healing – Soul Reflection

Distorted Reflection

My homeopath (aka my well of mother wisdom and unconditional love) told me that I need to strengthen my boundaries when experiencing negative or critical attack.

And she is completely correct, except I have this huge voice inside me that says ‘don’t be so arrogant as to deflect criticism without first owning what is yours’. I believe in the principle that what is in existence in my life is a reflection of some part of myself, so if I am receiving negativity I have a part to play.

What I realise today is how I have distorted that reflection, no different to the waves across a pond turning clear lines into surrealist images when the stone hits the surface. In the film Pretty Woman, Julia Robert’s character says ‘The bad stuff is easier to believe, ever noticed that?’ and I think that is a default for most humans but certainly there are those, like myself, where my parental conditioning makes ‘the bad stuff’ feel like the ‘truth’.

I have focused recently on the bad stuff, why is this happening to me, what have I done?The usual self doubt. But despite an overwhelming smothering of love, support, reassurance and validation from a wonderful and significant circle of friends, I have only studied the reflection of the bad stuff.

The majority of ‘feedback’ in my life is positive, 97%, and I laugh when I hear myself say internally, but they’re your friends, of course they’re going to be nice about you! As if it doesn’t count. Somehow they are biased and can’t see me straight. Therefore the critic is the one whose opinion holds more weight. What a distorted reflection!

I have one friend who is utterly glorious in every which way, I could cry when I think of her loving generosity of spirit and kindness and she was recently psychically taken down by a total nutbag (IMO) and I wanted to shake her and cuddle her and fill up right back up to the top with love. How could she possibly let this person make her doubt her own gloriousness….. and then I see myself in her too.

I do get psychically taken down, I do have my inner child believing I am fundamentally bad and difficult and when people realise they will turn their back on me, just like my parents. My Now Self knows I’m a good, loving and conscientious person with all the natural flaws of humanity, but I clearly have some work to do on rewiring that inner child and the first thing I’m going to do is make sure she is listening to the 97% and maybe I’ll get her some ear defenders for that other 3%!

So yes it’s important to contemplate what is being reflected back to us in our lives, where we can grow and learn but it is more important to check if the reflection is clear or distorted by our own trauma or conditioning.

One amazing thing this past year has highlighted is how I am so profoundly grateful to my friends who shine my light for me when I am wandering in the dark. They guide me back home to my true self, flawed and perfect, just like them.

First published on social media on 9th July 2023

When The Drummers Were Women

This book falls in two parts for me. The first is a little disappointment. I found it a bit dry and would have preferred more anecdotal or even mythical stories rather than a catalogue of historical references. Added to that I think the object of highlighting feminine power and spirituality connected to drumming, whilst worthy and valid, felt over inflated when matriarchy was lauded and patriarchy demonised. Off balance, to sum it up.

However, the richness of the topic itself helps to override my critique and having had my own experience playing a frame drum and, without any context or lead in, found myself transported to my ancestral lineage, there is certainly more power in the energy of drumming than solely the creation of simple music.

With the renewed call for sound healings, gong baths and the like, added to my own dive into the possibility of sound and vibration being the uber technology that could have been the core power behind previous advanced civilisations, there is unquestionably a theme energetically.

Connecting to our vibrations and nature’s, whether to influence weather, call a swarm of bees, heal wounds or cut rock, reveals an untapped and unresourced power yearning to be released. I feel society is heading back to reclaiming it all and I’m thankful and excited for that.

And I wouldn’t mind finding my own frame drum along the way…

First published on social media on 22nd May 2023

Ho’oponopono

One of my experiences over my decades of healing and evolving was visiting a spiritual healer recommended by someone I’d crossed paths with. It all feels ages ago and I sadly can’t even remember her name but I do remember her beautiful energy. She offered the kindest heart and I felt so held and seen by her…. Just that was so healing in and of itself. She also introduced me to Ho’oponopono, although it was something she facilitated for me rather than me taking it home as another tool in my belt.

And now this philosophy has found its way back to me in the way these things do, in this little book packed with a jumble of thoughts and ideas. I don’t love the way the book is written, ironically the energy of the writers (there are 3) didn’t really resonate but the power of the shamanic Ho’oponopono principles rise above any jarring text.

