The dark and cracked lens that I see myself through is a difficult sight. It holds all of my flaws and failures in perfect view. It highlights the shimmering flecks of my pain and all of the dark spots of shame.
It is magical and has amazing clarity in the areas I am not achieving while casting shadows on the things I am most proud of. This distorted lens is like a circus house of mirrors and I no longer can tell what my body looks like, it morphs and distorts the edges and I have lost all perspective.
Tired of living this horror
The silent triggers
The silent shame
I just want peace…
Touching the tender spots of trauma and shame
Trying to find compassion when all I feel is loathing
A prison I cannot escape
The pain is real
The viscera holds all and seeps through my pores
Leaving me feeling the ick
To live disconnected
To be disembodied
Seeking for a solace in the midst of such trauma and self-hate
To learn the love I was never shown
To find peace when the enemy lies within
That little brown girl deserves compassion
To know she matters
Kimberlé Crenshaw’s (1989) concept of intersectionality has been entering my purview as the conversations about gender, race and systemic discrimination have become a part of the narrative, especially in the last couple of years. She uses the term to describe “… how certain aspects of who you are will increase your access to the good things or your exposure to the bad things in life.” It provides me with rich context to understand my own experiences and the interwoven complexities of my story.
Trauma therapists will often create a “trauma timeline” with a client which is a snapshot of traumatic…
There are as many ways to work with trauma as there are ways to be traumatized. Everyone is different and will need to follow their own path. My own journey continues to be an evolving path of the most excruciatingly difficult lows as well as profoundly healing and connecting experiences.
The more I travel down my healing path, the more I see how insidious trauma really is, especially childhood abuse. As I am unraveling this tangled ball of beliefs, ideas, feelings, sensations, and memories, I am realizing that nothing is as it appears to be. The gaps in my memories…
It’s time to move on.
Time to move forward.
Time to say goodbye to all the pieces I’ve lost- pieces that were taken from me.
Goodbye to the three-year-old me’s innocence. You didn’t deserve to be hurt and destroyed. You deserved to be protected. You deserved to be loved and cherished.
Goodbye to my 15-year-old youth. I don’t know what he did to you but I am sorry it happened. I’m sorry you had to deal with it alone. I’m sorry no one noticed. You deserved someone to have seen your pain. You deserve the protection.
Goodbye to the 28-year-old…
Nourishment: food or other substances necessary for growth, health, and good condition.
Where do we seek nourishment in this day and age? For many, we are privileged to have an abundant source of nourishment. Access is not the problem. Determining the need is often overlooked.
What has the capacity to nourish our physical bodies can also be abused to kill. Most don’t know what will nourish them because they do not know what they are hungry for.
Often the first step is to slow down, silence the noise and tune in to the whisper…
What do I need? Am…
Saying goodbye when there are no words
Anticipating the death of a parent is no easy task and there are no roadmaps to help me navigate this. There is so much to say and so many feelings to process and the saddest part is that he is not gone yet but the clock is ticking.
The ambivalence of my thoughts and feelings sends me in a dizzying vortex. I should feel grateful for the time we have left… I should feel close to him… I should be able to muster the courage to have THE conversation but I can’t… I…
Definition of Silence:
Silence has been a running theme in my life, since the days of my innocence. Birthed from my ancestors and a lineage fraught with pain, silence, and joy. All of these were not discussed throughout my life and over time the silence became deafening. Watching the collective un-silencing unfolding I cannot help but reflect on my silence “where did my voice go? why do I remain silent?”
My voice is stifled.
My voice is weak.
After my divorce, I was determined to do relationships differently. Well it’s been a bumpy road, and I have learned much about myself in the process. I guess I should say that I am learning because if you do it right, you should always be learning in life.
I set out to figure out what a conscious, healthy relationship was all about. Somedays I think the recipe is clear, and other days it’s as elusive as ever.
Passionate entrepreneur, psychologist and mother of 3, empowering others to find their voice. Finding & expressing my own voice through my writing.