Tag: #Highlysensitiveperson

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Love is a Steadfast Promise. I Love You Dearly: Tender New Soul.

This morning I had an intrusive thought. We got these crazy sharp and expensive cutco knives from a friend of the girls selling them. It’s a cute and funny memory. But one slip of one of those suckers and like butter your finger will be gone.

My kids like me, can be ultra sensitive about things. It’s a product of trauma and also innate. A double whammy if you will. Anyhow she understood me as laughing at her for the way she was cutting an apple and got angry, just a little compared to before family therapy. I knew if I said anything about how to cut differently I’d be met with an anger that shrivels my soul immediately and makes me want to run for cover.

The only threat present here is misunderstanding, and being misunderstood. It’s the biggest threat present in our family. And finally with a healthier clinician than in the past, the tangles are becoming a little bit undone.

I’ve been hungry to write, but also overwhelmed about gathering and organizing my thoughts. The story of my life. It will be on my headstone. Many years later of course which I now might actually be able to believe. Instead of the story about the shooting star lifespan, bright and gone as quickly as it came.

We all are most likely shooting stars in the scheme of things.

I’ve been having clarity and connection and moments which are all part of a natural ebb and a flow I never thought I’d have a part in. My triggers and coping mechanisms felt as if they swept me up and gave me little choice in the matter.

I know better now.

How to find the delicious sweet spot of acknowledgment of symptoms and experiences and also the compelling why driven reasons to keep moving forward.

You, my loved ones, will always be my why.

I am emotional and open and atoning.

“Everyone is the narcissist but you Christina” plays and re-plays, until I shake it clear of my head and remember the hurt that propels such statements and how deeply misunderstanding I was of myself, which invited energies that would misunderstand me.

I am too aware and too motivated for change to consistently employ such a defense mechanism. Do I have layers of protection that can emit projection and all the other beautiful aspects of control and hiding that that involves.? Absolutely I do.

I am committed to breaking generational curses. Yours, mine, and ours. It is my steadfast promise. I become steady, courageous, accepting, gentle, open, and loving.

It is possible.

I am de programming myself. Shaking off all of the abuse replaying, mine, as well as my transgressions. Enough internal secure ground laid to face the heat of the truth.

The truth has legs. All the things she said playing in my head. All the things I said and did. How outlandish and ridiculous I sounded when I was a walking, talking, coping mechanism. How sad the pain that can be inflicted.

And it’s not over unless life is. I will still make mistakes, and have misunderstandings. But I am here and I show up and I am sturdy and proud of the life I have lived, and the one I’m creating now.

I watched the Glass Castle the other night. Wow. Poignant. Devastating. Relevant. Just incredible.

I watched it through a lens of seeing my transgressions. The worst is the freeze. It’s worse than screwing up. Because I couldn’t be loving either. I admire the fucked up families that stay I always have. Would the children have been better off or not?!

I held back so much, held myself so carefully so I couldn’t be damaging from my damage until I better learned, that for a time I barely existed at all. I couldn’t be fun or playful and I now think rather than only how hard for them, how hard also that was for me. I couldn’t express. No wonder writing felt so important. I had to find some way.

Now I get the privilege of becoming who I’ve always been, and being able to feel it and be connected to it. I am awestruck at this possibility and genuinely compassionate as the suffering involved from my almost entire separation from myself and purely external functionality for enough years I could have become a pillar of stone.

Now I try not to look back lest I become a pillar of salt.

I want to enjoy being a pillar of stability and wisdom and love for my loved ones. It is my daily prayer and mission no longer impossible.

I can say unequivocally that my departure from my own was necessary. I’ve since stopped watching others grief process and wronging myself.

It’s been so exhausting weighing every movement I make, and anyone near me, for good or bad, right or wrong, safe or unsafe. It has been one of my greatest burdens and taken up so much space. But it has also made a conscientious and grateful human being who appreciates even a crumb.

I no longer desperately subsist on scrambling for them, but a little glimmer never hurt anyone. The words often rise. All that glitters is not gold. That memory is sharp, pungent. Control. It worked.

Life is a treasure. It no longer matters.

I was so tired of being misunderstood even before that began. All I needed was to be understanding of myself. I am that now. Soft when I can be, as often as I can be because that’s my preference.

I love Sundays. I love walks. I love reading. I love writing. I love learning. I love connecting. I love warm hearted open people, the ones who mean well and do things ultimately for the right reasons to the best of their ability, according to their awareness at the time.

I believe whole heartedly in no man left behind and I never have, they live on in my mind.

Love is not an emotion, it doesn’t behave as emotions do, it is steadfast promise. Karen McLaren. The language of emotions. It exists whether it is present and practiced or not. In memories, in moments. In the wonderful Brutiful trap that is the mind. The door is open you may come and go as you please.

I am at peace.

Oh and also I’ll be attending a getaway at Omega again finally. Haven’t been since 2015. Elizabeth Gilbert and Rob Bell. Be still my heart. Their article why do we Thank our heroes was printed and given to as many clients as possible around that same time. The first time I saw Liz in person. Those are such intimate memories.

I have more I want to write but for now I broke the silent spell and that is enough for the moment.

All my love,

C

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Finding Her Voice in a Sea of Others

Colorful sound wave background psd

There is something so movie about sitting at a coffee shop and writing. I don’t know what I ever did before noise cancelling head phones. For if it were not for them I wouldn’t be accomplishing a thing right now. I’m sitting at the Barnes and Nobles in Milford on my second me date this weekend, as recommended by Melissa (my therapist). The first one was at Cafe Atlantique. I must admit it was a bit cozier, but by the time I got around to me today, it was closed.