Mantras and phrases have really worked for me over the years when rewiring my neuroprogramming, repeating words to replace the negative patterns in my head and quickly creating key words that can switch me from fear to love. Ho’oponopono is just this: ‘I’m sorry, forgive me, thank you, I love you.’

Understanding the intention of each word, apologising for bringing our past experiences into colour the present; forgiving ourselves for these easy and habitual mistakes; grateful for the gifts each of these moments can bring; and love for ourselves, each other and divinity itself. How powerful, how simple, how easy to implement.

With each difficult moment, with each judgement, to repeat the words, to feel the intention, to rewire our brains. This is a possibility for everyone.

First published on social media on 30th April 2023

German New Medicine, GNM

German New Medicine (GNM) was first mentioned to me about 6/7 years ago and it immediately rang a chord. A principle of medicine directly correlating emotional events to our health crises.

I had connected the dots of health and emotions well over twenty years ago when I began healing myself from PCOS and the other linked gynaecological issues, but I had a limited framework that made translation to the lay person a fraught task. Many immediately defensive and rejecting of these associations not wanting to imagine that they have ‘brought on these events themselves’.

So I saved this new name in my head and placed it aside whilst I swam through the swamp of early childhood parenting, with little enough energy to stay awake past kids’ bedtime, let alone dive into the depths of a new healing modality.

But of course, synchronicity, need and the Universe called me back to it all and I’ve just spent the last couple of months reading up on the subject. I have not been disappointed and for sure my family are bored to tears at the repetition of my words with each new conversation with friends! I’m telling everyone who wants to listen!

In a tiny nutshell, each personal emotional conflict (which is different and scaled for each person) can create a primordial defensive reaction in our bodies. This is immediately marked in our brains (verifiably on MRI) and processed in the appropriate space in our body: finger, heart, ovary, ankle etc. Each space representing a different emotional need. Each event an attempt to heal the emotional shock through our physical body. As the healing progresses, the markers in our brain diminish and the body reaction eases but too often we get over involved in the symptom and create that into a concern rather than an understanding of healing.

Of course there is so much nuance and complexity to this process; my words barely do it justice. And it is something that is so important to understand for oneself – healing comes from our own personal autonomy, knowledge and power.

So I am sharing the books here as recommendations as I found it quite tricky to know where to start. Some were more helpful than others.

I would say the best place to start, anecdotal and easy to read and absorb.
A deeper look but still accessible, with more in-depth understanding of certain illness
A great pamphlet explaining the science and biology of it. More technical
This one has lots of fabulous info and also goes into the ancestral lineage of ill health, for more chronic diseases and family emotional patterns
A great dictionary to look up the various diseases and areas of the body and their emotional patterns.
More of a proving of the theories, which has its value especially for those that need facts.

In conclusion, GNM has provided the science to back up my own personal understanding after all these years and I will be fully integrating it into our family as a foundation for fearless and vital health.

First published on social media on 19th April 2023

In The Quiet Moments

Sometimes I cannot bring myself to speak, to verbalise what thoughts and feelings are swirling. Silence seems to keep them under control, to keep them in the depths. If I open my mouth, they may escape and I’m not ready for that to happen.

And what the world sees is me with a smile and a greeting. Maybe I falter at the moment of remembering something significant in your life. I can’t quite pull together the relevant memories and conversations that feed my knowledge. And then I feel ashamed that I have let my feelings overtake my interest in you, that you will think I haven’t listened or paid attention to your life and your needs.

All the while I’ll keep floating through the demands of daily ritual, the cooking, laundry, school runs, errands. All the while I am actually convinced that I have a handle on it all, that I have reasoned all the uncomfortable and painful feelings into the right corners of my brain and body. That I have accepted, processed, owned, released.

And only in the truly quiet moments, this half an hour waiting for my children to finish their activities, where I have stopped with unexpected space and grace. Only then do I realise how much I do not want to speak. How much energy it takes some days to be a responsible, thoughtful, loving human and parent, when I am craving blankets and books and silence.

In my teens and twenties there were times when I would sit in the base of a shower and let the water run on hot for an hour, or I’d curl up in the bottom of a wardrobe with the doors closed and just the fabrics, darkness and silence as my embrace.

