, changing the entire landscape with millions of snowflakes stacking up and sticking together, altering the reality of those experiencing it. We rarely get much lowland snow here in the Puget Sound region. A snow can lift you into anther realm, one of childlike joy, intrigue, and playfulness. My spirit easily becomes light, like the snowflakes drifting sweetly and slowly to the ground.

Those who have struggled with a trauma disorder know that life can be anything but light or carefree. Often, trauma binds you to maladaptive ways of coping that continue to keep you trapped. It’s difficult to let go of these coping mechanisms because in times of trauma, they have made you feel safe, so much so that releasing them feels an impossible and incomprehensible feat. At one time, these maladaptive ways meant our survival and therefore it makes sense that we struggle to let them go. Often, they are ingrained in us so deeply that we forget they are only a mechanisms, not a personality characteristics. These old patterns have little power over us except for the power we gave to them long ago.

On a personal level, I have been unwilling to “give up” my obsessive thoughts and compulsions relating to my trauma because it feels unsafe to do so, as if I were “letting down my guard”. What if I stopped fighting? I often have felt no one would care & in some cases this has been proven true, and yet, I’m slowly realizing that when I never leave the battle, the battle never leaves me. I have been sincerely trying to escape, but I often chain myself more tightly in the process, perpetuating a false sense of security that inevitably leads to my demise again and again. This downward spiral is going to take quite a bit of strength and perseverance to totally break free. I’m still not sure it will ever entirely happen, we’ll see.

Unfortunately, the maladaptive ways of coping will further trap you and re-traumatize you. It’s a cyclic beast that can render you depressed, anxious, exhausted, and even in physical chronic pain. And it does this so cunningly, without your awareness or permission. The cycle continues while you operate in very limited ways that “promise” you protection and safety. Some stay stuck and stagnate, others become increasingly more sick and will even be re-traumatized by engaging in patterns that unknowingly welcomes the trauma back into their lives.

Over the past couple of years, my trauma was recently triggered and intertwined with the trauma that my niece endured. I felt guilty during the times I remained silent when I could see her suffering so. Her trauma lead me to compulsively engage in desperate behaviors of continually checking up on her with the insistence that she receive the opportunity to get the help she needs. She now is nearly disabled from drug use, suffering from a mental illness, and is potentially facing time in jail. I spent the last two years trying to “save her” and it only resulted in me becoming more isolated from her and my family. Her nuclear family is very dysfunctional, and to be realistic, she probably does not have the best chance for recovery.

In the last two years, I sat with my hands tied behind my back, shouting from the sidelines, as others neglected to help her. I watched while the system failed her. The last few years have been particularly tough on me, watching a young individual whom I love struggle in so many ways knowing I could do little to help her. The invalidation and neglect she was receiving, painfully reminded me of the times I have felt invisible and abandoned. The fight to “save her” metaphorically became the fight to “save myself”. I launched war in my family and it was brutal and messy. At the end of the day, the dysfunction continued and little has truly changed in the family.

Through the chaos and drama, I came to identify myself as the scapegoat and certain historical patterns finally made more sense to me. I stepped back, not really wanting to see the unhealthy patterns of others, but determined to accept the brutal truth, even if it was painful. This process left me alone and abandoned in the storm, clinging to any semblance of sanity as I watched the devastation before me ensue and the denial others practiced in order to avoid the truth. In reality, certain members of my family had already abandoned themselves years ago by surrendering to an aggressive and ugly addiction that robbed them of so much. They’ve been tightly bound to their negative coping mechanisms of addiction and chaos to numb the pain away. Their lives are going in fast forward, often in a blur, without truly smelling, tasting, or seeing much of anything. I’ve been angry and ugly in my relentless quest to help them, but in my heart I know it’s time to truly ‘let go” and forgive. I’m searching for softness to return to me. I long to feel light, like the snowflakes floating freely to the ground.

