It has been just a year – a year like no other We were a fighting force gathered together like a group of raggle taggle gypsies strangers with a common cause We drove together from the south and the north Creating friendships Forming bonds Celebrating life with those who understood Talking freely Rejoicing in the energy surrounding us Fighting for freedoms freedoms lost freedoms stolen not just our freedoms – everyones Fighting for those blinded those hypnotised those scared those compliant
The toll this year has taken is indescribable The abuse The silencing The rollercoasters of energies emotional physical spiritual Exhaustion Exhausted Drained Heartbroken Numbness
Looking into this new year wanting to feel positive But knowing what’s been… Venturing in toe testing the waters Feeling apprehensive scared wary weary
But overall clutching Hope grasping Courage preparing each day to be Brave
Most people who read this know my story (If not then cruise on back through my posts and you’ll soon figure it out) And you will know that I have been in therapy for over 10 years now it was actually quite a cataclysmic event that I am able to pin point my breakdown to – the Christchurch NZ February 2011 earthquake happened exactly one month after I broke. Not sure if there is any rational transcendent reasonings behind that timeframe but its definitely a hinging point for my memories
I have learnt and am still learning about me And how the traumas have affected and altered me I’m sure it has been beneficial No, I know it has been incredibly beneficial It hasn’t changed my past But it has altered how I deal with my future My trauma based brain that I operate from still sends out triggers on a daily basis But I have learnt to how to identify them and cope with them more readily
I’ve also learnt a whole heap of new vocabulary And for someone like me who processes in the written word Who loves words Who loves to research This helps me immeasurably
Recently I was talking with my therapist about how people perceive me and how I see myself I am usually seen as being strong and outspoken and independent But inside I am often a quaking mess, unsure, afraid of being hurt and afraid of upsetting proverbial boats
I present this exterior persona of being strong and in control Which I also am I’m both Because the me that is now I Was shattered into pieces And I am trying to meld my pieces back together again Confused much Yeah me too
This quote pretty much sums it up though
10 years of therapy sounds a such a long time But so much else has happened within those years that have rabbit pathed my focus so my therapy has been often stretched sideways I relaxed into it more easily once I was told in the earlier days by one of my case managers that my abuse/trauma would take a very long time to heal from
So anyways, recently my therapist shared these words with me when I was asking her how the hell do I present so together when I’m actually not…
Firstly Dissociation (when we numb out or block painful feelings) I’m already very familiar with this I do it often It makes life so much easier to cope with But it makes others feel like you don’t care
Over identification (when swamped and overwhelmed) oh my Lord! This is way too familiar I know one of my ptsd cover ups has been, and often still is, to keep very busy So I do And then there gets to be too much happening in my brain And I start spinning And one small trigger tips me over And my brain crashes Like the wheel spinning on the computer screen And I blank out drowning in an absolute lost mess
But the third one is the word I needed to understand to answer my question
Disidentification (when keeping at arms length and know it’s not about me) This is the word I had not heard before But it sure is a good one And it is most definitely me A lot of the time It’s the suck it up and do what is deemed right part of me It’s the brave face It’s the masks I wear to protect me And it’s the masks I wear to actually protect others Because no matter how much I break my silence there are still those who do not know, who can not know, who I still protect
This was the me that was able to stand up the front of the church and speak at my own father’s funeral I never understood how I did that But it was expected of me I was the eldest of the siblings Eloquant Strong Someone who gets shit done So I did what was expected And I spoke I remember absolutely nothing My mother of course kept all the words and on her death I probably inherited them along with all the other words she passed on to me I choose not to go searching for them I choose to stay in a state of insulation to protect my very vulnerable self.
