Resilience

I have spent many years
trying to find myself
I was buried
hidden
under such a burden of damagedness

I see my little granddaughter now
running free
laughing
climbing
singing
with such wonderful gay abandon
and I have vague pictorial flashes of memory
of the little wild child I was
before….

For years
I have wondered how I managed to survive
the pain and torment
of lies and secrecies
the destruction of family
to keep going
to keep living
when so many others couldn’t

This morning
I woke with this word
Resilience

A word I’ve heard many times
but gave no thought or mind to
cuz it had nothing to do with me
did it?

Certainly not a word that was ever given to me
I’ve had others thrown my way
others which have stuck and caused deep woundings
Bossy
Super Mum
Victim
Liar
to name but a few

I am a confessed logophile
my children will vouch for that
even if they don’t understand that particular word 🙂
I needed to find answers
so I went searching
and in that searching
I found some truths

What depletes resilience?
overwork
chronic stress
exhaustion
neglecting self care
negative self-talk
unhealthy coping mechanisms
managing difficult people
lack of social support
withstanding personal criticism
isolation
substance abuse

Yes, that was me
maybe that still is me to an extent
But I have not spent the past 14 years
in therapy
working my arse off
trying to recover
trying to heal
trying to live
without making inroads and
instead of ticking those boxes
I am crossing them off the list

Instead
I can now tick other boxes
like these…
A resilient person perseveres in the toughest times
A resilient person finds strength within themself
A resilient person supports others instead of bringing them down
A resilient person can withstand and recover from difficult conditions
A resilient person can bounce back from setbacks
A resilient person can draw on their inner strength to navigate challenges
A resilient person can maintain wellbeing
A resilient person is aware of their emotional reactions
A resilient person is comfortable in who they are

Why has it taken over 5 decades for me to get to this point?
Because I was so buried in the trauma
I used every ounce of of all I was just to survive
It wasn’t until I got to a point of breaking
of being so broken
and someone recognising my brokenness for what it was
and encouraged me to seek help
and I did
and I have persevered
for years

But being resilient doesn’t mean I don’t get hurt
It just means I have gained the emotional maturity
to know how to express myself
to the ones I can trust
to the ones who have chosen to support me
I know how to deal with that hurt
and how to place it where it belongs
the sting of it still stings
and the tears are still real
but I can now embrace the hurt
let the tears fall
and confess my feelings
and move on
leaving it at the feet of those it belongs to
and not mine

Three years ago
I chose to end some extremely traumatic years
by having a tattoo
placed visibly for my own reminder
a reminder that this was the end

Today
looking at it with fresh eyes
I am understanding fully
the symbolism of my choice
and it fills me with hope

the Lotus flower
represents
strength
rebirth
and
Resilience

and added is a line from one of my favourite poets
Rumi
“You’ve seen my descent, now watch my rising” 

I didn’t understand fully 3 years ago
just how much of a rising there was coming

Blame or Shame

shame or blame
blame and shame
coexistent

for years I’ve lived with both
burning holes in my brain
years of untangling
the shame
years and years and years
taking the blame
carrying the shame
then years and more years
unloading the shame
but allowing the blame to become misplaced anger
averting the idea that the one I loved
could be that monster
justifying
mitigating
his part because of his history
preventing my heart from being broken
again and again and again
and then eventually
understanding
that the blame and shame
actually lies
fair and square
at his feet, on his head
not mine
no more excusing or defending him

it took years and years
for me to identify that blame
and to put the shame where it truly belongs
but in so doing
I have felt and still feel so alone
with no understanding from those who used to love me
from the ones closest to me
who are now so far far away from me
who throw their anger
their rage
so blindly
so angrily
so misguidedly
at me

