A little more on forgiveness…

Tags

demon folk, Forgiveness, gut feel, Intuition, Kinesiology, omniscient, self-forgiveness, shouty, sociopath, wholeness

Some of y’all wrote in the comments of this post that when it comes to forgiveness, we need to forgive the action rather than the person. And I agree. But actually, I forgave my abuser quite a while ago now.

I was able to see that he was a deeply flawed and wounded person, and that his need to control things caused his desire to assault women (I wasn’t the first one he’d beaten up, I found out later). And I also know and accept that what happened wasn’t personal – none of it. What he did… he did out of his own pain.

Others commented that forgiveness is one of the hardest things to deal with. And I say abso-freaking-lutely! It really, really is.

The required forgiveness I mentioned in my last post was all about me.

I’m the one I have to forgive.

Somehow I have to find a way to stop blaming myself for not seeing him clearly enough.

I carry around a lot of blame about those things, even though I know I’m only human, that mistakes get made, and I’m not omniscient or a mind reader. I certainly don’t know everything AND particularly, I didn’t know something that I really wish I had.

I’ve rationalised and discussed it endlessly. I know the story inside out on a whole bunch of levels, too. All those people who almost automatically say “it’s not your fault” aren’t really helping. Because in some ways I really get that. I do.

But the seed of the thought remains: how come I didn’t know he was a violent and manipulative sociopath?

Generally I have a razor-sharp gut feel for the “rightness” or “wrongness” of someone in my world. Yet at the time when that particular skill really mattered, I let myself down.

Or so a very unforgiving part of me says, anyhow.

While I don’t have a 100% strike rate with my instincts, it’s right up there in the high 90% range. Mostly I listen very carefully, because those messages are always right. So… my inner debate has been about whether I just didn’t know that time (and if so, why not?!) OR if I knew and somehow ignored the red flags (blame, blame, blame!).

The other thing I have to forgive is “the past” – as a tangible thing, and something that has (from a certain perspective) been stolen from me. Stolen away years of my life. But then I ask myself, who did the stealing? Certain answers might suggest that it was me and not him. Sure, I wasn’t the one who turned my face into a bruised (and so NOT hot) mess, and I definitely had little to do with my (probably but never confirmed) cracked cheekbone that hurt for weeks and weeks afterwards.

But I was the one who didn’t get the help I needed. Who hid all of the pain as best as I could. So others couldn’t see, because heck, it was just too embarrassing. Yeah, I’m the loser who was beaten up in my own home… I couldn’t stand the pity. People looking at me as if I was weak or stupid.

It would be too raw, too hard, too much to ask when I could barely keep myself from falling apart. (Of course, if someone else told me about something like this, I would NEVER think of them that way. But it doesn’t stop my mind from telling me what I loser I was!)

After a while, I guess I did know that I needed help but I just couldn’t make myself go and get it. And I wouldn’t let anyone else close enough to see what was going on. Just like a wounded animal.

I was pretty good at the hiding all of that apparently, because lots of people, including my own family claim not to have noticed that anything was up with me. Or they simply ascribed my behaviour to other things… *shrugs* It’s impossible to say now.

Anyway. Those stories of blame are the voices of some of the nasty little demon folk I have to contend with. They like to get all shouty and geez, but they can be persistent.

The kinder, wiser, more yogic part of my being (who is doing her best to forgive the shouty demons, the parts of me that won’t forgive other parts and everything else)… she gets it, that none of it matters. That in some ways, there’s nothing to forgive.

That yogi-part is all: hey, so life hasn’t turned out the way we wanted it to. So what? There’s so much to do and learn! And while it’s meant to be easy to let things go, in the real world with it’s thousand and one inputs, sometimes it just isn’t. So, we do what we can to heal, and then go and search for happiness! Because sure, life has sucked an awful lot, but it doesn’t have to keep sucking. And yeah, it hurts that in all likelihood we’ve missed our chance at being a mother. That just blows in so many ways! Still, there are plenty of things left to do in this life…

And so on.

I called this blog “A journey from assault to wholeness” because when all this began, I felt like I was in a million little pieces scattered all over the floor. These days, I am much more whole than I used to be, AND I know my life isn’t as terrible as many others. I really do know that.

But to be very truthful, there’s only a handful of things that keep me going when those shouty demons get extra loud: the notion of transforming my life into one of service to others, practicing and teaching yoga, riding my push bike and giggles and kisses from my little nieces.

