It’s all about my brother

About six weeks into my kinesiology studies, a whole bunch of my “stuff” started arking up. Causing a kerfuffle.

So much so that another student and I ended up having a bit of a falling out. Unintentionally, her stuff and my stuff interacted badly.

Like an alchemist whose experiment went all ker-blewey. Just like that.

Not that either of our stuff had anything to do with each other. Of course.

At first I’d no idea what it was all about. It took two sessions with two different kinesiologists PLUS plenty of sessions at home (self-administered kinesiology), several weird physical sensations (nerve pain in your right heel, anyone?), picking up a card that read “sabotage” at the local health food store, and a score of ‘a-ha’ moments… for it all to start to come together.

Well, sort of.

I’ve done lots of talking about being assaulted and having PTSD, both here on the blog and IRL (in-real-life). I’ve had scores and scores of therapy – CBT, EMDR, Kinesiology, tarot readings, shaman healings (Bali, Thailand, India) and more. So. Much. Work.

Then there was the focus on my physical health and regaining my balance there…

It’s not like I’ve been negligent or un-thorough in my approach. I’ve worked my ass off.

Yet somehow… I’ve allowed myself be incredibly blasé about the years of abuse I experienced while growing up.

Even though I knew it wasn’t exactly a good thing. Even though I acknowledged how much it affected my self-esteem, quite bafflingly, I still never really gave those years the same weight as I did to the one-night only assault that triggered my PTSD.

That night and the ongoing effects have hogged the spotlight of my personal healing journey. Strange, huh?

And yet. I know. I REALLY know that the PTSD trigger was NOT just about that one night.

But my memory’s always been really bad. So has my younger sister’s. Neither of us have much by way of recollection of our childhood.

So I don’t really remember exactly how bad it all was or exactly what happened.

But my body and sub-conscious DO remember. And so, the more work I’ve done with kinesiology, the closer to the surface all the sibling abuse has become.

Consciously, I only know pieces of the puzzle. Not the whole story. Just that it was bad, and that I felt betrayed and unprotected by my parents. And that every story I have about myself in regards to my physical appearance, ability to be successful or powerful… has an origin in those early years of my life.

I feel like I’ve been digging up clues. I do my kinesiology homework and I see my practice ‘clients’, and I do kinesiology on myself and get sessions when I can afford them. And I’ve found this or that piece of the puzzle. I know there’s probably more, but I honestly can’t remember.

I know from testing on myself that it started around the age of seven. I also now know that there’s some kind of sabotage surrounding a repressed memory from the age of twelve.

All to do with my brother being an angry, violent and abusive person towards me for over ten years of my life.

Tomorrow morning I go to see my kinesiologist. Thank goodness.

This week I’ve been feeling all super-sensitive and weird. I’ve spent a lot of time curled up on the couch. Last night I felt as though my flesh would vibrate right off of my bones, and today I’ve been surprisingly hungry.

I don’t know what tomorrow’s session will tell me. I just know that I’m reaching in to the main bedrock issue that underpins every life-story I have, of what it means to be me. Or what I think it means, anyway.

And I feel as though someone’s unleashed a wild horse in my chest. With all the hoof stamping, nostril flaring, tail swishing and neighing going on, it’s hard to get any rest around here.

I’m terrified. I’m excited.

I’m onto something big.

And I’ll keep you posted.

~ Svasti

The work continues

Tags

Healing, hot water, India, Kinesiology, kinesiology school, standing on one leg, wobble

My Naga Baba friend, Boom Boom. He says hi!

So I’m back from India. Been back a couple of months, actually…

My Indian adventures are still in the process of being written up – some are finished already – but there’s heaps more to come!

I don’t mind telling you that India threw me for a loop. Or perhaps, several endless loops. Basically, it did my head in so much that I haven’t had, or been interested in a full-time job since I returned home.

I’ve this feeling though, that my being thrown for a loop is less about the concrete experiences I had in India, than the intangible ones… the living and breathing the same air as millions upon millions of others (India’s population will overtake China’s by 2028), and being hip-deep in a culture and a place that’s marinated in spiritual discourse for so long that it’s kind of invisible to the general masses.

There’s so much to unpack in my body, mind and spirit about my travels, in addition to my actual personal adventures. And there were so many of those!

I honestly don’t think I can see my whole trip clearly just yet!

But here’s a thing that happened when I got back, and once I was mostly over my Farewell From Ma India Super Duper Evil Illness From The Depths Of Hell (ohmygawdseriously!):

Are you ready for this?

*****drum roll*****

I enrolled in kinesiology school!

I know, right? Who’d a thunk it?

Well, I did. Obviously. I’ve been getting kinesiology (and writing about it) for years now.

It’s been one of the most powerful contributors in my healing process, without a doubt. I tell everyone to go and get kinesiology!

But studying kinesiology myself!! It was one of those ideas that wasn’t obvious until it was already hitting me upside the head with a hardback dictionary.

Svasti! Go get yourself into kinesiology school! Since you love kinesiology so much, you might as well marry it!

Yep, that’s kind of how the thought process went once I was paying attention (hahaha, remember saying things like that as a kid?).

