A heartfelt special delivery to my dear friend, Debbie ... I wish you a happy birthday and many years of good health filled with love, laughter, sweet surprises and peace of mind!💕🎂
And having sent my love across the miles, tis time to express the train of thought sent via email to a friend and neighbor, yesterday:
If it’s true that this last round of therapy has strengthened my ability to identify eruptive episodes of repressed emotion as soon as a current event triggers my subconscious to release latent anxiety, arousing yesteryear’s fear of an unnamed danger closing in, then hopefully, my intuitive intelligence may have grown so bold as to hold fast to my connection to clarity, thus disempowering PTSD from hijacking my personal sense of safety concerning this reality: I have worked courageously to achieve a spectrum of mental strengths necessary to develop the self assertive portion of my voice that will save me from confusing the eruptive nature of yesteryear’s ghosts with a near and present danger that is not threatening my survival, today, so rather than feeling all alone with that fear as had been true during childhood, I'll hear this intuitive truth speaking directly to my connection to wholeness, loud and clear: Annie, whatever unnamed fear you feel, right now, exists only in repressed memory ... and the reason that a good little girl grew up to be an insight seeker, whose intuitive intelligence led you on a not so merry chase until the spotlight of insight brightened your conscious mind by illuminating this deeper truth: You have every right to declare yourself innocent of guilting yourself reprehensible, undeservedly for whatever was done to you as well as whatever you were coerced into doing, and each time you imprint that deeper truth into the forefront of your conscious awareness, you'll have sound reason to trust your intelligence to heal the wounded portions of your self esteem so deeply as to clearly sweep each next ghostlike eruption of unidentified anxiety, undisclosed grief, and undeserved guilt right out of subconscious memory in one fell swoop from now on..
As to naming specific events that led to my having swallowed greater portions of my self-assertive voice during childhood, those stories have already been penned and posted quite some time back, at which time my storyteller’s valiant attempts to write about high school caused so much latent angst to arise as to draw forth a boulder-sized lump of fear that closed my throat, casting such a dark shadow over my existential voice as to have blinded me from identifying the fear that arose, causing me to swallow that portion of my tongue, again and again, which suggests why my growing connection to guilt-free boldness has been encouraging my sense of readiness to irradiate all sense of shame in favor of speaking my truth aloud once I’ve climbed this ladder, one rung at a time, toward making my clear-headed way out of yesteryear’s self-conceived dungeon-like darkness by way of gathering each next string of interrelated insights, which, like fireflies caught in a jar, shine the spotlight of reality upon my mindful connection to ‘the here and now’.
Over these past several years, my intuitive determination to heal the wounded portions of my self esteem felt compelled to cocoon my smarts within the safe haven of my home where the whole of me focuses upon working quietly and consistently toward achieving this end, and so with the new year at hand, it comes as no surprise to find my power of intuition suggesting that I’ve nothing to lose and everything to gain from taking this self-empowering leap of faith, right now, along with countless adults across the country, who like me, had been terror-stricken, obedient children, who, having swallowed their tongues behind boulder-sized fear, had been abused by pedophiles until each of us felt personally ready to stand up and be courageously counted amongst those men and women who, having reclaimed the self assertive portion of our voices are recently grown so bold as to denounce our attackers with two simple words:
Me, too.
Thank goodness, the effects of harboring PTSD did not begin to distort my processor’s connection to clarity until recent years. Thank goodness, the vault created by my defense system’s mental block (separating my brain’s conscious awareness from unconscious fear), had locked a trio of ghost-like traumas behind a wall of denial so impenetrable within the dark side of my subconscious as to hold at bay the greater portion of my self distortions over most of my life, most especially during the years when my children depended upon their mother’s intuitive intelligence and positively focused, fun-loving attitude to create a parental role model of herself so as to guide my young to muster the courage to develop and give voice to the remarkable set of personal strengths that fear for my safety had, unknowingly, stolen from me at the age of three, and throughout every stage of my sons’ young lives, their mother's intuitive intelligence figured out how best to encourage the heartfelt development of this trio of strong, self-disciplined, deeply caring, positively focused, responsible, compassionate, creative, openly supportive, mutually respectful, hard working, fun-loving, independent men, who, having been raised to respect women as equals, have grown to be three of my most deeply treasured friends.
