Running from dis-ease unconsciously by becoming busier or feeding it with food which is how my mother mothered me, are only ways to worsen an illness, discomfort or even emotional pain. Becoming aware one is doing it is the first step.
It catches up to you and hits hard. Self-care was not taught, self-loathing was. The silence demanded that the horrors committed against my body not be spoken taught unworthiness. If any spark came forward it was extinguished easily with a look or a word. The child born with a strong sense of justice and speaking out against wrongs was choked silent and twisted into a malcontent for even trying.
It was necessary to disconnect from the body as a child. With no intervention provided to release the suffering from repeated trauma disconnecting became a way of life. My body did one thing, my mind another. There was no cohesiveness or synchrony between the two which would encourage wholeness, health or well-being.
As those miracles enter my life today, such things that one usually possesses after leaving childhood that remain intact, going backwards is a jolt to hard won peacefulness. Sometimes it takes a jolt like a racing heart to make me pay attention to my own needs.
Where once the good excuse of feeling ill gave me license to take to the couch and gorge on movies doing not much of anything now makes me restless. Depression was also part of my existence so any reason to languish in it was a good reason.
But the trees beacon with their burning reds, oranges and gold as fall excursions such as bike rides, ferry rides and trips to the Cider Shed are put on hold. Wistful while gazing at the trees in the hedgerow as they dance in the breeze, the sound of their rustling skirts will have to do.
So is the cup half empty or full? What shines is the growth one is able to achieve by enduring whatever comes in her path.
Avoiding the fact that the flu Samuel suffers has now found me isn’t working. Daily routines continued despite feeling tired and unwell.
Oddly my heart revved up in the afternoon scaring me greatly, so much so that my hands shook and I had the phone at my side to call the ambulance. The beats were so fast I couldn’t count them. Then I knew it was time to slow down and respect the fact that my body was sick and also respecting the fact that daily duties had to be put on hold.
I’m a fighter and have fought a hard won battle mostly with myself. When sick I’m still fighting instead of mothering myself. I mother Samuel, tending to him gently. But me? No.
This sickness has been a reminder to be gentle. Not harangue myself with negative quips like You’re lazy, be busy, perform, you’re fat, and on goes the list. My stomach hurts after eating so I assume I ate too much so the hate story inflates.
The thought arose that Samuel couldn’t eat anything but noodles so my stomach needs tender care too. Time to give it some. Time to give my head a break and my emotions towards myself a break too. Time to mother me, love me and be tender… to me.
Sometimes doing nothing is doing the most and best thing.
It is so far below beneath the noise it is hard to hear.
A scent wafting into consciousness that wasn’t discerned because of the clatter. The nuances in the hues of daybreak or the colors at sunset. Are you too preoccupied with the clamor in your head to notice? Can you free yourself from the grips of your past, at least for a moment, and take a breath in the present?
Nature’s free gifts fill a hungry soul. But life’s challenges can interfere with absorbing her wonders; the rustle of a leaf falling, the bird chirping near-by, the locusts still humming in the distance, a tree frog who nestled next to my coffee cup on the deck…
Find ways to come out of the din to the light of the present. Do it over and over and again. The whispering’s of the soul will be heard…
Even though one lives in a country where an individual has freedom they may not be free. There are expanding moments where a feeling of freedom arises yet often it alludes me. Brought up in isolation where horrific trauma was personally experienced yet silenced caused a stunting of growth into what could have been. That cage doesn’t magically find a key and release its prisoner. She lives with a view of herself that was cemented during the personality forming process.
The work to confront the psychological aspects of childhood sexual abuse is an ongoing process that takes a life. Determined not to have it taken continues to present challenges, some so insidious it is intricately difficult to discern so patterns are repeated and the pain is profound. If one cannot put words on it, put it out there, have it listened to and understood, then the aloneness continues and goes deep causing breaks in the soul that cannot come together in peacefulness.
The eldest son felt bad over his crimes. Instead of confessing his sexual abuse towards his little sister he tore her down but in little ways that no one noticed but her. She had a fight in her and battled him endlessly in quiet ways. But the innuendos became part of her make- up solidifying how she thought about herself.
She becomes other people’s stories about her and that follows her throughout life. She has no freedom to be who she is because she never was. Even if she knows the stories are not true she lives them without speaking up, or without shouting and screaming as others do. She has not been allowed to have her own stories. How does she have her own stories at 10, or 20, 40 or even sixty when so much of her had been subdued and locked away?
No one listened then and no one does now…except one. It only takes one person to know, understand and care. That is enough to free her. And she needs this time and again. Just one to know and care.
As the days shorten and the wind blows the studio beckons. After months away it feels good to be back with new ideas. This base is a ceramic flower pot found at a garage sale for three bucks. Samuel made a wooden top from treated lumber. Cory, my son in Boston, enlarged a simple design that I traced on top. It makes a very nice table for a cup of coffee on the little deck…
Fall is affecting me as it usually does though the hope sprung that this time it wouldn’t. The sun with its warmth has soothed my soul while sitting mornings on the patio, sometimes for long luxurious periods before rising to do other morning tasks. It will hard to give that up along with walks in the meadow where the stillness and warm sun brought centeredness and peace.
Fall comes and with it I fall.
The solution is to be in the body. Be there with the negative thoughts which come fast and hard. Confront them. It takes work and more work than usual. Be aware of the body and be in it. You cannot escape yourself.
Not all days pass as planned. Start again with gentleness.