Sadness – Unraveling…

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

Long post, go get the popcorn!

I have spent months processing some issues that have caused ongoing major triggers for me
I’ve been unsure as to why the reactions were so strong
I understood part of them
But it was only recently that I fully understood the depths of the why

And before I start
I want to add
that it is NOT mandatory for ANYONE to have ANY medical tests that they do NOT want to have!
So please allow me the grace to make my own decisions re my own health

Backtracking
to the beginning of this story
We needed to have some blood tests done
So made appointments at our local medical centre
Because of the state of our medical system in NZ currently there are currently no resident doctors at our centre
So we have to see the nurses.
As we do not make a habit of seeing doctors it’s been a while
We both are patients of a Dr in the USA so are not being irresponsible
In fact we are very proactive about our health
Hence staying with a Dr who works with us as we need despite the distances

During our appointment the nurse started scrolling through my records
and I started getting the inquisition
‘You haven’t had a mammogram’
“No – I have thermograms and I am actually scheduled for one next week “
‘You haven’t had a cervical smear in a long time’
“No, I don’t actually want one”
Then the coercions began
‘It’s over 5 years so it’s free for you’
‘It’s so easy now, you just do it yourself’
‘Here you go, go do it now while I sort your husband’s blood tests’
I felt cornered, to an extent bullied…
I acquiesced and went
I came away feeling incredibly angry with myself for not fighting for myself

A week later
We were away from home
I get a call from her
Telling me that HrHPV had been detected
And I needed to come in for a ‘proper cervical smear’
She insisted I make an appointment for when we returned home
So from then I was riding the Rollercoaster of Fear!
I couldn’t talk to anyone
Until my therapist processed things with me
My choices were
– do nothing
– go have it done
– ask for another nurse as I had felt so bullied by the first one
I was already riding the rollercoaster so doing nothing was a hard option
I was triggered, distressed, angry

After a few days I called the clinic and asked to see a different nurse
one of my choice
All good!

So a week later we were home and I dutifully went
I was absolutely stunned when the first nurse came to get me
I was not happy
I felt trapped again
I managed to reiterate that I had not wanted the smear in the first place
That I had asked for another nurse
So she went to find her and I was able to switch rooms right away
This nurse I feel more comfortable with
I finally agreed to have the smear done
It was BLOODY awful
SO painful
In so many ways
By the time it was over I was a sobbing mess

To inflict this on a woman is bad enough
But on a woman who endured years of sexual assault and rape
This is invasive and soul destroying
I couldn’t get out of there fast enough

A week later
the results came back Negative
Same scenario as many years ago
I was so pissed off that I had allowed myself to get back on that rollercoaster

Two months later we had to return to the clinic
This time to get a prescription sorted
This time to see a locum
an unknown male doctor
As we drove
my stomach began churning
my head was pounding
I was feeling really sick
I realised I was experiencing full on panic attack
Very thankful for understanding spousal support

Also grateful to meet the doctor
as he was wonderful
and understanding
and helpful
and not a bully
Such a major relief

Moving forward a few weeks to another therapy session
Talking about other things
when all of a sudden I was hit by the understanding as to why I reacted so violently to the situation at the clinic

Yes, there was definitely the understandable reaction of an abuse victim
But there was more
and this is where it gets very personal
and you may want to leave the room about now

When I was a child
from the age of 7-8 till 18
I was a victim of incest at the hands of my father
This is not debatable
it happened
it is My Truth

I was asked last week
how did I seperate the pain from the pleasure
That is one of the hardest things for a child to compute
because incest is delivered by the person who you love and who is supposed to love you
It is not always violent
there is a lot of grooming
and is executed in a misguided ‘loving way’
so there is more pleasure than pain

Just explaining this makes me want to vomit
My response to the question came along with flashbacks that I had buried
but obviously not deep enough
“As a preteen/teen I felt incredibly trapped
and I went through the motions required just so I could escape as fast as I could”

At that moment I understood my reaction in the nurses clinic
I felt trapped
I acquiesced to enable my escape

I had retreated back into that young girl
and I did the only thing I knew how

I hope you haven’t run out of popcorn
this isn’t the end of the story
just this chapter….

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

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….

My incomplete Fucked Up list

quote Russell Brand – Step 4 from RECOVERY

For the past few days my mind has been a mash up of blank emotions
Feeling with others
Identifying with parts of their stories
But not knowing how to process my own
Because it just feels too huge
Too complicated
Where do I start
my PTSD,
my ball of string, has so many pieces rolled into it
some are long, very very very long
and others are short, abrupt, moments
with many varying lengths between

This morning Russell Brand challenged me loud and clear
He pushed me up off of my pillows and said
Start writing!

Here goes….