Did I speak at my mother’s funeral I absolutely cannot remember I know I organised her funeral I know so many intimate details of the day, the weeks prior and the weeks & months following But I have completely buried that part of the day My mother was an important part of my development but her ultimate betrayal is still too painful and deeply embedded so dissociation wins
But I do know I stood and spoke at my husband’s funeral This was the me that was so broken, so lost, so overwhelmed with pain But I did it Cuz I had to For me For him For the kids I disidentified and dissociated
Abuse How do we speak about it How do we own it MY abuse or THE abuse
Do we absorb it make it our own Do we try to remove it from within disown it disassociate from it
How do we process those words
Does It become part of me – we become consumed by It – we allow It to absorb Us – we struggle within It – we surrender to It
Or
Do we hold it at arms length – the thing that was done to me – the thing that has affected me – the thing that has crippled me – the thing that changed my life forever
We each develop systems to cope with our individual situations Those systems in turn become mechanisms The mechanisms which allow us to continue to live Some of us ‘appear’ to live well And others of us don’t
No matter what the outside world perceives of us The trauma The abuse has infiltrated our very core pierced our soul And created such damage that we will never ever be the same ever again
But one way we can alter the effects Is to change MY abuse to THE abuse And in so doing We remove the onus From us And give it back To the Abuser, the Perpetrator The one who did things TO us
“Anything that’s human is mentionable, and anything that is mentionable can be more manageable. When we can talk about our feelings, they become less overwhelming, less upsetting, and less scary. The people we trust with that important talk can help us know that we are not alone.”
― Fred Rogers
I was watching the movie “A Beautiful Day in the Neighbourhood” recently and these words really spoke to me They are so true So wise
We have had so many taboos in societal exchange And those taboos create so much stress trauma generating room for abuse of many kinds to perpetuate
If we cannot talk about death life sex mental health relationships etc in normal fashion using real terms and real words
We create prohibitions secrets silences darkness damage
Allowing misconceptions to exacerbate Allowing lies to spread Allowing abuse to continue
Let’s manage our (un)mentionables Let’s talk honestly Let’s talk openly Let’s be supportive Let’s be trustworthy
I know if I had had just one person Just one Who could’ve seen Who could’ve been supportive Maybe, just maybe, life would’ve been so different for the little girl that was me
Unfortunately The one person that spoke up for me all those decades ago was just another small person a witness but also a victim, yet another victim Whose parents couldn’t hear her wouldn’t hear her couldn’t see wouldn’t see And because of their inability to manage the unmentionable she was unheard she was physically abused she was verbally abused she was ridiculed for saying such unmentionable dirty things she was silenced
one victim became two victims and on and on and on
until decades later the ripples in the pond of abuse that my father began have become so big and so far reaching so damaging in so many realms of my life
Ever since I found my voice 8 years ago and began mentioning the unmentionable I have been hearing from more of his victims and from other victims who have found their voices cuz I found mine Finding your voice empowers others
Sadly I am still hearing stories from other victims today It is never ending But as we manage our humanity we find support we find we are not alone
Trust me The landrover’s not gonna go over the bank We’ll be fine Bullshit
Trust me I’m just gonna go to town today I’ll see you tomorrow when you come out with the kids Bullshit
Trust me I’m your friend I’ll have your back Bullshit
Trust me…
Trust me…
Trust me…
When I hear those words… My stomach churns I’m feeling sick My heads pounding I’m crying inside I’m breathing deep Trying to contain my fears My whole body is fighting Trying to release my fears
Trust me… It’s not that I don’t trust you It’s that I can no longer trust myself to trust
We are all asked at some point in our lives to write a CV or a resume It is actually a really tough call for many of us Some of us who have dedicated our lives to our families who have not ‘worked’ outside our homes for decades Some of us don’t feel comfortable blowing our own trumpets selling ourselves isn’t easy in this society of diminishment to embolden ourselves is not something we are comfortable with
But try writing your life CV Wow! Thats another story Where do I begin What do I write What do I hide What can I say
There are some things that are on my life CV that I unfortunately can’t do anything about Things that have damaged me Things that have caused me trauma Things that hold me back Things that silence me Things that make me angry Things that scar me Responses I have made Behaviours I have inflicted Words uttered in haste Words delivering pain Those things are there and only I can choose how I use them
I heard a great quote from Holocaust survivor Viktor Frankl who went through far, far more than I could ever imagine but his words resound loudly
Everything in life can be taken from you except one thing The freedom to respond to the situation you are in This is what determines the quality of the life we live, not our circumstances