Being a Barista and working in a book store are two jobs I would have loved and never got around to, though I had many others.

I spent family time today. Did some documentation. Walked two miles. Wow I guess it’s been not only a productive Sunday, but an enjoyable one. There is a tiny group of people here, and one of the girls has a chihuahua (I never know how to spell that word, it’s one of those words for me) in a little coat vest thing nonetheless. Stooooop it! I can’t with the cute. I didn’t realize before today how many people bring their various pets into this store.

I am calm and centered. Which can sometimes be mistaken for restless. Sometimes I am restless, just not now.

I am loving reading Demon Copperhead.

I’m trying to find my voice, amongst all of the ones that I have been before, as well as in the midst of all of the ones I appreciate. It is no easy task. I feel so many people cheering me on. I can just feel them. As if the entire universe is conspiring to help me accomplish this task. The critic is nearly banished. Can that even be real? Is anything real?

This little blinking cursor beckoning me to continue, forward, and ever more forward. That’s real.

Take a Picture by Filter is on. This awesome rock music from my younger days is for sure real.

The life where I have a house that feels like a home and is filled with people in it who love one another and are really amazing humans to live with. That’s real! We are getting a hot tub tomorrow. That’s exciting, and also real. I hope it helps the aching joints and muscles.

Which reminds me part of why I got on here in the first place was to update my document with my to do list for tomorrow and emailing my GI doctor is on it. I was recently put on a higher dose of my medication due to it not quite hitting the mark. But to that I say good day and no way. I felt like shit. So basically it’s every two weeks, or we are gonna have to try something else. Nope.

What I really want is to not be on this medication. Which is why I am meeting with a nutritionist this week to get things in a direction of being able to do this at least as much naturally as I can. I’m tired of being on this stuff. I am ready to eat better and live better and invest in myself in ways I have not had the peace or finances in my life to do before. Oh Is This Love by Whitesnake is on, be still my heart. I literally love this station.

Being myself. It’s time. Finding my unique voice out of the sea of others. I have everything I need to do so at this point.

I was reading Jay Shetty this morning and his Eight Rules of Love. I really like it so far and he was talking about the difference between alone and solitude. The latter being something you find joy in because it helps you connect with yourself essentially. That has been my mission for the better part of eight years now. A little hard to do with my life, family life.

So a lot of what I’m doing lately is working at finding that balance. Trial and error and usually more error than trial 😉

Anyway my bladder only has enough time left for me to pack up and get home and then I’ll see about posting this. It’s the first post I’ve written from this laptop. I could get used to this. Now I just need to see if I can add my photos, tags, and things the way I usually do it. I normally use my phone to write. Somehow it’s just less pressure or something, and I know how to use my app.

I would describe me right now full and blank. I just keep drawing blanks, especially when I try to access my feelings. I am present and with them, but putting them down, sometimes that feels like too much work? vulnerable? too much what?

Stay Tuned…..

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Making Amends with Myself, the Primary Source….

How Do You Block the Sound of a Voice You’d Know Anywhere….

Lisa Loeb Wishing Heart and Jan Arden Insensitive are taking me back today….

I have a bad sinus cold. I woke up this morning with my head pounding, sensitive to light and sound and essentially everything. I debated strongly what course of action to take, ie migraine pill because it feels like that, but I know it’s sinus pressure.

I opted for severe sinus med and it definitely lightened the suffering though it’s there behind the pill. I don’t want to take an antibiotic if I don’t have to. It wipes out any good gut bacteria I manage to have and causes whole other issues. So there’s that.

I’m seriously reflective right now. Very within. Integrating the changes from these past years. The holidays brought forth lots of grief. All of the lost dreams. It’s not as doom and gloom as it sounds, well it is and isn’t.

It isn’t because I am faithful these days to a belief that all of these are threads in a tapestry of my life and all are sacred, even the more coarse fibers.

I am understanding my self better, which helps me to understand others better. I’m doing this in all areas and in past and present relationships.

It’s a softening.

Will I be thawing forever?

The answer in so many ways is a resounding yes. What’s different is the resentment. I no long resent this as much, that is becoming a holding it sacred as part of my path. Who even am I?! Oh hey heyoka. If that’s the name for a deep spiritual being that can hardly believe that’s a real thing and not some grandiose fantasy. It sounds ridiculous and self aggrandizing. We only believe what we can see and touch, because anything else never showed up.

I’m not behaving as if I’m living in a fantasy. My feet are firmly planted and I’m addressing myself and my needs and learning to communicate. I am learning. It’s not easy for me. Yep it’s not the other person, it’s me, just as much. Humble pie. I own my things, and own them specifically and follow through with change however and I was always capable of that. That was always possible under the right conditions and I am not responsible for the right conditions. I made my hard decisions.

I can trust that because when push comes to shove afraid or not I act with integrity. Scared or not. That is trustworthy. So when am I going to start valuing myself in that way?! Love HER Christina, choose her. She deserves and is worthy of your love. Stop fearing her, she has always meant well and tried hard and course corrected when it has been necessary without relying on manipulation.

I never relied on manipulation. When I recognized that’s what I was doing I owned it and changed and had empathy for those hurt.

Empathy without boundaries is self destruction. Yes it is. Never again. Boundaries are king and everything will be as it should because those are water tight. Crystal clear boundaries she said, a therapist from another life. Able to protect even when that was a difficult balance. Crystal clear boundaries Christina.

I remember every single thing that is important to know. Not protected by a narrative, but cloaked in taking the time I need to make the decisions that are best for me and learning how to be more than a coping strategy.

