Been waiting…

Tags

baggage, Depression, Fear, get cracking, Kinesiology, monkey shit, personal truths, place of awesomeness, Poetry, PTSD, residual gunk, tide, Yoga

Every five or six weeks, I’m still doing a kinesiology session.

Been doing them since November-ish, as soon as I realised my body was trying to let-the-hell go of a whole bunch of baggage.

The first things to come out were the real obvious stuff – to do with being assaulted, the PTSD and depression, and the seemingly endless fall-out from those events and experiences. Then, getting in a little deeper – other traumatic events further back in my history, some of which I’ve talked about here.

Then there was the whole thing about dealing with a bunch of past life stuff to do with being a servant (yep, that’s right – no kings or queens in my past lives!). Which was like, “yep”. Of course. Makes so much sense of why I feel very strongly called to serve other people in the here and now. So, cool…

Most of this is stuff I’m very well aware of, and so the first few sessions were very pointed: excuse me, but we’ve got to get the residual gunk relating to X, Y and Z out of this body, stat!

Each session has been incredibly visceral, personal and physical. Or is that metaphysical? Lots of very strong energetic and physical sensations and experiences that have almost blown me away. It’s been hard and easy and overwhelming and affirming and a whole bunch of other indescribable things, too.

Right now it seems the focus is on what’s holding me back from moving forward. I’ve got a lot of fear around wondering just what the heck is next?

For the longest time I’ve felt like I’ve been standing in the surf at an ocean beach, the tide tugging at my legs. It’s been a constant battle just to keep standing upright. To not be overwhelmed by the never-ending waves rushing towards me, or dragged out to sea by a rip. In short, I’ve been expecting the worst, because a lot of the worst has already happened AND has kept happening.

But now I’m on this new path, or so I’ve been imagining. It feels positive. It feels right. It feels like I might’ve hit on something with the whole pay-off-my-debts-sell-everything-study-more-yoga-in-India-and-elsewhere-then-become-a-poor-but-happy-yoga-teacher-somewhere-in-the-world plan.

And hey, things seem to be moving very slowly but surely in that direction.

BUT. BUT. BUT. BUT. BUT. B-U-T!!!!

It has felt like that before. So lately, my inner questions have been things like:

• How do I get to where I want to be from here?
• How do I know if I’m even on the right track?
• Things have felt right before and haven’t been. So, what is it?
• Am I gonna be clobbered by barrels of monkey shit yet again??
• If I could plot my position with a GPS (like the wonderful Google Maps on my iPhone), just where in the heck would I be located on this new path of mine?
• Am I closer to where I want to be, or to WTF-ville?

During my kinesiology session this week, what came up for me was this idea of waiting. I’ve literally been waiting for things to get all fucked up again. Expecting it, even. Which is kind of dumb, because if there’s one thing I know about the mind-body connection from yoga – if you focus on something enough, it can happen. Even if it’s something you don’t want!

So DOH! Time to stop with the expecting of bad stuff. Sheesh!

Another thing that came up was this idea of grounding spiritual concepts. When we explored a little further it goes something like this…

In the yoga room when I put on my (invisible) yoga teacher hat, all the bullshit that goes with me being me gets swept aside. I’ve got things to say to my students about their practice that seem to come from I don’t know where – a place of awesomeness. I am not feeling like goofy-Svasti or clumsy-Svasti or Svasti-the-foot-in-mouth-chick. None of that.

It’s not like I’m pretending either. It feels like an authentic expression of who I am, and all those teachings I’ve had (and continue to have) over the years come pouring out to be shared. But I’ve written about this before.

Anyway, the point is that perhaps I need to start doing more to bring all of that stuff out of the yoga teaching room with me. It’s not like the teachings haven’t been crossing over into my life at all, because they have. But perhaps just not enough.

Thing is, in order to keep teaching, to teach more and learn more I need to do this work. I have to find a way to bring my non-yoga teaching/practicing time into harmony with the time I do spend on the mat as a teacher or student. Because if I can’t manage that, then what the heck do I have to share with my students?