Thank goodness, Will chose to chase his dark shadows out of the depths of his forest and into the clear light of day so as to experience his own sunlit dawning once my spirit depressed to such a frightening degree as to have compelled me to live on my own in hopes of quietly figuring out why my lust for live had flattened and every one of my strengths had seemed to shatter when an unexpected event forced the false front of our ‘happy’ marriage to stop skating over thin ice, which upon cracking, drowned the Pollyanna vision that I'd unknowingly created of much of my childhood and my marriage, which seen in the stark light of day, slid into the sludge of the ocean of tears that had swallowed my smile, whole—Huh! No wonder why I’ve been unable to pen stories, beginning in high school and beyond—I mean seriously, stories of personal failure are rarely told until the latent development of the story teller’s self assertive voice has had sound reason to grow ever so bold.
Thank goodness, Will chose to chase his dark shadows out of the depths of his forest and into the clear light of day so as to experience his own sunlit dawning once my spirit depressed to such a frightening degree as to have compelled me to live on my own in hopes of quietly figuring out why my lust for live had flattened and every one of my strengths had seemed to shatter when an unexpected event forced the false front of our ‘happy’ marriage to stop skating over thin ice, which upon cracking, drowned the Pollyanna vision that I'd unknowingly created of much of my childhood and my marriage, which seen in the stark light of day, slid into the sludge of the ocean of tears that had swallowed my smile, whole—Huh! No wonder why I’ve been unable to pen stories, beginning in high school and beyond—I mean seriously, stories of personal failure are rarely told until the latent development of the story teller’s self assertive voice has had sound reason to grow ever so bold.
With so much to know about the latent effects of traumatized stress deeply repressed in a state of emotional disorder during childhood, the more knowledge that I choose to absorb about PTSD, the more I come to appreciate the cautious yet consistently steady path that my intuitive powers have chosen to tread in hopes of readying my conscious connection to intelligence to muster the whale of courage necessary to revisit experiences that Mother Nature thought best to direct the memory of a terrified little girl to ‘forget’ until my adult inner strengths had grown so empowered as to confront overwhelming sensations of grief, fear, self imposed guilt and tension born of inner conflict all of which proved far too painful and complex for a child’s undeveloped processor and nervous system to sanely sustain much less even begin to attempt to understand—no wonder why my mind begins to reel and light headedness, to the point of dizziness, hits whenever any aspect of a current event so much as stimulates that subterranean cavern to open its mouth and bare its fangs as PTSD attempts to swallow my hard won strengths, today.
Currently as the New Year unfolds, I believe that my choice to work conscientiously toward consciously identifying, releasing, absorbing and voicing manageable amounts of repressed emotional reactiveness within the safe confines of my EMDR therapist’s office as well as within the safe haven of my home has successfully expressed such an abundance of deeply repressed stress as to offer my intuitive intelligence CLEARance to continue to gain insight, concerning self healing, while reliving much less in the way of latent pain, and what could be a more positive attitude, based in my brain’s innate capacity to work toward creating and achieving change for the better, than today’s stream of consciousness, which will serve to buoy my spirit above waves of emotional pain, which may still be repressed and in need of expression with every courageous post penned during 2018
😊🌈
In the aftermath of my having moved out of our family home, Will commented upon my courage. I mean, this was twenty-seven years ago, way before most women of a certain age could begin to hope to support themselves. Upon hearing his perception, I replied. That wasn’t courage. That was fear.
At that point, depression made me fear staying in the marriage more than I'd feared leaving to face the unknown, feeling utterly alone, for the first time in my life ...
