Why We Need Boundaries
Boundaries. When you have experienced trauma, boundaries are a necessity for your own personal growth and safety. A boundary is setting an expectation with clear definitions of what you can and cannot handle. A good boundary identifies what is your responsibility and what is not. Boundaries can be especially hard to set with our family and friends, especially when disfunction already exists.
Change Your Thoughts, Change Your World
It isn’t surprising that one of the most consistent self-care techniques for women navigating trauma is to use self affirmations. The toll of emotional and/or physical abuse from someone in a position of trust is devastating. The subconscious mind begins to believe the negative words it hears every day. In order to change the negative thought patterns and heal from the constant triggers, you have to reprogram your brain.
Do The Things
When you have been through trauma, social unrest and social energy can deeply affect you. You have probably become hypersensitive to cues and moods. If you spend too much time online or watching the news, you can get pulled into a deep sadness. It is very easy to give in to desperation and fear. It’s like how a small baby or the family pet always knows when something is wrong and then acts out to express the inexpressible. You are not crazy. You are not a mess. You are responding to your environment. The way to change things, to get some relief, is to change the environment.
Climbing The Mountain
I stare down at my tennis shoes. I am poised at the edge of the sidewalk. Before me the dirt path winds up the mountain. Straight up. So far the trail has been inclined, but not too crazy.
Here is where things get harder.
The Sunset Project
This week we have been focusing on different ways that we can take care of ourselves. Sometimes all it takes is five minutes of alone time, whether that means we lock ourselves in the bathroom or go for a walk. So, I wanted to share a quick way that I connect with myself, my best friend, and my day. Welcome to the Sunset Project.
Mirror Mirror…
We fail to see the beauty in function. As we recall the overwhelming complexities of our body, as we come to see and appreciate these many wonders in our reflection, there is a certain respect gained for our very presence, for the body that houses our soul. This respect in turn lends to mending struggles we have with our appearance. It reminds us we are not merely objects made up of sexualized parts. We are in fact women, human, a miracle of an amalgamation of working pieces both macroscopic and microscopic and we should marvel at the wonder of our existence.
This Stuff of Heaven
Brothers and husbands and sisters and wives and parents, all stricken with unique physical, mental and spiritual ailments, in manifest as we grow older. All of us trailing difficult histories. And all of us clenched with particular anxieties and worries about the imminent future. And with our particular load, or perhaps in part of our individual pain, there felt a wedge, a wall around each of us, the wall pronouncing, “All of you don’t understand how hard and rough and relentless life has been for me.” Each one of us eager to feel validation for our personal life struggle.
Feel The Rain
A few months ago my 31 year old brother collapsed, without warning, and died. It was an undetected heart arrhythmia. And since then, I’ve had a paradigm shift. A huge one. His sudden departure, from this mortal phase of existence, has caused me to see life so differently. And it has especially caused me to see other’s so differently. Like I notice them more. And I feel of their malady more.
Our Common Ground
I had cared for so many of them so many times, at possibly their most vulnerable state. And now they were taking care of me. I have never forgotten the feeling of unity in that moment. A tangible sense that no matter our backgrounds, the different walks of life, and an array of struggles we can all come to each other’s aid.
Rise Up and Get Your Fire Back
One day, early in my journey and in the middle of a very ugly cry, I staggered up from the floor and stared hard into the bathroom mirror. I saw my face. I was so very tired and grief-stricken. I saw the red blotches on my skin and the mascara running wild and dark. But then I saw my eyes. And by some miracle, I saw they were still shining. I gripped the edge of the sink and leaned in close, inches from the glass. Yes, I confirmed, they were tired and wet, but they still shone with something other than grief. I saw me. I felt me.