I couldn’t comprehend
why?
and then
the lightbulb moment
the clarity
the understanding
they are doing exactly
the same
as I did

they cannot
they do not
the have not
the capacity to cope with
the shame
the humiliation
of knowing
that the one person
they knew and trusted
could be that monster
so their anger displaces
misguidedly misplaced
and is directed at me
just one of his many victims
who has had the audacity to finally
stand up and speak out

the pain
the heartbreak
the divisiveness
the trauma
the misuse of power
the infliction of grief and trauma
the absolute suffering and distress
caused by the evilness of paedophillia
the perversion of incest
the absolute lifelong torment from sexual abuse
is so great
so immense
the ripples that grow
and grow
and grow
into uncontrolled tsunami waves
from the shame and the blame
destroy relationships
and families

shame and blame
live symbiotically
and unless they are
directed fair and square at the feet of the offender
they become parasitic
and entwine within the psyche of the family tree
and kill
everything they touch

it is the worst heartbreak
ever

Forgiveness or what?


Forgiveness….
an easy word to toss around
used so freely by those within the many diverse circles of religiosity
especially those who have not experienced abuse
the placaters
the well meaners
the do gooders
the word throwers
the ones who have not stood in my shoes

Forgiveness….
This word holds so many red cards for me
I have struggled with it for decades
After being sexually & emotionally abused for years and years
the ruination of my childhood
I then go on and live through decades of spiritual abuse
and more emotional abuse
so much shaming
and blaming
and shunning
by those who can’t accept what my abuser did
So ‘forgive’ me if I sound jaded
I Am
Very Jaded

There’s gotta be a better word
Another word
A word that takes all the blame and shame
and stacks it squarely on who it belongs

Forgiveness….
Thesaurus synonyms are
absolution
clemency
compassion
dispensation
grace
mercy
reprieve
vindication
amnesty
reprieve
etc
All ideations from religiosity

Then there is this
noun  as in pardon; end of blame
End of blame
Well fuck me thrice over
There is no way I am ever going to end the blame
I will never forget what was done to me
I will never forget the childhood that was robbed from me
I have been shamed to hell and back for nigh on 60yrs
There is no way this side of hell freezing over that I am ever going to end the blame or pardon my abuser

This probably sounds angry
that’s cuz it is
I am angry
No matter how much healing work I do
it always comes back to
bloody forgiveness!

I am not allowing anger to eat me up
I am angry
but anger is not possessing me
I was recently told that
Holding on to anger
Is like drinking poison and expecting the other person to die

so hop off your high horses
don’t start the lectures
don’t drop the platitudes
If I was drinking the poison
I wouldn’t be processing
I wouldn’t be writing
This is the way I know how to release

I am doing the work
the work I shouldn’t have to be doing
cuz it all comes down to the fact
that if what was done To me
hadn’t been done To me
then I wouldn’t have to be asking

Forgiveness or what?
There must be another word…

Finding Courage

When you are living and healing from years of abuse
you face daily conundrums
you are processing and growing
and trying valiantly to heal
in a way that allows you to regain your true self
the issue is though
that you actually don’t know who that is
your abuser striped the knowing of your self
away from you the moment he took you

you spend a life time
trying to regain some sense of self
self preservation
self worth
self confidence
so many self’s
but you constantly ride a see-saw
scared of becoming
self centred
self focused
self ish

so you bury your own self in the search of yourself
and get lost in others self’s

instead of fighting your own dragons
you protect your self by fighting for and with others against their dragons
because instinctively you recognise those are the same dragons you need to fight
but they are a step removed from yours so it is less painful

you become a warrior
fighting the cause
and sympathy becomes empathy
but carrying load after load of others pain
becomes too heavy

and then warriors break
but only when broken can you truly focus on self healing
only then do you realise the courage it has taken to get you this far
so much courage taken to stay alive
it
is
exhausting

but your journey towards self growth has just begun

you then face more conundrums
how do you heal?
do you
continue to bury the truths of your abuse
do you
continue the cycle by
Not airing your dirty linen in public?
Keep sweeping the dirt under the carpet?
Shut your mouth cuz it might offend others?

do you stand up and fight
do you speak your truths

you have to find Your own courage
fight your own battles
no one else will fight them for you

you will need to dig deep and find your courage
to fight your abuser for the rest of your life
even when he is no longer on this planet
his dragons will still breath fire through the mouths of others

because no matter how many times you are told
it was not your fault
it always comes back to
it is
Your dirty linen
Your dirt
Your abuse

