Cover your crotch, or (What I Don’t Understand, Writing PTSD Pt.1).

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My goodness. Pages, you have to save me today.

I need saving today. I need a friend. I need a mother. I need a father. I need sisters. I need a brother. I am in need today. You have to save me.

Do you understand? Relationships are the hardest thing. To let someone in. Close. I am sitting with strangers because this is the only open seat in the place.

I am a witch. I am a priestess. I am an earthen angel. I use talismans. I am part of the divine because I am part of creation. You are not denied your spirituality. The earth serves us all. That is grace. You are held by grace right now. Keep going. Admit you were wrong. Place the blame where it belongs.

I am in a storytelling workshop. Kids on wheels. These pages will save me. The magic and curiosity. A full page of feelings and curiosity. Be curious. You are a witch. You are an angel. A moon maiden. Powerful and abundant. Communicate with who you need to. Feel better. Be a witch and an angel. Relationships are hard; even with the best of them.

I’m learning how hurt and abused my thoughts have become, my understanding of love and intimacy. How hurt. How screwed over. The truth. In tar-like shame. My goodness. I love you Allyson. A high five to everyone I love, to everyone who longs to love me. To those I long to love and those who long to love me. I am beautiful and deserving. I am worthy and wealthy. Abundant.

Being in relationship is one of those things.

I love coffee. I love sitting in this cafe, writing. Do not let yourself be lead astray. You walked away. Be drawn by the silent pull of what you truly love. It will not lead you astray. I am a witch. I am an earthen angel. I am here to write. Pages, my favourite place. Everyday this is what I come here to feel. It doesn’t matter where I am, only that I feel safe and in community. Alone together.

How many different ways can you write words. In all sorts of ways. You are inspiring. You are a witch, and goddess too. Belong to where you belong.

I showered. That was a good first step. Wash dishes. Eat food.

I moved tables. To be alone and face out. To have my back to the room, with a window before me. Look around. Comfort and right action are all around you. The world is changing. Your life is never stagnant. Get out of that child despair. That is the gravy, the tar, it will weigh you down. We are all safe and free. Belong and be yourself. We are all safe and free. You and me. Don’t worry. You don’t need to do anything to belong. You are made just as you should be.

Your soul knew what was up before your mind did. Or your body. Your soul is prepared for this journey. Your soul is prepared for this journey. Always has been.

The shame is everywhere. Over everything. What a nasty place to visit. And visit I must. It is a place and not the present moment. It is a feeling and feelings pass. I can be loved. You can be loved. Sia. That song. Do I have it? Yes. And now it’s playing. You will be loved. I believe it. I believe in you. I believe what there is to believe. I believe my heart.

It’s hard to decipher lies from someone I love. It’s hard to disagree with them. Figuring out all the lies I was told by the people I love the most. It’s as close to home as it gets.

I don’t want to sit. I understand what is going on. I can be self-aware. And I can be loved for it. I am a witch. I am an earthen angel. I am moonbeam and starlight. I am found in the night sky. Early morning. Light does not…wake up in darkness. What kind of early morning ritual could you get done. Could this be the thing that gets me going. I am going to tell my story. I will begin. Bare my soul. Believe I am safe.

I got my phone out and now I’ve been sidetracked. This is what healing looks like. I’ll show them. I’ll show all of them. I can be loving and strong. I can be loving and boundaried. I can be loving and safe. I can be loving and loved.

Are you ready to go home? Listen to podcasts. Listen to voices of love and wisdom.

I don’t understand wearing just tights. How can you let them know where your crotch is? Cover your crotch. Make a daily series. Understanding PTSD. Healing the trauma. What I don’t understand. What makes me curious. Where it hurts. I love you. ❤

I am going to keep writing. One more page. Being here feels better than going home. There is no rush. All good things come in time. Your desires come to be, in time. Your life is unfolding as it should.

Relationship = alienation, hurt. Love = being ignored/judged from afar.