Not until much later did I come to see that when faced with two fears, my choice to choose the lesser of the two (rather of remaining mired while sinking ever more deeply into the bottomless pit of despair where mental sludge had swallowed my spirit whole) had taken a whale of courage as well as a finely tooled set of solution-seeking personal strengths, which my self image’s distorted connection to clarity had refused to believe were my own ... and true to my history at some point, the story teller, who resides within my brain, will assuredly pen and post each of those detailed stories once intuitive readiness gives me the go ahead ... as for now, tis time to greet the day with a twinkle and a smile, knowing full well that a three year old child named Ravi awaits a play date with one of her favorite playmates, and each time I drive to her house to pick her up, her adorable presence in my life can be seen gazing out of the picture window in her living room, anticipating gramma's arrival so that upon parking my car curbside, my heart laughs aloud in answer to Ravi's joyful squeals that clearly express my grand daughter's delight, which grows so great as I approach her front door as to cause her hands to clap while the rest of her sparkling spirit jumps happily, up and down in similar fashion to the way I remember the lively spirits of three adorable little boys engaging with each other creatively, except for those countless moments when sibling rivalry raised its angry, little head😡 and I thought I'd lose my mind, which is why my intuitive intelligence felt need to figure out how best to guide my trio of rambunctious sons to stop fighting long enough to embrace this deeper truth while each one grew toward manhood: Those of us who grow up learning to love one another well instead of defensively can train the negatively focused (power struggling) side of human nature—which lusts to win the game of dominance at any cost—to remain in time out while solution seeking is taking place, and once that mutually enriching love lesson is deeply absorbed, all around—love conquer all😊
Currently as the New Year unfolds, I believe that my choice to work conscientiously toward consciously identifying, releasing, absorbing and voicing manageable amounts of repressed emotional reactiveness within the safe confines of my EMDR therapist’s office as well as within the safe haven of my home has successfully expressed such an abundance of deeply repressed stress as to offer my intuitive intelligence CLEARance to continue to gain insight, concerning self healing, while reliving much less in the way of latent pain, and what could be a more positive attitude, based in my brain’s innate capacity to work toward creating and achieving change for the better, than today’s stream of consciousness, which will serve to buoy my spirit above waves of emotional pain, which may still be repressed and in need of expression with every courageous post penned during 2018
😊🌈
In the aftermath of my having moved out of our family home, Will commented upon my courage. I mean, this was twenty-seven years ago, way before most women of a certain age could begin to hope to support themselves. Upon hearing his perception, I replied. That wasn’t courage. That was fear.
At that point, depression made me fear staying in the marriage more than I'd feared leaving to face the unknown, feeling utterly alone, for the first time in my life ...
Not until much later did I come to see that when faced with two fears, my choice to choose the lesser of the two (rather of remaining mired while sinking ever more deeply into the bottomless pit of despair where mental sludge had swallowed my spirit whole) had taken a whale of courage as well as a finely tooled set of solution-seeking personal strengths, which my self image’s distorted connection to clarity had refused to believe were my own ... and true to my history at some point, the story teller, who resides within my brain, will assuredly pen and post each of those detailed stories once intuitive readiness gives me the go ahead ... as for now, tis time to greet the day with a twinkle and a smile, knowing full well that a three year old child named Ravi awaits a play date with one of her favorite playmates, and each time I drive to her house to pick her up, her adorable presence in my life can be seen gazing out of the picture window in her living room, anticipating gramma's arrival so that upon parking my car curbside, my heart laughs aloud in answer to Ravi's joyful squeals that clearly express my grand daughter's delight, which grows so great as I approach her front door as to cause her hands to clap while the rest of her sparkling spirit jumps happily, up and down in similar fashion to the way I remember the lively spirits of three adorable little boys engaging with each other creatively, except for those countless moments when sibling rivalry raised its angry, little head😡 and I thought I'd lose my mind, which is why my intuitive intelligence felt need to figure out how best to guide my trio of rambunctious sons to stop fighting long enough to embrace this deeper truth while each one grew toward manhood: Those of us who grow up learning to love one another well instead of defensively can train the negatively focused (power struggling) side of human nature—which lusts to win the game of dominance at any cost—to remain in time out while solution seeking is taking place, and once that mutually enriching love lesson is deeply absorbed, all around—love conquer all😊
The brotherhood
Girlfriends
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