Archive for True Self

Am I Dead?

Posted in Healing My Own N-traits, My Childhood, Poems, Rants, Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on September 12, 2012 by The Dawn (Aya Aja)
My dreams never came true
Am I dead?
My biggest shame.
My biggest melt down in life.
I have never come back from
Something in me has given up
For all time
I suppressed this
The thought
'I minus well be a stripper'
because I felt that becoming an object of a man's sexual desire
Would be the only way for me to have any form of affection or be desired
Wanted, Liked, looked at as an object of love and affection
Instead of an object of hatred and disgust
Yes I was an object of hatred and disgust
My mother couldn't help but roll her eyes at me every chance she got
I thought that it was all my fault
I thought that I couldn't do anything right or worthy of a happy reaction
My mother couldn't help but to put down my life and way of being
And I mean couldn't help
I mean I understand that she did the best that she could
I bow my head in compassion
But I am in knots
I can barely live
I can barely move
And I can't seem to make myself function to make my dreams come true
Am I dead?
I didn't want to be specified or tied down by you
Defined by your personal restrictions
How come I can't figure it out as I go along
Oh well, we've already been through this
I really am done with that part
Subservient
Cut me like a tree
I'm nubbed 
Shaking
In Pain
REtarded and 
Inflamed
Frozen and 
Trapped
Demented, tormented
By Bigger and Older People 
Immature
I wanted so much for them to be
Mature 
To give me advice
To be the one I called on
To encourage me when I fail
To catch me when I fall
They all want me to just accept them for who they are
What does that mean?
I will only know when.

© 2012 IAP Art Group ™ All Rights Reserved

BEINGness Lost and Found – Somatic Experience

Posted in How to Heal, My Childhood, Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on July 10, 2012 by The Dawn (Aya Aja)

The consistent abuse that narcissistic parents inflict on their children is imposing on our emotional, mental, psychic, and physical sense of being. However you are naturally inclined to BE is wrong. They way you talk is wrong, the way you walk is wrong, the way you eat is wrong, the way you smile is wrong, they way you think is wrong, your ideas are bad, your need for connection is weak, your dreams aren’t realistic, your desire for sex is evil, and the list can can on for pages. What naturally happens is that instead of BEing who you are, your truth self goes underground. In order to keep in contact with my true Self  I would go into in a fantasy world, where I could be myself. I would sing and dance to imaginary crowds, keeping True SELF alive somehow. I had to sneak and be me.

I became guilt ridden because of the shame I felt from being attacked and labeled as a bad person, not being able to do anything right, not being able to connect with them (my N-mom and my enabling Inverted N-step dad) maybe me feel so desperate. My heart bled and I would cry out to them in agony, write long letters expressing how I felt. By the time I was in 9th grade I was at the end of my rope, completely drained of my self – love and naturally healthy self – image, I felt hopeless that I could make anything of myself and out of life. I felt trapped under a dark cloud.

From 3rd grade to 8th grade I lived in St. Louis. Throughout my childhood I longed for a home and a sense of security. I longed for long time friends and place that I could call home. When I was in elementary school I would draw my dream home and read stories of girls who had best friends and went to summer camps. I dreamed of having that for myself. By my last year in junior high that dream had come true. I had friends, they weren’t perfect, but I grew up with them, I had a school full of teachers that knew me, the high school I was going to recruited me to be on the track team, I had plans to go to college for fashion design, I was known by teachers and students as a studios person who loved to sing. I felt at home somewhere, at least a little bit. When I found out we were moving to Florida I had mixed emotions. We lived in a part of the St. Louis that was called Murderville, I can’t believe that I have actually experienced two drive-by shootings. It wasn’t a safe place to have a family. So, I was not unhappy about the move to sunny Florida I was sad about leaving a foundation that I had finally gotten a chance to build. Of course I could not express any of this to my N-parents. They had no clue about the things that made me tick, happy, content, sad, mad, or any part of my inner life because I had learned to keep all of that to myself because it hurt so bad to be ridiculed. When I came home, I went straight into the basement into my room. I tried my best to stay out of their way, I barely wanted to come upstairs to eat or use the bathroom because It felt so bad to be around them, I had to walk egg shells.