Healing from trauma appears to come in waves. It seems that I get swept out to sea over and over again. Perhaps this desolate see is just too alluring, pulling me in over and over again, crashing upon the shore, leaving me weary. I know I am nearly ready to shed the lifeguard vest and let go. Perhaps, I’ll find a cliff high above the ocean where I can sit far away from the shore and listen to the waves crash in the distance. Feeling this vast and foreign space around me, I will be able to scan the horizon for incoming storms and will shelter myself, avoiding another shipwreck. And in time, I’d love to morph into a lighthouse, solid and full of hope. One that stands in strength, peacefully warning sailors of perilous waters, with its penetrating light, piercing the darkest of night.

 

 

 

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Hug Me Tightly: Recovery Before Romance

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Perhaps, I’m impenetrable.

I’d like to think that someday, someone out there will find me. Someone who is waiting and wondering where I am. I’ve nearly given up hope, but something tells me that maybe there is someone for me. I’m still not ready yet. Healing from a decade of desperation, darkness, and devastation has left me disoriented and distant.

I would love to be held tightly and hugged, leaving no doubt of my lover’s intentions. The next time I lose myself in someone’s embrace, I hope it’s with the one I will grow old with, finally feeling safe.

I’d love to find an artist who could be the harmony to my melody. Someone who could sing me to sleep.

My last love of ten years continually pulled me in and spit me out, dragging me out to his lonely sea. I was mesmerized by the beauty, but nearly drowned in the undertow, often left alone and vulnerable to dry out on the barren shore. I had memorized his face, his body, his scent. I pleaded with him for years to wake up because life in time will leave us. Time is finite. I was convinced that our sacred space which felt tender and raw, at times, was enough to sustain us. And yet, we fell apart, crumbling. All that is left now is dust, swirling in the wind. The shattered and separated particles that was once us, are now distant and dormant memories. There is nothing left to hold. The lover I had memorized has nearly faded from me. I only see him in my dreams. After ten tumultuous years, I look back, scanning the horizon for what was real and what was imagined. I’m only grateful in the present to stand on solid ground. With him, the sands were always shifting. I believe in hindsight our instability was intentional. I had become an ornament that was lost in his pain and I was an easy discard for him. He was secure in his possession of me. We were destined from the beginning to erode and decay, still, I held on for way too long, desperate and hopeful.

The years I where I was perpetually losing him, were the most painful. Hanging there alone, in that space, where I was always frantically searching for the evidence that he loved me and willing to take the crumbs that were haphazardly tossed at my feet. I’m no longer grieving the relationship, but am grieving the time I lost for myself when I was trying to find him. Over time I labeled him as someone struggling with Narcissistic Personality Disorder. My therapist continually called him a psychopath. I joined on-line support group and read familiar stories of others. Part of me was angry and hurt at him for the abuse I endured, both physical and psychological. Another part of me, was livid at the abusive environment that caused his impenetrable walls to develop, imprisoning him in a lifetime of no real intimacy. Oh God, how I grieved the lost little boy inside of him that needed to be hugged and loved. Still, I had to surrender and let go. Time and experiences had proven to me that I would never truly be able to reach him.

I’ve haven’t seen him in over two years and it has been over 5-6 months since our last contact. He contacted me through e-mail a few months ago, desiring to hear how I was doing. I did not respond.  I cannot run back chasing the millions of particles that was once us. They would only slip through my fingers. I was exhausted always trying to somehow hold us together. It became easier to deal with the loss than to stay, always running after him, trying to make sandcastles in the wind. It devastated me. I picked myself up off that desolate shore where I was left alone too many times, and decided once and for all that I would not return.

It will take time to love again. I have to learn to completely love myself before loving another. I will not get lost again in someone’s embrace without first knowing my value. I will build a strong castle above the desolate sea where I can still be mesmerized by its beauty, but safe from its undertow. My castle will be adorned with love and each brick will be placed by me. When I value myself in this way, I will know quickly what I am unable to compromise. I’m not ready for another romance yet, but when I am I’d like to find another vessel that has done the work inside that allows a passionate and present love. I want us to not only be in love with each other, but in love with our place in the world. I’d like to be in love with the beauty that surrounds us.