Meeting myself. Falling in love, or at least like. Sometimes love can be very overwhelming.

I am observing myself in absolute shut downs and freezes and then watching what brings me back and what shuts me down further.

I have slowed down enough that I am able to be seen, only because I am seeing myself, not only in that terrible polarity of good or bad, right or wrong. But in all of the richness and complexity I deserve. Did you hear that?! Wow.

I did. And my eyes are wet.

They thaw over and over as my heart does as well.

My head is exploding I’m going to freak out! No I’m not. My adult self will take myself to the walk in later and get on some antibiotics and trust the rest. I’ve had this pain for three days. I rearranged my day to only have a 12, and 1 and moved the rest. So I can just crawl in bed and relax. I think it’s time to also take the migraine pill. I think it’s both 🙁

It’s so painful these realizations of the way I’ve seen things so backwards and tangled with my kids and how misunderstood I’ve felt, and not being able to clear those up. I can’t believe how I’ve lived like this all this time. So separate from myself and those I love and just as a harsh executioner. Reactive, ready to jump on any sign of dissension.

I was reacting to my children all the time, when I didn’t feel in control. And shocker I’m not in control of anything, but myself now. Jesus it was about time. In the immortal words of Elizabeth Gilbert. You never really had control anyway, all you had was anxiety. Yes Liz. Thank you for being a beacon when I am lost.

How I have needed to be in control for safety. I am the things I’ve accused of and I see so much more softly now. Of myself and others and the glaciers just thaw and thaw.

What will emerge ? As I no longer reside in a story or rely on the same coping mechanisms.

It’s absolutely terrifying being in a transformation. Dying over and over. Things are so clear at least and that is a relief. and there is also so much to sit with. To make friends with.

I’m fighting to trust myself. That is my biggest area of work right now. My perception, my own ability to feel my feelings in real time, rather than a year later. That the things I say and do will not hurt me let alone another. I’m juggling so many plates in the air all the time and working at being entirely different when overwhelmed.

The tool I’m employing most often is empathy and having been so far removed from my own for myself for so long I’m wondering how the new fresh oxygen will integrate: was I without it for too long? Is the damage too great?

I’m only just beginning to peel back the layers. To not use usual coping strategies and patterns. To know what is and what is not that.

My heart is opening and softening, but I’m still an anemone. At the slightest sign of danger I close up tightly and it’s frustrating feeling so emotionally handicapped. Stunted, frozen, cold.

I am going through those things, but I am not those things. This is quite possibly one of the biggest changes inside to date.

I’ve misunderstood myself so catastrophically for so long, that finding understanding now is almost unbearable. It’s unbearably different than what I am used to.

To stop misunderstanding others, my children. My SELF.

The one safe space I understand well contained into an hour long appointment with my acute and honed ability focused and objectivity at my disposal I cling tightly to my gift to keep me steady, and it does.

Then I adjust my narrative not to pathologize that somehow, and then I do that in every other area of my life.

I am naked right now.

And I’ve never been like this before. My eyes are wet again.

The breaking and building.

My bones are powder….

At least I am not a powder keg anymore.

My heart is an ocean

One of those lovely ones that are clear blue and contain no sharks. A safe ocean.

It used to be safe for others, but not for me….

That is different now. I am different now. I am soft and scared and sacred and new and old at the same time.

My head hurts so bad…..

I just want to snuggle into my covers and cry and listen to the last two hours of Evelyn Hugo. But first a bath, a rally and showtime for two hours.

My sessions deepen as I do, and as my understanding of myself does, and my forgiveness of myself….

Onward

Ps one moment of truly being seen to the core, I have found, can thaw the thickest ice. The person opens right back up and becomes present in that safety. The person so often lately doing that, is me.

I am told I am that for so many others, but I wasn’t doing that for myself. I’m so surprised when someone sees me and so used to living without it.

You gave me oxygen then removed it, over and over until I begged for an end. In the end I made it myself.

That was just the beginning, as often is with transformations. Now the integration and not knowing whether the organ will be accepted or rejected.

Stay tuned

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Deep Understanding Sought on Rainy Day Walks

“In Your Wildest Dreams”

I’m learning ….. that

I always need to have an exit strategy which includes an exit narrative and I’m working out the difference between that and a balanced look at things. It’s not easy work.

It’s dark out and gloomy, but I don’t feel that way. My storms are calm. For now.

“But I’d follow you to the great unknown. Off to a world we’d call our own.” I want to watch this movie. It’s been awhile. That and the movie UP are on my mind. This blog is my attempt to not lose myself in the fray.

I am lost, I am found. I’m a walking contradiction that’s hard to be around.

No.

So many changes around me and the seasons are the least of it. “So I’d risk it all just to be with you.” Yeah did that. Not anymore. I wouldn’t risk the stability of my kids and I for anything again. I have to work daily at self forgiveness. It becomes a way of life, not some singular moment.

Forgiveness and compassion for self. It starts there, and I learned very little of it. I have to start from scratch.

Yes.

Left right left right. One foot in front of another. The most simple part of my day. Me with me. Walking.

Gentle walking. Tears falling. Tension releasing. Surrender walking. White flag walking. Calm talking. Rhythmic rocking. No tik tokking. Lol. Have to play a little. A little lighter.

The rain begins to fall. I don’t know it all.

When I don’t I’m not safe. You try it the way I’ve had it and see how you do.

Coming to grips blow by blow continuously seeking flow.

Here comes the rain. Don’t know how hard it will be. Will I drown?!

One mile is pretty good for a migraine day. One migraine for a holiday month is pretty good. My stats are going pretty well. Maybe I’ll make it two, you never know.