I am learning to control my reactive emotive responses Those damn ptsd reactions… Trying not to respond to a situation immediately When I do it is often with unthought out reaction A reaction coming from my ptsd or my anxiety or my child self
I am trying to stop and breath and allow time Time to think Time to try and view the situation from the otherside Time to diffuse
I am learning how to rewrite my CV I cannot erase the pages already written The past of damages I have lived and damaging I have caused Those pages have already been delivered & read Burning my copy doesn’t erase the copies received I cannot cancel that history But I can begin writing new pages
The pages ahead are still clear and clean My pencil is sharpened I am aware and on guard I know there will be blots on the pages From inadvertant reactives I unleash But I can choose React or retaliate or Respond
Whatever I choose will predicate the outcome It is my choice
“Being unable to tell your story is a living death, and sometimes a literal one.” Rebecca Solnit
For the past 10 years I have been learning how to be the adult to my broken child The child who endured traumas no child should ever have to The child whose trust was broken over and over The child who was continually silenced The child who lived a double life In constant trauma In fear of many fears
The adult in me continues to live that double life Because the silencing continues No matter how strong this adult becomes The fear And the hurt And the betrayals The repercussions of all the damage of all the traumas Keep reappearing when least expected When vulnerabilities are low When circumstances allow the cracks to widen So the strengths gained are cruelly eroded
No matter how hard I try The voices of the non understanding ones The antagonists continuing the victimisation of the perpetrators Keep penetrating the mind of the unheard child
‘keep clear of her, she’s a total fruitloop, making allegations’ Seriously? And they were there? No they weren’t there And they are still not there The ones she needed The ones she thought she could trust The ones she should’ve been able to trust Were not there Are still not here
Protecting my inner child is exhausting It is a constant daily Her story deserves to be heard She deserves to live And I will fight to my death to allow her to live
Your inner child needs to trust you as the adult in their lives. An adult who can watch over, protect, witness, honor, guide, lead, and love you. This relationship between adult you and little you in one of the most sacred ones there is. Vienna Pharaon
Thankfully this adult has been blessed With a circle of support and love That surpasses blood That holds me when when my anguished child breaks For this I am truly grateful
When my words stop flowing They begin piling up within
Silencing begins slowly One small trigger That stops a word That stops a sentence And before I know it My words have become dammed
Before I realise The metaphoric hand is across my mouth Again… My words are held captive Racing round and round Within my brain Out of control Unable to find escape Tormenting Damning Shaming Me Again…
When my words stop flowing They begin piling up within Like unread books Stacked randomly Teetering With constrained Vulnerability On an unstable shelf
Until The shelf fails The books fall Pages scatter The metaphoric is torn away Allowing my words escape Liberated Flooding forth Demanding coherance Gaining volume Reclaiming power And my healing process Continues Again…
masks we all wear that disguise the pain of the feelings the pain of being the pain of the lie – not good enough
such sadness we unwittingly embrace until we stumble upon someone or something who gives us permission confidence freedom to find the strength within to remove the masks to reveal our vulnerabilities to reveal the us
then we find the real, the ability to really love ourselves and each other
My brain has been all over the place during this tumultuous period of our lives There have been so so many triggers I have really been struggling to process them all My emotional state has been highly disturbed and at a very low ebb
Modern technology has been both a curse and a blessing The curse of information overload what to believe what to not who to believe who to not
I have learnt to use Zoom which has been such a blessing as the one certainty each week has been my hour with my therapist It is the 9am appointment that I have to get out of bed and show up for She has helped me unravel my trauma brain amongst all of this confusion The first week was so bad I was drowning in isolation I did not cope with being locked in with being controlled with being silenced with living in fear
Unraveling… Taking it back… Processing…
As a child I was mind controlled I was silenced by fear I was isolated by fear and I was locked in by the knowledge that if I spoke up I would destroy so much By keeping silent I was protecting everyone else but also protecting myself I found strength enough to hold the abuse But I wasn’t strong enough to endure the consequences of breaking silence
My brain was fighting, struggling with being taken back down that dark trauma rabbit hole I was drowning
Once I was able to process and identify I spoke up Voiced my fears And I was heard My friends and family heard my cry for help And through video coffee dates and phone calls And walks in the sunshine & lots of supportive cuddles from my love I have made it through thus far
“My life is so blessed with some of the most amazing people. Thank you for being part of my journey.” – Unknown