I miss having a romantic connection. I miss the intimacy of memorizing someone’s face and figure. I long for the companionship and warmth a relationship can bring. I want to laugh again and feel alive in the presence of a new love.

Perhaps he is out there. Maybe he even wonders where I am. I’m coming, I’m just not ready yet.

If I find him one day, I expect ordinary magic. I will be blessed to cherish the mystery and miracles that present themselves in the present moment when we are living without the hindrance of suffering. When we love ourselves first, we can completely love another. So, if he is out there I hope he is learning to love himself. If nothing else, this is the journey I am on and even on days when I would love to be hugged tightly and held, I know I have myself. And I am enough.

 

 

 

Waiting No More: It’s Time to Drive!

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I’ve spent a lot of time waiting.

I’ve been restless, at times, desperately desiring to be completely satiated, longing for validation and visibility.

I waited a whole decade consumed by the desire to be passionately loved. I gave every ounce of my being to this fruitless pursuit, determined that one day it would yield the commitment desired from this individual. The commitment never came. In fact, the more I pursued and pushed, the more I lost myself. Losing him was letting go of the long held belief that I wasn’t good enough.

I waited for several years for a sincere apology and a gesture from a family member that communicated reconciliation was desired. I waited for certain family members to heal and recover from their addiction enough so that they could not only care about themselves, but they also could care about and connect with me. I waited years while we argued, knowing that the arguing was all that I had left. There was no true desire from them to know me or connect with me. I waited for years, grieving, often raging and demanding change. I only ended up alone and alienated. Little has changed in their behavior which has landed some of them permanently disabled, while others, potentially facing jail. I still am grieving, but I have given up on “waiting”.

I waited many years for my career to “take off”. I waited for someone out there to reward my hard work, experiences, education, etc. In the last decade, my work potential has been overshadowed by my disability of Bipolar 1, ADHD, and C-PTSD. Working with a disability complicated things and has temporarily placed my career goals “on hold”. I am currently not employed. I waited to land that “awesome job” and when I did finally achieve that goal, it was quickly thwarted by my disability. I got sick with several respiratory illnesses and was prescribed prednisone, a steroid, that inevitably caused a mania. I requested accommodations and then took a medical leave. When I returned from the medical leave, which was actually encouraged by my supervisor, I was terminated from my job without the opportunity to work with accommodations in place. I was devastated and have still not bounced back from the discrimination I endured. I waited for years to find the job that would provide security and pay well and as soon as I found it, I lost it.

I waited many years to be free from anxiety and depression. I thought perhaps a combination of therapy and medications would one day set me free from my struggle. I am still waiting on my complete freedom from the symptoms I have endured related to my disability. I am still not completely free from certain habits and symptoms stemming from trauma that I have experienced in this lifetime.

I have had an unraveling of sorts in this lifetime: failed marriage, failed career, failed engagement, a loss of family, a loss of employment, and the inability to have children. I have lived with a mental illness that often has stripped me of my dignity and distanced me from others. I isolate a lot because interacting with others can be difficult especially if I am working. When I did work, it took all my energy, leaving me feeling depleted. It was during these times I really needed the safety net and support of family and a solid relationship. Instead, as I struggled to maintain work I was often drained further by having to fight for love from my family and my partner. I was fortunate to have the support of my ex-spouse in the process and my mother. Still yet, I often felt overwhelmed and alone. I had waited a very long time for something to “work out” and I felt “let down” by the world. I was deeply depressed and this went on for a very long time.

In losing so much, I discovered that I was left with me. Over time I have let go of what was making me “hard” and I am now peeling off the layers that have hardened me. I’m exposing my fleshy fruit, my essence raw and vulnerable.