But I do.

It’s only rainy not raining, not pouring. The difference is important. Nuance is important. Understanding is important. Black and white is dangerous.

Just breathe Christina. Breathe. The only thing you need to do is be yourself, who you truly are, and be honest about that, and what you want and need.

Why is that so fucking hard.

You know why.

You’re seeing my chat with my higher self in real time. It’s ok to have an exit strategy, but decide what the criteria is for using it or not. You get to decide. You don’t have to decide: you get to. It’s a privilege, not your sole responsibility. It never was.

What I Have. Kelsea Ballerini. Cuz I got a roof over my head, I’m doing alright right where I’m at with what I have.

The simple things like making a stir fry on a rainy day. Simplify. When all your mind does is complicate, simple is bliss.

One more loop. One more mile. One more tear slips down my face. One more epiphany. One more day of life at least. It’s not a burden it’s a gift. You’re not bad Christina. Not emotionally uncaring or shut down or cold. Unclench.

It’ll be ok. How do you want me to believe that when it never was. Let alone want me to say that to you. I don’t know how. Help me.

Have you ever actually been unsafe?!

You don’t have to be to feel that way I’m learning. The mind can play cruel tricks, but it can also heal.

A beautiful mind and a wounded heart are a difficult combination.

Gifted but only in the right places. Threatening in others.

I’m not bad. It wasn’t my fault. It wasn’t yours either.

Misunderstandings are a prison. Don’t let your mind be.

Plant a garden. You plant so many flowers. All of my plants die. Argue argue argue.

Minds a mess. A mind at rest.

Lay with me….

B12 injection in Fairfield. So many memories there. My first office. It took so long to feel real. Like that was my life and not a fantasy.

Surreal every day. Until the truth finally sets in. It takes so long for that to happen.

It takes all the consistency there never was, and follow through on the build.

Don’t abandon this project, she’s going to be great. She always was.

The world may, you may, but I never will. I’m right here.

These days I’m working on my relationship with myself. It requires a lot of healing and many optimal conditions for that.

My heart requires it.

So if you want a place at this table inquire within if you can be congruent without.

Meet me here if you dare.

More art. Less war. Open heart on firm ground.

Kiss me

But only if you know me, see me, understand me….

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Thankful for All of You, the Committed Readers of my Story

Listening to My Life by NF, it pairs nicely with having watched GoodWill Hunting this morning.

I’m walking. My own turkey trot if you will.

There are things I do now to try and make my life easier. None of this will make up for how hard my life was for so much of it.

I’m tired in ways I’d never want you to understand, but I do want understanding.

These days I try and allow this rather than judging myself for it, condemning me. Criticizing and controlling me. Demeaning me. Beating me.

I spent over half of my life living this way. And attracting neglect and abuse in one form or another. Because those things like to breed and to continue. Like an invasive hearty species of weeds, they clenched my heart to death.

I reacted to life and I attached well to nothing.

And every day I’m healing.

And yesterday before the holiday I was triggered and raw. What’s different this year is how I behaved with me. This year I was understanding and kind to her. I didn’t minimize her emotions.

I used the episode to be able to see clearly how far she and I have come this year. My little girl and me. And to see how I could have never done this work and had any profound connection beyond an idea, a fantasy, and the beginning stages.

I’m so thankful for my therapist this year, and I know there are people out there thankful for me in the same vein. And to my energy healer who I had my “it’s not your fault.” Good will Hunting moment. Don’t hold me…..

My guarded heart. Don’t hold me my body screamed. Not worthy, not deserving, of holidays of love, or any good thing. 

I used to bare down and hold tight, white knuckles to my fighting position, seeing red. Now the tears flow so much more easily. The fear and terror and panic vanishes more quickly.

What used to take me days to recover from, what used to explode my whole world each time, now settles down in my mind in a matter of hours.

I intend to enjoy my healing for the rest of my life, rather than resent the fact I need to.

I’m ready to let go of the pain; it wasn’t the friend I thought it was. The safe and secure ground of my story, no longer has the same ring to it.

I can’t unring that bell.

I love you

I love me

What used to feel like stone, now feels like feather. The labored breaths, hot with pain, now come effortlessly. Nothing is blocking them.

Don’t get me wrong I’m still thawing. This is an everyday kind of job, an inside one, but now I’m so grateful for it. It’s made me someone with passion and heart. It’s given me a career that is a blessing and incredibly meaningful.

Hold on, Chord Overstreet.

Unclench my jaw. Untie my shoulder blades. Unlock my hips. Unbridle my love muscle.

Please let me feel things the way it seems like others do, in real time. Not only in private and silence where I feel safe.

Undry these eyes they were always meant to cry. It’s ok. It’s not your fault. You can be held.

Recovery

Recover with me. I thought we could do this together, but I had to do it for myself first.

Show it don’t tell it.

Practice less than preach.

I am loving, and I am loved.

My daily prayer

And gratitude for all of it….

All of you reading

All my love,

C

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Fifty I am Statements that can Stretch to Infinity

You call me up again just to break me like a promise.

The “I am” project…. I remember when my therapist gave me this assignment and I could only list like 4 things that described what I do. My roles. I am my roles. I am disconnected. I am starved. Is what I could have said then if I had the words.

Now someday I am going to wrap together I was and I am with a beautiful bow. The pages are going to smell like heaven.

Like her

So for now I submit to you my growing I am list. For any who may be or have been lost in similar ways and are working on their own.

All my love,

C

I am….