It is absolute shit
revictimisation at his finest

it takes an exhausting amount of courage
every day
to refuse to wear
his dirty linen
his dirt
his abuse

it take courage every day
to tame your dragons

How do you say goodbye

How do you say goodbye?

it’s the hardest thing
.
.
.
grief


at first it
slams
engulfs
drowns
How can we possibly survive our loss
total and utter impossibility
shock overwhelms us
gut punched
bewilderment
convulsive sobbing
brokenness
blankness
.
.
.
grief

As moments
become days
become months

the sadness & sobbing
reduce to
tears
melancholy
questions
anger
more sadness
blankness
depression
fatigue
.
.
.
grief

and with the years come
resignation
flashbacks
sleeplessness
nostalgic longing
embodied sadness
emotional numbness
rememberings
wistful memories
.
.
.
grief


Our journey unfolds
personal processing
no right
no wrong
grief grips our future
it is always there
we blank it out
we mind block the triggers
we hold in tears
we nurse the pieces
of our broken heart
until our inward flowing tears
glue the parts together
there will always be cracks
it will never be whole ever again
But those cracks
remind us every day
of the intense beauty
of loving
of being loved

How do we say goodbye?
Do we ever really….

Train wrecked

When life is trucking along
you are hit by small triggers spasmodically but you just stop briefly and deal with them as they bump you
then you’re back on course again
till the next wee one
They feel big
But in actuality they’re just potholes that reduce your speed momentarily

But when out of left field
a huge train mows you down
you don’t have time to run for cover
It unleashes all the demons that you’ve managed to keep locked in your basement for the past years

It
sucker punches
gut punches
derails you

all the tips and techniques you’ve learnt
all the therapies
all the breathing
everything just flies out the window

Those demons start playing havoc in your head
reigniting memories
exhausting you with all the ‘whatifs’
all the ‘whys’

Taking me down trails I don’t want to go
the overgrown tracks I have been consciously avoiding
shutting out
closing my mind to
No!!
I don’t want to go there again
No more
Stop!!!

The anger
the grief
the absolute sadness
and the feelings of betrayal

The betrayal is the worst
all these years and they knew
but they stayed silent

The betrayal….

my fight is gone

anger
rage
burns into a blankness of nothingness

the fight I’ve felt
the fight I’ve fought
nine years of active duty for my baby

two years of
holding him
fighting him
fighting for him
containing him
suffering with him
but
not understanding
not knowing
the cause
or the pain

then
the discovery
the horror
the disbelief
and weirdly, the relief
as if a diagnosis can heal a broken soul
of course it can’t
but it gives perspective
and some understanding

then finally
the arrest

and then the silencing began
the waiting
holding our breath
keeping our tongues lawfully gagged
closed mouths
unable to release the anger and fears contained within my mothers heart
so many tears
the anxieties
and perplexities
watching his continuing agonies
his blacknesses
his fear and incapacities to live fully
shared anger
shared pain

after four years of being silenced
facing that monster who broke my child
who tried to destroy us
finally being allowed to voice
the hatred
my anger
for all his despicable evilness

then the feeling of bewilderment
as the silencing continues
our judicial system
works slowly
inefficiently
almost impotently
the temptation to allow a bullet or a rope
is so great
but reality checks our responses

finally
his name is revealed to all
but only to all who care
only to those who give a damn
his name is a 5 min wonder in the daily newspaper
buried unless you know

