I spent the first 43 years of my life not breathing. I mean, I know I was breathing because my body was alive, but I wasn’t really breathing. It was either shallow or forced. For years in my adulthood I couldn’t get through full sentences without grasping for another breath in the middle of them due to the anxiety or tension that arose simply due to speaking to certain people. My chest would often feel tight and my mind would race and it was difficult to breathe, think and talk all at the same time.
Early on in therapy, I was taught how to really breathe. Conscious breathing has changed my life. There is power in this function that we so often take for granted. Sitting with only my breath for even just 10 minutes allows my system to settle and recover. For 20 minutes during meditation, I recognize it clear trauma or negative energy from my body and my being. Five to ten deep breaths before public speaking brings mental clarity and calms my nerves. Deep, long breaths before falling asleep allows me a natural calm that no drug can give. Often times while consciously breathing I visualize something positive on the inhale and something negative to release on the exhale.
I share this for the new warriors on our healing journey. It’s a shame that some of us didn’t learn it until later in life, but it’s a huge blessing when you figure it. Let it be your anchor to ground and center you. Peace & love my friends.
I am missing large chunks of childhood memories. It’s always made me feel set apart and sad when I’m in a conversation with someone who is recollecting their childhood and I in return have little to nothing to offer. I always felt panicky when my kids would come home from school with some kind of project or homework that required me to share a memory from my childhood in order to align with theirs. Nope, not happening. I draw blanks most of the time. Sad but true reality.
For years I was angry about my inability to remember but now I hold nothing but gratitude for this part of me. It has protected my body, my heart and my spirit from reliving the trauma. Our systems are beautifully made. I accept this truth with humbleness, grace and awe.
May I be thankful this day and always.
When life has only dished out fake or tainted love, real love feels very unfamiliar. In order to embrace it, I must step into it. No more running.
Will my capacity to love a man return one day? I fear it may be gone forever. It scares me that I may be alone for the rest of my life because of this inability to fully love.
They say that the definition of insanity is, “Doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results.” So I’ve seriously changed things up in my life, to include finding new and intriguing people to befriend, men and women. Everything is so new, so fresh, but also very scary. There is some fear of the unknown going on. On the contrary, there is an unseen force pushing me forward into the unknown. I can hear it screaming to me from my depths, “Go explore! Go to your edge! You will find your freedom there.”
Boundaries. Balance. Priorities. Self-love vs. selfless. I continue to navigate these uncharted territories of my heart and soul. One foot in front of the other. Turtle speed. I will get there. I can do this.
I am brave. Not quite strong enough to come right out and say, “Me Too!” Nonetheless, I posted this to my Facebook. I’m so tired of being shackled by silence.
“As an advocate for human rights, I’d be hypocrite not to post my thoughts on, “Me Too.” They aren’t all rainbows and butterflies so if you’re easily offended, keep on scrolling. It’s too important a subject to be silent.
Sincerest congratulations to the women and men who found freedom in being vulnerable and speaking out. You are my people. Your bravery resonates with me. You are not alone.
In my humble opinion, a movement to speak out and raise awareness on sexual harassment should not share the same platform as sexual assault. They are two vastly different things. The scars run deeper for the latter of the two. I’m tucking that away for later…
Here’s the kicker about this movement: while it started to profoundly raise awareness (and personally, I am glad it did), it places the burden to be vulnerable and raw yet again on the victims. Guess what, that’s not your burden to bear. I stand with those who believe that the shame needs to be shifted back to those who should’ve been carrying it in the first place; it belongs to the perpetrators. I challenge them to step up to the plate and admit their truths, pay retribution of heart and soul, own it, and feel it, really feel it. Maybe then our society would see a shift in a positive direction.
I know of a little girl who was sexual abused. She’s only six. Her parents have her in counseling. Check. I saw her running and playing with her friends on the playground the other day. She looked so normal, happy and free. As she ran down the hill to the other side of the school yard, I noticed her wet pants. She’d had an accident. It happens frequently with her and we all know what that means. It’s moments like that when memories of my childhood come rushing back with such force that it can take me to my knees instantly. I wanted to weep and melt but I couldn’t. I had to be the teacher, the adult. So I’m weeping now.
It’s definitely not mine to carry. My healing co-dependent wants to escape and go rescue her. Yeah, right. It’s out of my control; I understand. I’m finally getting it. Today I will channel love and light to her. I will be thankful that she is in counseling at the age of 6, and not 45, like me. I will be thankful that, while I know her parents are navigating uncharted territory, at least they took the right steps to report it and get her help, unlike my parents did. I will be thankful that she has a lot of love around her. I will be thankful, not angry.
But first I must release the contempt. Stupid fuckers! Fuck you for robbing children of their innocence. Fuck you for getting your kicks on little kids. Fuck you for living. May karma have you and wreak havoc on your soul.
Now then. Peace.
Originally posted on Riddle from the Middle: You may write me down in history With your bitter, twisted lies, You may tread me in the very dirt But still, like dust, I’ll rise. Does my sassiness upset you? Why are you beset with gloom? ‘Cause I walk like I’ve got oil wells Pumping in my…
via Still I Rise by Maya Angelou — NOT MY SECRET…overcoming the shame of sexual abuse
I’m taking a trip to New York City next week. It’s my mid-life liberation trip, I guess. I’m going by myself. So strange. Never would I have done something like this even 1 year ago. But I’ve got this. I must get away from the crazies and spend 4 days on myself. One of my favorite bands, Blue October, is playing in Westbury on the 12th. I’m going. I can’t fucking wait! Their music lets me know I am not alone. When you’re ready for something powerful, crank this up:
It’s SO worth listening to. I listen on a daily basis. It gives me strength and power to push forward. Love to all of you, sisters and brothers. May today bring you peace.