A mother
Counselor
Writer
Deep thinker
Creative
Kind
Generous
Spontaneous
Curious
Impulsive
Impatient
Passionate
A piano player
Affectionate
Warm
Playful
Intense
Loyal
Conscientious
A people person
A leader
An advocate
Self-aware
Strong
A music lover
A reader
A researcher
Full of triggers
Less ashamed than I used to be
Growing
A spring and fall person
And extroverted introvert
Sensitive
Movie lover
Coffee and coffee shop bookstore lover
Frugal
Poet
Naturalist
Feminist
Grateful
A little things person
A believer in magic and happy “endings”
Naive
Idealist
Sensual
Someone who prefers small intimate venues where I can hear over clubs and loud.
Someone who loves Sunday’s
A mermaid
Someone who loves French vanilla ice cream and lavender linen spray
A person who likes to be cozy
A conversationalist / enjoys working on the art of communication
A recovering hypochondriac
A person who suffers from complex ptsd
Wanting to belong
A person who believes a life well lived can be defined by loving well and being loved in return
Haunted
Recovering
Battling all or nothing
Transforming
Dynamic
Unbridled
Tempestuous seeking serene
Woman
Child
Human
Someone who starved for and enjoys touch, it grounds me
Lost when it comes to family connection. Admiring it in others and feeling deeply inadequate when I don’t know my family history or seem so different than everyone else.
The song Vienna by Billy Joel
Someone who has an incredible amount of questions about her family that deep down wishes they could be answered, but cuts off from even the questions themselves because it hurts too much to wonder, to be outside, to be disconnected
Someone who numbs the pain by staying passionately engaged in living and learning
Someone who makes a lot more mistakes because of that.
Hyper vigilant
Disorganized
Prone to rabbit holes of self loathing for things that were never my fault
Struggling with chronic dis ease of body and mind, and trying to calm those storms
Someone who can have an amazing memory if present and has developed the skill of erasing them just as easily.◦

It, much like me, is a work in progress …..

Onward

Ps. I got a massage last night and woke up feeling human today. I wasn’t in pain. I get them every two weeks for now, and it’s changed my whole life. I take care of myself the rest of my life, in all of the ways I wasn’t. As protective as the parents I deserved, and I’m not mad about it 😉 xoxo

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The Movies, Music, Morning Walks and Making Amends

Always, C

I’ve been thinking the most about amends lately….

This mornings walk started with Dear Depression by NF and second song is Unsteady by X Ambassadors. If you love me don’t let go. Hold on….

Which makes me think of Me Before You, which makes me think of Love Rosie, which I watched last night. Which makes me think of which movies I enjoy so much and why.

Probably if I were to guess they were friends when I had none, and they at times inspire hope. I like movies that make me feel the way I want to around the people I have close. I could disappear into the feeling of that story. T

hat’s likely the most important thing here. I could have a family, a best friend, a lover, for that 90 minutes I didn’t feel the kind of alone that was unforgiving and unforgivable during childhood. I will have no amends there. Not a death bed whisper. Only an endless chill.

Deep emotion. Human stories. Inspiration.

I like these things.

How I like the piano and string instruments and vocalists that have been through the ringer emotionally. Mary Lambert, Teddy Swims, Pink, Taylor Swift, k Clarkson, so many more…

Like I like my authors…. Brene, Liz, Martha, S King. So many more.

Our vibe attracts our tribe they say. I have to believe it’s true when I pay attention to what I like.

I don’t like horror. I don’t need to experience anymore terror. All set thanks. I feel the things the character is experiencing in my body and heart and will think about still shots of the movies days and even years after.

I have an interesting encoding system in my brain. It’s kind of magical really. Genuinely.

NF Perception, Remember This. This guy has had some trauma too huh! So find people that challenge what you think….. gorgeous.

So back to my brain and amends.

What I’m realizing lately is that most of my life I’ve misunderstood myself so painfully.

Each time I shut down and moved overly quickly that was a reflex, that had nothing to do with my true self. She was so far buried in those moments.

This last time I tried to say that, but I was already in the action of my choice. It’s impossible to regret it because of where I am now. If you asked me last year though.

Not very dependable someone who changes that easily right?! The story, the T, the gossip. Hate it. Because it never understands. It’s fast and realization is slow.

The kind we need to breathe life back into a world gone cold and hard.

Empathy

I had it for others, but none for myself.

Anytime she did something that wasn’t in compliance I’d leave her out in the cold. Punishment. No understanding.

Here comes the amends. This is how I was with my kids. And a lot of it was because I was fighting to feel supported by their father, someone still lost in bitter hurt. This is my version of course and that’s all I can write.

If I told the bad story it would look something like this, of course he would want to be away because of the flip outs I did, just like my mother.

Just like my father wanted to be away from my mother. I understood why. BUT there’s so much I didn’t understand. Everything that came before me. What he did to her. A little girl with a grown man.

No perpetrator and no victim. We all have a part in our choices and I’m more interested in who I will become because of them, than to cast judgment.

Judgment is boring and nearsighted and hollow.

Nothing comes full circle there. You just chase your tail and go on a haunted carnival ride of your own emotions.

My ego fought an invisible battle with him to feel supported, because I felt I had none.

And the punishment fell to my kids. They didn’t have my warm wise presence at some of the times they needed it the most.

And now I sit in the pain of knowing this and let it soften the borders of my heart so I can course correct.

Twin b tried to scream at me your punishments don’t work and I doubled down. I wasn’t fighting her. She just wanted to be heard, and I shut down.

My shut down switch is so frustrating in my life. How do I forgive it, because it saved me before, and left me for dead later. The thing meant to protect me also kept me shut off from the love.

