Cultivating the Garden of Compassion

I've been fighting the urge to shut down, resist, run away from what comes next in my healing process for a very long time.   The door to what comes next looms in front of me and I feel clearly my body and mind and heart as terror washes over me and every muscle, every fiber of my being shouts: NO!    I've been working hard trying to figure out how to stop fighting, stop resisting, to let what comes, come.   And yet, still I found myself running the opposite direction.

All along I've known, the only way out is through, but knowing that and being able to go through are two separate things.   The internal terror from years of brain washing are fierce - flashing red lights, an ear-wrenching alarm sounding and screams of STOP, GO BACK, RUN, DEATH AHEAD are overwhelming.

Memories are knocking at the door, kinesthetic body memories sneaking through the cracks, sliding under it, making my body spasm and cramp and hurt.  And still, I've been resisting.

Perhaps I've been looking at the whole thing in the wrong way.   Could it be it's as simple as being more compassionate, more tender....having a little mercy for myself and whatever comes next?    Maybe I don't have to face it all with a fierce "Come and get me!" attitude, but rather a softening, a gentleness and understanding for it all.

I'm going to cultivate compassion, for myself, for this healing journey, for the memories to come, for the child I was and for the woman I will be.   It's strange that I have limitless compassion for all beings on this planet, except....myself.   I'm going to tend my inner garden, sowing seeds of compassion, tenderness, love....selfishly this time, all for me, who I am, who I was and who I will be.

In the end it seems, it's not about fighting or resisting or even silent acceptance.... it's about becoming as tender hearted toward myself as I am toward others.   It's about softness and opening up, trusting that as my petals open the sun will be there to help me grow, that the world won't end because I see my history or tell my story.   Those fears are old, like old VHS tapes, and it's time to record over them with a different story.  A story of survival, yes, but also a story of learning to thrive, grow, reach, be free and find joy.

Yes, there is still fear here, but also, tentatively....hope.   The truth is those that hurt me are dead, and those that aren't, well, they can't touch me now.   These memories, that damn door to what comes next, these body memories are asking me to simply be present to what WAS, not what is, or what will be.  I will honor them, and the strength of who I was to have survived it all.

Today I will begin gardening, kneel in the rich soil of my heart and begin turning the soil, making it ready for these seeds of compassion, tenderness, understanding, acceptance and love for myself.

Sometimes the answer we search for with such determination, is closer than our breath, if we only stop, listen, feel and be present, no matter how hard it seems.

There is a softness today,  in my body, mind, heart...and this is new and magical.  So, today I will whisper softly: "Come, come out, it's okay, I'm here and able and willing to listen and hear and see, we are safe now, but I will be your witness and we will be fine, more than fine, we will be whole." 

Thank you for your work, your compassion...for yourself and others... and for the light you shine on this healing path for me... I am grateful

Holidays and Being a Survivor...

Thankfully it's the new year and the holidays are over.  Holidays are such a different thing to a Survivor and more so to a Ritual Abuse Survivor.   Fraught with triggers and unwelcome anniversaries they are a bit like walking through a mine field, eyes ever watchful for your next step and thankful in each moment to have survived the last. 

I got lost a bit.  Isolating and hunkering down, the body sick and the mind running, ever running from the truths that still wait to be seen.   Depression threatened to drown me in sorrow and no matter how hard I tried to swim to the surface a fierce undertow of grief and terror would drag me further down.

My house became a disaster area, and I had no energy to clean, it seemed I had barely enough energy to breathe. Overwhelmed.   Overwhelmed by the house as it fell apart, by the holidays, by the memories leaking through even though I was fighting them tooth and nail, overwhelmed by my body's inability to stay well and by the insomnia I battled each night.

In the end, simple things brought me up and out of that space.   Thankfully the holidays passed.  My pup Bella and her never ending joy at being alive and her unconditional love for me.  Music that can change everything in an instant.    My determination to survive.

This morning as I walked Bella the world outside was frozen, everything covered in a fine, brittle coat of ice.  Silent and still except for the sound of her paws and my feet as we walked through the grass.   I feel like my mind is like that.... frozen over pond, and I am walking on it, tentative with each step, terrified I might misstep and break through the ice and sure of my immanent death upon doing so.   There are memories waiting to be seen, validated and accepted and I am so filled with terror and all I hear is the shouting of DEATH, BEWARE, GO BACK.

But I can't go back, I won't, and I won't let the abusers win. I have to find that space where I am no longer fighting the process.   Maybe not welcoming what comes next, but simply opening up, accepting and not running the other direction.  I'm still unsure how to do it, but I have to, I know that much.   There's no way out but through.  

This morning in the freezing cold, the grass crunching beneath my shoes and waiting impatiently for the pup to finish her business.....I paused, knelt down and looked at the grass.   Each blade of grass was coated in a fine powder of ice crystals and at the tip a droplet, frozen solid... it was beautiful and took my breath away.  Perhaps when I find a way to open up and stop fighting the process, instead of terror beyond it, I will find beauty, joy, peace?  I hope so, and in the meantime I am learning to stop resisting.   Listening to my body as it grows sick and throbs with pain.  Listen, it's saying, please Listen and hear me.   It has a story to tell, and I must be it's witness.

So I will do my best to stop resisting, stop running away and simply be present.  I will listen and hear and bear witness to what must be heard.

Thank you, for surviving, for fighting each day to be present and honor your path, for all the hard work you do... I am grateful for the way you light the path ahead of me.....

From The Beginning....

From the very beginning she knew she was....broken.  Fractured down deep where no one could see.  Perfect. Slut. Dirty. How could she be all the things she was labeled at once?  She couldn't, wasn't and knew it, so what did that leave her, this small child/woman/baby/crone?  A liar.... she knew that much, for she wasn't perfect, could never be that unobtainable word, so she always knew she had to hide herself, the REAL her, hide herself buried so deep in the mountain of her body and soul that no one would see. 

Hide, under the covers, behind the door, in the closet, down deep inside at her very core, she always knew if she could hide well enough, no one could touch her......not really.  She became the absence of herself, the void, the empty shell, watching from far away as the abusers did their worst, and worse still, trading, selling, using, torturing....and she was the great emptiness.  She learned how to smile, or not to smile, how to look the right way in every moment.  Though often she guessed it wrong. Tossing on the wrong costume at the wrong moment and knew the moment she had by the glint in the abusers eye or the color of their face.

Becoming, with each misstep, a better chameleon.   A better charlatan,  salesman of lies.  She had to you see, to survive.. and to survive was all that mattered.   Well, not all that mattered, for in her search, her diving deep into the center of herself to hide, she found a mystery.   Down deep in her very heart, soul, self, there lie a beautiful waterfall, pouring into a breath taking body of water... she spent most of her time there, bathing in the pool, lying on it's banks.   She found the treasure that the abusers could never touch, never rip from her, never destroy.   She found she could be whole, when she dove into the waters of love, floating in that sweet, sacred pool, she found joy and unconditional love and knew she was THAT, and nothing and no one could take that from her.