But also this: if I can’t let go of my fears, they’ll continue to limit my physical yoga practice (i.e. the poses I’m afraid of doing). And if that remains limited then so does my meditation. And once again, so does what I can authentically share with my students.

So the further I go with these kinesiology sessions, the closer to my own personal truths I get. Which works hand-in-hand very nicely with my yoga practice and teaching…

Indeed it seems I have been waiting, but not just for the sky to fall in on me again. Apparently I’ve also been waiting to get down to the nitty gritty of it all so I can get cracking with moving forward!

And to finish, some snippets of poetry I wrote the other night on my iPhone – which is handy when I’m not near my laptop or even a pen and paper.

Not entirely sure if these really go together or if they’re separate pieces. I wrote more, too. But this is all I’m sharing right now:

Maybe the road is my home now

And maybe it never stops

Maybe my kind of happiness

Means I’m always unwinding the clock…

~

Oh, won’t you be my lieutenant

(Steady my way)

And I’ll keep an eye out

For things that can’t be seen…

~Svasti

P.S. Job is going well so far – it is blessedly uneventful. Everyone is nice and calm, and there’s no grandstanding or belligerence to be seen. And let me tell you how nice that is after five days a week of that for the last five months!

Branches vs roots

Tags

Anxiety, Bad Old Days, branches, Change, clarity, cloud of doom, Confusion, Courage, dread, Expunged, Fear, gunk, Kinesiology, Nourishment, Panic, peace, Purged, remnants, roots, routed, self-honesty, source, That Which Has Been, Universe, wading boots

This entire universe and everything it contains comes from the same place. This I believe unreservedly.

Our roots are common, but it’s difficult to keep that in mind when you think of yourself as one of the branches somewhere at the top of the tree, far removed from the root system even as it ultimately provides the nourishment we need to exist.

We forget, and find it hard to identify with the whole tree, let alone the source of life that animates us. And we think that if we lose all or part of a branch or twig that we associate with ourselves, it’s a catastrophe. That life as we know it is over…

We get stressed, freaked out and whatever other reactions seem appropriate at the time. But this is just change. And our response to change is only as severe as our association with those things that are a-changing. To feel better, we have to learn to let go.

This concept can be applied to our lives at all kinds of macro and micro levels. Easier said than done sometimes, however!

And I’m reminding myself of this quite purposefully today as I prepare for this evening’s appointment with Kerry from Awaken Kinesiology.

I made the booking last month when I realised I was having some sort of intense energetic response to my five year anniversary. Because I want the remnants of all that gunk routed. Purged. Expunged. So bring it on!!

However, my body has other ideas and is bestowing a rather visceral response in anticipation of this appointment: fear in my belly, anxiety in my heart, confusion and panic in my mind (making things all cloudy and fluffy).

Seems crazy, this little cloud of doom I’m sporting on this gloriously blue-skied and sunny Spring day. The sunshine is matter of fact and reminds me that everything is going to be just fine. Yet, this morning I had to drag my sorry ass out of bed, like the Bad Old Days.

I know it’s all good and I WANT this for myself. Clearly though, there’s more than a few bits and pieces quietly haunting my insides. I function pretty normally now (whatever that means!) compared to how things have been. And maybe for some people that’d be enough. But it’s not enough for me, not by half.

So I’m pulling on my wading boots to trek through the muck. Time for another clean up, you see.

And it has to be done, despite the physical experience of dread that accompanies such ventures. This post is by way of gathering a little courage and exposing what’s going on in my body and mind for what it is: fear of change, even if that change is for the good.

I’m not just the branches, I’m the roots too. Especially the roots!

So here’s to more clarity, self-honesty, peace and freedom from the corset-like confines of That Which Has Been.

And here’s to a little more peace for y’all on this lovely day, too.

Om Shanti!

~Svasti xo

New things

Tags

Change, Fear, geekery, Grace, iPhone, iPhone 4, Ma, new things, parallel universe, scary factor, siren song, Stress, swan song, Tara Stiles, Yoga

"In a parallel reality I was spinning out of control..."