They were out in the cold with me. That’s a bitter pill to swallow. I want to explain to cry for understanding. But that forgoes the accountability I need to make amends.

They need to feel I can respond to their emotions.

How can you ask that of me my trauma cries. Don’t you understand how terrifying someone else’s emotions became for me. If you knew.

But they don’t and they didn’t ask …. They were at our mercy as parents. Now that I can connect with.

I only hope they will someday come to their own conclusion that I did my best in all the ways I could.

I didn’t do it all wrong, but I have the strength now to know that one of the most important ingredients was missing. That soft love. I hope that their fathers family supplied it enough. Holidays and unconditional love. Things I didn’t have.

I hope they don’t suffer in the ways I have. Those words are true. It would only be judged as dramatic or anything else for someone who doesn’t know, connect with these losses of self they never consented to.

No one told me about trauma.

When the first person (therapist) suggested it’s shocking I’m alive, it was like a scene in a movie. He couldn’t be talking about me. I wasn’t even in my body.

I had kids with a grand idea of creating a family I didn’t have and I was going to do it perfect of course in my idea.

Then life takes hold and tells you ha you thought that was going to work. Silly goose.

Being gay and not realizing became another school yard bully, and I almost lost that battle.

I would have done anything to protect my kids from divorce and him. I wanted to. I agonized.

I just kept hitting wall after wall with it. It was not possible and even the voice now says I could have done it and waited if it meant…. NO.

I’d do anything for love but I won’t do that. Not be myself how I was made. Not an option.

Divorce. The first area that requires amends. Creating a life for everyone (all my responsibility of course), when I wasn’t aware of myself.

My enthusiasm for living often preceded my better senses.

Can you ever forgive me?!

My mind is mostly fragments and so scattered and living steadily requires the gathering of all these things each morning just to function.

Please forgive me….

*I’m still trying to figure out this writing thing. This excavation. The where, when, how of it all. So bear with me as I find these fossils and thoughts. My psyche is so often a steel trap. It goes into lockdown with a hairline trigger. When I listen to music the rhythm style and emotion of my writing is immediately influenced. So if you’re here on my journey. Thank you for helping me be less alone in the world. It’s special to me beyond words…..

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It’s Time to Lay Down the Sword….

In clearing your name you have ruined our lives.

A lesson of late, there are many, is that brute force and iron will are not the best way.

I won’t say they don’t work, they have served me well in certain ways, and we will honor the necessity that forged them in me.

I’m wanting something softer and wiser these days. The written word. Reading the words. Humility. Learning.

The pen really is mightier than the sword. I’d take everything I felt I could get and figure out the rest later. A main strategy.

Gather. Hunt. Grind. Grit. Sweat. Choke back the tears. She turns her head away in that office, so you won’t see her cry. Willing the tears not to come. They never helped her before.

Yes I remember. I remember every single moment, and I don’t will myself to forget. I don’t work that way anymore.

Would you even recognize me? Or does the completion of a soul contract change everything? I don’t know.

“Be careful with that one love, he will do whatever he needs to do to survive. You built me palaces out of paragraphs.”

Scraps for my memoir written in the bath this am as I read Stephen King On Writing, which I’ll finally finish after five years of trying. It’s time she whispers. It’s time she roars.

“I used to just carry a book around, with very little hope that I’d ever fully read it. Let alone write one of my own.

I lived on crumbs you see.

And I gave everything I had to everyone else every day, in the hopes of someday giving and receiving love the way it always seems other people do.

I gave to anyone else with very little discernment.

My trauma reduced me to focusing only on what was in front of my face if at all.

I could barely keep a train of thought, hell a car of thought.

I barely had any ability to focus at all.

Scraps.

Starved

Becoming”

Let it burn. Anything that isn’t yours naturally. Anything that betrays your personal values in the process. Things will be offered. They will cross your path.

Twin B has wisdom tooth surgery in a few days, far away, never someone else’s baby, but won’t be her caretaker right now. Letting go of our babies is hard. I think of her getting to learn more than I could teach at that time, and experiencing herself in a positive light, something I wasn’t offering at that time. These things bring me joy and peace. The former not the latter of course.

I can’t go down rabbit holes anymore. It doesn’t work. I just good my head up and keep going. Get up and try again.

So anyway back to my story. Did I say I had one? I already can’t remember. That thought is ten years ago within two seconds. Time is irrelevant when we are doing soul work. A minute can last hours and hours can be over in a second.

My fortieth birthday. I was going through what some call a dark night of the soul. Hell. Purgatory. When we are face to face with our shadow Lisa Romano might say, probably has said many times.

I was in scarcity in so many areas. I ordered my own birthday cake. I did this as an act of self love at that time. I was learning how to not wait and hope for the things I wanted to arrive. So I was thinking I was self loving. But really I had zero faith that anyone would show up. It’s not surprising given my choices at that time.

I made my bed.

But my mistakes could not have been so bad I wouldn’t be thought of on my birthday. I have all those memories. Not all bad. Not even.

Anyway my twin B asked me or more commented that “you bought yourself your own cake.” It hadn’t even occurred to me this was a “bad” thing Or however she meant it. Maybe an unusual thing. Those things usually don’t occur to me I’ve lived a backwards sort of life. Hey Heyoka.

What do I make of this now? With the lessons I’m laying down. Was I really self loving or did I not trust anyone would show up for me?

Spoiler alert: It’s usually both, not either or.

Maybe I was trying to model for myself, because I’ve often felt that alone, whether I was or wasn’t.

The clear lesson now however is trust, and a firm balance of it to self and others.

Let go Christina ….. let go.

Taylor Swift Sober comes on….. the tears fall. When I was drowning, that’s when I could finally breathe.