My plan was: go to India and then enroll in kinesiology school when I got home.

I was however, expecting a start date of around June or July and got the surprise of my life when I learned the next course was starting on that Saturday (I called up on the Tuesday); a mere three weeks after my plane touched down.

HOLY SHIVA!

It felt like the stars were aligning. I’d my interview with the principal on the Wednesday and then three days later: I was a student once more.

AND studying something I’m so ding-dang excited about that my entire face (lips, nose and cheeks) literally tingled all of that first weekend. :)

The basic qualification for kinesiology is the Certificate IV which finishes in December, and if I choose to I can start working as a kinesiologist when I graduate. Squeeeee!

Then there’s the Diploma (another 1.5 years!!) and my intention at this stage is to enroll in that next year. There’s a further Advanced Diploma I can do and I guess I’ll just have to see how I feel about that at the end of the Diploma.

So far, so good though. Three months on, I’m still loving the studies. A lot. We’re almost half-way through, or we will be after the end of our next study weekend.

BUT… it’s one of those learning environments that’s all about doing the work for yourself, first and foremost.

Kinesiology school is very much a pressure cooker for your “stuff”, and let’s just say I’m currently in a bit of hot water!

So let me tell you a story that’s really a bit of an analogy.

Do you remember when I tore my calf muscle and then re-tore it? Through slow and careful rehab (lots of massage and very gentle yoga), it got better. As did my debilitating autoimmune condition. But it was freakin’ hard work and I had to be super kind and considerate of myself. Which was more challenging than it should’ve been.

But it got mostly better. If I didn’t spend so much time standing on one leg doing balance poses in yoga, I’d never have noticed the slight but distinct wobble my right leg retained despite all the therapy.

That wobble has frustrated me VERY MUCH.

Of course, those who don’t spend much time doing one-legged standing poses would never see that wobble, right?

And that’s kind of what I’m talking about here, except with emotional healing.

Late last year when I was thinking about enrolling in kinesiology school, I asked my two lovely kinesiologists what they thought. I guess what I wanted to know was… had I done enough work? Was I ready for learning to be a kinesiologist myself?

Both those lovely ladies encouraged me, and so I felt confident. And I’ve done SO. MUCH. WORK. For so many years. A huge chunk of that work is documented in all the words I’ve written here.

So I knew I was pretty darn functional and healed and whole once more. Which is awesome, and I want to share those gifts of healing with others. :D

But going to kinesiology school is the difference between being the person who doesn’t spend much time standing on one leg, and being someone who does.

Suddenly, I noticed there was a “wobble” in my emotional world again. And funnily enough, it was connected to the physical wobble in my right leg. I’m being 100% serious!

And guess what? Now that I’m dealing with that hidden emotional stuff, my right leg wobble is no more. Kinesiology rocks!

And so the work continues. It always does though, doesn’t it? When we’re really honest with ourselves?

I’m being VERY courageous as I work through it, and this time I’m surrounded by a bunch of very caring and supportive people – the teachers and fellow students at my kinesiology school. It makes a hell of a difference.

I’ll share a bit more of what’s been coming up real soon, right here on this blog.

Because this is/always has been a safe place for all of my heaviest “stuff”, and this is some of the heaviest stuff I have.

Thanks as always, for being the small but caring group of readers that still visits this place. Even though I don’t know you all personally, your support is invaluable.

More soon!

~ Svasti x

Who am I becoming?

Tags

being of service, healer, Healing, Health, leap of faith, life lessons, step-change

This year has been pretty massive in terms of facing up to myself and finally expelling trauma from my life.

It’s also been huge in terms of new pathways opening up to me. Options I never expected to have, suddenly being mine for the taking.

Options that involve a massive step-change and leap of faith (that everything will work out just fine).

In other words: things that are both exciting and scary. But also? Things that are aligned with my heart and soul, and what I want to be doing with my life.

Interestingly, even though those changes are still at least half a year away, having a commitment to heading in that direction seems to already be causing a ripple in my own personal space-time continuum. One that suggests YES, I am doing the right things.

I find myself… turning into someone who can help others. Not however, with some sort of do-gooder-this-is-good-for-my-soul agenda.

It’s kind of hard to describe.

In one instance recently, I found myself reaching out to a friend on the other side of the world. I didn’t know if she’d tell me to eff-off or not! Just that I wanted to share some ideas with her. It turns out that the timing was right and she was open to what I had to say. I don’t feel comfortable sharing her story, but suffice to say things have turned around significantly with her physical and mental health. These are her victories however, not mine. But somehow, I managed to set the ball in motion for her at the right time.

Then, just last night I found myself listening to a yoga student who’s also become a friend. After class, she explained the existential crisis she’s going through right now. Fortunately, many of my own experiences have been similar enough that I could offer the right kind of support.

Later, this friend then wrote an incredibly moving comment on Facebook about our conversation:

…you are so much more than my yoga teacher, you are helping me to find a level of peace and connectedness that I didn’t think was possible.

WOW, was she really talking about me? Her words brought tears to my eyes. I don’t know how I’ve done what she’s claiming and… it seems like a big claim!