Finally caved and got myself an iPhone. It arrived a couple of days ago. In fact, this post (or a reasonable facsimile thereof) was MEANT to be a test-run publish from the aforementioned new phone via a WordPress iPhone app. But y’know how test-runs often go… things have a tendency to not work out quite as planned. Kind of like life. But yeah.

Anyhoooo. Til now, I’ve resisted all of the wonderful iPhone goodness for one very simple reason: none of the previous models have had a good enough camera. Look – it’s not like I don’t have a decent stand-alone camera. I do. BUT I don’t always carry it with me everywhere, and I like to be able to take photos on the fly of whatever inspires me. Hence the reliance on my mobile phone’s camera. And it has to be good. Well, good enough. And Apple have finally got with the program on that front!

(Evidence: see the strangely appropriate street art photo at the top of this post)

Of course, it helped that my phone contract was up, too. And that my previous phone has been performing it’s swan song for months. So it was perfect timing really. I’d agonised over whether to go with an iPhone, HTC or Android (please excuse the geekery if you’ve no idea what I’m talking about!) but for various reasons, iPhone 4 won. For now.

The last couple of days have been quite geeky as a result. Had to get to know my new friend (yes, a phone can be a friend, can’t it?), and there’s been all sorts of things to set up and configure. Apps to download that make life oh-so-much-easier. Syncing it with my Google contacts and calendar. I’m quite into mobile internet access, and wow, I really didn’t get it before that le iPhone makes many of the things I do on my phone a zillion times easier and funner.

I heart it very VERY much! 😀

And this has of course, been one of the new things in my life recently. But it’s not the only one. There are others. Even if they aren’t all quite as delightful. Actually, some of them are old-new things with an update to keep them ‘fresh’. Others are sooooo brand-new, I don’t have appropriate words for them right now. On account of the scary factor.

More on all of that soon.

Also, more soon on the whole Tara Stiles thing. I’ve calmed down enough now to be able to explain in more detail why I have such an issue with what she (and countless others) are doing in the name of ‘yoga’. That post is a-coming.

There will be another post (also coming soon) titled: “Why it’s actually okay if/when your life falls apart”.

Really!

In the mean time, I’m trying to find a way to bow down graciously in the face of Ma’s (i.e. the universe or whatever you call it!) siren song.

She’s a-coming for me.

Like a big mother bird, she’s firmly but lovingly nudging this little chickling towards the edge of the nest and insisting that I stretch my wings and try flying a little. Whether I like it or not.

As I wrote on Twitter (my favourite place to hang out online) just the other day, right now… I’m living on yoga and Grace. Everything else is completely unknown. And that’s okay by me. Sorta…

~Svasti xo

Ruby slippered steps

Tags

Adventures, bliss, castles, Fear, Grace, impenetrability, opportunity, Poem, Poetry, ponderously, potentiality, Probable Cause, Twitter, Universe

‘Round the ends of the universe

And back (again)

Enfolded in blissful possibilities

Of adoration and

Great big shining opportunities

So melts the Castle

Of Impenetrability

Because all things have a Time

And a Place

~ Potentiality ~

Now just looking

For Probable Cause

It MUST be Real

Requiring bone-deep

Introspection

Deeper, even

Now to discover

That first ruby slippered step!

(That is my current plan…)

~Svasti

(A little late-night Twitter-composed poetry, while lying in bed PONDEROUSLY attempting bravery to figure stuff out.)

Nothing is wrong

Tags

Change, Dancing, Depression, Exhibit A, Fear, good luck fairies, grasping, inner yogi, lila, Meditation, nothing is wrong, Panic, perceived indestructibility, preferences, Sanskrit, thin-cold fingers, uncertain, unemployment, winter solstice, wrongness, Yoga

Middle of the year and all, only days from the winter solstice (in the southern hemisphere!) and there’s a heck of a lot of shifting going on.

In fact, there always is, right? It’s just that we tend not to notice so much when it doesn’t affect us personally.