Getting clean from all the painful ideas I’ve held about myself. The what ifs that should have happened because of what happened to me. But I discounted my effort. It’s invisible and therefore so will be that of others.

I poked my own eyes out and cut off my own legs in search for a savior. When all I needed in the first place were my senses and my emotions.

Luckily (divinely) we are permitted multiple do overs and re-takes. The universe is a generous teacher. And don’t we all deserve one of those.

I hope to continue to be one…..

As long as I live.

And a safe place to land.

These tall orders require radical boundaries if this is to be maintained.

It’s a good thing I am energized by both.

All my love,

C

Ps I started a new journal today. It was time. The last was to not waste my piano book and had some ju ju. This is a fresh page. We get one each day. Hell a fresh book. New eyes. New legs to walk around with.

A relevant example from mr Kings book. They bought their son a saxophone because he showed interest. Very soon the King couple discussed if their young charge should continue. They said no. Why!$ because Stephen said he only practiced during the set times. It never took flight or set fire…..

If it does you’ll know. You’ll want to do that thing and move heaven and earth.

May I vow to myself I’ll accept nothing else for the rest of my life.

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Open Hearts and Doors of a Traumatized Mind

“When my depression works the graveyard shift all of the people I’ve ghosted stand there in the room. I should not be left to my own devices they come with vices and prices……”

The mental gymnastics I have to do to keep my heart open would shock you. It takes many forces and lots of therapy and energy healing hours to pry the iron door on that sucker open. I need to be with that, that needs to be ok.

Several weeks of events have culminated into another glacier melting that is after the world is thrown into chaos.

Once it breaks it breaks though. Pain is released and it’s also scary because you know you’ll go forward without that level of being guarded and for a survivor that’s a big ask.

It’s me I’m the problem it’s me….

Except it’s not.

It’s everything passed down to me, inherited, that I had to grapple with.

What I’m beginning to see is what a privilege it is. I mean that now. I’m not preaching it, disconnected from it. It’s a privilege. Because what I’m afforded is post traumatic growth and wisdom to the degree that I’ve been able to build a successful vocation from it.

I am privileged because of my trauma. And I have to hold tight to that reality for all of the times that feels very different. When I’m being sucked under the intense waves of emotions of my grief and pain.

This is the life raft.

I love differently because of my trauma. It’s more, not less. That would be a lie of the mind’s programming.

We don’t love like the humans do, with us it’s forever. From the movie I am number four. And this resonated out of this silly movie because in that moment I recognized something in me, which is what movies and music does right ?! I recognized how loving I am and how deeply I love…

When I am safe, more importantly, when I feel safe.

And what did I say at the beginning of this post about what it takes for me to feel safe ?! Yeah.

I’ve been working on opening my heart, despite all of the events in my life, some out of my control, and some in it, that have left deep chasms of suffering that make me want to close it.

I will cut my self off from any source that is unhealed to the point that, I cannot be safe in their presence, because they cannot.

It’s no one’s fault.

And the worst thing that could be done is to blame because the kind of suffering that leads to a person closing themselves off from love, is soul murder. And unfortunately soul murder likes to persist. The cycle is stubborn.

Guess what!!? I am more stubborn. My stubborn may have been born out of necessity, but I’ll be damned if I don’t honor it for the valiant warrior it is.

My stubborn was hard earned. I don’t think it would have been my natural disposition. I believe it was forged from suffering. It was forced.

Being forced leads to resentment, forcing ourselves leads to resentment. Will is a part of it, but heart has to have a seat at that table and cannot be closed, if you want to understand so you can be understood, and vice versa.

Trauma survivors so often feel misunderstood. That’s my primary trigger. Not being understood.

I work my way through this daily. It’s a daily job, one that I’m determined to view as a privilege and not a burden.

If we get the privilege to feel life altering connections that lead us further into ourselves, know that many don’t. They literally fumble and stumble and many don’t make it out alive.

Their disconnection turns against themselves. Purgatory of their own making, but not their fault. It breaks my heart.

Which is good because as long as it can continue to break without losing it, it can heal.

I am here trying to heal my heart, and my soul. And enjoying being with others who are as committed to that as I am, and yet each in their own way, at their own pace.I

I am here and I am letting go of controlling myself, and gaining control of myself.

I am fierce about protecting my peace, and also open to learning where battles at times become created by my traumatized mind.

I want to be mindful of the power of my choices, and to speak gently with my higher self in making them.

No more abusive relationship with me. That was the ultimate enemy. My trauma and my own mind, but it was never a reason to not trust myself. It happened to me, not because of me.

And I am empowered these days in healing it, and that is also a privilege.

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Writing Down the Bones while Exploring this Wild Mind

Pilgrimage

It’s time. To be here now. Deep breath. Ocean Eyes by Scvrina is on.

I just attended Cheryl Strayed writing workshop Wild Awakenings. She was live from The Omega Institute in Rhinebeck. It walked me back through my experience there in 2015, on scholarship. Elizabeth Gilbert was promoting Big Magic and spoke.

I was wanting to be a writer then, permission for something already mine. There are too many takeaways from the course that are amazing to shuffle back through.

I remember sitting there feeling so frozen inside myself. I looked to others to try and figure out what I should be doing. They looked like they had it figured out. I felt alien and cold and emotionally stopped up and exploding all at once. All of this carefully contained by a scratchy wool sweater.

Other people smiled and spoke freely with one another. I was sweaty and terrified.

In this particular workshop unbeknownst to me we got put into breakout rooms on zoom cameras and read our pieces and I did not balk. Not one shred of fear or self consciousness on the camera. Because why. This is me. It’s how I look and what I have to offer, and why is that any less or more for that matter than anyone else.