Now my children, my life, my choices fill me and fulfil me so that I can believe so many of those pains never even existed. They belong to another lifetime, another journey but sometimes in the quiet moments, I never want to speak again.

First published on social media on 3rd April 2023

Reclaiming My Body

I have been listening to the searingly honest, heart opening & breaking podcast (on Psilocybin) by Honestly Elizabeth and much of her experience resonates for me on so many planes.

One of the things it really crystallised was how much the sexual abuse by my father disassociated me from my body. When I reflect back on later abuses and relationships, I can see clearly how I would so often reach a point of coercion; when someone wanted more from me than I really wanted to give, in both consensual and non consensual situations, I could observe my spirit step back and allow my body to be taken. The subtlety of this is hard to describe and I think in many, if not most, of these scenarios, the man could be forgiven for believing that I had given permission rather than simply acquiescing, which would be more accurate.

My body was a trade, I gave it, it appeased. I think this is why the ‘me too’ movement is so complex. I believe many many women surrender to appease rather than truly give permission but how can someone know that? I cannot blame all the men, certainly there were some at fault, pushy, domineering, scary even, but there were other who were sweet and thoughtful, who simply triggered my neuro-programming to submit, as my father had taught me.

Part of my healing today is to fully reclaim my body as mine, to integrate it as an essential part of my whole. And, as is so often the case when trying to restore balance, a counter weight is required. Now, I need absolute trust, safety and respect before I can consider offering my sacred self. And I also teach my children that sharing their bodies with anyone, when they reach that age and stage of life, is a sharing of spirit and how important it is to be in loving and trusting energy with that person.

Our society devalues sexual intimacy at great cost to our souls and it perpetuates this separation of body and spirit. The current vogue of early sexualisation of children, through media, fashion, wokism et al, is truly horrifying and when measured as a splintering of soul connection can only be classed as abuse.

I only hope that a much needed and aching return to family values blossoms and this part of our lives, as a society, will also be restored to a healthier, happier connection before much more damage is perpetrated against our innocents.

And as I reconnect my splintered parts, may that be mirrored into the world and draw together those elements that need healing and connecting for all of humanity.

First published on social media on 6th February 2023

Contracts

Well it never rains but it pours, especially when the Universe is trying to teach me a lesson. This year has been an intense look at my friendships, where I think things are okay and then have received a stark wake up call to point out things are not quite as I feel.

But today was interesting, a friend who was struggling with me, mentioned something I hadn’t really heard (or listened to?) before. She said I wasn’t vulnerable enough, I was too strong and strident in my opinions, not raw enough.

I feel raw inside. I feel like I absorb the energy of others so much that I am battered and bruised and hauling myself off the floor on a regular basis. But perhaps I don’t show it.

Then this afternoon I remembered a contract I made with myself as a teenager. My mother and I were in a terrible place together, communication was slim and often toxic and I can recall, so clearly, committing to not letting my mother see when I was stung by her words.

‘She will not know how much she hurts me, I will not give her that power over me.’

Has that contract with my mother, over 30 years ago, stayed with me all this time? Has that part that I shut down, the instinctive response of pain expression, been giving people a different impression of me than I feel inside?

I’ve always been fascinated by people whose faces don’t fully portray their emotions, I find myself staring at them, observing the disconnect between word and expression. Am I one of those? I have to confess I’ve often felt the opposite, that I wished my non verbal communication wouldn’t betray me in the way I sense, but maybe that’s all tied up together. And there again maybe I’ve become good at verbalising my feelings after all these years of personal growth and learning, but when I express my sadness with words, I’m still holding back the emotion so no one can read my heart.

Heart to heart….. the very best form of communication and one I pride myself on, but maybe not when I feel the need to protect myself, maybe not when I risk feeling hurt.

I don’t know how easy it is to write a new contract for myself, especially when I haven’t really been aware of its dominance these decades gone. But I guess I’m going to try…..

First published on social media on 9th December 2022

Story Time

We can all make up stories about other people: why they declined our invitation, why they smiled strangely last week, why they stopped a conversation just as we approached.