I don’t currently have a job. I’m single and living with my ex-spouse for support. I don’t have a home. My bank account is empty. My family relations are strained and I primarily am only connected to my mother, my step-father has never been too involved and my sister and her adult kids are all estranged from me due to the conflicts and chaos that  addiction has caused. My ex-spouse is a great friend and support. And, I have my dog, Gracie, who is very loving.

Losing so much is teaching me to be more humble and to appreciate what I do have, not just in possessions, but in talents, skills, and experiences. I’ve been stripped from what I felt was needed to feel valued and visible. I’m learning to define my self worth, not by the expectations placed from society, but more on the intangibles that define me.

I waited for years for someone or something to “show up” for me. I watched while others got married, had careers, and shared photos of their cute kids on Facebook. In ways, everything I had longed for was perpetually being displayed by others. I wasn’t jealous of their good fortune, but I often wondered why things had not worked out for me. In the end, it wasn’t in the cards. This is what I am learning to accept and in doing so I am slowly opening up the world that is mine. I am no longer grieving what I never had or lost. Instead, I am accepting the hand I was dealt, with curiosity, and am ready to discover this world embracing my reality wholeheartedly. I have always acknowledged some of the blessings that being single with no children has afforded, like ample time to travel and engage in leisure pursuits that I enjoy.

I have decided I am tired of “waiting”. I am letting go of all the people and things that were keeping me stuck. I am showing up for myself. I’m determined to awaken to the present and accept with grace and gratitude each moment. I sincerely want to fill the space that is mine.

It’s odd to think that in losing so much, that I am actually finding myself. This fills me with excitement and joy because I know it is what I have been searching for my entire life. I know intuitively that this is the greatest gift with the most returns. Investing in myself will only yield positive results.

I have so much more work to do, but now I have the right person in the driver seat, ME!! I’m not waiting around for others to call the shots or to determine my emotional state for the day. I genuinely want to be happy and want to be responsible for my happiness. I realize I will struggle from time to time, but healing is happening and I am grateful!!

 

 

 

 

2019: Taking Responsibility, Taking Flight!

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In this post, I am piggybacking off of my last entry where someone left a comment that has left me thinking.

I was writing from a place of pain, sharing my deepest heartache of having to let go and walk away from my family. I went back into the fire recently and was burned badly again. It truly feels to me to be an act of self preservation and love to cut ties and let go. I have been suffering for a few years now, becoming too wrapped up in a situation that was truly outside of my control. It has left me exhausted, depressed, and sick.

In response to what I wrote, GROG (grogalot.wordpress.com) left the comment: “But we must learn to live in the present and realize that change is possible. It has a lot to do with taking responsibility”. The sentiment shared here stayed with me today and continued to resurface. Something in the words demanded my attention. I rolled the word “responsibility” around in my mouth, tasting its rich, yet raw flavor. This bite that I willingly chewed and lingered over all day had sustenance.

Earlier today, I let go of the reigns at various points again, engaging in a conversation that I knew would create emotional instability for me. Why have I continued in the same habitual way when I can clearly see that nothing changes when I do so? Realizing the pattern is one accomplishment, believing that one can change or be completely free of the pattern is another. So many times in the past I felt it was an impossible feat to change. I desperately longed to be “free”, I just didn’t see that the door of my “cage’ was open. I wrote nearly a month ago that I had noticed with excitement and anticipation that the door was ajar and freedom was on the horizon. I had hoped to be flying soon! What happened? Did I become afraid and forget that my wings would indeed carry me?

We must “realize that change is possible” and that it “has a lot to do with taking responsibility” (GROG). And therein lies the “meat” of the meal. The belief that you can indeed, fly, and then actually be doing so. Responsibility implies taking ownership.

Responsibility is also about taking control of one’s responses. I feel this is where I have continued to get stuck. There are brutal and ugly realities outside of my control that I have let dominate my thoughts and energies. Yes, there are heavy and serious situations that any normal person would worry about, still yet, my response has been all too consuming and my life, as a result, has spun out of control. The worry and concern in my heart was, and still is, very justified. I feel someone in my family eventually is going to die from the disease of addiction. And yet, I refused to build parameters around what I could realistically contribute. I had abandoned myself in the process and when the ship continued to sink, I blamed others for not being there for me. Sadly, they all sick. I need to be there for myself. I need to take “responsibility” for myself, in all ways.

