Tag Archives: Healing

It’s Okay to be Okay

13 Thursday Mar 2025

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As time marches on, I am becoming better at being okay. My Mom is gone. I cannot bring her back, and there is little I can do to control any sadness, grief, feelings of emptiness, or the sting of loss. I have recently realized that I have been hiding from a lot of these feelings and experiences, shoving my head in the ground like an ostrich, pretending that the threats don’t exist.

But recently, I have forced myself to yank my head out of the ground and let everything be what it is. The most incredible thing has happened as a result, I have found that there are times that I am okay. More than that, I have come to learn that it’s okay to be okay.

I really struggled at the start when people would say to me, ‘what would your Mom want for you?’ All I could think, or feel was that she would want us to be together; she would want to be alive. Then, I would get angry.

I hid from things, and watched as my world fell apart; my house became a constant disaster zone, my children were becoming more feral each day, nobody was eating proper meals. It was as if I had totally given up on myself, my family, and my life.

Then, I realized one day while talking to Mom (yes, I talk to her…I’m not crazy. It just helps) that she would be so sad to see what I was allowing my life to become, and this upset me. I had to do something – for her sake.

It’s okay to grieve. It’s okay if this takes a long time or happens quickly. It’s okay to fall apart. It’s okay to hide your head in the sand. It’s okay to get angry at yourself for hiding.

And, most importantly, it’s okay to be okay.

As I have sat here this evening, enjoying my newly cleaned house, feeling refreshed by the amount of water I have consumed today, jazz going in the background, and ambient lighting reflecting the peace of my mind, I am okay.

And that’s okay.

Unraveling Religious Trauma and Spiritual Abuse

04 Wednesday Dec 2024

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I have spent the last 14 years trying to “come to grips” with my past. I have made some progress recently. But, the work is tough. Especially when you are doing it on your own. This article is everything: https://www.sandstonecare.com/blog/religious-trauma/

My religious trauma began at an early age, but was kicked into hyperdrive at the same time I began to experience spiritual abuse.

The trauma and abuse went on for years, by multiple people in various locations. But, all with the same messages: You are sinful. There’s something wrong with you. You need us and you need God to be made whole. You won’t receive God’s blessing if you don’t give us 10% of any money you get, but, really you should give 20%…10% is just the baseline. You give as much as you can, even if it means you have to sell your possessions to pay rent, and eat nothing but saltines all day…You will do these things, or else you won’t be welcomed into our inner-sanctum. You should always be a servant – now go clean that person’s apartment because I need you to help me protect myself from their threats. I’m your spiritual leader, and doubting me is sinful, God doesn’t like that, and you want to please God, right? You feel tired and sick? Too bad – go and do the thing I told you to do, or you’ll be letting not just me down, but God as well. You haven’t been trained for it? Do you doubt God? Are you too weak, too selfish, that you won’t stay up all night and pray? You don’t matter. We matter. What you sacrifice for us and the community matters. Not you. You are not allowed to watch tv for a year. No dating. No drinking. Wear only these clothes. Here are the “approved” people you can be around…

and on and on it goes.

No wonder I feel so lost most of the time. It’s good to know that there are people out there who understand, even more than I do, how what I’ve gone through affects me every day; and that there are ways to heal from it.

I don’t write this to be offensive to anyone, or to hurt anyone’s feelings. But, maybe you’re someone out there who has experienced similar things and are struggling now that you’re “out,” or you want to “get out” and don’t know how. Maybe this will help you.

I don’t want to start a fight.

If you want to reach out to me, you can private message me. I’m here.

https://www.sandstonecare.com/blog/religious-trauma/

Mourning

05 Monday Jun 2023

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I’m mourning the loss of life.

Mourning the end of my story.

Reliving the pain it brought and letting it go.

With an abuser – when he died it brought everything right back up like it had happened yesterday.

I had to go through it all again – processing every bit that had happened – while mourning the loss of life, I was now also mourning the loss of a part of my life – my story.

“River Street” – has died. I mourn for it, for the loss of a significant part of my life, while also processing all that it meant to me, good & bad.

I need to put those things in their rightful places, say my final goodbyes and move on.

Mourning.

Anger.

Angry for what he had done to me. Now he was gone and was free of it, but I still had to live with it.