That said, finding ways to connect with people is starting to feel a bit like teaching yoga.

By which I mean the best teachings seem to flow through me. As if I’m channelling a much wiser person. The words I say aren’t mine exactly. But somehow they’re what’s needed.

I daren’t lay claim to any of this stuff, however.

It feels like a lesson from my teacher:

Don’t be distracted or get excited when such things happen. Keep going and don’t allow your ego to get involved.

Yet none of this would be possible if I hadn’t lived through the things I’ve survived.

Last weekend I spent fifteen hours in a yoga intensive, and the following insight came to me Sunday afternoon:

Not that I wish injuries (physical/mental/emotional) on myself or anyone else BUT all of the best things I’ve learned in life were learned while healing from those injuries.

I wouldn’t take any of it back now. I wouldn’t want to unlearn the things I’ve learned in order to develop strength, balance, health and happiness.

I like LOVE those learnings.

And now? It seems as though my life lessons are becoming useful for other people in a tangible way.

I can’t tell you how thrilled I am about that, because it seems that the answer to “Who am I becoming?” is this:

I’m becoming a healer.

Whoah.

~ Svasti

Talking about healing is hard to get right

Tags

Dealing With Your Shit, healing process, life changing events, Light Up Your Life ecourse, Nadine Fawell, PTSD, Trauma

Whenever I read what people have to say about healing – or even if I’m the one doing the writing – I always think it never really comes out right.

For those who’ve never experienced life changing events from which serious healing is required, I suspect the sheer scale of what’s been achieved by those who’ve bravely faced their personal wounds… is highly misunderstood and/or under-rated.

Even just a few years later, the worst of those wounded or healing years can take on a dreamy quality. It can be difficult to recall properly because honestly, don’t we all want to forget?

Then, for those who ARE wounded at that deep soul level and are pre or mid-healing?

Reading accounts of people who’ve made a full recovery can sound implausible.

Like…are they just making this shit up?

We wonder: can people really overcome PTSD, sexual abuse, depression etc…and not *just* cope, but come out the other side, thriving? Happy? Fulfilled? Living a better life in spite of it all?

I reckon there’s this underlying idea that if you can truly recover from a terrible situation, it can’t ever have been THAT bad in the first place. And if it really is that bad, well then you can NEVER truly recover.

As if serious tragedy is permanent and unrelenting and that once you’re broken, you’re always broken.

Sound familiar? For sure, it can feel that way. For years, even. It’s how I felt, too.

We judge ourselves like this and others as well. Quite unintentionally for the most part, I think. Even now, the worst of my healing process feels like it happened to someone else, or as though it couldn’t have been “that bad”.

But then I read through some of the archives on this here blog and realise that HECK YES, it was exactly that awful, and ugly, dark, scary, hard, and difficult.

For most of my healing journey I was alone. Desperately, sadly alone. And going through it all quite blindly. What I wouldn’t have given for a guide!

Unfortunately there was very little in the way of support groups or appropriate assistance for someone like me who didn’t fall into any particular pigeonhole.

But guess what?

A guide to help your through the darkness now exists!

My friend – and fellow yoga teacher and survivor – Nadine Fawell, has written a book, which turned into an ecourse: “Light Up Your Life” (starting January 14th 2013).

Nadine’s taken her hard-won wisdom – earned via healing a traumatic past that includes sexual abuse as a child – to become a kick-ass woman that I’m proud to know. She’s strong, funny, and running an inspirational yoga business. Doing the work she loves and making a living from it.

Recently Nadine gave me a sneak peak at the Light Up Your Life course, and I think its something that’s very much needed in our world.

There’s nothing like a helping hand from someone who’s been through the worst that life has to offer, as opposed to a well-meaning therapist who might never have faced adversity of any kind.

It’s a bit like imagining what its like to visit a certain country, versus getting advice from someone who knows that country well. Even better? Is advice from someone whose lived there, right?

Horrible life experiences are horrible

As I’ve written before, there should be no judgement on the size or relative importance of the event(s) that have brought you to your knees.

If you’re suffering or life is getting increasingly difficult to manage…then you have a choice to make: do something about it or keep going the way you are.

And if you choose to do something about it?

You’re already waking up to the beginnings of your future strength. For, taking actions to heal your life will make you stronger, even if you feel weak while you’re going through it.

I wish I knew why it works that way, incidentally!

So, do you need a hand with your healing process? From a local?

Both Nadine and I are super-duper locals in the realm known as Dealing With Your Shit.

Whereas my ebook will be support for people who are still going through the worst parts, Nadine’s book and ecourse are for people who’ve started to pull themselves out of the mire and are ready to work on making their lives awesome.

Nadine uses the metaphor of dusk-night-dawn-daylight to help step you through various phases of self reflection and of course, yoga and lots of powerful insights on supporting your life through the changes you’ll be taking on.

As Nadine says herself, Light Up Your Life is:

a more sophisticated version of the Two Words Project, helping you get clear on the life you want to create by finding your intrinsic motivation.

