Thankfully Chewed Up and Spat Back Out!

  Energy. Lately I’ve been more aware of the energy around me, in my environment and what those around me emanate. This is not a surprising thing to say for a survivor of childhood trauma, domestic violence and sexual assault. It is known as hyper-viliegence. Factor in being what some people call an Empath, I understand emotions behind actions and why they are sparked. I was born a student. Life made me a silent observer and then showed me I could be a voice, better yet -I could show others how to use their voice. I’ve seen it from the eyes of a survivor, a mother, a reporter, a volunteer, someone in need fleeing abuse, and then now as some nearing my end years navigating a system set up to tear away at any dignity I’ve managed to save. This forced retirement from life outside the walls of my home, where I once thrived, has taught me a few things; 1) Time will catch up with you. 2) We are the walking wounded navigating life on a planet we keep ignoring, because, ya know, we know it all

https://pixabay.com/users/35386209-35386209/ This post will appear disjointed to some and others will see the glaring repeating patterns like ripples in a pond, spreading out after the pebble has been thrown.  Don’t ever let someone tell you anger is a negative emotion. It’s not. It is all about how you use that anger and all those layers of emotions that built it within you.  You may not see it.. feel it..especially initially as the red flames of rage burn you but they were sparked by the pain of disappointment, fear, and the regret you’ve not allowed yourself to feel — grieve — express, setting it free. That’s where my mind has spinning lately and why I have not written much in the past week or so. I’ve been allowing myself to feel the anger within me. The disappointment I’ve been feeling in letting go of friends and family who have harmed me and who have never taken ownership for the damage caused. Anger that the fairy tales imprinted in my head of a loving family and trustworthy fr

  .  Nevaeh Buchanan She is on my mind a bit early this year. Usually my memories get triggered about her in May, the month she disappeared only to be found in a makeshift grave by a river, covered with a quick set cement.  Nevaeh Buchanan was just a five year old little girl . A little girl they said was buried alive as there was dirt in her lungs. Her short life ended in May of 2009 after she disappeared from her Monroe County Michigan apartment complex. It was a disappearance that urgently was followed by media and the public. It was also during a time I was facing some dark shadows of my life. The child sexual assault survivor in me knew why she was disappeared and as the days since she was last seen piled up, news of her world- her environment- cemented those assumptions. Those of us who have survived child sexual assault know that we escaped her fate. We live with those thoughts every time we hear about a child who suffered for being born, for being innocent, for being a light a

https://pixabay.com/users/artsybee-462611/ Healing hearts, or I should say the desire to, comes with admitting one’s own wounds which are in need of repairs. I’ve spent the past couple of weeks appearing to be quiet but really I was just doing some internal work while my body adjusted to a switch in medication to combat autoimmune flares. A few years ago I would have tried to push through such a thing and not allow my body, and even my mind, a chance to go through what it needs, I would have pretended I felt fine when I didn’t, thinking that made me strong. In reality such behavior made me weaker and landed me where I am today. Anyway, that lull allowed me to do quite a bit of thinking, planning and decision making. Right now the money raised for the Healing Hearts kickoff campaign is sitting in Go Fund Me — no withdraws made as I am waiting to hear back from an organization and person I trust to take those funds and get them where they need to be, to address crisis intervention for th