That’s all I have. They are the thoughts and experiences that actually kept me alive when I was rather seriously thinking about the alternative. And now… they help keep me focused on creating a new life for myself.

Things are better now… much better, actually. Heck, it’s all relative, right? But still, forgiving the events that sucked me into an alternate reality for so many years? And forgiving myself for allowing things to stay like that for so long?

Uhhh… that’s still a work in progress.

So thank goodness for things like kinesiology, yeah?

~Svasti

Crash

Tags

Accident, Anxiety, Bike stack, Confusion, Crash, Depression, EMDR, Fear, Gravel rash, Injuries, Intuition, Mojo, Panic attacks, super powers, Unemployed

Been in a funny little funk this week. And its made it hard to write, damnit. Which really doesn’t help matters.

Where there’s movement after a long period of stagnation, often what you get is the discovery of more stuff to deal with. You couldn’t see it before coz there was so much else in the way…

Fell off my bike the weekend before this one. Took a major tumble. I’ve mentioned my clumsiness before… Somehow though, I managed to not break any bones, trash my clothing, and I didn’t wreck my bike. Overall, it was a pretty successful stack (Aussie term for fall/crash).

Returning from my yoga studies course, I was travelling on the footpath (which I don’t do a lot, but this was a busy road), and probably going just a touch too fast (ahem, when would I do that??). So when the broken footpath came into view, it was too late to avoid it. Just beyond this nasty piece of trouble was dirt – not helpful when you’re trying not to skid.

I could see what was gonna happen, and so I called on possibly the only super-power I actually do have… the ability to think clearly as I fall, and do what I can to minimise the end result.

As in, make sure my fingers aren’t in bad places, don’t try to break the fall with an outstretched hand (which can result in broken wrists) and try to relax as much as possible. The opposite of ‘bracing for impact’. Also, I threw myself off my bike, knowing I didn’t really want a handle bar or any other part lodged firmly against my ribs, for example.

‘Course, that doesn’t mean that I got off scot-free. Hardly! As I lay there fully stretched out on my belly, arms in front of me… trying to asses if I was okay, a lovely, well-meaning dude (himself a cyclist) came over to see if I was alright. But then, without warning tried to lift me to my feet, grabbing me under the shoulders while standing in front of me, causing my back to arch upwards… Don’t do that, please, I begged.

He looked offended, but I explained, I need to get up a little more gently. And y’know, its handy to understand if someone is really injured or not, before hauling them up by the shoulders! Rolling to one side and sitting up was much more ideal, once adrenaline stopped pumping so hard and I could start to feel the extent of my injuries.

Thank goodness for cycling gloves, is all I could think while inspecting the trashed palms of my gloves (grateful it wasn’t my hands). Elbows didn’t fair so well, though. The day was warm and I was dressed in an orange North Face t-shirt, not really ideal for cycling (though tempting when you think you’re invincible on a warm day).

Oh yes, it wasn’t pretty.

It was gravel rash.

Both elbows and knees, and my stomach. Found out later I was also gifted with a bruised boob. Ouch!

Left elbow was the worst. But both were nicely mashed up. Blood, dirt, tiny pebbles. Profusely stinging.

And what was that? My left shoulder was putting in a serious complaint. Didn’t have time to think about it too much, coz I was in danger of fainting.

The nice old guy checked my bike was okay and seeing I wasn’t in need of emergency treatment, directed me to a nearby seat. Which I needed, to catch my breath and make sure I was okay.

I needed to regroup if I was gonna cycle another five kilometers home.

Almost there, I dragged my bruised and battered self into the pharmacy conveniently placed on the road home… got pain killers and bandages and stuff from a very unsympathetic looking pharmacist.

Luckily as I said, nothing broken. I did wonder though, where my hot male nurse was… the one who shoulda been there to pick up the pieces!

So, anyway. Here I am, just finished a course of EMDR therapy. I’ll go and see my therapist again in a month. Just to see how things are going.

But on top of the physical meshing of body against pavement… there’s been another sort of crash.

Or, perhaps the best word is… panic.