My father
He was my main fuck up
He fucked me up so fucking good
He spent my entire childhood ensuring I was totally fucked up
And he did such a good job of it
Incest is the most confusing type of sexual abuse anyone can endure
No violence involved
Just so called love and enjoyment
It turns my stomach to recall how much he made me enjoy what he did to me
For over 10 years
That is a total screw up in anyones brain
I bury those memories so deep
But this morning they are surfacing
And I am SO FUCKING ANGRY
He stole so much from me
The pleasure of actually knowing when I lost my virginity
Or the ability to give consent and give myself to who I wanted
The never knowing when, because it is blurred into obscurity
The not knowing how to guide my own children
My children – OMG don’t get me started on that
He locked my emotions up so fucking much
I didn’t know how to parent or communicate with me own children
I so fucked up my own children

That day we were going to visit our friends
the day our landrover rolled off the road and down the bank
the day the one man I trusted
let me down for the first time
that one error of judgement
set triggers alight that haunt me decades later
fears that seem now to be irrational
but are so fucking real
fear of falling
fear of losing my children
fear of confined spaces
fear of losing control
fears, irrational and uncontrollable fears…

Home from the hospital
an innocent comment
A curious question
Allowed us to discover our precious daughter
had been abused whilst we were away
she was in the care of someone we trusted
but still a fucked up deviant who managed to get to my precious little girl
So Fucking Up and So Fucking Angry

A month later
pregnant with very unplanned baby No4
after pelvic injuries, broken left ankle, sprained right knee
and weeks on crutches
after a month of painkillers
after a month of vomiting
then
bleeding
a bucket full of bleeding
nearly died getting to the hospital
I lost my baby

Abused by a hospital doctor
another man I should’ve been able to trust
my husband’s ignorance/innocence in female medical stuff allowed it to happen
Nurses enveloped me
allowed me to cry
helped me understand what he did to me was wrong
a week later
re-admittance
a repeat proceedure
re-traumatisation

Finally home
Fucked up again
No you can’t grieve your baby
You gotta praise God
Cuz you gotta accept its all part of his plan
So no tears
No sadness
Let’s just praise God and carry on living
So Fucked Up

Baby No5
Perfectly normal pregnancy
Horrendous delivery
Hospital trauma
Stirrups
Huge needle in my spine during stage 2
Total evacuation of my uterus
Post birth – you need to get out of bed
Migraine to the max
Oops – another medical fuckup
More needles in my spine
“oh you have a wee boy after 3 girls. How lovely”
No fucking way do I want this kid!
I am in so much pain and you expect me to love this baby
10 days to finally hold and begin to love my boy
Such a Fuck Up

Baby No7
7 years later
My friends enveloped me
Finally I was allowed to grieve
But along the way
pieces of trauma
varying degrees of severity
adding up
relationships
family dramas
accidents
business issues
so many traumas
and falls, so many falls
culminating in years and years of body pain
But swept aside as just another thing to deal with
I kept busy, keeping busy
Running the farm
Doing all the bookwork
Raising & educating my 10 living children
Feeding the myriads that surrounded our family table each day
Encapsulating extreme busyness!
I was really, really good at keeping busy

Unknowingly
My stress bucket was filling
then one evening
one small thing was said
But it was magnificent & breathtaking in its delivery
and its magnificence overflowed my bucket
And I broke
An emotional breakdown that
completely unhinged me
Threw me off of my rotation
And spin me out of my carefully controlled busyness
It totally bewildered my husband
It completely blindsided me
But actually
I wasn’t shocked
I had been quietly screaming for help since I was a small child

That Fuck Up led me on my course of discovery and healing
And I am so fucking grateful I began then

Because the 2nd biggest Fuck Up of my life happened two years later

On the 17th February 2013
see! this time I remember all
everything
each detail of that day is marked with such clarity

My husband,
My Timmy
The man who had loved me since I was 14 years old
The man who saved me and cherished me
The man I loved so much
left for town
and he never came home
He was killed
Instantly
only 20mins from our home
when his vehicle left the road and rolled 200m down the hillside

The trauma from that moment
has overshadowed almost every other trauma in my life
I was so Fucked Up and Fucked Over by the police, victim support etc
The people that are supposed to be there for you
What a massive Fucked Up!
the spiral rippling effect this one event has had
on myself
my children
our extended family
is beyond belief
I cannot even write this without crying
I can talk about my abuse
I can get angry, feel sad, etc
But I can’t cry
But for this my heart cries
It is like a bottomless well of tears that will never stop
They are always there
No matter how happy my life is or how content I am in the moment
This trauma has fucked me up like no other

Leaving our home of over 40 years
Packing up after 4 generations
that was traumatic in itself
The splintering of our family
The inability of my children to process and support each other as they each reeled in their own pain
We have been so Fucked Up

Moving to the city
Creating new life and new friends
exciting but
So hard
I got a job
A dream job
Working with Sexual Abuse victims
I So Loved my job
Until I was Fucked Over once again
by the person who was supposed to support us and be there for us
Our Team Manager
After a particular horrendous call out
The worst any of us had ever experienced
Instead of support and care
I was Traumatised
Victimised
Stung big time by a scorpion
Put over a barrel – had to leave
Fucked Up Again

And in amongst my story
there are my children
My children all have their own stories
I have permission to tell some
but now is not that place
Their stories require their own spaces
Their stories are interwoven with mine
through it all
We have become stronger
Still Fucked Up
But So Much Fuckin Stronger

Category: Sadness