A visit with Ms Grief (and her sledgehammer)

Sitting here on my couch writing on my laptop while my daughter watches Muppet Babies, I am quietly proud of myself...


My past writings keep jumping out at me and, like reading through an old journal, I am gifted with tangible evidence of my personal growth.  I don't actually remember feeling that down and out - ever.  Yet, here are these words (that I do remember writing) bringing me to my knees as I consider the truth of their meaning and who the girl was that wrote them.  How could I ever have been that person and not been able to see the truth of who/what I am/BE?!


My Soul game is strong.  And, YES, I can give myself the permission and courage to own that.  I ALLOW myself to celebrate it. 

YES SISTAR - you got dis!  

Re-reading a short poem I wrote (circa February 2013) profound grief hit me.  Hard.  I'd never met this Ms Grief before and I'm not keen on meeting her again.  

My Being split - I was simultaneously in it, a third party observer, performer in the 'Greatest Grief" Broadway Musical and narrator telling the story.

How naive, innocent and vulnerable I must have been to accept such fear-based beliefs. 

Indignation hits.

How DARE the people who were supposed to nourish, nurture and love me unconditionally teach me that I am worthless?!

Judgment jumps in too.

Check the date again - you were 29 in February 2013 - hardly an innocent, naive or vulnerable child.  It's your own fault.  You chose to accept those beliefs!

I am in the VOID.  I have absolutely no recollection of where, who or what my feelings were when writing the words.  I can only just remember writing them.  All attempts to remember become an exercise of creating a memory from a dull hazy image in my mind's eye.

New stories start weaving themselves on top of the old.

Not only did I take on fear-based beliefs, I embraced them so deeply within myself so as to 'express' a dialogue of 'objective reflection' only serving to create a deeper attachment to them. 

Spiritual Bypass at its finest.

Empathy lands and Ms Grief returns with her sledge hammer.

It doesn't matter that I was 'pushing 30' or 'should have had the resilience to know better'. 

No amount of intelligence or 'smarts' could save me - the ego's toys were the last thing I needed.

The tears flow. 
A re-activation of the pain and trauma. 
From a past I can't recall. 
Me I don't remember Being.

I know these tears - they are the ones I love to hate.  The ugly cry.   The get the eff outta my face, leave me wallow, I want to die in peace and no I DO NOT want you to be near me or even in the same city as me right now tears.

The ones that consume me and make me feel it all over again whilst at the same time somehow numbing.  I know my ego is messing with me.  I tell him to fuck right off!  I know how to get through it.  I've done all the 'healing work' and know how to be in my body and feel it

Except, now when I try, I'm numb instead.  The fire of anger starts to burn inside me.  Indignation and Judgment pop their slimy heads back in too.

For fuck sake, wasn't this dealt with 7 years ago!?

So, I'm finally feeling what I was supposed to feel the first time round.  But when I try to 'go deeper' into it, you know to really heal it this time, numbness hits.  Again

And even though I'm '7 years further along in healing, qualifications, 'inner work' and life experience, I'm still pushing instead of allowing.

I'm fucken pushing?  I know how to deal with this!

The Spiritual Bypass is strong with this one, Miyagi's voice runs through my head. 

I know not to intellectualise it; I gotta feel it yo! 
I can't, so I give up doing anything.  I don't even try to do anything.

Apparently this is the how I was looking for, because I'm suddenly ok again. 

I'm not trying, forcing, pushing or numb; I'm totally fine and able to reflect on the experience without even a mil of a tear inside either eye.

Ok ~ that's interesting.  Gotta remember that one - doing nothing works... 

Of course, it's only now, afterwards, that all my training comes flooding back.  Healing is NOT Linear!

Back to my 'old (new) self' sitting next to my daughter on the couch telling her to stop pulling the threads out.  She looks at me and screams... 

What a life.

And, finally - thought I forgot to share didn't ya - the poem:

Are the words of the poem really profound; or did some quirky 'Completion Loop' throw a chink in the armour to create what I experienced?  You tell me because I've got nothin'.

Let me know what resonates (or doesn't!) in the comments!


  • TzAPsEWad

  • VKmjzCkfUWQdJbso


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