But how often are they true? Knowing when they are and when they are simply a projection of our own insecurities is a subtle art of intuition, experience and wisdom. Certainly I know if I’m annoyed with someone my stories will, more likely be a manifestation of those feelings I’m trying to deny rather than a clear interpretation of events. However when I am in observation mode, more detached from an engaged emotion, I can often see someone’s true actions as easily as if they had described them to me themselves. Knowing the difference is a skill to master.

This past week I realised someone had been holding a lot of stories about me and spiralling into a bigger and bigger picture, one story feeding the next. Reflecting on that, I was looking back at various scenarios: family, work, landlords, friends and realising how often this happens. One made up projection beginning the cycle of feeding the next until a whole personality perspective has been created that perhaps is light years from the true spirit of the person. And I am as guilty of this as the next person but perhaps at least aware of it.

It also crossed my mind and I wondered, are some people more susceptible than others to become the focus of stories? Do some people attract the projections of others? Or are they pretty evenly spread across the population. Do we all do it to each other, at varying levels, all of the time?

My husband certainly thinks I attract more than my fair share and I’m certainly aware of many that come my way but is that a natural consequence of my personality or something a little broken that needs exploration and perhaps healing or boundaries?

Is there something in my energy that inspires a person to imagine a negative motivation for my actions? Could it be as simple as a RBF (Resting Bitch Face)? I have a neighbour with one of those and I have to confess I imagine that she is pretty miserable and jealous, none of which I know to be true. Or is it deeper? My tendency to err on the side of blunt, curious and straightforward rather than cautionary or diplomatic, does culturally that make me an easy target. British vagueness fail. Am I too transparent with my non verbal reactions that cause others to see my subtle judgments or feelings that perhaps I’m not even conscious of?

Or is it absolutely nothing to do with me and entirely a tendency within the projector? Am I just able to recognise them quite easily and so notice how often they fly past my orbit?

A combination of all perhaps. Certainly I will reflect further on my contribution to these experiences, how much I can limit them or energetically boundary them but also allow each person their own journey, their own stories and know that even if I am the protagonist within their tales, it’s got very little to do with me. I am just a mirror for them to see their own reflection, except when it jars and I recognise myself in the glass too.

First published on social media on 29th November 2022

I Am Difficult

The topics that I write about can vary from parenting, to society, to truth speaking, to relationships, to introspection. How do I decide what theme to address? By whatever is haunting my soul.

My writing is an exorcism, when a thought or experience is lingering within, sounding and repeating around my heat and heart; when it wakes me at three in the morning to ponder and dissect. Sometimes the only way to help myself is to write it down.

So here I am at 4.30am, fretful and agitated, looking at a repeat pattern in my life. If it’s on repeat, I cannot ignore my need to face it head on and acknowledge what is mine.

When I spoke to my mother during a therapy session, a number of years ago, I expressed the feeling that I felt ‘tolerated rather than loved’ and I received a nod and the line, ‘that’s because you’re so difficult’. In a reconciliatory conversation, it arose again, ‘even when you were 8 you were already difficult’. And even more recently, ‘well you just make people uncomfortable’.

This is the message I have taken into my system and that then plays out in various forms within my social dynamics, as all of our programmed patterns do.

This past week has been a perfect example. Two friendships, two conversations, two opposing results, but all that lingers is that message.

For both, I felt something was ‘off’, the vibe wasn’t clean and, with a nod to my inculcation, I presumed I had done something to upset. To both I leave messages offering my willingness to chat and find resolution if there is something I have inadvertently erred on.

From one I receive a beautiful, heartfelt response. They are overwhelmed, struggling, distracted. It wasn’t me, just life. She cries, I cry for her. We hug. All is well. And I am grateful that I took the courage to check – clarity, resolution and reconnection. This is when being ‘difficult’ can work – pushing me to make things right. Except when it doesn’t.

The other friend did not respond to my overtures of reconnection and resolution and here I become fretful – was my message triggering instead of healing? Am I being difficult l? Have I made them uncomfortable? I make my husband listen to it, was there anything I did wrong? Nothing, he says, you’ve said nothing wrong, but you believe that you must have done something wrong. Yes! Because I’m difficult.

