I’m in love with birch branches. They speak of flexibility, bending and twisting in response to life’s stressors. Continue reading “In Love #7”
Well addictions. Hmmmm. Imo, since it IS my blog after all… have their roots in unresolved, underlying trauma Continue reading “Addiction”
True story. Phone rings…
“Mom, I found this dog. I was hiking pretty high up in the park Continue reading “I Should Worry More”
Suicide – present situation
Guess what? That shit started 50 something years ago. Not HIS job, not HIS ex wife, not HIS daughter who decides to be a man now, not HIS crazy neighbor who throws garbage over the fence, no no no nope. Of course all that shit does not help but when someone decides to take his/her self out of this realm – it’s very tragic, gut wrenching. Of course! And leaves the living wondering what the fuck we could have done to help.
The answer ? Who the fuck knows. What I do know though, is that it is truly not our responsibility, ultimately, to keep someone alive. I know, that sounds bad. Really bad. There’s a boatload of guilt waiting for us if we feel we can save someone and it turns out badly. News flash… sadly, anything we’ve done or haven’t done is not going to keep someone else here.
Having a particular, recent person in mind ———–Someone taught HIM to hate himself. Someone taught HIM to feel like he had no right to be born, exist or thrive. SOMEONE got into HIS head, into his body, into his essence and implanted that self-hate agenda REAL SUPER early in HIS life. Crazy-ass fucked up treatment for a child. As children, we cannot make sense of this. Most children just internalize the trauma coming their way and believe they deserve it – after all, we need love, even if that love hurts, it’s still better than nothing. So then, most times, we spend the rest of our lives mistreating ourselves because deep inside, on some level, we think we are garbage.
All the other unfortunate circumstances HE drew to himself (along the way, over the years) were for the purpose of healing. IMO. The Universe’s attempt to crack HIM wide open. Some of us cannot/will not/do not EVER muster the willingness to unpack that shit. Unpack the black box of death. The box labeled with the skull and crossbones – and heal the trauma that hides in the shadows and rips us apart each and every minute of our lives.
HE missed his life raft opportunity – by choice. HE ignored the life-raft attempts, HE was tired of the struggle and just couldn’t see the big picture …there wasn’t enough alcohol or drugs in the world to keep the darkness from bubbling up into conscious thought. The nagging feelings of worthlessness and doom mounting until the burden of forging onward was too excruciating.
I attempted to end my life when I was 7. How fucking tragic would that have been? All because of the unspeakable trauma I was experiencing at the time, most nights of the week. The weight of physical/emotional/spiritual trauma, compounded year, after year, after year, is suffocating – all while pretending that everything is fine. Trying to forget, burying the pain and hate and rage and crushing anxiety. You convince yourself that no-one else would understand or, for that matter, believe you anyways. There is shame and guilt and self hate and secrecy.
Some of us seem to find our way. We are able, with lots of help, to eventually breathe life into the parts of us that died. We are able to separate from the tragic family unit we were born into. We are able to dig deep, form a new self and find a reason to live, to fight – and know that no matter what, we have to survive because otherwise, we won’t “win” – THEY will. And that would not be acceptable.
No matter how fast and long we run – our terror, shame and rage are on the welcoming committee upon our arrival. Wherever we run, they’re there when we pull in. Our shadow is always waiting patiently for us to notice it and drag up a chair at a table set for two. Maybe share a cozy meal as we chat over the brutal details we’ve been running from all of our lives. Taking small portions or maybe just an appetizer today.
Or not. Maybe we don’t unpack that shit and take a look. Maybe we can’t. This is a set-up for possible eventual suicide. Trust. Please start unpacking your shit. You are lovable, you are seen and you have the right to be here. And to stay here, loved.
I really feel sick with what is going on in this world. Not fearful, just disgusted. Honestly I listen to/watch very little TV and other Media. I can’t hold the untruths, twisted facts, never ending speculation, angry rants, discussions that somehow always go to shit, wasted energy in attempts to be “right” or smarter than the next.
I have no space for this. How bout the reported death of stars that are total lies, frivolous, unbelievable lawsuits- millions of dollars paid out for hurt feelings. Convicted murderers complaining about the meals in prison, bla bla bla. Everyone has an opinion, the entitlement is at an all time high. I feel so very saddened for the victims of violence, people who didn’t stand a chance. Wrong place. Wrong time. Too many versions of the “truth” make me dizzy.
Our personal peace is more important now than ever – when it seems as though evil makes the world go round. I’m weaving kindness and compassion into my days…giving supplies to a needy stranger who looks into my eyes and we both well up. Helping a frail elderly man to enter his name on a Quest intake computer screen. Telling a Stop n Shop Mom who’s frustrated with the push-back of her pre-teen son, that she’s a good Mom (we both shed a tear). Taking the time to be curious about what a stranger has in her bag – finding out she wrote a book and then purchasing it from her.
Supporting, opening our hearts, listening, being present, seeing others in their joy, their pain, their anger, ESPECIALLY in their struggle with not wanting to be alive. Our growing of ourselves HAS HUGE IMPACT ON OTHERS! The ripples travel and touch lives we may never know about. Little by little we are lighter, able to hold space for others, and make less fear based moves in our lives. None of us are getting out of here alive. Let’s honor each other’s struggles. No matter what happens around us, there can be stillness within.
Worthy shirt. worn with pride, reckless abandon. The looks I get are priceless. Continue reading “Worthy Looks”