Afraid to write? Fear of feeling the truth of what is there? Yet it is as necessary as breathing, the quest to go down below all the garbage and see what’s there. A place kept hidden even from myself.
Fear. Anxiety. Worry. That needs to be felt before moving deeper. Tick off the problems one by one, a wise voice assigning either a solution or acceptance. Yet the stomach curdles with doubt and confusion because for much there are no answers.
Living with the flow and combination of complexities is not my forte. Is it anybody’s? The release and containment of tension, pain, pleasures, and peaceful moments exist at once. How do you make room for it all?
Wouldn’t it be luxurious to be like cat, arching her back against the chair, stretching her full length with delight and abandon? Must we be humans with all this in our heads? Or maybe it is just my head stuffed with too much.
There is so much I’m powerless to do anything about. And there it sits unfixed. So do what you can for you. Part of that today was printing up an affirmation suggested by this author’s post.
When my rat brain starts up at 3 AM about unresolved problems, this affirmation was tried. Maybe eventually it will help.
I am beautiful, smart, and kind. I am worthy of love.
Waking in the night the immediate PTSD strikes. Get up, save the world, or least your tiny corner of it. Every lost relationship comes to mind, with a regret of being a person unable to keep one due to trust issues…not having any.
Boundaries are disrespected because growing up meant even my own body was not mine. Assertiveness for my own needs are too often disturbingly unvoiced. The craving for closeness continues, yet I live with with a severe lack of it due to it feeling savagely dangerous. These constants in my life roar at 2 AM.
The virus all week has begun to abate. The liquid clogging my head which made breathing labored especially in the night, isn’t pouring out as much. The issues left to contend with are the usual, the ever occurring PTSD striking most hazardously in the middle of the night. Just that. The stark nakedness of my being is lite full force, the aloneness, fear of it, even terror.
Then the voice of reason and wisdom. You cannot find what need from others.What you need most is in you. It is you who walks the earth as a single being right to the end… and beyond. The spiraling lusting for acceptance from other relationships faded as this truth and realization surfaced. It is you who needs to accept you, and be with you. Others already have.
So on-wards with the work of bringing the softer, kinder voice to the forefront. The one that allows closeness, caring and love. The one that encourages rather than rips down. The one that needs constant attention, and reality checks. No fake news. You are OK, and you are a ‘good’ person.
It was a mistake. To attend that group called ‘family.’ It wasn’t coincidence that after gathering in December my body grew heavier by many pounds in only a few weeks. I beat myself up for the gain. Perhaps the opposite was needed. Perhaps my soul craved safety, and in that group there is none.
Though none of the three ever touched me sexually, they befriended the ones who did. So did I. It was the charade played along with to have a family, no matter how fucked up the ‘family’ was.
And this is how it has always been. Even now that 3 abusers are dead, and the other one left town, there is still no place for me in that group of three. It is a sad loss, one I cannot fully accept. And one I still might attempt to be part of. But if I do it only causes illness that corrupts my body and soul.
As much as I crave those connections, they kill anything in me that says, NO. NO I am not the person you thought you knew, that you can mold into whatever you want by using criticism, ostracizing, or abandonment. No, I am not a puppet.
The years of abuse made a hostage of me in many ways I don’t understand, and cannot fight. I am tired of fighting. I want my quiet life that makes me happy, and it seems happiest without you.
When no one stands in solidarity, they are not safe, and no one ever did. Until you do, stay away. And it is too late anyway…
photo by Patricia
The cold comes to New York, sweeping across the state like white tundra hurling mountains of frosted snow. Looking out at the swaying trees briskly bending in the wind, I shiver unconsciously. Though braving the below zero temps to dig off over a foot of snow from the sidewalk the day before, this day is too bitter.
Not exercising brings restlessness, but time in the studio quiets me, working and dreaming of spring when these latest mosaics will be planted in gardens not already adorned with glittery pieces dancing with light beams in the sunshine.
There is a feeling of well-being in springtime and summer that cannot be fathomed during wintery days in the usual way, just basking in sunlight. But other past-times can be explored. Looking for the light in other ways includes coffee laced with cocoa, puzzles while watching a favorite movie, coming to the present moment while the slinky cat stretches her long body down my legs until they go numb and I must move her… and on the list goes; simple pleasures, sweet pleasures.
Upon waking the reminder of the work that must continually be done goes home to my center. Don’t run from feelings, go deeper into them, and into my body. Do not let fear keep you from what is real, and what is you. Unprocessed traumas from so long ago manifested itself into every moment making each one feel like a crisis constantly looms.
One of my jobs is to quell the ever present anxiety erupting from childhood where terror festered inside becoming a constant beast to bear embedded into my wiring. Breathe, let the shoulders soften, allow relaxation into the body down through the calves to your toes.
You’re OK. You always have been, you just don’t know it.
photo by Patricia
Though the drudgery of winter is wearing, walking continues to bring a modicum of relief. By lap three the joints are loosened, muscles are warmed, and a boost to the spirit occurs. Additional rewards include resting creek-side. The silence in winter is deafening.
Where are my feathered friends, leaving me, wanting to follow? As my heartbeat calms, the dullness of bare trees does not improve mood. Then, there on my coat cuff, one lone, perfectly shaped snowflake.
Lifting my arm closer, pondering its miracle, as if an angel has spoken, “This is for you. Be aware of the beauty hidden among ugliness. This is hope.”
photo by Patricia
Sometimes you just have to wing it. Sometimes you have to trust when there isn’t any, faith that all things will work even when they don’t because messy is what life is.
Waking at 3AM, by 4, giving up, it’s TV and coffee, caffeinated because falling back to sleep wouldn’t happen.
Avoiding conversation with a loved one whose actions already have caused a sleepless night causes yet another one. It is always an indication that my character needs work. That however a thing is tempted to be handled, in this case fully removing myself from the offending person’s life, would be injurious to all. Rise above tends to be a constant to work at.
I am weary of rising above it, stuffing down feelings seems more like it. Yet others are where they are, and there’s not much to be done about that.
No one will call me a saint. I don’t make a good martyr. My humanness is difficult to accept and live with. Living moments awake when I’d rather be sleeping? Complain, or make the best of it, maybe both.
This is a day sleep is really needed. Our annual progressive dinner with my monthly friend’s group, along with their husbands, occurs in the afternoon. Now we meet at one home instead of progressing house to house for each course. Everyone brings their assigned courses there.
It is always a happy time, with games before the dessert course, including charades. But now tiredness will make it harder. Such is life.
photo by Patricia
How to keep the peace? Luxuriating in this period of deep, long winter sleeps, then? No falling asleep. I could feel it. I could feel the restlessness in my brain traveling to emotions with the chorus of warning bells clanging louder as the time sleep should have come— not coming.
A call from a loved one earlier in the day set the string of past memories in motion. Not one to let go of hurts, they pile up inside embedded into the already existing quagmire of brokenness.
Much effort has gone into reducing that ball of red-hot pain, cooling it, down-sizing it to manageable proportions. It has shrunk from molten lava…rage, to earth’s crust, mostly cool except for sporadic eruptions. When flaring, even a simple phone call ignites pain churning the unhealed turmoil. The bell dinging wouldn’t be soothed.
Just take what you need, don’t wait till midnight or 1 AM. Resigned to taking medication sleep came within the hour.
How to keep others from interfering with internal peace? Go deeper, or be less attached? The answer always lies within if you possess the courage to look. This is yet another FOG, another fucking opportunity for growth.