It’s creepy and it freaks me out. Bless my heart. And bless yours too. All the best to you. Learn to trust one another. I love you. You are the best. You belong here. You belong to each other. You are mine and I am yours. Amen. Hallelujah.

Baby baby believe in me. Believe. The ink won’t move if the words don’t come out true. How does the letter form? What can you put through? Believe me. Believe in you. This is the best spot. Right where you are. To fully actualize. Be. Inhabit your own life. I’m not searching after anyone else.

I want this page done. I want to get out of here now.

This is the bomb. I am sacred. I am loved. I am the grace and energy of stardust and moonbeams. Stardust and moonbeams. Believe in me. I belong to you. ❤

 

 

 

 

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Alone, together, in Grace.

When the kind of help you need changes, so too does the way you have to ask for it. Grace is what helps you through this period. The awkwardness, the uncertainty.IMG_5800 Of saying (and typing) things that feel wrong, but are really the truest things you’ve ever said; of not knowing how else or what else to say or do, just yet. It’s a painful process. Lonely, isolating. Without Grace, no one would make it through.

Grace is having neighbours, who behave neighbourly. Building community is second nature to them. Grace is taking all those things you learned about how to connect to people when you were growing up, and using them to connect to the person on the other end of the phone, at work. Grace is that voice saying, you are not alone. Grace is what keeps you going when you can’t seem to do or say anything right. Grace is a butterfly come to visit you, twice. Grace is having an art practice you started 6 years ago, that can serve you now. An art practice that taught you to rip things up, only to piece them back together again, because that is true process. Grace is seeing something come of it.

Grace is what keeps you going when you didn’t get the job, when that person doesn’t want to hear from you, and this person won’t look you in the eye…and then, again, it’s a neighbour who comes outside, acknowledges the hard things, and invites you over for tea. Grace is people showing up. Grace is flashes of beauty. It feels like a gift.

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Getting out of bed is an act of faith and courage for me each day. Interacting with life, in any capacity, is a fucking roller coaster ride when you’re this raw. Grace is what gets me out of bed. Grace is the courage to forgive myself. Grace is turning fear into curiosity.

Expansion is necessary. The bubble I was living in has burst. I see now that the bubble was an illusion all along. The big wide world isn’t going anywhere (and neither am I, at least not just yet), and so I will have to learn. New words. New questions. New boundaries. New ways of dreaming of what it is I newly desire. All the while, I will learn how to stay in this body I’ve been given, because dissociation no longer serves me for the work ahead.

img_6031.jpgAnd now, a note to the men entering my life (for it was a man that inflicted the trauma I am working my way through). Men, it’s not your ego, or your bravado that I am interested in. I want to know, Are you boundaried? Are you generous? Are you listening? What are you willing to add to the conversation? Can you laugh with others? I want to know what healing looks like in your life, because we all have scars. I don’t want to feel that I owe you anything. I don’t owe you my body. I don’t owe you my attention or my time. I don’t take myself for granted, I am not here to be used by you. This time is for me to figure out me. This process of reclamation has been called for, and I called for it. I listen for that which calls to me, ‘here, come here, move this way’. Being an attractive human being, means I get to decide what I attract, and this time I choose men with qualities unlike those I have attracted in the past. I choose otherwise.

IMG_6013The lines of my life don’t go out like a road, they continue on like those on the page. I walk along a line until it ends, until I must hop down to the one beginning below. Each line is a fresh start, and new beginning, not a descent. It’s not where I’m going, but rather, it’s what I will have created at the end. What will fill those lines? What words? What drawings? What feelings? What ideas? What actions? How did anything get accomplished? Show your process. And remember, rough drafts are messy. Your syntax and message will need editing. But keep trying, with each new sentence. Over and over again. Grace will keep showing up for you.

I’ve written, and will post this blog post today, but tomorrow, I may have something new to add. I give myself permission to change my mind, to open up somewhere new on the page. This blog post is a picture of the woman I am today, imperfect and proud, courageous and vulnerable. The actual pictures I posted are of the art work I produced these last few months, as the journey continues, as my world falls apart.

There is strength to be found here, alone, together, in Grace.