I’ve been using the Two Words Project this year and let me tell you, it’s been powerful! My posts to date on Two Words are here, and I’ll be writing a couple more before the year is through.

Essentially, if you’re ready to step up and make some possibly challenging, but very positive change in your life…then Nadine’s Light Up Your Life course is an excellent place to start.

In terms of timing, the course starts January 14th 2013, just in time to set yourself up for an excellent year!

Early bird offer!

Like many lovely yogis I know, Nadine is a super-generous person. So of course, there’s an early bird rate:

$99 for four weeks of super-reflective and nourishing course materials

That’s about $25 a week! Total bargain, right?

The full price for the course is $129.

Still pretty affordable but you might as well get the early bird rate.

Sound good? Awesome!

Then read more about it and sign up over here!

I’ll be a part of the course, too.

Let me know if you’re joining us!

~ Svasti xxx

So-called “normal” life makes us sick!

Tags

autoimmune disorders, calm down, do less, Hashimoto's, over-stimulated, over-tired, run on adrenaline, Silence, Slow down, slow yoga, slow yogis, Stress, Yoga

So here I am, second week back from my lovely writing retreat and I’ve come down with the flu.

Bah! Change of season and all of that, but honestly, what I’ve noticed more than anything since my return to the “normal” world is that this world? It really ain’t so normal.

In the middle of the bush, with all of my basic needs met – sleep, food, yoga, meditation, writing and hiking – I can’t express how INCREDIBLY well I felt. Just… brimming with health and vitality.

Everything I did for myself was appropriate to the day and how I felt. If I needed more sleep, I took it. If I wanted a longer/shorter meditation, so be it. Time wasn’t a feature in most of my activities other than remembering to go down the hill for dinner just before it got dark.

And then.

I returned to Melbourne. A biggish city. Well, big enough anyway. The response in my body was immediate. Sluggishness, exhaustion, headaches and generally feeling disinclined to leave the house unless I have to.

That was last week. Now, I’m sick again. Which isn’t so great in some ways but on the other hand, its served to ring the reality bell around how completely unhealthy our western world lifestyle is. And I’m not just talking about people who eat junk food 24/7.

Word is that one of the biggest triggers for autoimmune disorders is our environment. Yep. Exposure toxic chemicals and heavy metals. In our cities and suburbs, we’re saturated in them.

Coming down from the mountain, it’s all the little things I noticed, that seem to add up: traffic and street lights; cars, buses, trucks and planes; too much concrete; pollution; loud noises; unaware people smacking their bag into your arm on the train; working hard and long hours; not resting when we need to; staying up late. Etcetera.

We get stressed, over-tired and over-stimulated. We run on adrenaline (another autoimmune trigger!) and then when we fall over, we wonder why.

Really though, is it such a surprise that so many of us feel sick all the time? That we drag ourselves through our week days and then to make up for having to do a job we don’t love, overdo the fun and exhaust ourselves even further?

That whole routine? It’s nuts.

We need to overhaul our entire way of living. But how?

Well… from my perspective and experience, the answer is the same for everyone.

No matter the current status of your health, we all need to:

SLOW THE HECK DOWN!

Recently, the lovely Rachel wrote about Slow Yoga – something a few of us yoga teacher types have been talking about on Twitter for a while now – which is our way of describing a philosophy towards both yoga and life.

We’ve ripped the term from the “slow food” movement of course, but the principals are the same. Well sorta. From a yoga perspective, we’re saying no to Bikram and don’t believe you get any more benefit from a fast-paced vinyasa “power flow” than you do from working more slowly and calmly.

We “slow yogis” all teach what we like to call “nanna yoga” – each of us in our own style. Of course, in slow yoga you can still work your ass off if you want. But instead of feeling exhausted afterwards, you’ll ideally feel more energized and awake.

And… Sarah Wilson wrote about the need for silence. Holy Shiva, we need more of this. Each and every one of us. Less headphones plugged in to the iPhone with music blaring (and disturbing others around you), more observing the world. Taking time to see (and perhaps photograph) things that move you.

Things that make you feel connected to the world. Without having to blah blah blah all the time, yeah?

Personally I crave silence, and fortunately for me I have my yoga practice which serves as both alone AND silent time. I also try to get as much silence into my day as possible. No radio or TV in the morning while I get ready for work. No TV at all really, unless I’m watching something specific.

So yeah… we can all basically do with slowing down, calming down and doing less. It doesn’t make us weak, lazy or pathetic. Instead, it can be an opportunity to listen to your body. Find out what you really need in order to be well.

And when you’re not well? Pay attention. Not just to getting over your cold, but to what you might be able to change in your life to reduce the levels of stress you face on a daily basis.

~ Svasti

Writing retreat report: I’m back!

Tags

Enter your zip code here, far-far-away, hiking, Meditation, Nature, Snake Gully, writing a book, writing retreat, Yoga

Here I am! Back from my very own Cabin in the Woods (see what I did there? A little Wheedon call out)! Or as we call it here in Australia: the bush.

We probably do have what can be referred to as woods somewhere, but mostly what we have are bushlands.