Unless of course, you take up yoga, meditation or dancing or some other kind of activity that helps us uncover our sensitivity and connection to the world. Even then, it can be a little hit and miss, depending on how self-involved we are on any given day.

And even then, only if we learn to divest ourselves of attachments to this interaction of interconnected energies. The thing we call life. Because it’s the attachment to emotions, the rules of the game, our form and/or how we perceive others are perceiving us (for example), that keep us tethered to the rule book.

In Sanskrit, the word lila is used to describe life, but it actually translates back into English as ‘play’. The play of life.

Been getting a little freaked out in the last couple of weeks because the contract job I’m doing right now is finishing up at the end of the month. On the 25th to be exact. No extensions are being offered because the company is itself, going through a bunch of transformations.

Like unwelcome acupressure applied directly to the heart, I can taste just a hint of panic rising as the days of June tick by.

My freak out isn’t so much about things ending, as the reasonable possibility that I’ll be out of a job. Again. With two weeks to go, I still don’t have a job, or any interviews lined up. And yes, I’ve been doing everything I can!

And the soul-crippling depression and fear I experienced last year during four months of unemployment is attempting to creep its way back into the pit of my stomach like thin-cold fingers of smoke, grasping at my throat and whispering horror stories from back then.

Of course, I’m talking to a bunch of recruiters and have a several leads to follow up. But nothing is definite yet. Although, as I said to a recruiter I spoke to the other day – when is any job ever definite or secure?

Regardless, a dozen plans have taken up residence in my mind, attempting to allay any potential panic but actually, has led to a great deal of thrashing around as a result. Not so helpful!

But I’m waging a war against such uncertainties, because certainty really is so entirely uncertain. Is it not? We’d like to pretend otherwise, but our fragility and mortality are much closer to the edge of our perceived indestructibility than we think.

Clarity came again one night about a week ago as I took in a sweeping panoramic view of my life as it stands. I calculated how quickly I’ll run out of money this time around (really soon!) if I don’t get a job in a hurry. And considered how I might possibly avoid falling into the same black pit as last time.

But all of these thoughts were based on the premise that something in my life was wrong. Until that moment, I was pretty convinced of the wrongness of not having a job, wielding last year’s experience as Exhibit A. Those four months of unemployment were bad, according to the judgemental little voice in my mind.

Luckily, that judge-voice isn’t the only one speaking provocative ideas inside my head! The next question (proposed I think, by my inner yogi self) was: But what if nothing is really wrong at all?

It went on: The upset we feel when things go “wrong” is often more disturbing than the perceived wrongness itself. And we combine it with the situation we’ve proclaimed as wrong or bad, creating a seemingly insurmountable wall of stress. But really, is anything actually wrong?

For now, I’ve come down on the side of my inner yogi.

Nothing is inherently wrong, regardless of my preferences. Even if I don’t get a job again for months, and even if that means I can’t go on retreat in October (as per my current plans). Even if I have to get a flatmate or move out of my current place and sell most of my possessions. Even if I end up homeless, there’s still not actually anything wrong. It’s just life in action, and my response to those things is something I’m in charge of.

That doesn’t mean I won’t do everything I can to get a job. Of course I will!

My inner yogi wanted to know this, too: Can I apply this idea to any situation? To the BP oil spill? To the death of a child? To natural disasters? To the two year old child in Indonesia addicted to smoking?

Perhaps. I think it’s more truthful to admit that I’m not there yet, but working on it!

To say that nothing is inherently wrong doesn’t mean we don’t care when life gets shitty. We don’t stop participating in life. But we do learn to see the greater interplay of existence. The flow and play of life.

