Dining with the Dragon

Monday, 30 September 2013

Sometimes, insights gotta come slowly.  Especially when the insights are around traumas, when Whatever It Was split off into a hundred different pieces, sent itself all around your body so that you could walk around and be in your life until it was time as a big girl to begin to piece it together again.  But first you needed to begin the slow long remembering that you had forgotten to feel it in the first place.  And then one day/month/year/decade you slowly start waking up.  And you start feeling your body, and feeling yourself, and you watch yourself ~ the ocean watching the wave.  And you come upon many things that are ugly, things that have come out of your trauma which are not your fault, things which go out into the world and misrepresent you, which are flaccid where you want to be ripe, and straight where you want to be a circle, and mean where you want to protect yourself, and harsh where you want to be sweet.  They are not your fault, and you need to learn that first before you can begin to change them.  Because they are not your fault but they are also your responsibility.

You come upon all of these ways you've learned, from in your beautiful protective self, to run away from the things you could not bear.  Those things have been pillars for you to hold onto while you've been growing up into the process of being able to bear up, as a big grown up girl, under their weight.

And you have learned again today what you keep falling across in the last week or so, in different places and at different times, that you still are not living in acceptance.  You are running from the dragon.  You keep being surprised by the fact of your non-acceptance.  What you think is acceptance is at times a rolling in the waves of retrauma, where the past is present, and you can't even tell the difference between what is safe and what is not.

You are reminded today, by the words of another, that there are times when you are too courageous.  It washes over you like a mother and like comfort.  You are not not-enough ~ you are trying too hard.  There are times in your courage that you can retreat.

And then you love you, because yes, you've always loved your own courage.  You are the girl who wants to pat security dogs.  She lives alongside the scaredy cat with the resilience of a wet paper bag.

But now yes ~ you see that you have been trying too hard.  That when the waves broil is not the right time then to turn and face the dragon.  That you get to turn your hypervigilant back on that dragon and swim away to a safe place.  That this is the best sort of fight-or-flight, when it is a flight to safety, the safe places that you have still not quite learned to develop within yourself even though you are wrinkly around your eyes and your tits are starting to sag.

But you begin, and you've begun, and you pat yourself on your heart and you say, "It's alright, darlin'.  I'm looking after you," and you remember once again that this is still what you do not yet know to do, the fleeing to safety.

It's only from there that you turn to face the dragon.  It's only from there that you are strong enough to stand so that you can look him in the eye and witness his transformation.  Your running from him, in your trauma (my God, you really can see it now how traumatised you were - how we all are) has made him bigger.  But it's a paradox that you need to sometimes run from him to face him.

And then from that little distance, a few centimetres away from your amygdala, he too is the ocean.  He is the deep at the bottom of dissociation.  But the light shines even in the darkness of the deeps, and even he is able to be welcomed into Rumi's guesthouse for dinner, for acceptance.

Until the next time that I forget, and the next waves that come, and the next time I am caught up again, until the time when the waves aren't quite so high, so that I can remember to swim to safety first.

Listening to:  Meditation and Healing Trauma by Tara Brach

Breathe by Lucid Light


  1. Ohhhh, Sue.

    This. This was written by you? For you?
    Or... for me?
    How did, do, you know me?

    Is it written for everyone who has suffered childhood trauma?

    You have tapped into a realm of locked doors, behind which dwell hidden pain, fears and secrets too frightful to tell.
    Where those of us who hold the keys, bear the scars.
    Scars too deep to ever really heal.

    I cried at, "It's alright, darlin'. I'm looking after you".

    On my darkest nights, in my blackest hours, this too was whispered to me. Through me.
    The only thing that kept me going until I could run, run away.

    This Universal voice. I know this voice.
    Does it belong to the One that cradles us all in our most dire times of need?

    Or, is it our own voice?
    If so, then we are all indeed connected. And perhaps ever more so in trauma.