I had an absolutely MARVELOUS time! Honestly. A long-overdue reunion with very good friends; an eight-sided cabin that had everything I needed, including a kitchen, table to eat/write at, bed, couch to lounge/read/write on, bedroom, bathroom, compost loo and a wrap-around balcony. Plus endless views of bushlands and all their wild and furry residents.

And, an ancient girl dog named Jack.

And… wow, to quote The Castle – you can feel the serenity – waking, walking and living in such an incredibly unspoiled piece of nature brought my body and mind into balance so quickly and completely.

Of course, the first couple of days of my writing retreat I did very little writing. Much of it was about decompressing, catching up on sleep (always needed by AI types), and the aforementioned re-balancing. This wasn’t just a writing retreat – it was also a break for me to relax and rejuvenate my health a little, far-far-awayyyy.

So there was much napping, although never at sunrise. A cabin without curtains with a view to the east means waking up early. Which just felt natural and gentle. Probably because I was often in bed by 9:30pm.

There was much yoga-ing, meditation and chanting (or what I like to call heart singing). Lots of cups of tea and reading books. A few little sessions of note taking. Sleeping. Eating. Talking to my friends over evening meals.

To begin with, there was also lots of fear. And resistance to too much structure. Which reminded me of the deal I struck with myself when I first started blogging: just write. Don’t worry about how good it is or not, just write what needs to be written.

Some writers are perhaps more structured and disciplined. I don’t really know. But for me, the only way to write it is to inhabit it. And the contemplation of what I had to do – go back into some of my not so pleasant experiences – was scaring me even more than trying to write a bloody book plan.

Ha. My book plan is approximately two pages of hand written notes, some of which are drawings for diagrams I want to have designed.

Anyway… the first two days weren’t very productive but eventually I turned that around.

Some mornings I woke up and thinking it was much later than it was. Because even a lie in, some (non-related) reading and the making of food, it’d still be only 9:30am.

I also took some lovely walks, reacquainting myself with the land. My first was down to Snake Gully.

It’s funny how moving your body like that (cross the creek a few times, climb a few hills and over some rocks, then later up a waterfall) can help a person to wake up in the head. Being completely surrounded by nature with no man-made world sounds… there’s lessons to be learnt if you’ll only look and listen.

Which I did. Snake Gully had some things to tell me that I needed for my book. Yep, that’s another post coming soon, too.

I spent a lot of time moving from spot to spot for my writing work. Couch, table, bed. Repeat. It kind of all depended on the day and the subject matter.

There was always more yoga and chanting. One day the weather was so glorious, that there was yoga on the deck.

Eventually I hit my stride with my writing, finally realising that it didn’t matter the order in which order I wrote my book. The first chapter didn’t have to come out first! So I wrote whatever came to mind, for sorting out later.

On Thursday, I got a LOT done. My friends had both gone down the hill for another trip to Albury, so it was just me and Jack the dog, all alone atop the hill. Which is sometimes what you need as a writer: everyone else’s energy out of your immediate vicinity.

Friday morning – end of the trip growing nearer – I was unimpressed to wake up and realise I’d been having a dream about work. Gah!! I guess my sub-conscious was gearing up for the return home, ahead of schedule. Boo.

We had a lot of rain on the Friday; perfect stay-inside writer’s weather. First thing in the morning when I went outside there were some Ruby Roos (my childish name for kangaroos!) just down the hill…

And having felt like I’d done a HEAP the previous day, I slacked off and watched a movie on my laptop, while listening to the wind and the rain and drinking tea.

Making a sweet potato, bacon and veggie stir fry…

Cutting more wood…

And a little writing. But mostly I was waiting for the end of the day because I was going down the hill WOO HOO! My friend and I were going to one of the local pubs for some dinner and a bit of fun on the “town”.

Finally, it was going home day. Still almost a full day here on the hill. I did everything slowly: yoga, walking, wood chopping, cooking, eating, writing, and writing.

The book is a goodly way along the track, but far from finished yet. There’s more to finesse and probably a truckload of editing, and that’s before I let anyone else see it. Then there’ll be feedback from people I trust, more editing, designing and eventually a finished product.

So much excitement. And there’s more writing retreat-related posts to come. Quite a few, actually!

~ Svasti

Other posts inspired by my retreat

• An ode to Snake Gully
• Writing a book is a topsy-turvy thing
• Life lessons from managing a fireplace
• Waterfalls sound like the Universe
• I’m off on a writing retreat!

I’m off on a writing retreat!

Tags

Albury, Awayyyy, bushland, Charlotte Almond, ebook, faeries, kangaroos, koalas, lizards, nature sprites, PTSD, snakes, tea sipping, Trauma, wombats, Writing, writing retreat, Yoga

See this?

This gorgeous, rustic building is up a hill (accessible via 4WD only), in the middle of nowhere-ville. Okay, so it’s actually a few hours east of Albury.

Wild animals (wombats, snakes, lizards, koalas, kangaroos etc) live there. So do faeries and nature sprites (for realz, I’ve encountered them before!).

For ages and ages, I’ve been trying to get at least one book out of my head. Y’see, there’s a couple of ‘em living up there at the moment… but it’s not always easy to do that kind of work when you’re distracted by your crazy busy everyday life.