No job. Again. No income. Limited stores of cash that won’t last forever. The job market is D-E-A-D and I’m not even getting a nibble from applications I’ve sent in! Doom and gloom on the news, unemployment’s jumped x%. Whatever skills I have, they’re only useful as long as there’s demand for them…

But there’s actually a bunch of work in my field in Sydney right now. So what am I doing here, anyway? In Melbourne? With nothing really going for me? The only thing that’s actually working for me here, is my yoga course. The whole move-to-Melbourne-and-become-closer-to-my-family thing was a wash. Of course, there’s my beautiful nieces.

But they aren’t my life. That’s my sister’s family, not mine. As for me? I’m trying to get my life back on track, fighting really hard for that and… its one thing after another.

Not to mention… my mojo has vanished! That little light of intuition, voices in my head that talk to me, tell me stuff… well, its been radio silence almost all of the last couple of weeks.

So what the heck am I doing again? Do I actually have a point, here? I’m not so sure about that right now…

That panic attack it seems, was just waiting for a clearing to have its turn. And so I couldn’t write. Couldn’t do anything much, especially in the last week… and I’m not feeling pulled in any one direction or the other. Nothing to guide me. Nothing.

And that’s where I am, still.

Got ordered out of the house on Friday by a friend… which helped but still, I’m not cool with all this nothingness. Though as a yogini, I darn well should be!

I know, I know. I’m still healing, moving on from demons of the past. Licking my wounds. Give myself a break. Yaadayaadayaada…

~Svasti

Small miracles #2

Tags

Debit card, Human kindness, Intuition, Lost and found, Melbourne, Miracles, Shootings, Underbelly

A while back I posted about losing stuff. And the obsessing and anxiety I used to experience whenever something important vanished… it seemed to make things worse. Relaxing, being mindful and surrendering on the other hand, seemed to somehow contribute to things turning up.

It’s a pattern I’ve noticed and whilst I can’t prove this theory one way or the other, it seems to work for me. Or I’m lucky (sometimes). Or my celestial guardian beings are being extra vigilant right now. Or its all just one great big enormous, multi-faceted coincidence.

Whatever floats your boat, but as I’ve said before I don’t believe in coincidences.

Like my first small miracle in recent times, today I experienced the Grace of human kindness at its best.

So I get a call mid-morning from some dude: Hi, it’s Simon from XXXX Bank. We’ve been contacted by a woman who says she has your debit card. Have you lost it?

Confusion.

This morning as I got off the train, I’d looked in my purse and noticed the card wasn’t there. I had a nano-second of panic before I was decided it was safely at home. I’d gotten it out the night before and mustn’t have put it back in my purse.

This was based on my gut instinct/intuition was telling me things were all good.

As well as the voice that I’ve mentioned before, the other part of my intuition works like this: I think of something I need to know – such as – “my card isn’t lost, its safe…” and either I get the game show buzzer style “bup-bowwww” response if its negative, or it just rings true. Wait – there’s a third option – its like a hollow thud, and that means I simply don’t know yet.

Each time a question rings true, I can be sure it’s as good as gold. As in, it will be just as I thought. This is tried and tested! So before that phone call, I already felt like it wasn’t really lost.

The bank dude patched me through to the woman. Turns out I’d dropped my card at the bus stop where I start my daily odyssey. It had been in my bag after all, but clearly not secured.

Someone found it and took it to a small local shopping mall, then handed it in to center management. The woman on the phone was the Center Manager asking me how I’d like to get it back. She’s gonna post it to me.

For all this to occur, not one but two people had to go out of their way. Luckily the person who found my card was kind hearted, and was possibly going to the mall anyway. Then they had to find the admin area (who knows where that is!), and make sure it got to the right place.

The card wasn’t even found at the mall. But nevertheless, the Center Manager took responsibility anyway, worked out a plan and rang my bank.

It’s the sort of thing I would do – and have done – for others.

These two lovely people have saved me considerable inconvenience. It may not have been a lot of extra effort, but for many it would have been too much to ask. Less savoury types might’ve just tried to jack money out of it somehow.

And let’s face it – this ain’t no small country town – this is Melbourne, people! Home of “Underbelly” and gangland wars and shootings and stuff. Melbourne, where every weekend brings a stabbing or two. Melbourne, crime underworld headquarters…

So whilst it clearly isn’t much in return, I can only offer my heartfelt thanks to these two strangers for acting like the world isn’t too large to give a hand to someone they’ve never met. May your kindness come back to you many times over.

Om Shanti!

~Svasti