What if this other friend is also struggling doesn’t want to share? What if I have pissed them off but they don’t want healing? Where does that leave me? In this repeat pattern, this intrinsic messaging – I don’t know what I’ve done that is so terrible to deserve this disconnect, I only know that it is because I am difficult.

It is bland and generic and all encompassing. Without specifics it is all of me and maybe none of me. My self-protection is to prostrate myself energetically, open my chest and heart and beg to be told. I would prefer to hear the worst of their thoughts than this infernal and eternal not knowing – why am I so difficult?

The power of our patterns, the messages received by parents, teachers, loved-ones that niggle and jiggle and play out over and over again until we stare them in the face and ask – are they true? Am I so difficult? Or perhaps, is it okay to sometimes be difficult? Can I still be loveable and difficult? Because they have seemed so very mutually exclusive until now.

I don’t know that I am ever going to stop reaching out towards reconciliation and connection because when I have those moments, like I did with the first friend this week, it makes the sick and scared feeling all worth while. But I have a lot of work to do on those that don’t want to meet me there, for all their very own acceptable and personal reasons and patterns too. I cannot force others to reassure me that I am not really so difficult; that must come from within.

Goodness, it is a pattern I want to break; and boy, that messaging is super hard-wired. I can be pottering happily along having a lovely day only to hit someone’s energy wall and wonder – did I do that? Bam! Trigger! Messaging! Pattern! Repeat!

So now I will exorcise this pattern and speak it (write it) out loud. Remove the silent shame and shout: ‘I might be difficult and I am still loveable.’

And I’m going to put that on repeat instead.

First published on social media on 2nd October 2022

Tendrils of Abuse

When I was a little girl, before my parents separation and my father leaving home, I would have a repetitive dream. There was a witch living under my bed who had a hole that she would pull me through and force me to be her slave. I would have to cook and clean for her and she would punish me at every opportunity, sometimes that punishment would be sexual. The dream was shameful to me and I never spoke about it but it lived in my being as this disturbing secret.

When I uncovered the memories of my father’s molestation of me, in my mid-twenties, the dream came back to me and suddenly made sense; how my young psyche had been processing what was happening to me in reality, in my dream world.

Having uncovered these events, I emailed my father saying that I had some memories that had been revealed to me and I would like to talk to him about them. I didn’t imply what they would be about and having, in the process of discovering them, also been able to reach forgiveness, my energy was quite clean and open. He didn’t reply but, unbeknownst to me, rang around many members of my family saying I was accusing him of sexual abuse and how crazy I was. None of my family mentioned that to me, it came out months later due to the suicide of my half sister. It was an interesting reaction.

Eventually we spoke and he gave me an implicit confession ‘My mother played with my balls and there’s nothing wrong with that!’ Tendrils of abuse…. From her to him to me….

That was 17 years ago and nearly ten years since he died. And still my family have never spoken to me about it. I know they would prefer to think I am the crazy one, that it didn’t really happen and even if it did, best forgotten.

But as I lay in bed last night, I became observant of my natural sleep position and suddenly realised that I sleep in a formation of protection. Tendrils of abuse. And I came to thinking about all the impacts that experience has made across so many lives.

I know now that some of the childhood fantasy play I created with my friends was a result of this abuse, more ways for my little being to try and make it normal. I know that it hyper sexualised me so that, unconsciously, I attracted wounded male attention, far too young and inappropriately, not least from more of my mother’s partners. I know that it has affected the way I view intimacy with my husband. I know it has made me extra protective of my children. I know that it has made me wiser and more compassionate. I know that the tendrils reach out and affect people in all sorts of ways.

Which is why, after all these years, I feel the need to name it. Secrets like this only hurt. They hurt those who have to hold them; those who’ve been affected by them; those who need to hear their stories aren’t the only ones.

My father was a deeply wounded man, arising from a deeply wounded upbringing and I want to be part of healing those wounds by not holding them shamefully in me. I completely forgive him and my grandmother and whoever came before because they were the traumatised child that couldn’t find their way home. But I also won’t carry their secrets any more.

My experience becomes my strength to carry forward, as I shed the layers and weight of abuse; I am finding my way home.

First published on social media on 27th September 2022