“Act like” it never happened – but, it did, and it was wrong, and while you are “free” of it, I have had to suffer for years. Now you are becoming dead to me, I need you to die/to be dead to me, I am angry because you take a piece of my story with you- an ugly piece that is your fault and you should have no right to take with you and act like it’s all okay, and move on – you should suffer too.

But, you can’t now/you won’t.

That’s not fair.

Look at what you’ve done to me. How can you get away with this? This is why I resent your sick, smiling, successful faces. You make me want to puke.

But, I miss you.

I wish I still had the intimacy I had with you – the excitement – the heart racing, swooning feelings – the sense of importance – the sense of doing something, being someone, that matters – making a difference. The heat of the moment – the fire/heat of life/living.

Mourning.

Anger.

Loss.

Resentment.

Letting go.

The Best of Times/The Worst of Times

12 Wednesday Apr 2023

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I frequently have dreams that place me in various times and places of my “previous lives” with people I haven’t seen for years.

There was, what is now, a short period of my life that has had an enormous impact on me. By the amount of emotional and mental baggage it has left, you would think it spanned more than 15 years, when, in reality, it was around 5.

Spanning the years between (roughly) 2001-2007, I lived an incredibly exhilarating and intense life that left me feeling burnt-out, beat-down, and deflated. Though, not right away. Some of this settled-in over the years as I reflected on the life that I have lived, the experiences I had, and how horribly underprepared and unqualified I was for so many moments I found myself living.

I’m going to attempt to unravel this time of my life that has kept me tied in knots for over 15 years now.

This is me just putting it out there and starting the process for myself.

Watch this space.

The Thorn in Her Side – A Poem

09 Wednesday May 2018

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I spent some time reading-through two of my old journals tonight. I found a journal entry from December 4, 2001 that piqued my interest. Once again, it reminds me of something I could have written yesterday, because of how familiar it is and how applicable to my current state:

December 4, 2001 (21 yrs old)

Sometimes when I sit down to write in my journal it is very difficult to know what to write and where to begin. I am sure that my journals are some of the most strange, inconsistent journal writings ever recorded. But, it serves its purpose for me.

***
I thought that this entry was particularly interesting, given the fact that I had begun this evening’s readings with a few poems in a previous journal that are very raw and unpolished.

In my previous post, I commented that I was going to start with bones – bare, naked and vulnerable, and this poem is just that.

NOTE: This poem could be triggering to those who have experienced the trauma of sexual abuse – if you are concerned for yourself, please do not read further.

 

 

The Thorn in Her Side _- June 12, 1999 (18 yrs old)

A little girl,
Unsure and frightened.
Unknowing and trusting
Of those around her.
They are older and wiser
And she should be able to
Trust them.

One night
A friend
Took advantage
Of that small
Trusting
Child.
Stripped her of innocence.
She stood naked for the entire
World to see.

She felt it was wrong,
But did not know
What do do
What was happening?

Ashamed of letting her
Brother hear.
What if he knew?
He would tell and she would be
In trouble.

Closing her eyes
She attempts sleep
But she feels
Restless
Scared
Ashamed
And sleep won’t come.

Curling into a fetal position
Longing
For the safety of her mother
She hears herself
Screaming
Yet knows that she makes no sound.

As the tears stream down her
Rosy cheeks
Soaking the pillow where
They land
She eventually drifts away into
A deep
deep
Deep
Peaceful
Sleep.

When she wakes the next morning
She remembers it as a
Haunting dream
And shoves it –
Violently
To the back of her mind.

But the seed had been
Planted
And it would soon become a huge
Thorn
In her side.

Round My Hometown

05 Saturday May 2018

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It is so strange to be back here. Back where it all began for me. This little town that formed so much of who I am, good and bad. Where I experienced so much joy, sadness, fear, shame, hurt, hope and love.

Each street breathes distant memories, rising up from the pavement and from walls of old buildings like dust being stirred by a strange wind. Sometimes the dust that rises is so thick I feel as though I cannot breathe.

I often ask myself how I will manage being surrounded by these oppressive memories, images and feelings. Will I ever manage to bring some stillness to this never-ending reel of embarrassments and moments of shame that I long to forget? Can I find joy here as well? Can memories that have long been stained and despised be redeemed?