The day we moved was the most devastating day of my life because it was the beginning of the end of my secret hope I had for my future. My god-mother bought me a sewing machine after she found out that was busy learning how to sew from my librarian after school. I actually made my own Easter dress that year. I was so proud. We were moving everything into the van to make a trek across the country and I went to get my sewing machine but my dumb-ass non-dad told me to leave it because there was no room. I begged him and told him that I would hold it on my lap. I cried the whole way to my Grandmothers house. I was seething with rage, crying, and looking out the window not speaking to anyone. I changed that day into someone who didn’t care about life or my future. My masculine energy was thwarted and had turned in against itself because I couldn’t express how much I hated them for what they had done to me, I felt like nobody cared about me. Entering into High School in Florida, I didn’t care about my grades, I started stealing, my character is still in a lot ways unrecognizable from the little girl that so willing to share, and open to life and all its possibilities. I still don’t understand why they wanted me to die inside. I hate them for doing that me. My sewing machine symbolized my life and my future, they didn’t care about my life, I did. I guess that’s what they wanted to take away from me.

I experienced some very strong reactions and emotions to what was happening to me and around. I had to stuff it all down, and would get yelled at, made fun of, and ridiculed for being lost and depressed . They would call me into their room to ‘talk’ to me often pretending to be concerned when they were really just taunting me. They were happy to see me without my True Essence, they had won the battle of their shame not being triggered when they were around me.  Once they asked, “What’s wrong with you, you spend a lot of time in that room, we have a question we want to ask you, you’re not doing drugs in that room, are you?” They were cute, weren’t they? AH he he he HELL!!!!!!

I read forums and blogs and a lot of us ask how, how does it get better, how do we change, how do we get back on the horse and a get a leash on life? The question to me is how do we get back to  BEINGNESS? The abuse we experienced was a direct attack on our feminine energy, on our human BEINGNESS. Our right to be human BEINGS was trampled and ran over.  And replaced with a since that something is wrong, if you believe that something is wrong, what do you try to do? Fix it.  Which leads you on an often exhaustive journey through positive affirmations, intense meditation, reikidoodle do, have strange people put their hands on us, ♪♫gu-ra- la – la is the way that we rock when doing our thing♪♫, I’m being funny, but those methods just don’t get in there when there has been chronic traumatic abuse. And I have experienced and I’m sure many of you have as well, speaking out and expressing that this isn’t work for me and people in those circles that you are reaching out to tell you in short that you’re wrong and a bad seed because its not working for you.

If you are reading this then you are most likely done with trying to FIX. You are ready to let yourself BE. You are ready to accept the uncomfortable thought forms, sensations, emotions, screams you feel inside, and you realize that all there is left to do is to let it BE by laying still, letting whatever comes up when its ready and listening to the wounds. You do that by doing just that. Feel uncomfortable, lay in the tub, or where you feel most comfortable and let yourself FEEL ALL the uncomfortableness that comes up from within. Feel where it is in your body, let the thoughts roll in, let the resistance come up, let your resistance of your resistance be there. There are layers and layers of sensations, feelings, thoughts, and stories to go along with each wave, but you can’t fix it you can just be with it. If you haven’t tried it, try it, and let me know how it goes. For those of you who have done this work and just needed a reminder, you’re welcome ♥

A modality that has worked for me is called Somatic Experiencing, term coined by Dr. Peter A. Levine. I don’t want to get into the method because I know I want to do it justice but he goes into the depth of  what letting your trauma BE is all about and what’s going inside of you and why you feel the way you do. I want to be meet this man, I will kiss him when I do. The book “In An Unspoken Voice: How the Body Releases Trauma and Restores Goodness,” has change my life forever Along with reading the blogs and articles of all the brave women and some men online who are truly doing the work. If it wasn’t for all of you I would feel so alone. Thank you.

© 2012 IAP Art Group ™ All Rights Reserved