I’m thankful for these words. They are so needed and they are “on point”. In the center of it all is my lack of self care and concern. I do feel I am healing and I long to taste complete freedom where I am immersed in the present, enjoying life. When tragedy comes, as it will from time to time, I must take care with my responses to things. In the end, that is where change truly occurs: in one’s ability to take responsibility over their life in all ways.

All of this struck a chord inside me today. If I am honest with myself, I have not been taking ownership of my life. I have been caught up in my cage that was created by the trauma I endured. I’ve been swinging alone, being drenched in the rain, and singing a soliloquy. I’ve been truly sad. The holiday season triggered me and I went right back into the cage and locked the door, nearly throwing away the key. However, GROG is right, I must believe I can change… “The door is ajar, remember”! And then I must take flight and do what is necessary to keep flying, even soaring, at times, eyes open and embracing the moment.

The year is now 2019. There IS no other time like the present to fly! And even to soar! I am going to take myself there because I can. And, it is only I that can do so. This year is THE year. And, I am so very grateful to be here in this space and ready. In the past, I would have gotten defensive and perhaps would have taken things in the wrong way. I have grown and I want to go further. I’m going to carry this advice with me along the way so that I can remind myself when I get lost or afraid.

Be present. Believe change is possible. Take ownership of every area of your life. AND TAKE FLIGHT!

Happy New Year Everyone! 2019  

Making Snow Angels: Forgiveness and Freedom

baby beanie child childhood
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Please, stop the rain.

Turn these heavy, wet drops into snowflakes, blanketing the muddy and messy mistakes of life.

If it’s going to be a cold day, at least lighten my step with a lovely snow. Frame the chill with beautiful evergreen trees, heavy with the snow that the branches lovingly hold.

Once the rain turns to snow, I become like a kid, giddy, and trusting the process, embracing the world once again.

I’m surrounded by falling snow like a figurine, suspended, in a snow globe. I’m no longer clenching fists and jaw and I relax a little, turning toward the gentleness of life. Everything takes on a new, fresh identity. Even the cold seems welcoming and joyful.

The stillness and softness of the snow unwinds my tensed up shoulders & body. I begin to forget the harsh cold and bitter rain. I’m suspended in softness that is serene and peaceful.

Please, stop the rain and make it snow. I’d like to fall into the snow packed ground, making angels, while grinning ear to ear, staring at the starry sky.

Let me be light, like a snowflake. I’ll slowly ride a current of wind to the surface, where I’ll gently land with all the others, blending and covering the forest floor. And in that space I’ll commune with millions of magic raindrops that have blanketed everything in our path, turning frowns into smiles that erupt often, into laughter that playfully cuts into the cold, still night. Some will glide effortlessly along our surface with sleds and skis while others will watch from frosted window panes, mesmerized by our glorious ability to transform a dismal day of rain to a masterpiece of raw beauty.

Let it snow and let me be light.

Take this rainy night and transform it into something snowy and bright.

While it falls and covers the exposed and hurting earth, let it hug the hurt in its completeness, leaving nothing untouched by it’s snowflakes that sparkle by moonlight, shimmering like diamonds.

I’m falling back into you, making angels, and catching snowflakes on my tongue. I’m forgetting that I’m no longer a child and instead twirling, eyes wide open, taking you in completely, laughing joyfully. No one is with me in this space of snow and self forgiveness.

You’ve reminded me once again with your dramatic entrance that everything can change in an instant and it can be magical and transforming. You’ll soon be gone, but I’ve taken a recharge from you. It’s another reminder to let go and be light. Twirl and laugh more often. Even if you are alone in the cold and still night.

