Tag: Safety

resilient · responsibility

Like An Eagle

Featured A Fish Named KarenLeave a comment

I sensed the secret you carry. Blaming my physical unrest on food, the two drinks, my sunburn. Your frantic energy, palpable. The fox that showed up, running by making himself seen. Then the snake. Spirit commanding my attention by sending in the wild beasts. Illuminating that which lurks under beautiful smiles. I see it all. Like an Eagle.

The building tension you carry – feeling it in my own neck. Overwhelming. I can take on your energy, at will – as a way of knowing. Then, right before me slowly coming clearer, unfolding with certainty. With sadness. With accuracy. Suddenly I’m doing it. Putting together the clues of your broken childhood. Betrayal by betrayal. All of it.

I can sniff it out. This info comes with a high price – a sudden physical overwhelm, unease. As I realize the reason for your blankness, your habitual guarding, the distance you keep, your refusal to take part in activities, meals, refusal to leave the house, engage. It suddenly makes perfect sense. This protest. This fuck you.

When I witness your many refusals. Reluctance to greet your brother. Opting out of family “time”. The way your mother has to force you to acknowledge your brother. She physically assists you in hugging him. The nervous laughter. I knew. I knew. I could see all that is hidden. Under plastic smiles.

It hit me hard. So blatant. So powerful. This explains so much. I know things. I know shit people would never want me to know. Why do I know? What is the purpose dear God. Please tell me. Don’t be stupid, it’s obvious why I know. I was was this girl, I am this.

Can I actually help? Can I help? How can I? It’s actually torturous to be privy to such delicate, guarded info. I want to help. I want to give her the gift of validation. I want to blow this the fuck up. I want to slay the evil in the room. I want to save her sanity. Hide her in a warm safe place. Where her safety is paramount. But. My heart hurts so much right now.

But. I need to keep MY inner child safe. I need to protect HER. Put her first, reparent HER as this trigger swirls. I can do for her what was not done for me when I was young. I can keep myself centered and grounded and not swirl, also with the insanity of sexual abuse. I will never abandon my inner child to save someone else. THIS is the work. My work. Never jump in to save someone. Make every attempt from ground. From the shore. Have a plan. Process. Otherwise we are all lost in the deep darkness.

Do I say anything? Do I to hint that I know? I cannot expect that she will be receptive. She might deny. That’s not the point tho. She needs to know that whatever she says I will listen. Just open the door and get my healing foot in, or even a toe. Hell, a toenail.

God help me to use fox energy in my heart. Be stealthy, clever. Meet evil with light. It saddens me that she suffers in silence everyday. Everyone is dead around her. Everyone. I visualize ancient, petrified, headless bodies around me. No one to connect with, no one to feel, no one to love. Reach all you want. They’re unavailable. Dead. Tragically familiar. Having to partially die myself just to survive.

Guide me. Use me for her support -either physically or energetically. Please let me be there, as a comfort. As a confidante. The sounding board and voice of reason that I did not have. The safe one. The receptive heart. If she’ll let me in to her closely guarded, sensitive heart. If

My tears and grief are real, solid and visionary. Don’t mess with my fucking intuition. I see through. I see the real. I see your dark, that which you wish to hide. I see your shame. I see your self loathing. Your having to act out to have everyone leave you alone. Throw an emotional fit just to get someone to pay attention.

I know this. Some part of her wants me to see. Is willing. Needs this. Will I be met with that part or an imposter? No way to tell. How much will be receptive? How much will fight, run or collapse and be transparent? It’s frightening to be seen, really seen. Exposed. I got you.

No one knows I can see. No one. I am often met with denial. It’s natural/habitual. I know and sense too much. I have an enormous responsibility with this gift (jury still out on the “gift” term). Heavy burden in my hands being privy to such weighty information. I’d ask Spirit WHY, but the answer is ridiculously obvious. Enormous.

The sadness of the abused children. All shutting down differently. Deadening themselves. you can see the disconnect. The terror in the eyes. Can feel the crazy, swirling, frozen, ungrounded energy surrounding the family. Many kids, many families. Way too many.

We survivors can help. We can be what WE needed. And never could secure. It’s never too late to get what we came for. To give what we couldn’t get. It’s never too late to offer our wisdom, our hearts, our safety. Our love and understanding. It’s never too late. To go out on that branch, trusting it will hold you. Eagle medicine abounds.