And this blog post represents my attempt to relax into that flow and accept whatever is coming my way, responding appropriately but doing everything I can to avoid falling into a pit of despair should life not go the way I want it to…

~Svasti

P.S. If you find any good luck fairies, please send them my way, stat! 😉

A brief statement of fear (Alice-style)

Tags

Alice in Wonderland, Fear, Poem, Poetry

Because it’s really quite simple, y’see

Once I’ve crossed that bridge

Or walked through that door

I’m afraid that the me I am

Won’t resemble the me I’ll be

When more likely

It’s probably true to say

That the me I’ll be

Will be more me

Than any me I’ve ever been…

~Svasti

Involuntary actions – part 4

Tags

bachelor party, cash for flesh, defiled, Denial, drinking games, Embarrassment, Fear, foreboding sense of doom, French knickers, humiliation, naivety, Night of Monumental Bad Choices, pregnant, regret, Sadness, Shame

This post may be too much information for some. If you don’t wanna know, maybe skip this one?

[Read part 1, part 2 & part 3 first]

I didn’t like to think about it, not even in my most private moments. Except that I did. Couldn’t help it really.

Such a fuzzy combination of nothingness blended with images, loud thoughts and soft, a strange procession of ideas and most pressingly, regret. It didn’t come straight away but with more time to reflect it was glaringly obvious that I’d made a foolish, foolish mistake.

I can tell you what I think, what I remember, what I suspect, but I can’t tell you what really happened. I’ll never understand everything, clouded as it was in alcohol and crowded out by my ridiculous adversity to taking care of myself.

Belief was my downfall. Always a belief in the best of people until proven otherwise.

But people not doing their best is not always evil, is it? It’s not always bad or wrong. Or maybe that just depends entirely on your point of view. In any case, I can’t tell you what happened, if I had sex with anyone that night and if I did, how many.

I suspect I did though. Like, really suspect. I’m almost sure that I did but there’s no way for me to prove it. Not then, and certainly not in retrospect.

And there’s no doubt that I was entirely at fault for being there in the first place.

It was a Night of Monumental Bad Choices. Not my last or first. But certainly a rather memorable one.

I got the call. Others had already turned the job down because of the distance. But the money was tempting, even though I didn’t have a car and it was a really, really long way to go. A bunch of guys for a bachelor party wanting a semi-naked lingerie-clad female to entertain them for the night.

M wasn’t sure about the gig and wanted me to use her driver – have him come and pick me up late in the evening.

We organised to meet at the Portsea Pub because the beach house they were staying at wasn’t easy to get to. They’d drive me there and M’s driver would pick me up later. That’d been the plan anyway.

They were a nice looking bunch of guys – preppy-ish but down to earth and clearly money wasn’t an issue. Conveniently since we were at a pub, they asked what I’d be drinking that night. It was beer for them and Baileys for me.

Off the beaten track and surrounded by trees. It was a pretty weatherboard split level house. Already there were many cars in the drive. I was shown into a room to change and came out in French knickers, suspenders and heels.

The boys decided we’d play drinking games and here’s where I forgot (rather crucially) that I wasn’t among friends, but employers of my flesh. I drank with bravado and really didn’t think it through. Sure I can keep up with the boys no problems! [Are you shaking your head yet?] By the time M’s driver called I was pleasantly wasted and easily persuaded to stay the night, with the offer of a lift home the next day.

What did we do in those hours? I can’t say. There were flirtations and craziness. Games, silliness. The groom fell drunkenly on a glass table, swiftly dispatched to hospital for stitching. Then he was back and still partying of course. It was his party, after all! I ended up in the back of a station wagon with one I thought was cute… but I think it didn’t go anywhere in the end. I think…

There’s hours I don’t recall. Then, the unpleasantly creepy surprise of waking up in the groom’s bedroom with him standing over me, somewhere deep into the middle of the night. He must’ve carried me there and I wondered how he’d done it given the stitches he’d just earned. And I remember leaving the room and finding a bunk to pass out in.

It all seemed harmless enough until I ended up pregnant and unsure of the father. Because I could no longer avoid those burning but muted and pressing questions.

That I didn’t know caused me shame. Embarrassment. Sadness. Fear.

What happened that night? How many? How often? Sure they were nice guys (sorta) but did they intend to get me drunk? (I suspect now that was definitely the case).