In all the storms I’ve weathered, I embrace a snowstorm with excitement and adventure.

So, let it snow. Let it be a blizzard. Let it blanket the earth in forgiveness, melting away grief and sadness when it exits in warmth.

Welcome Winter, I hope there is a snow storm brewing. I’m waiting in joyful anticipation. Let it snow.

Please, stop the rain.

Cultivating Self Compassion: I am Enough

woman looking at sunset
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There is something forming in my conscious that sounds familiar, but has felt foreign to me until recently. It’s a seed that is growing in size, full and impenetrable. It’s resting on the collective conscious of “what is” and longing for the wisdom and strength of what has left us. My spirit gravitates toward a space that is shared between what I have absorbed and what I have chased. This new landscape is difficult to articulate, I only know it is defined by my very own view of the world, and, I trust it.

I’ve spend many years in anguish. I didn’t feel I was enough. I was never smart enough, kind enough, talented enough, good enough, organized enough, wealthy enough, etc. There was never enough of me to feel “enough”. Every endeavor was designed to be a means to an end. It was as if every activity I engaged in had to have a value assigned to it. If I relaxed completely, letting go of counting the “inventory” of successes and failures”, I’d feel anxiety and shame for letting down my guard and not fulfilling my duty. I’ve always been driven, a perfectionist, determined to excel at the activities in which I invested time and energy. One can see quickly where this is headed. Over time, I grew deeply disappointed, depressed, and anxious.

I wanted more for my life. I expected more from people. I even expected more from the world. I was downright devastated when I awakened from the dream where I had expected those around me to be kind, honest, and authentic. I did have a few people in my life who were healthy individuals. However, I had spent most of my time in conflict with those in my life who were unable or unwilling to change. I allowed these people to suck up my time, energy, emotions, and thoughts. It was my mistake. I’m still unraveling and unpacking the last few years where the trauma of my past became intertwined with the trauma of certain loved ones. Was I indeed trying to save myself by holding on too tightly to their trauma? Again, this elusive seed that is growing within me tells me that it’s all about to change. I’m often giddy and joyful, nearly feeling free. It’s a foreign feeling as I sit in the space of so many colliding and conflicting emotions, but having the ability to process without impulsively acting. This is new for me, and I’m sure I will backslide a bit, but I like this feeling a lot. I’m going to work to maintain this.

I had a session a week ago where I was talking to my therapist about the distance I have purposely created between me and a loved one to “keep me safe” currently. This person is a relative and so it might be difficult to completely remain disengaged permanently. It is someone who has hurt me quite a bit and her lifestyle continues to concern me. My pattern has often been to confront when I am concerned. This has not benefited me as the person I am confronting does not want to change. My therapist, was pushing me a bit, stating that I could be engaged on some level if “I accepted her where she was at right now”. I quickly shared reasons why I could not do so. They were good reasons. It’s very hard engaging with this person and our relationship is quite fractured. Still yet, this “push” from my therapist of acceptance bloomed inside of me. I cannot quite articulate how so, I can only say that it was another window into a different way of existing outside the “cage” I have been inside of for years.

And so, all of this has been filling me with curiosity and even joy. It’s as if I took the pliers  and gently took off one of the steel bars of my cage.

Tonight, I sat making Christmas ornaments for my loved ones. It was an imperfect process and I realized some things were a tad off. In the past, that would have bothered me a great deal. I let it go this time. I said to myself, “I don’t have to be perfect”. I noticed the tension rising: “I should redo it, it’s not perfect”. It dawned on me how most people probably would’t even notice what I saw as “imperfect”. When did my world become so calculated and precise? That isn’t the world! I instinctively knew it was not! I know the trauma in my past created a pattern of perfectionism. I smiled at myself at the thought of finally being free of this pattern. It dawned on me rather quickly that because I had placed such high expectations on myself, I extended the same to loved ones. And often if people were unable to meet them, it was a reflection that I was “not enough”. Somehow, their inability to meet my expectations was my failure. I believe this is why I have fought so hard, at times, with these individuals. Truthfully, I should have “accepted them where they were at” and retained my dignity by not fighting or pleading for their involvement in my life. It was this realization, that I’ve had before, that has now cultivated a greater awareness. It’s as if another layer has nearly been revealed and I’m eagerly awaiting for the next chapter of my life to begin!