I see a ghost of myself on every street, in corners, down ally’s, in buildings, and in the absence of buildings. She cries-out, asking to be found, to be rescued, to be safe, to be loved and to be free.

I search for ways to mend what was broken, picking up a piece of me that was left here, and a shard of me that was abandoned over there, and I attempt to find a way of putting them together that brings peace and makes me feel whole.

I ask myself if the town itself is oppressive, or if it’s just me – my own mind. I have no answer yet.

What can a person do, but keep pushing-forward, attempting to make things right, to find healing and peace and be better today than yesterday.

A New Year

05 Friday Jan 2018

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I know I have been extremely slack in writing. This will be no surprise to anyone who was followed or known me for any length of time. I have a history of writing faithfully for bursts of time, followed by not writing for a length of time, only to pick it up and start again. On and on the cycle goes.

The main reason for this is that there are many, many, many things I want to write about that involve other people and I am not quite ready to put the stories that include other people (even if I withhold names) out there just yet. But, that doesn’t mean the writing isn’t happening. I still have to go through the process of writing about what’s in my mind. I just can’t share it yet.

These stories invade my mind and I still have to allow myself the time to go through them and let the stories work themselves out before I can move on to something else.

This often includes a process of revisiting the past and sometimes even reaching-out to a long, lost, friend or just trying to come to terms with how an old relationship ended.

There has been a lot of this for me in the past 6 months as our move back home has brought-up many memories and experiences with which I still needed to process and come to terms.

I have also become a full-time university student, via distance ed., working towards a degree. This has been a dream of mine ever since I left High School, when depression and anxiety held me back from being able to attend university. It has been something I had always missed-out on and, being someone who loves school and loves to learn, had always dreamed I would be able to do.

Now I’m doing it and it feels great!

I am also continually improving my health and nutrition and constantly striving to treat myself well.

I feel great.

2018 is going to be a good year.

252 Core Beliefs

08 Wednesday Mar 2017

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I wanted to check-in. It has been a really rough few months for me and I have been stress-eating, emotional-eating and exhausted-eating far more than I would have liked.

And, while I did gain some weight, I also want to acknowledge that I have managed to maintain my weight within a 5 lbs range fairly well.

Despite the setbacks and many, many, many poor decisions, I still found myself making good choices as well. Sure, I just ate half a pizza…but, I’m going to get up and get all 10,000 steps in plus an extra 500 just to prove to myself that all is not lost. Yes, I had nothing but peanut butter chocolate chip cookies for breakfast, but I will have my green smoothie for lunch.

One thing that continues to be a working point for me is how I tell myself: ‘Life is tough. You’ve been through a lot. This week has been hell. You deserve_________’ and then fill-in the blank with whatever nasty food item is in my mind at the moment: Chocolate, chips, pizza, French fries…

So, I “treat” myself and then I feel even worse.

What?

Wasn’t that supposed to make me feel better?

I am still in the process of learning what a real “treat” is and trying to change my way of thinking about this. This idea of “taking care of myself” is something that I’m really trying to comprehend. What does it mean to take care of myself?

How do I take care of myself when the flood of thoughts and emotions that they bring with them, leave me feeling unworthy?

This is all wrapped-up in the idea of ‘self-worth’ to me. I should want the best for myself, so why do I continually, do the opposite?

When I was doing my trauma counselling, one of the things I learned was about “core beliefs”. Here is a great article about them:

http://rosspsychology.com/1/post/2011/06/cognitive-therapy-101-core-beliefs.html

I have a core belief system that is made-up of, pretty much, every negative belief listed on that website. This means that the following lists are things I believe about myself and am telling myself, pretty much, every second of the day:

I’m not good enough
·         I can’t get anything right
·         I’m stupid
·         I’m inferior
·         I’m nothing
·         I’m worthless
·         I’m insignificant
·         I’m a bad person
·         I’m unattractive (ugly, fat, etc.)
·         I’m useless
·         I’m a failure
·         I don’t deserve anything good
·         There’s something wrong with me
·         I’ve done things wrong
·         I’m abnormal

I’m not lovable
·         I’m unacceptable
·         I’m always left out
·         I don’t matter
·         I’m not wanted
·         I’m alone
·         I’m unwelcome
·         I don’t fit in anywhere
·         I’m uninteresting
·         Nobody loves me
·         Nobody wants me
·         I’m unlikeable
·         I’m bound to be rejected