They drove me home the next day as promised. It was almost as if the lingerie-clad me and the fully clothed me were separate people – one was a service provided by the other. I even gave them my phone number when asked.

Because I occupied a hollow little world of denial. A vacuum where self-esteem had no foothold, and even knowing that I’d probably done things I wish I hadn’t… I still didn’t tell them “no thanks”.

But somewhere in there, what I did remember was roasting on a slow burn. Eventually, combined with the abortion, that night must’ve formed part of the foreboding sense of doom I felt. The one that caused me to retire from the world of cash for flesh. It seemed that out of nowhere, I felt panicked by the idea of doing any more gigs and I quit.

Later, I was living back at my parents’ place. I’d moved on from stripping to working as an actor in children’s theatre. Highly ironic, I know. The phone rang one day and it was one of them, the bachelor party boys. M must’ve given them my new number. No, I’m sorry. I’m not in that line of work any more… Another cringe of fear, because now I WAS feeling defiled. Just what did they think my services entailed exactly??!

Ah… so interesting how the subconscious harbours those things the conscious mind wishes to ignore. That’s why denial never really works and why we can terrorise ourselves and become our own worst enemy: in the end we can’t escape our own truths, no matter what.

And so it was that the writing of this series helped me to see. Oh! FUCK! Those terrorising dreams where I thought I’d been molested? Well yeah, maybe that did happen but in a different setting… [heart thudding].

Once thunk, that thought rang long and loud in the hall of truth and I have to admit that’s quite possibly how things played out.

There were at least four of them… and I swear that’s all I really know.

[Epilogue]

~Svasti

People watching, Chapter 3

Tags

dead eyes, disillusionment, Fear, Frozen hearts, glitter, marble foyers, People watching, Poem, Poetry, purple, suits, tram tracks

Vanilla flavoured suits disguising

Poorly hidden madness

Trying on blank slate faces

Pinstripes like disillusionment

Nothing reveals the sadness

Like dead eyes above

Tastefully expensive ties

No hair product, no lipstick

To conceal this blemish

Tension leads to numbness when

It can’t be understood

Searching finds a pint or two

And fear buys the next round

So I try to breathe compassion

And openness and love

But I’m only half awake and

Never sure which half

Asleep enough to empathise

Awake enough to care

Let’s colour your pinstripes purple

Sprinkle glitter in your hair

And look to where sun and sea

Sing pretty rhythms within

Bringing life to marble foyers

Clackety-clack tram tracks and

A skip in your step because

You know, oh you really do

~Svasti

Sometimes…

Tags

Dhanvantri, empowerment, Fear, Ganesha, Healing, malarkey, Prayers, Recovery, Sanskrit, Spirituality, Surrender, Transformation, Yoga, Yoga teacher

I think I’m just afraid of who I might actually be, when I’m finally done with all this being afraid malarkey.

When I allow all the knowledge I’ve learned (and continue to learn), to be grafted to the very marrow of my being.

When I’ve practiced to perfection the incredible meditations and other teachings I’ve been given. When they’re as natural as breathing – so much a part of me I don’t need to think about it.

I’m afraid of that person I’ll become.

And sometimes I think… it’s the one significant thing causing most of the pain in my life.

Even while writing this, I’m avoiding doing something else right this very moment. Something I should’ve done already and that other people are waiting for. Something that’d be good for me to do. And I will eventually, just not before I’ve put it off time and again.

Til I can’t stand it any more.

At least this time though, the distraction is much more honest, less convoluted.

I want to scream, and I want to cry and grieve. For the time I’ve spent veiling my awesome, powerful, motivated and very real Self away, and letting the freaked out junior would-be super hero run the show instead.

All so I don’t have to give up my excuses.

Of course, like that smoker who knows they need to stop, I’m not ready to give my excuses up yet. Just because I can see them for what they are, doesn’t mean I’m stopping.

I’m still enjoying the whole experience too much. It mightn’t be good for me, but it’s comfortable. And it’s what I know.

Its life-changing stuff y’know, getting the things you want most for yourself, instead of sacrificing and sabotaging your own life. At least, that’s the realisation I’m coming to.

