Take Me Away – #1

I recently started a creative project. I have a room in my house with empty walls, begging for artwork. After thoughtful consideration of a variety of ideas, I decided to dedicate the walls of this room to scenic memorable places. I began sorting through photos of all of my favorite trips and places I have visited, making note of my top contenders. Then I decided to take this project one step further with my plan to now paint each of these places.

Painting is very cathartic for me and has provided opportunities for expression in a way words cannot always capture. (See how artistic expression has been a part of my ongoing healing journey on my Art page). This current art project of mine did not intentionally begin as a healing mental health exercise. Instead it came from a simple desire to decorate the walls of this room in my house. Yet after careful reflection it began to evolve into something much more.

My role has changed during this pandemic. My pre-Covid part time coaching job, combined with volunteer work, as well as my ever present and important role as a mom has been dramatically redefined with full time remote learning support and household management duties for my two children. I have come to realize very quickly since school began last week that I am both an essential and intermittently needed part of this remote learning equation. This is a role I want to take on for my kids, but I am noticing that I need to find ways to take care of myself and remain full of the drive and purpose that keep me upright – even though the majority of my days are now spent in the confines of my home. I think this painting project was calling on me to satisfy this very important need.

This week I ventured into my first painting of this new series. It’s from one of my favorite trips that my husband and I took shortly after we got married. We traveled to Banff National Park and Jasper National Park in Alberta, Canada and enjoyed days filled with hiking, exploring, kayaking, and white water rafting. This painting depicts one of the many picturesque lakes we encountered on this trip.

This is Bow Lake. It is situated along the Icefields Parkway between Banff and Jasper National Park. The vibrant blue water that we sat beside among the array of wildflowers was truly stunning. I recall sitting beside this lake and waiting for clouds to disappear and allow the sun to reveal the incredible clarity of the crystal blue water. Painting this picture this week allowed me to recapture the moments of that trip – the peaceful serenity of being surrounded by so much natural beauty. It also allowed me to reflect on that precious time with my husband and how much we enjoyed adventuring together and getting to know each other more deeply as newlyweds.

This painting took me away to that amazing trip and all of the memories I treasure in my heart. Now that it’s complete I look forward to diving into my next painting to see where my mind takes me.

When Dreams Speak

I wake up in a puddle of your 

never acknowledged tears.

I hear your desperate calling

reaching out from inside my dreams.

Your screams feel so familiar

a song of sadness that lives in my soul.

It places a weight upon my chest, fighting 

mightily against my need for breath.

Slowly I bring my dripping self down

from this sudden impending doom.

Then I look inside for answers

coming up empty and confused.

What prompted this sudden terror?

What is it I should know?

I can sense that this alarm is coming

straight from inside of you.

I feel its unbearable weight.

I sense its unfinished work.

Yet as I try to slow down and listen

your silence is all that I can hear.

What are you needing from me?

What do you wish to say?

Why do you wake me in terror

just to leave me rattled and unglued?

You were left alone and shattered

by those who took from you.

Left to gather scattered pieces 

of your stolen innocence. 

With no reprieve or guiding hand

in your suffering you constructed 

loyal soldiers for your defense.

They shielded you from your torment

offering numbing detachment and rage.

We lean onto these protective guards

years after they were required.

We fear asking them to step aside

might overwhelm our injured system.

Our guards provided safety, shelter

from your indescribable truth.

We learned to wield our broken pieces 

into weapons of self defense

lashing out in terror, keeping danger far away.

Yet those same jagged pieces

so difficult to handle

we turn them towards ourselves at times

harming even with our most careful intentions.

Can we try to stand together

without their self protective plan?

Can we sit with one another

and let our collective truth guide the way?

Can’t you see we are together broken 

shattered pieces from the same soul?

Our healing can only build from 

how each damaged portion is handled.

Together we can work

to safely gather and regroup

those broken pieces when shared between us 

won’t hurt the way they once did.

We can gather them together

in their fragmented disarray.

We can learn to lift them out of darkness

washing shame and self blame away.

We can strive to shine healing light through them

make those shattered pieces glow.

A kaleidoscope of healing color

can bring re-birth to our battered soul.

Don’t you see that I am with you?

Can’t you feel that I’m hurting too?

We can’t continue on wounding each other. 

Healing only comes when 

you see me and I see you.

Shelter In Place

“Shelter In Place” – pastel drawing

Art Reflection

We are all too familiar with the term “shelter in place” as we have separated from our communities to slow the spread of the coronavirus. I have found another connection to this term as I continue to navigate my personal healing through this time.

I have moments of true connection to my inner child where I can feel her messages and am learning to understand her more fully in order for us both to heal. I have also noticed moments of complete disconnection, where I cannot reach or access her at all. This frustrates me, as it leaves me searching with questions unanswered. It feels like she is running away, avoiding and hiding from me. Yet as I sit with this idea I can’t help but wonder that maybe there is more to it.

Perhaps my inner child’s retreat is less about pushing me away and more about holding herself safely together. Just as we all are currently learning, perhaps instead of resisting her need to shelter in place I need to find a way to safely support her from afar.