People I love will leave me
·         I will be abandoned if I love or care for something/someone
·         I am uninteresting (and people will leave me because of it)
·         I’m unimportant
·         If I assert myself, people will leave me
·         I’m not as good as other people
·         My partner is no longer interested in me
·         I’m bound to be rejected/abandoned/alone

I’m helpless/powerless
·         I’m out of control
·         I must have control to be okay
·         I’m weak
·         I’m vulnerable
·         I’m trapped
·         I’m needy
·         I do not measure up to others
·         I’m unsuccessful
·         I can’t achieve
·         I can’t change
·         I can’t handle anything
·         There’s no way out
·          I am trapped and can’t escape
·         If I experience emotions, I will lose control
·         I can’t do it
·         I’m always number two
·         I finish last
·         I can’t stand up for myself
·         I’m a loser
·         I can’t say ‘no’

I have to do everything perfectly
·         If I make a mistake, it means I’m careless/a failure/etc.
·         I’ve done something wrong
·         It’s not okay to ask for help
·         I have to do everything myself
·         If I don’t do it, no one will
·         I’m responsible for everyone and everything
·         If I care enough, I can fix him/her/this
·         I can’t trust or rely on another person
·         If I trust people, they may hurt me (and I won’t survive)
·         People will betray me
·         People are untrustworthy
·         My needs are not important
·         I shouldn’t spend time taking care of myself
·         When I see that others need help, I have to help them
·         I’m not a worthwhile person
·         I’m only worthwhile if I’m helping other people
·         If I express negative feelings in a relationship, terrible things will happen
·         I have to make people happy
·         It’s my fault

To those who do not experience these for themselves, these might seem like a list of someone who sounds like “Eeyore” and just feels sorry for themselves. But, if these lists resonate with you the way they do for me, please know that you are not being unreasonable, and you are not being ridiculous.

These are core beliefs I learned as the result of multiple childhood traumas, as well as trauma experienced throughout my adolescence, as a teenager, a young adult and finally with the birth of my son.

As my counsellor and I were trying to figure-out what my main “core belief” was, she asked me: “What is it that’s beneath all of this that makes you have the negative thought?” and I was surprised at my answer: “That I’m not worthy.”

For most of my life I have operated under a core belief that I am not worthy. I am not worthy of love, respect, friendship, hope, support…I am not worthy of anything good. It is why I have, genuinely, been surprised when I do well at job interviews, pass a test or someone gives me a gift (I still cry at the thought of what my sister-in-law gave me for Christmas 2 years ago). I am not worthy.

This negative core belief has been the biggest barrier to weight loss, the ability to form and maintain healthy habits and is fundamental in understanding why it is so difficult for me to make positive, healthy changes even when I know what’s good for me and what is not.

Negative thoughts fit into the negative core belief, so they keep feeding it and affirming its validity. Positive thoughts or interactions do not fit into the negative core belief, so kind of bounce-off and are lost. My counsellor explained to me the need to create a new core belief and to be mindful of feeding all those positives to it so that, eventually, the negative core belief is starved and disappears and the positive, healthy, core belief remains as the one that provides the foundation for my life and my daily, moment-by-moment, interactions.

She drew a cool diagram for me on the whiteboard in her office—I’ve tried to duplicate it, in case that helps get the idea across (but I’m a horrible diagram drawer):

IMG_20170308_100159347

 

How does this all fit in with the idea of “treats”?

Here is an example of one of many mental exchanges that take place in my brain on a daily basis:

‘I’d like a treat—I know something like an apple would be a really good thing to have. It will be sweet, provide nutrition, give me a pick-me-up, and keep me within my health and wellness goals. But, that’s too much work, I’m not really worth that effort. I may as well just have this chocolate because nobody really cares about me anyway. It doesn’t really matter how I do, nobody is going to notice. If I’m not here, nobody would mind. I’m just not worthy of that effort. I may as well just eat that chocolate and forget about it.’

Here is an example of the mental shift I am attempting to make- the mental exchange I’d like to have happen in my head:

‘I’d like a treat. An apple would be an excellent treat. It will be sweet, provide nutrition, give me a pick-me-up and keep me within my health and wellness goals. It’s the best option for me and I deserve the best.’