A while back, The Divine Ms N sent out an email to her Yoga Mafia (read: newsletter subscribers!) with a super-generous offer from one of her contacts – a limited number of exceptionally affordable life coaching sessions.

Soon as I saw the offer I jumped right on it. JUMPED, I tell you. Because as I’ve alluded to already, there’s a few Really Big (Positive) Things going on for me. It’s all quite exciting and overwhelming, and I knew this offer of life coaching sessions had my name all over it.

Which is how I came to meet Charlotte Almond, who is an extremely lovely and canny lady. I can highly recommend her services, and will write more about her soon enough.

Together we worked through some of my Really Big Things, but also, laid down some powerful and practical steps I could take towards my Excellently Awesome Future Life Plans.

One of those steps is writing my ebook! It’ll be practical advice for those who are trying to recover from PTSD/trauma. Because trauma’s a bitch, recovery is freakin’ tough AND there really isn’t enough out there by folks who’ve been through it all.

And I can write this now, since I’m no longer in trauma myself!

However, to really be able to write down the bones of it all, I need to get outta town. Awayyyyy from my hectic job. Awayyyy from my home, which is comfortably hermit-like and filled with books I like to read etc etc. Awayyyyy even, from the internet and Facebook and Twitter (*ahem* says the digital media addict).

Anyhow, I was hunting for a place to get awayyyyy to. And I’d sort of forgotten that my friends (whom I haven’t seen in years) have this retreat space on their beautiful virgin bushland property. Up a hill in the middle of nowhere.

It was only when I posted a Facebook status asking for recommendations of cheap get-away places that my friends said, Ummmm, what about our place?

DOH!

Maybe because it’d been so many years between visits (I don’t have a car now and their place really is in the middle of nowhere), I simply didn’t think it was polite to ask. Also, I suppose there’s a part of me that’s become so used to being self-sufficient that I’m not accustomed to people being this generous with me. Even when they are, a lot. I don’t expect it, I guess.

However in a subsequent phone call, I was told very plainly that I don’t even need to call ahead. Just turn up. There’s always a place for me.

Wow, right? I have some awesome friends.

So I’ll be away for the next week. Living in an octagon-shaped room with a view of nothing but trees and enveloped in the sounds of nature. Doing yoga, eating whole foods, drinking copious amounts of tea and writing like a woman on a mission. Which I am.

Have to confess that I’m a touch nervous about it all, because writing this book will require some digging and re-visiting. But I’m strong and well now, and it’s all for a good cause. There might, however, be vomit. And tears.

When I return, there’ll be a mountain of editing to do. Then finding a designer to make it look pretty, and putting it all together. But how exciting to crow-bar all those words from my over-crowded brain, huh?

Also: a lil Spring clean!

So in case you’re looking at this post in an RSS reader or via email, I’ve just neatened up the blog. In the southern hemisphere, we’re on the verge of Spring, so a spring clean is appropriate: I’ve applied a fresh new template, tidied up my left hand column and so on. I’m loving the new look!

Enjoy your week, and I’ll check in on the flip side.

Wishing you all lots of creative inspiration!

~Svasti xxx

Other posts inspired by my retreat

• Writing retreat report: I’m back!
• An ode to Snake Gully
• Writing a book is a topsy-turvy thing
• Life lessons from managing a fireplace
• Waterfalls sound like the Universe

I. Am. Out. Of. Trauma.

Tags

Depression, Enter your zip code here, Healing, I Am Out Of Trauma, Kinesiology, PTSD, Trauma

Yes. Yes, I am.

And I need to tell you about this because trauma’s a tricky little bastard who likes to make you think he’s permanently in your life.

Let me tell you: when you’re dealing with PTSD, you think its forever. It sure feels like forever. I really DID think it would in fact, be forever.

And yet.

I. Am. Out. Of. Trauma.

Truly. I’ve tears of gratitude and happiness and just the most GIGANTIC sense of relief and release flowing forth from every pore of my being. Because I know this now, and I know it deeply. Irrevocably.

But it’s not like I woke up one morning with a blinding flash of realisation – THAT I AM HEALED! No one sent me a telegram or email with said announcement, either.

Yet, I am out of trauma. I really, really am.

It makes me smile the broadest smile I can manage with this face that I was born with.

Cumulatively, I know this is true. Piece by piece, as I’ve reclaimed all of the forgotten broken parts of who I am.

And instantly I know this, too. In retrospect, anyway.

Last weekend I knew this most definitely, in my kinesiology session, where my kinesiologist Amanda, said this: You’re no longer in trauma. Life and these sessions are now about what’s next instead of what has been.

She said that and I knew it to be true. And I remembered all of the sessions. My early ones with Kerry. Then the first eight or so months with Amanda. As we shone lights on all the sneaky hiding spots that trauma tried to squeeze its self into. To remain and fester. Because that’s what trauma likes to do.

But that was then. Those sessions were then. All of those years, all of that sadness and grief… it isn’t who I am anymore.

Instead, I cackle out loud like a crazy hyena. I snort and belly laugh, too.