I believe it’s a “way of living” that I have missed out on due to trauma and my continual entrapment within it. I know it starts with me and knowing that I am “enough”. I am inherently worthy, we all are. Operating from that optic alone frees me from a lot of desperate behaviors where I was relying on others to affirm my self worth. Whoops! Not a great idea as people are often totally oblivious to your struggle and have their own full plates. And then, there is the awareness that I no longer need to listen to the voices of others either defining me or telling me who I am or not. I am accepting all of me, the imperfections, the mistakes, the mess, and the comeback. I can see all the complexity and  I embrace it. I don’t have to explain it to others. I am at a point now where despite all the messes, I’m pretty proud and impressed at the way I’ve cleaned them all up! I am learning to live more in the moment and I enjoy using all my senses as I lose myself in the experience of life.

The complexity of life, the sadness and the joy, are held simultaneously in one space in my heart. I am more level as a result and joy is finding me in many places. I’m sure I will be able to express the growing light inside much better in time. I’m glad it’s been uncovered and it is glowing brightly. It was there all along, but had been dimmed by many years where I was searching. Just thought I would try and share tonight as I continue on my journey of healing from the pain and confusion of trauma. Love and light!

“Morning Has Broken”: When Suffering Becomes a Blessing

Morning Has Broken
~Cat Stevens
Morning has broken like the first morning
Blackbird has spoken like the first bird
Praise for the singing
Praise for the morning
Praise for them springing fresh from the world
Sweet the rain’s new fall, sunlit from heaven
Like the first dewfall on the first grass
Praise for the sweetness of the wet garden
Sprung in completeness where his feet pass
Mine is the sunlight
Mine is the morningBorn of the one light Eden saw play
Praise with elation, praise ev’ry morning
God’s recreation of the new day
Morning has broken like the first morning
Blackbird has spoken like the first bird
Praise for the singing
Praise for the morning
Praise for them springing fresh from the world.