26 months
for all the pain and the torture inflicted upon us all
26 months
for lives wrecked and destroyed
26 months…
words fail me
I’m silenced again
this time by my inability to express brokenness

then after not long enough
gut slamming phone calls
parole board mandatory reports
received when least expected
bolts from the blue
jarring me back
to those years past

re-opening the numbed lesions of my soul
released after 17 months served
how is this justice
my body tries to find the anger
and the rage
but all that’s left is
soul destroying numbness
helplessness
nothingness
blankness

the proverbial rug has been completely pulled from under
the silence is continuing
ringing in my ears so loudly
i cannot hear
i’m crushed
my fight is broken

this pain
shouldn’t be my pain to carry
but this is my baby
my precious, precious child
the one I birthed and have nurtured for over 2 decades
his pain
is my pain
a mother carries her child’s pain
as if it were her own
in the hopes
that he will eventually be free of his own









honouring friends

when you spend the day creating
for a special person
to lift their spirits
and to share your love
and then a phone call
one you’ve been dreading
hoping not to receive

grief hits you a side blow
and you come tumbling down
the pain from within
echoes that of times past
losing a loved life long partner
so heartbreakingly hard

tears flow
where do I go with this
where can I go
but to other friends

spend time with friends
now
before its too late
make time
take time
before you have to join to celebrate
the life well lived
of yet another friend
who has left
too soon

when darkness descends – again

when your head hurts
when there is so much chaos inside
that it blanks out all rational thinking
random thoughts
swirl around
battering my brain cells like a raging storm
I try to follow one thought
but it diverges into a torrent flowing a different direction
another thought
and another
small streams
all diverging into a raging river of pain

pain from so many sources
heavy weightedness
my head aches
with weariness
my body drags with an unexplainable lethargy
I don’t know how to find the beginning
let alone the end
too many beginnings
they just add and add and add
so much more pain
and grief
to the weightedness I am feeling

a random person sees
my pained being
delivers a hug
causing my eyes leak with tears
but still holding back the rivers that want to flow
because those nearest
cannot see
what is inside of me
and I am scared
than if they do
it will horrify them
because it terrifies me

I try to grasp at one
to decipher
where it came from
but my brain sees another
and runs to that
then to another
until my head is so full

my hands try to hold my brain
the explosions of pain
darkness
weariness
sadness

how can I describe
the darkness within
when I cannot find the beginning
to begin







Living Fully Creative Therapy

My journal page during the weekend
quote Ann Voskamp

I spent the end of March and the first two days of April participating in a Living Fully Creative Therapy Group
3.25 very intense days 😥
It was a ‘retreat’ for sexual abuse survivors.
I was fortunate to be put forward for funding to attend.
It was with much trepidation that I agreed.
I didn’t know what to expect so went with no expectations.
I deliberately booked myself into a motel nearby as I knew that I would not cope with the travel too and fro after such intensive days.
That was a self care move and a good one
I was right.
I needed space for me each night.

We were a small group of victims in varying stages of healing.
It was challenging, disturbing, distressing, amazing, painful and wonderful all at the same time.
To be able to freely communicate and be heard & believed and supported in such a safe way was actually incredible.

I’ve never experienced psychodrama or group therapy before 😬
It was certainly very interesting, challenging and emotionally draining.
Actively participating in the dramas was definitely not something I was comfortable to do
I preferred the role of witness and giving feedback
This was an important part of the proceedings
The art therapy portions were certainly more my thing
There just wasn’t enough of them for me 😉


What did I take from my time there?

Firstly – I learned that I can participate, or not, at whatever level I am comfortable with and saying no is very ok.
And I was commended for doing so.

Secondly – I learned that I can hold my own space.
That I’m important and have as much right as anyone else to hold space.
That I’m not taking from anyone else.
And that in owning my space I’m also giving to others.

Thirdly – I learned that I was believed.
At all times.
I was supported and held in the safest place I’ve ever been in.
In the past when I have tried talking openly I’ve been shutdown & silenced.
That is revictimisation and I will no longer allow myself to be a victim of that.

Fourthly – I have never read my work aloud to anyone before.
I usually write & run.
But this time they wanted my words.
They asked me to read to them.
Their responses were more than could’ve imagined.
So much empathy, compassion, & identifying.
I felt validated.
As a writer.
As an artist.
As a woman.

An initial 20min exercise at my Living Fully Workshop.
The colours portray different areas of my life, the brown are the shadows that people can’t & don’t want to see

Day 2 of my Living Fully Workshop. 20min Art expression session
Words which are all part of me at any given time….