    This is beautiful and so, so touching, Sue.
    I cry for and cradle the lost child within.

    1. Well, I'm sad that you understand what I'm talking about. But I'm glad that what I wrote touched you too, Vicki. I think that crying for that kid and cradling that kid takes a surprisingly long time to be able to do. It's like the wounds hide that little kid underneath a massive pile of blackberries. I am really glad that you - and I - are both doing that.

      Ahh, the question of all the ages - what is that Other that so many people sense? Is it the One? Or is it us? Or is it Us? It's a mass comfort, whatever it is.

      Love to ya xo

    2. It is indeed a comfort. Yet, incredibly sad that, 'that' is what unites and binds.

      At times, I wish that comfort was more tangible. More, tactile.
      The need for real hugs to soothe can be so very strong, when one feels empty and alone. When, to be enveloped by love and understanding, flesh and blood, is craved for.
      I've yearned for that.

      The thought of "trauma/survivor/victim groups" appealed on some level. Yet, I always shrunk back at the thought of attending when time drew near.
      After the horrors I faced, I couldn't face that. So, I withdrew.
      And, I don't trust anyone (read, counsellors) who haven't been through "it" themselves. Text book experts.

      What sad predicaments we find ourselves in, even decades after the events that stole our childhoods and tainted our lives forever.

      So glad you're here xx

    3. If you were wanting a recommendation, I've been seeing an awesome lady who has been helping me with some of these issues. Her name is Kat and you can see her details here http://www.naturaltherapypages.com.au/connect/kathathaway/service/11895

      I think you would like her. If you want more details about the stuff we do drop me an email and we can chat about it

    4. Thanks Sue, I appreciate that and will have a look at the link.

  2. PS Apologies if the recco rankled. I just wanted to mention her just in case, but don't want to be seen to be giving advice because that's very tiresome :)

    1. Hey, no. Seriously, thank you.
      Advice 'can' be tiresome if given by some who don't speak from experience - even if they do mean well.
      To know that you come from a similar experience and offer from the heart, means so much more to me.

      So, thank you :) xx

      *sometimes, text can be difficult to convey the more human nuances of expression, and can be difficult to read (and judge) with one's own interpretation - if ya know what I mean.
      I have been "accused" of coming off aloof and haughty, gah, which is SO not me! But, if I throw in lols and lots of smilies, paragraphs would be soooo much longer.

      **You know, if you're out and about tomorrow, I'll be at Kallista Markets - just in case you wanted to come by and say "hi" :)

  3. That would be lovely ... but what if you hate me? :p

    1. Hahahaha! No, not laughing at you - but at ME!!
      It's exactly how I feel!

      I've been sooo worried about that too. Ridiculous really, and we live so close to each other.

      But, I've always felt that people are "let down" when they meet me. And I've always put it down to the fact that they might pick up that I'm, um, "broken" due to my fucked up childhood. Do I portray this outwardly? Do I wear a mosaic heart on my sleeve for all to see?
      I dunno.
      But, I'm more scared of disappointing people whom I have grown to admire. People like you.
      And, I'm nowhere as intelligent and not nearly as erudite. My schooling was lacking and so I'm a bit of a ditz and a goofball.

      How's that for a back atcha?

      And, if that puts you off and you'd rather decline. Don't worry, I'm used to it. Seriously ;)

    2. And, perhaps it's the mascara - that can be scary too, lolol!

    3. Well I am only erudite online, where I can write stuff and then think about it. I'm getting even flakier the closer to menopause I get.

      But I guess if we have low expectations and think we probably will be utterly disappointed in each other, then that could work well :p

    4. Well, if you'd like to, then you're very welcome at my stall :)

    5. Thank you :). I would like to. If I don't come it's because I've chickened out. Please don't take it personally if that happens. I really want to meet you at some point :)

    6. LOVE your new header by the way. Can't believe I didn't mention it earlier.

  4. Thanks, lady :). I fell in love with that picture - it looks edible :)


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