Because I. Am. Out. Of. Trauma.

This, I know deep in my bones as all of those Other New Things come at me… more change, but this time of the positive ilk. My job now is to prepare. To make the right decisions for my future and… already do whatever I can to help others.

And I can do that – help others – because I. Am. Out. Of. Trauma.

So all of the hard won wisdom is now mine to share. And that’s what I’m in the process of doing.

I want to hand write love notes to all of the wonderful healers I’ve worked with over the years. The people who kept me afloat when I otherwise would’ve drowned. I’ve so much gratitude for all of their love and care and support.

I. Am. Out. Of. Trauma. And now it’s time for me to give it all back to those in need.

~Svasti
xxx

Guest posting over at Nadine’s

Tags

Depression, guest post, PTSD

I know that all of you regular readers know this – I spend a lot of time talking about Nadine. The awesome things she’s been doing, making and sharing. You can pretty much say I’m a Nadine fan. ;)

So, when she asked me recently to write a guest post for her Inspiring Women series, I was all over it.

And as per the image above, the post is called 5 Key Tips for Healing from Trauma.

Its the sort of advice I’d want to share with anyone who has experienced a traumatic event that they’re having trouble overcoming.

Please head over to Nadine’s blog to have a read. Perhaps share it with anyone you know who might find it useful.

~ Svasti xxx

The pattern of choosing to love the wrong person

Tags

Choosing to love the wrong person, Enter your zip code here, Heart, Love, low self-esteem, patterns, protection, safety

I’ve written about this a little already, but I thought I’d expand on the topic. Be prepared, coz this post is a long ‘un.

Choosing to love the wrong person is something we humans do when we feel the need to protect ourselves: weirdly, we pick the wrong person on purpose.

It’s meant to be a way of keeping our hearts safe from future emotional devastation. But it’s a trap. It only works for so long, if it ever really works at all.

My theory is that it’s the mind’s way of doing what it thinks needs to be done to protect that pesky heart that’s always getting hurt and causing a world of pain for the rest of the body.

But we all know what happens when the mind gets involved in matters of the heart, right? Hint: it usually stuffs things up, no matter how well meaning.

The twisted protection logic goes something like this: if I’m with someone I don’t/can’t really love because they aren’t the right person for me, then I can’t have my heart broken because I’ll never really love them. There’ll always be space between my heart and this person, and so I’m Safe.

If you’ve been hurt before – in that everything fallen apart, life ceases to have any meaning kind of way – then it seems like a sensible idea in theory, right?

Except it’s not.

I can trace the development of this pattern back to the failure of three relationships in a row from my early-to-late 20’s: three men I loved who didn’t love me back.

Although I suspect the groundwork for the pattern was there long before that.

Anyway, I’m pretty sure by the time the third relationship blew up in my face, my heart was broken in a fundamental way. Like, engine fallen out of the car kinda thing.

Let me share some back story on these three loves of mine, then…

Love #1

Was my fiancé. We met when I was twenty-four and he in his late thirties. I suspect my idea of relationships was already a bit warped. I mean, take a highly repressed and aloof father, a physically and verbally abusive brother, chronically low self-esteem, a terrible first boyfriend, an abortion, and a whole heap of other issues never written about here… my ability to choose the right man to marry was already impaired.

Back then, I was attracted to older men. Men I thought could teach me something. Little did I know what I was really looking for was an honest-to-goodness teacher, but that’s another story.

I’d conflated the idea of a romantic partner with someone I could trust as a teacher. And back then, my standard modus operandi with men was to throw my power at them. To inhabit their life and let them be in charge.

My fiancé btw, was a good and honourable man. Really. I’d thought we’d marry and have kids and be together forever.

But he was just as confused and lost in his own ways as I was. By the time our relationship entered its third year, it was no longer the force of nature it’d once been, and he pulled away from me. Which of course, triggered my paranoia, insecurities and low self esteem.

These days I suspect that things ended because he was no longer “in charge” in the way I needed. Which meant the guy I’d been throwing my power at wasn’t doing what I needed him to do. By the time I was ready to leave, my heart had bled all the tears it’d held and there was no way across the chasm that’d grown between my fiancé and me.

So he became my ex-fiancé.

Love #2

Waiting in the wings was another man. The second ill-fated love of mine and a mutual friend of mine and Love #1.

In retrospect, it’s not surprising to me that he was in fact, a teacher. Not this teacher, but the person who introduced me to him. He also taught martial arts.

Oh look, how perfect! Someone big and strong AND an actual teacher that I could offer myself to on a platter. Which is exactly what I did.

Having leapt from one relationship to another, I was amazed at how different things were. I chastised myself for almost settling for much less, and I proceeded to fall hard. Harder perhaps, because now I was *sure* that this was The One. Someone much more suited to me.

Except. He had a binge drinking problem. I was sure I could “help” him with that.

And. In the end, he didn’t want me the way I wanted him.

He was honest about this important detail eventually, but I wanted him so much that I ignored that fact and let the relationship carry on anyway. He didn’t exactly say no. Not very often anyway.