Powerlessness

“Powerlessness” – pencil drawing

Art Reflection

I can hear her – the child inside of me. She cries out for me to pay attention. She speaks to me in dreams, reminding me of moments of helpless desperation. She feels my nervous uncertainty of the world around me – a world in struggle and pain. This familiar feeling causes her to scream out for self protection.

Powerlessness is a futile fight against an impenetrable force. It’s a feeling of being engulfed and swallowed whole – a feeling that only worsens when I attempt to resist it. It’s a desperate lonely battle where time for rescue is quickly fading away.

Powerlessness is the ever present feeling that no matter how hard I try, I cannot guarantee my safety or the safety of my children.
It’s the nagging feeling from the child within, telling me that it’s not safe.

Feelings of powerlessness and fears around this have been incredibly difficult to overcome in my healing journey. These fears show up in the way I approach relationships – with a heightened sense of guarded skepticism and mistrust. It is only through a growing connection between myself and this child within that a sense of peace, safety, and trust can slowly replace the constant sound of alarms and danger that she sends my way.

Life as a Puzzle

Imagine your life as a puzzle. Each piece represents a small part of what makes you who you are – physically, biologically, spiritually, relationally. Each piece adds its own color and flavor and is unique to only you and your experiences. While perhaps a single piece of your puzzle may appear insignificant on its own, when put into place it brings your life into focus – connecting to other pieces that ultimately make you complete and whole. Imagine your puzzle contains a few missing pieces. Perhaps there are enough other pieces surrounding those empty spaces that it does not impact the entire puzzle. You can still see the whole picture even without those small pieces. Those empty spaces may exist, but they don’t make you feel or appear any less whole. Now imagine you are missing some critical pieces of your puzzle that make it nearly impossible to connect the surrounding pieces. You are left with floating gaps and holes that draw attention and confusion and make it difficult for the entire image to come together. This leaves you searching for those missing pieces – searching for completion – searching for wholeness. You seek not to dwell on the emptiness that exists in those gaps, but instead you yearn for the healing victory that comes from finding and carefully placing a single new piece into position. Your search begins to shape you as you learn just as much about yourself from your failed attempts as you learn from your victories. This journey, while at times feels life consuming, becomes life altering as you discover and connect the various qualities and experiences that have come to shape you and ultimately make you who you are. You wonder if you will ever succeed in completing this complex puzzle. Will you ever come to a place of feeling truly complete, together, and whole? While this question may remained unanswered, you press on, digging and searching with the hope that each new day brings the possibility of adding just one more piece to your puzzle.

Connecting in a time of disconnection

There is an image we all have become familiar with lately. A loved one placing their hand on a window to connect with another on the other side. We’ve seen these images on the news and on social media as caring gestures towards elderly or sick family members and neighbors. The simple message of love and connection – of letting our loved ones know that we are there for them in the midst of a time when we must maintain physical distance from them.
I was reminded of this image recently in my own personal connection to it. Through all of my healing work I have learned to slowly open a connection between my current self and the child inside of me that was left to suffer alone in silence for so many years. I have learned that much of the pain I feel today is directly connected to what that child was and is still feeling. Much of my healing has surrounded the idea of creating safety for her – to enable her to open up – to trust, share, and work with me to help heal those deep wounds. As with all aspects of my healing, I find myself intermittently making progress as well as faltering sometimes. Yet my desire to bridge the gap toward our shared needs causes me to seek her – to check in with her – to visit with her quite often.
When this virus quickly changed our daily lives and the manner in which we interact with one another, like most people, I felt overwhelmed. I felt the need to streamline the essential needs in my household and place onto the back burner what I deemed to be less immediately pressing. In these moments of prioritizing I could feel myself operating at a capacity that would not allow for safe thoughtful intrinsic work. I made a conscious decision to pause my healing work. In the meantime something interesting began to happen. My stressful dreams that are somewhat expected during a stressful time began to worsen. I began to notice an increase in wakeful and fitful moments throughout the night. I noticed an increase in heavy foreboding feelings when I awoke each morning. I was feeling the compounding nature of the physical and emotional impact of inadequate sleep. Then the most alarming thing happened. My stressful dreams involving various representations of pain, panic, and helplessness suddenly infused into them the most powerless details that my mind can conjure. In an instant, my dreams of stress and worry took on a completely different feel when my abuser began to appear in them one night. This sounded all kinds of alarms inside of me, shaking the foundation of every inch of healing progress I have made on this ongoing journey. In a mix of overwhelm and denial, I first tried to shrug these dreams off and categorize them as no different than my other random and sometimes bizarre stressful dreams. But these dreams carried a different weight and stayed with me in a profound way that made dismissing them feel impossible.
When this wave of distress would subside just long enough to make space for other feelings I began to sit with all of the questions that these dreams brought up for me. Why is he here now? It’s been a long time since he’s haunted my dreams. What does this mean? How can I make it stop?
That’s when I was reminded of those images of loved ones placing their hands on the glass to show one another that they are still there for them, however different that may seem right now. Perhaps I need to find a way to place my hand on the window to my inner child right now. I think maybe she is feeling shaken and alone and is needing some reassurance. I think she needs to know that I am still here – that I still care – and that I will not abandon her. It just might feel different for a little while.