I deserve to eat better than pizza, French fries, chocolate and chips. These are “junk” foods and I am not “junk”.

So, as I pick myself up and dust myself off for what feels like the umpteenth time, this is mantra for the moment:

I deserve better.

This positive thought is something I will keep repeating and using to fill that new core belief that “I am worthwhile” or “I am worthy”. And, as I keep filling-up the new belief, I hope that the old belief gets smaller and those thoughts become less in quantity as well as frequency until they, eventually, become a dull buzz in the background and perhaps even disappear forever.

Until then, I will just keep reminding myself that I DESERVE BETTER!

Confessions of a Facebook “Creeper”

04 Wednesday Jan 2017

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I admit it. I search for people all the time who aren’t my friends on Facebook. Usually, this happens during bouts of nostalgia when I find myself thinking about the people with whom I grew-up and wondering where they are, what they are doing, what they look like and how happy they appear.

I want to compare where I am, what I’m doing, what I look like and how happy I am with my childhood friends. I am always relieved and slightly joyous when I see that there has been weight gain, wrinkles, weariness…good. It’s not just me.

There are many people with whom I wish I had kept more regular contact. People with whom I am no longer “friends” – not even on Facebook. Sometimes I creep these people to see what life is like for them. I did this yesterday and spent a considerable amount of time looking at a few childhood friends and I was genuinely glad to see how happy they appeared. I was pleased that they had experienced adventures, travel, fun, love and beauty.

I considered sending a few friend requests, but got lost in thoughts of how it would be perceived by these people. I suffered from depression for most of my time in high school. This was before depression was really understood, talked about or treated. But, the biggest casualty of my depression was my social life. I withdrew from all of my friends and lost most of those relationships. One of the biggest hangers-on of this time period is embarrassment. I feel embarrassed all the time about how I was and I assume that people remember me in a negative light.

I was moody, judgmental, shy, confused, lonely and lost.

During these years my FB posts would have be the kind that you just get tired of seeing so you block the person so you don’t get the constant drone of negative status updates in your feed.

When I think about these years I am always overwhelmed with sadness for the many memories I have about stupid things I did as a result of my state of mind. I’ve been working on forgiving myself, and giving that girl a chance to heal and find acceptance; strangely, creeping on Facebook kind of helps with this. I’ve managed to ‘rekindle’ a few of these lost relationships and they have been extremely meaningful to me. Every time I send a request to a long, lost, friend and then we message back and forth a bit, and eventually just start to share life through the regular news feed, it helps normalize what feels like an extremely polarizing time for me.

I wish I could sit down with all of my old friends and have an open discussion about those years, explain what was going on in my world, express my regret for how I may have treated them, share my sorrow for all the lost time and then make-up for some of that time and move-forward as friends again.

My mind is full of many happy memories with them. I remember hours and hours of time spent together, laughing, talking about boys, playing stupid games, sleepovers, doing makeup, playing sports, passing notes in school…I see snapshots in my mind of us together on hammocks, acting cool at school dances, playing flag football, flirting and silly things like stuffing our shirts with balloons. The memories are full and rich.

But, then there are years where the memories are filled with pictures of school dances, football games, pep rallies and lunches filled with all these faces growing and enjoying life—but mine is not with them. These memories haunt me like shadows. Life was happening all around me, but I wasn’t in it.

So, I creep on facebook. I try to fill-in some of the gaps. I reach-out. I rekindle. I make progress.

I am so thankful for those friends with whom I’ve managed to reconnect because, the truth is, the folks with whom I grew-up really do mean a lot to me. They were the people that helped shape me into who I am today. They were my original cheerleaders, challengers and role-models. They were my squad, my family, my community. They exist in my memory as a deep and vast resource of life, joy, sorrow, lessons-learned, new experiences, comfort and friendship and I am so thankful for the ability to creep into their lives now and get a little piece of what once was.

