Sweetness for my body/mind/heart/soul is:
Singing at the top of my lungs
Shaking it off
Not washing my hair
Brushing my hair
Kissing what hurts
Feet on the ground
Chatting with ancestors
Shoulder girdle down
Growing my nails
Asking for help
Jiggling my fat
Soaking in rain
Flexing in the mirror
Touching all the things
Rocks in my pockets
Telling the same story
Trying new things
Taking the long way home
Looking at the horizon
Making less rules
Humming to myself
Hands on my heart
You came back to the place where they tried to kill you
Pummelling and punishing you into believing you were only shadow
Not even shadow but terrible evil
You came back to the place where your exclusion ensured inclusion
To cast you out was to be welcomed in
And your exorcism a right of passage to belong
You came back to the place where they feasted on your vulnerability
Sweet selves that had taken life times to coax out of hiding
And life times before that to know they were there to invite
And you came back
You rose up and came back
You came back to the place
To take yourselves back
So all of you could go home
things I am trying to remember as a survivor of abuse:
– my hurt is real and true AND I don’t want to project this hurt onto others
– I have a tendency to use controlling behaviours to hurt others, using my history as a justification, which is abusive
– my desire for punitive measures against others is understandable based on the hurt AND does not work towards the kinds of community I desire
– somewhere in my body I believe that people can grow and change and while it might not be my role to support this in people who have perpetrated against me, i don’t want to prevent them from having these supports and connections
-while it scares me, I value when people call me out/in for my abusive and controlling behaviours, many which emerge from my experiences of violence, as it helps me work towards healing and reclaiming my actions from trauma.
In all this I want to recognize that survivorship is a really complex and diverse experience. These are important rememberances for me and won’t apply to everyone who is navigating trauma and survivorship
My needs and wants are real and legitimate.
And I am responsible for the ways I meet them.
The legitimacy of my needs does not negate the necessity to engage with the harm that may come about from meeting them.
I can continue to learn better ways to meet my needs that not only cause less harm to others and myself but simultaneously increase others’ abilities to meet their own needs.
I can find transformative ways of meeting these needs that expand the very limits of what I think is possible for myself and the people and spaces I relate to.
an edit of a previous thing I wrote. Can’t seem to write new things, and enjoying going over old stuff.
– – –
My heart is hurting. With a perpetual longing for connection, for healing, for safety. Safety in ourselves, in others, in community. Hurting heart.
My heart is bitter. It has become judgmental, mean, protected. From all the times I thought I would get what I needed: connection, care, community. Bitter heart.
My heart is tired. Tired of thinking there are places for us. Places for broken, messed up hearts. Places to rest. Places of refuge. Tired heart.
We can sense other hearts. Hurting hearts, bitter hearts, tired hearts. But like us, they are guarded by sharp-beaked, short-fused egos. By brains of great dominance; survivor super organs. They get us through, keep us moving.
I have become a fine connoisseur of over-developed ego. I am the president of the Protective Brains for Feeling Eradication Society. And I am hurting. I am heartbroken. Broken hearts let egos run rampant.
Head over heart.
We’re Mean. Insecure. Defensive. Malicious.
Big brained. Broken hearted.
remember when they taught you
magic is hubris
remember when they taught you
power is dominance
turn off your light