So I’ll talk about my experience. I just chose a prompt and wrote for 10 minutes each writing exercise and was shocked at the results. I was shocked at how much I have repressed about my own experience because of how I’m supposed to think, be, do.

I realized I don’t lose control on the page, the one place I am supposed to (able to). I still don’t, because what will it mean?! That folks is anxiety programming in action. To make our thoughts mean more than they need to before they are even processed yet.

My writing means nothing but someone else’s interpretation when shared, and everything to me. That’s what it means. It’s my flow. My self on the page. My wild mind. Scattered or with blank spots, flooded, however it is it’s mine and there are reasons are minds are as they are: some more mysterious than others.

So don’t process at all?! Well you know my every heart beat is based on the belief in the process and yet I stopped trusting my own. I stopped trusting everything really. That’s such an unpleasant place to be in. My well of passion dried up via suppression. That realization feels like a rock in my stomach.

I guess that is part of the freeze after deep pain, regret, etc.

Balance is a tight rope walk of acknowledgment of the things we can let go of, the destructive thoughts about anything. I didn’t know I could let go. I’ve been holding on tight for so long.

So it’s October and I’m finally going to begin (already have) and finish On Writing by Stephen King. I had read half breathlessly and was afraid of it being over. That’s an example of how scared I am every single day. I’m scared of attachment. And I created so many self fulfilling prophecies with this wound.

I did it by rushing. I did it by being a coping mechanism. Now I’m trying to be a human, and not just any human, my SELF. It’s a little harder than one might think with all this wiring.

I’ve lived with so much fear. I’ve lived so tamed. I thought being highly emotionally reactive at times meant being untamed, but it’s the opposite. That’s the result of constantly taming oneself. I watched The Luckiest Girl Alive last night and I don’t think I’ve ever resonated with a movie more. Hillbilly Elegy is up there.

Please be careful with that movie. But right down to the intrusive thoughts. I was / am so much like her and I didn’t even know it until I saw this movie. In some ways I’m just cracking through another layer of ice. All along my ego defenses need to shout how far along we are. I’m ready to give up that battle.

I too am trying to look like I have a normal life, be normal and safe and whatever else. And that does not work. I need to find who is really in here. All of it.

This writing class was a good beginning it shook a lot loose. For example I realized it’s not nothing to say as the freeze often suggests. A dirty dirty lie. I have “too much” to say that could be disturbing and Cheryl addressed this perfectly when she told the story of taking an amount of her dead mothers ashes into her body for keeping.

A gorgeous testament to her raw pain and her love for her mother. Her fierce love for her mother made me long that my children will ever feel that way about me. I’m not sure it’s ever in the cards. I know they love me, but it just doesn’t feel like our story.

I realized in my energy healing this past weekend that my head compensates for my feeling parts, and I realized that the wires are crossed on that. I thought that kept me safe. It did Christina, a long time ago. But now it just keeps me from the warmth of the fires of my own passion. Careful control. I don’t even believe in that, but it’s a subconscious default in so many ways.

I just wrote anyway, and then erased it 😉

Cheryl talked about how a reviewer of Wild had become disturbed by the ashes scene and said it’s just too much and threw the book in the trash. She said that person’s feeling and reaction was hers and as valid as the good reviews and that alone taught me so much.

She let go of her attachment to people understanding and allowed her own experience. Let go of control. See the work of David R Hawkins on letting go for some practical tools and lovely wisdom in this area. It’s one of my current sources.

I spent so much of my life letting people who didn’t even have my back get under my skin. Their review of me. Trapped in purgatory of what other people think, while not even knowing what I do.

That is my compelling why in exploring the depths of myself.

To do this I’ve been walking a lot lately. Once I’m off, one foot in front of another it’s meditative. My thoughts settle into sentences and become available to me.

My own thoughts available to me?! I take for granted at times the magnitude of my own healing. I could have easily spent my entire life a very different way, where the above does not exist.

I need to develop a healthy relationship with my self and my thoughts. Rather than viciously sort them into categories of good and bad. Be with them, understand them.

My deepest wound for a very long time is feeling misunderstood. It’s what much of my emdr centers around. When I deeply misunderstand myself, it’s much more likely I’ll do that with others as well and blow my life up. Or at the very least turn the possibility of a lot of gorgeous moments into a minefield of reactivity.

I’m quiet a lot more, and I want to be more quiet. To be with nature. I’ve been craving a morning hike lately. It’s been beach for a long time, maybe it’s time for some woods. Solitude doesn’t have to be some grand voyage, it can be a few hours a day.

For anyone reading this who is interested I recommend Julie my Angel. My energy medicine practitioner. She has changed my entire life, primarily by helping me ease my anger by the belief that we choose our paths for specific reasons. I do believe this. When I was particularly lost inside my pain, this thought was outrageous to me. But as the threads to the tapestry begin to reveal my path. That tingle is irreplaceable, I become a believer.

My mind is a skeptic, of course it is. It’s hyper vigilant to a fault. My special skill set to identify even the potential of threat in any given set of circumstances and have an itchy trigger finger.

The gun is down and these days I’m working on my own self.

I am loving and tending to my home, the physical one here and earth and my meat suit lol.

So look forward in the very near future to seeing some practice writing pieces, perhaps with prompts perhaps not. Poetry. Pieces that I feel and felt when I wrote them. Unedited and raw the way I like to live life. The way I aspire to allowing myself to live.

It’ll always be easier to talk the talk. I am a human who is committed to walking the walk.