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How To Survive (The Family) Holidays – 13 Joyful Hacks

A Fish Named Karen8 Comments

 

So, the Holidays, hmmmmm. I’m guessing that some of my readers may be very excited for Holidays. I am also knowing that there’s a whole other section of the general pop who are digging themselves a large hole, preparing to jump in to escape all things “family celebration”. Continue reading “How To Survive (The Family) Holidays – 13 Joyful Hacks” →

acceptance · Uncategorized

As The Smoke Dissipates

A Fish Named KarenLeave a comment

Oh the opportunity to feel, when no-one’s looking. Today I took my sad ass outside to sit by the fire pit. Sweet Grass, Sage, Palo Santo, healing wand in hand. All with the intention to purge, to sit in the fresh air and sunshine. Handing myself over to the earth, to the powers that be. To bear my sadness, grief and hate to the trees and listen for their wisdom.

I light the Sweet Grass, quickly the fire spreads to the Sage and engulfs the Palo Santo. Sweet ceremonial earthy fragrance circles around my tear streamed face. With a turkey feather I assist the plumes around my head and body intending to bebseen in my grief and hate. With the intention of healing the deepest sadness I carry. With the intention of Bird Medicine supporting my use of a home-made healing wand, dispersing the smoke with Hawk, Turkey, Crow and Peacock plumes. The smoke making its way to my body’s energetic centers. Bird medicine feels so right, calling on Hawk or Crow to watch over me as I present my latest emotional garbage for renewal and healing.

I am hit with a wall of grief, to the solar plexus (navel area) with the likeness of being gutted. It arrives in waves of rage and sorrow, guilt and shock. She’s getting ready to die. My Mother. I feel the disruption, the frantic, the reaching. I am questioning my platform, my truth. Am I too selfish? Mean? Demonic? Am I self-protective to a fault? Am I stuck in a battle that is long past? Is there self hate for the parts of myself that are unyielding? Is there love for my unhealed, rough parts?

There are no right answers. There are, though, many haters on this path. When we choose to do the right thing and live our truth those closest to us seem to lose their fucking minds. It’s like you are being asked to live everyone else’s guilt and have to’s and should have’s. Like I don’t have enough of that shit myself. Eye roll. I think that people lose sight of “mind your own fucking business” when someone is suffering. I think it’s “normal” to want to take action and ease someone’s suffering. But stay in your own lane and do your thing. The second you expect anyone to join in on your next best idea this is when you fail.

I am not here to alleviate anyone’s suffering – mental or physical. Period. I am no lifeline or Savior. Lately I feel so distant from my Mother’s situation. I am done attempting to fulfill her needs at the expense of my own mental health. I’ve spent 34 years of my precious life doing that. Fuck that. I vow to my inner child to not give up on her (inner child) and to put her safety and sanity first. I refuse to continue giving up this precious little child inside of me -handing her over to be slaughtered and used. She’s way too precious. EVEN if the slaughter-er is dying. Even if. The threat of death doesn’t change anything for me. Nothing changes. Which shocks the shit out of those around me. It remains me, living my truth. Even if no-one supports me. Even if.

Please let me live with the consequences of not seeing her one last time. Let me feel it. Let me feel the wide open freedom of knowing she won’t show up and stalk me and whisper in my ear “You’re trapped”. Let me know that I will never feel her seductive touch. Let me feel the reality of this world rather than be told lies about everything and anything. Let me be fabulous, and smart, and worthy and just right in my body without someone putting the doubt in my head that I’m too much and should dumb down my glory or that someone ELSE deserves the credit for what I’VE accomplished.

So as the smoke dissipates and my tears subside, feelings of satisfaction and completeness arise. I fill my lungs with fresh Winter air, imagining the breath traveling down to my Winter boots and into the earth. SHE supports me, Mother Earth. Supports my journey and the beautiful mess that I am. I’ve accomplished a whole lot, Mother, without you, despite you. Anyways. Because of your self-hate and baggage. Because of your traumatic disowned past. Because of generational mental illness and sexual abuse.

And what a wonderful existence was waiting for me. Without you. Without thinking of you, without remembering that I even have a Mother. Thank-you for all you’ve taught me about my worth, my ability to see reality and my love for my body. Anyway. Anyway.

As the smoke dissipates. You were wrong. I am amazing.