beach woman sunrise silhouette
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WOW! Have you ever had one of those moments of clarity where you feel so centered and deeply rooted that it genuinely surprises you? Suddenly you’ve arrived at the summit, a little winded and a bit fatigued, but completely joyful as you fall into the present moment, free and fully satiated. Determined to savor this slice of bliss in its entirety, you scan the horizon, using all senses, desiring to retain as much of the landscape as humanly possible. These are the moments that define us, the ones we work and wait for, and the ones we reminisce about, often sharing the stories multiple times throughout our lives.
My milestone came to me late this evening in an ordinary way. I wasn’t climbing a mountain, giving birth, or competing in a race. I was actually drying off from a hot lavender soak in my small tub. LOL. It was at the end of another uneventful evening. Both my friend and I have been hacking away with colds that we got right before Thanksgiving. As I often do, I had spent time earlier loving on my pup, Gracie, and throwing her green, squeaky toy down the hall for her to chase. It didn’t seem like anything was brewing. It was a very uneventful, gray day with rain on and off and a high wind warning in effect. I only went out once all day to take my pup to the dog park as it was dismal outside. The Fall and Winter months in the Northwest can be trying for those who suffer with depression, it gets dark early and rains often.
So, yes! Back to my milestone! It was late and I had taken a bath and was drying off. And that’s when it hit me, like a ton of bricks. The type of bricks that you can use with mortar to build an intricate, yet solid, foundation. Yes! My building blocks that I have been unknowingly waiting on forever, have finally arrived. No one ever shared with me that things might just snap into focus one day to reassure me that I not only had everything needed for me to rebuild, but I’ve also been granted the time to do so.  And, if they had told me, they surely didn’t tell me that one of my defining moments, would be after a day of literally no consequence, after having taking a hot bath. By the way, I’ve always loved a hot bath. It seems fitting, in an odd, but lovely way.
I had spent time earlier today lamenting to others about how I had recently been denied my SSDI and SSI benefits. I’ve been advised by two of my providers to hold off on going back to work until I complete a program that will hopefully help me develop better skills to cope with the stress of work and relationships. I’ve not been working for nearly a year and a half due to increased episodes of mania and depression and a weakened immune system where I was getting sick too often. However, I am becoming increasingly restless to get well. I am hopeful one day to be well enough to work again and contribute to society, helping others heal. I have always been in positions where I have helped others, often in recreation programming serving seniors or disabled adults. It was a meaningful job and I miss it. Living without money and being dependent on others is also very difficult when you have been relatively independent for most of your life, often living alone. It’s been a huge transition.
And so, as I was drying off and searching for my glasses, and then, it hit me. I suddenly recalled how many times over the past several years my spirit pleaded for rest. “Lord, I am weary”. Let me rest.
The details of my struggle are too great to mention here. I’ve been suffering as a result of running from pain and as a natural consequence to experiencing some unfortunate stressful events that continued to keep me hooked in a downward spiral until I literally loss the ability to work.
I knew in an instant, standing there with bathroom towel surrounding me, that I had been granted everything I needed to heal. I had prayed to heal for years. When you are living with chronic pain and anxiety, healing becomes a priority. I would say to myself: “If I only had the time to take off of work to truly get well and get the help I need”. Often these prayers were uttered while laying on wrinkled, warm sheets from tossing and turning throughout the night. The prayers were said when I had locked myself in the bathroom at work, pacing and trying yoga poses, to try and stop or prevent a panic attack. The prayers were uttered when I lost jobs and I was sobbing through broken tears saying again: “If I only had the time to get well”. The prayers were uttered when I was alone and broken and in physical pain.
I never felt that I had time to relax, I was always running from one job to the next. I was running to save an unsalvageable relationship with a Narcissist. All the desperate endeavors were exhausting and led me farther away from myself and into suffering. I prayed, read devotionals, sobbed, and hurt both physically and emotionally. I just did not know a way out yet.
The last couple of weeks I’ve been sulking, unhappy. I wanted to have more money. I’ve been too broke to go out and buy myself a coffee. My attention was gently drawn to the fact that I have two people helping me currently, my Mom and my ex-Spouse. I was reminded of my warm home with all my belongings. I already have two, not just one, Christmas trees up for the holidays. I actually have no money in savings, but I have people who are here for me and they are willing to help me as much as they can. My housing is provided for as I live with my ex-spouse currently and my mother pays for my car payment. My ex rents and we just recently moved into a two bedroom where we have more space. I have more than many and less than many. I actually have everything I need at the moment.
As I was doing this inventory in my head while drying off with my towel, I acknowledged that I really am ok. This is when it hit me like “a ton of bricks” that my prayers had been answered. I knew instantly that I had been granted the time and the help to truly rebuild my life. And now, I also possess the knowledge and know-how to not just build a flimsy structure, this time it would be an ornate castle of sorts where every stone placed will have been passed through my hand. It would be my design.
If I had not been through the struggle, I am certain now that I may not have understood the importance of rebuilding my life with each brick being bound by the mortar of “self love”. In the suffering, I was able to dismantle the cage and unravel the parts of me that needed inspection. The suffering had convinced me that change was definitely necessary. I remained frozen for awhile when the archaic structure fell to the ground.
And so, I am standing at the summit tonight! I’m looking forward to rebuilding so that I can reach even greater heights. But, for now, I will sit here and relish in the moment of receiving a true gift, time. I have been given exactly what my spirited needs. I have the space, the support, and the time to complete a treatment program and to do what is needed to be in a healthier state both mentally and physically. I was too busy surveying the loss to celebrate the victory. And now, I know better.