It was off and on, passionate, sexy, dangerous and highly destructive to my sense of self. For eighteen months. I had counselling in my attempts to resist him.

When it finally, absolutely ended for the last time, I hit rock bottom. It was very ugly. Crazily, I even intentionally got myself into a fight and let a group of girls beat me up (it didn’t hurt as much as my broken heart).

Then I went overseas, as an absolute raving mess. I had fun, visited far-flung places and came back feeling more together than I had been in a while. I even went to my first Ayurvedic doctor and stated to turn my health around.

With better health, came a better state of mind…

Love #3

Which is when I met the next guy, via online dating. Which I was only trying because Love #2 had started doing it, and I was actually there to stalk his profile. When was he last on? Who was he talking to?! Ha, so sad and pathetic. ;)

Anyway, out of that came a welcome surprise in the form of an email from someone very interesting.

If Loves #1 and #2 had bowled me over, I wasn’t prepared in any way for Love #3. He was around my age (the first one in a long time who was), gorgeous, intelligent, gentle, charming, sweet and genuine.

We shared many things in common and the attraction was mutual and instantaneous. On our second date, we both agreed the line “where have you been all my life?” was appropriate for us.

True to form, I let myself fall in love quickly and deeply. This time I was VERY SURE I’d met The One. It had to be, right? I’d had two (three actually), terrible and failed relationships only to meet my knight in shining armour, with his sunny demeanour and adventurous nature.

He was so attentive, calm and wonderful. He’d Christmas with his relatives in Canberra and then drove to Melbourne to pick me up from my parents’ place so we could slowly 4WD our way back to Sydney. We had New Year’s in Jindabyne and I was so happy.

Until January, when he took me to see Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon and ever-so-respectfully dumped me. In public, so I couldn’t cause a scene. He wanted to be friends however – really wanted it – and in fact, we are good friends to this day.

But for an entire week after he dumped me, I felt myself shutting down. I was quietly sad. Despairing. I couldn’t imagine someone more perfect for me (or so I thought) than Love #3. I couldn’t believe my rotten luck and I’d no idea what was so wrong with me that no one wanted to be with me.

My heart, I’m pretty sure, was packed up neatly into a shuttered wooden box. Surrounded by layers of bubble wrap and duct tape.

It’s good, they say, to be friends with your exes. This is sort of both true and false. True, because people you’ve loved (and who’ve loved you back) are still in your life. False, because unless you’re the one doing the dumping, there’s a good chance you’ll still be in love with them and wanting more than they can give.

I was in love with Love #3 for years, and most of that time I was in denial about it. I analysed his every word and action even as we hung out (skiing, motorbike riding, camping, 4WD-ing, hanging out with friends who declared we looked like a couple). Even as we took more long cross-country trips together.

Neither of us dated, and we might as well have been together except for the lack of sex.

It drove me crazy. Why? WHY? Why didn’t he want to be my boyfriend?!

Eventually I started dating again. However, Love #3 and I still hung out AND I was still hung up.

THIS was the beginning of choosing men I had no chance of falling for…

It wasn’t conscious, not entirely anyway. It was a survival mechanism. My mind overrode my heart because it knew I couldn’t withstand any more heartache.

And so I continued… the loser friend of my cousin’s boyfriend; the weird Persian student; the sweet guy I was never into; the tall, dufus-y baseball player; the dorky ex-air force guy who insisted on a relationship I never wanted…

And then this guy.

Which is one of the problems, with this whole “protection of the heart” pattern, no?

Not only do you end up wasting your time and the time of the people you date when you should’ve said no… but one of them could turn out to be a secret sociopath with a penchant for hitting women.

And, because you’ve been busily tuning out your instincts about who you should be with, you lose the connection to that gut feel which tells you NO.

So you miss it, and you’re unprepared. And then your world breaks into tiny little pieces.

Which is really just the Universe presenting a wake up call to you in the strongest possible language. Because there’s only so far you can go while wilfully ignoring your own path in life.

And being with the wrong person is DEFINITELY ignoring your own path.

It’s taken me all these years to piece this understanding together. Of what happened and how things got to where they did…

And now I’m doing what I can to undo this pattern. Which isn’t as easy as it sounds.

For the longest time, I simply didn’t want a boyfriend. Until I did. But even then, men remained scary.

Actually, men I have no interest in romantically were and are fine.

But liking a guy and wondering if he might like me back? A massive risk. Terrifying, even. Something that until fairly recently, left me feeling disempowered, goofy and maybe all of thirteen, all over again.

Around cute guys, I still feel like a kid with no social skills but like many things in my life, I relate this re-learning curve to yoga.

Specifically, to something I often tell my students:

You’ll never be able to do the poses you find difficult if you never do them. So practice and enjoy them, even when they aren’t perfect. Even when you fall over. Because one day something will change and you’ll find yourself able to do the thing you told yourself you never could. All because you kept up your practice.

So right now? I’m practicing. Flirting. Confidence. Noticing when men notice me. Noticing men and not feeling shy about it. Being able to be attracted to men without losing all sense of reason. Making eye contact and holding steady.

~Svasti