Death – Unraveling…

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 abuse 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

planetary flows

tides ebb and flow
planets come and go
mercury retrogrades
moons collide
solar flares
lunar eclipses
natures mysteries abound

growing through conservative christianity
taught everything outside was evil
don’t do this
don’t touch that
you’ll allow the devil his hold

wakening now
realising
that I am part of this awesome universe
created by God
and in the being part of
I am feeling part of
so the ebbs and flows
effect my very core

being the very practical being I am
sceptical of things unknown
things unseen that I cannot prove
yet now
I am feeling
and recognising the ebbs & flows
that are affecting my essential self

my life is my long journey
and yet in the aeons of time
it is but a brief blink
connected to the universe of which I am just a tiny speck
I am but a pin prick
feeling such insignificance
how and why does the universe care enough about me
to include me in its ebbs & flows

I am but sand on the shore
a drop of water within the seas
but my life has relevance
and meaning
I must hold some importance
otherwise why am I here

growing up through the Age of Aquarius
it was but a mere song
a hippie chick sang
living on the fringes of churchism
feeling frowned upon for even thinking the lyrics
but on delving in
I see its relevance during my lifetime

apparently though
I have the energy of Sun in conjunct with Pluto
a rare thing indeed
my presence on this planet is to do what I am doing
I am not just a mere speck
I am burning, cleaning, clearing the way
facing the darkside
constantly transforming
articulating
communicating to others

by opening up my heart
allowing the blood of my traumas to flow
releasing the pain and reality of my damaged soul
I am letting the sunshine in
to the hearts of others
as they resonate with my words
no matter the darkness they hold
or the life they bring

sharing gives strength
breaking darkness to let the light in
releasing energy
breaking tensions
allowing the ebb & flow of my life
to encourage others
that is my reason for living

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

Who am I?

I’m not entering the fray to join or continue a battle
I am so tired of fighting
I have been fighting all my life
to find Me
to be Me

So who am I?

I am the proud female descendant
of Norse women
of women throughout the ages who have fought for equality
of women who have lived through centuries of male domination
of women who battled desperation and mighty seas
who have sought and fought for better lives for them and their children
and freedom from suppression
freedom from domination and abuse

My generations of grandmothers did not fight for me
to dismissed
to be invalidated
to be devalued

From their own experiences as negated and denigated women
My grandmother taught me
to stand up for what I wanted
to take what I needed
to not allow myself to be second class
My aunt encouraged me
to look after Me
to put myself first
to self care
To be who I am
I didn’t understand when I was young
from the histories they were speaking from
of their battles they had warred
of the lives they had endured
to become the influential women
who passed their batons on to me
Only now
I see them
Women
standing for women

I have fought my whole life
to be free from male abuse
to set myself free from the trauma instigated upon me by males
It has taken me years
to be able to stand and look men in the eye
without fear
and without trepidation of denigration
I have fought for my own equality
& the equity of my sisters
no matter our colour or creed
for my right
to Be
to Just Be Me

I will not be negated
as a cis person
I am woman

I have not carried 11 babies within me
within my female body
birthing them from my womanly parts
to be relegated
a baby carrying person
I am Me
I am woman

I did not fight to feed 10 babies
for my battle wearied nurturing breasts
to be diminished
as chest feeders
I am Me
I am woman

Words are important to me
They express who I am
Do not invalidate me
Because of who you want to be

Can we please just respect each other
Can you be You
And I will be Me
I have fought too hard and too long
To again lose Me

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.

Category: Death