Sunday, I was at my yoga school doing my remaining cleaning hours for the week (still need the money til I get paid the week after this one). As I cleaned, and when I wasn’t chanting various Sanskrit mantras to myself, my teacher’s recent words filled the empty room.

You see, I only signed up to do the Hatha yoga practitioner certificate this year, not the first year teacher training. Mostly because I didn’t feel like I was ready. Which, as it turns out, is just more hiding and excuses, really.

As we discussed various maintenance tasks, she turns to me and says I think you should do the teacher training. I want you to teach here and help with future teacher trainings. You’re way ahead of the others on philosophy and related topics and I think you’ve got things you can teach them.

Just like that. And yes, it’s something I want. Plus, I know I’m ready now…

There alone, sweeping the floors, I thought about standing at the front of that room and… I laughed, while I coincidentally sang the invocation to Ganesha, remover of obstacles…

Om Gananam tva / ganapating havamahe / kavinkavinam upamashravastamam / jyeshtharajam brahmanam brahmanaspata a nah / shrinvan nutibhih sida sadanam…

Yes, it’s what I want. But to get there… I’m gonna have to give up a few things I’m pretty sure I know as ‘fact’ about myself. But guess what? Apparently, all I have to do is keep going towards what I want.

The transformation will occur in the doing, not the wanting of the doing… this was the message/realisation I recieved while sweeping, singing and laughing.

Okay… so, I kept singing, this time Sri Dhanvantri’s (the lord of Ayurveda/healing) prayer. It’s my very favourite thing to chant because it resonates best I find, when you’re singing from the heart.

Om sankham chakram jaloukaam dadhad amruta gatam chaaru dorbhis chaturbhih / sookashma svachchhaati hridyaam sukha pari vilasan moulim amboja netram //

kaala ambha uda ujjjvalaangam kati tata vilasad chaaru peetaambaraadhyam / vande Dhanvantarim tam nikhila gada vana prouda daavaagni leelam //

I still have my excuses and I’m holding on tight. For now anyway. I’m not even going to attempt to break them down just yet. As long as I keep moving in the right direction, then I reckon… its all good.

~Svasti

Judith’s story

Tags

Abuse, Anger, Assault, Depression, Fear, Healing, Judith's story, Netherlands, Post-traumatic stress, Proposition 8, PTSD, Rage, Recovery, Trauma, Trust, Violence

I’m both in awe and kinda in mourning after reading Judith’s story.

**Note: If you’re in any way feeling fragile or likely to be triggered by reading of extreme violence and/or viewing VERY graphic photos, it’s best not to click on the above link**

Judith recently left a comment on one of my earlier posts so I checked out the Willothewisp blog that she and her wife run, (Prop 8 supporters take note: gay marriage has been legal in the Netherlands for years!) and from there found the link to her horrific, utterly terrifying story of sexual and physical assault.

As if the assault wasn’t bad enough, Judith went through months and months of recovery, surgery and rehabilitation that sounds like ongoing torture. Add living with post-traumatic stress, depression and the inability to move or talk for the longest time… and we’re talking about a truly serious survivor.

It’s a rough read, very emotional and heartbreaking. Once again – don’t read her story unless you’re in a stable frame of mind.

There’s ten chapters to date, and the story isn’t fully told yet. And it’s taken me a while to make my way through each one.

Judith’s lucky to be alive, although given what she went through I’m sure she didn’t feel lucky for the longest time. Her body is scarred, she lost her hearing, and she had to learn to speak and walk again.

Any one of these issues would be tough enough to handle. But Judith has triumphed through them all.

More than that – she’s married and she and her wife have three children. She has made a life despite what she’s been through. Through her words, I sense a very determined lady!

I can’t wait to read more and see how it was she made it to the life she now leads. I’m sure the past is still not 100% buried, but she is not cowering in the corner away from the world.

She’s a mother and a writer and living her life bravely.

So Judith, here’s to you. Much respect.

~Svasti