Drowning

05 Friday Aug 2016

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My clothes are heavy and dragging me down as they dance in the water. My hair is thrashing around, wildly, like it’s moving to an African drum beat. When my hair finally breaks apart, I am able to look up and see the sun above the water, hot and heavy, and becoming increasingly distant as it seems to be pushing me down into the depths of the sea. I take a deep, inner, breath and propel my arm upwards in an attempt to pull my head to the surface, but instead of doing so, I find myself gripping my newborn baby’s ankle and pulling him beneath the water with me. Suddenly, it’s as though a mountain has attached itself to my legs and as the sun continues to push me down, I am plummeted to the belly of the sea, dragging my child with me.

We are gone.

This was the nightmare that haunted me for months after my son’s birth. I would wake-up gasping for air, soaking wet and sobbing.

To this day, I can’t think about this without the surge of an upcoming panic attack. I stop as I write, close my eyes, practice my box breathing. I become aware of the sensations around me. I hear people talking in the hallway. I can feel my fingers resting on the keyboard in front of me. I smell a mixture of my morning mocha and my perfume. The aftertaste of my last mouthful of mocha is bitter on my tongue.

When I first mentioned the struggles I was having to my doctor, and told her about the nightmares, she said ‘It sounds like you might have some PTSD from birth trauma’ and that was that.

The first 4 months of my son’s life were a living hell for me. I felt like I was constantly in a war zone, battling for not only my survival, but his as well. This was made worse by the fact that I often felt like I was the biggest threat to my son’s safety, which meant that I was also fighting a war against myself all the time. I used to say: ‘It’s you and me, kid. You and me against the world.’ I felt like nobody got it. Nobody understood, or cared, about how dark it was for us. How much we had to fight to survive.

This added trauma on-top of trauma. I’ve started therapy to help me work through this. The other day my therapist asked ‘What things remind you of the event?’

What things remind me of the event?

Pretty much every aspect of my life is a reminder of the event, because ‘the event’ (my son’s birth), literally changed everything in my world. Everywhere I look there are reminders of him, every thought inside my head circles back to him, every emotion finds itself linked to him…I am surrounded by triggers.

But, I’m learning that there are certain environmental factors that bring me right back to the trauma and leave me swirling quickly out of control. Feeling trapped and feeling hot are major triggers for me.

I have identified a few, regular, times when this happens which means I am able to prepare and plan for them and when I am in the situation, can practice calming techniques to stave-off a full-blown panic attack.

But, there are still moments when I am caught by surprise.

This happened while camping last weekend. My son was exhausted, and so was I. We both like routine. He has always, naturally, been a ‘routine’ child and has always loved daytime naps. While camping, we were both thrown out of routine, and neither of us had slept well the previous night – I had, about, 2.5 hours sleep and while he slept longer, it was very disturbed. So, we needed a nap.

We were lying in our tent and it was HOT. I lay there, sweating bullets, trying to calm him and soothe him to sleep, despite the fact that he was also drenched in sweat. He kept looking-up at me with these pleading eyes to help him feel better. I felt helpless. Powerless.

I could feel the surge of a panic attack approaching.

Box breathing. Box breathing.

What can you feel? What can you hear? What can you see?

What can you see?

I looked above me to the top of the tent and saw that the sun was directly over us and I suddenly felt like an ant under a magnifying glass.

The panic was rising.

I looked up again and I saw the sun above the water, pushing me downwards.

I couldn’t breathe.

I’m trapped. We’re trapped. We’re going to die. I can’t breathe. I’m going to lose it. We’re being tortured to death. I have to get out of here. We’re under attack.

I grabbed my car keys, my son, and said to those around me “We’re going for a drive…” I’m sure I said some other things, not even sure what, or what was happening, or who heard me, or where anyone else even was.

All I could see was that my son and I were being tortured and I was getting us the hell out of there before we drowned to death.

It was everything that I had felt for the first 4 months of his life compressed into a few minutes. I have had experiences and moments like this every day since my son was born. Sometimes they are super intense, like it was that day camping. At other times, it is a small surge that I am able to overcome with grounding techniques.

But, every time it happens, it brings the trauma back to the surface and seems to add another layer on to it.

I am reminded of the line from the West Wing where the trauma specialist explains to Josh that the goal is to allow him to remember the event without reliving it.

I cannot wait for the moment when I can think about the day my son was born and smile at how incredible it was to hold him for the very first time, without feeling like I’m under attack and that I’m going to drown and bring him down with me.

To remember the beauty without reliving the trauma.