#metoo – Soul Reflection

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

Radiant Glory

I am struggling with the continued dialogue around the toxic masculine predator. Whilst I agree that consent needs to be clear (though hopefully without killing every last vestige of romance and spontaneity), I believe there is a place for female accountability too.

I have stood as a disempowered woman who has said ‘No’, provided the body language of discomfort and rigidity and not been heard or respected. I have had a man’s hand at my throat for not fulfilling his needs; I have said ‘no more’ to the boyfriend I was leaving but he still took more; I have walked away from too many situations feeling unclean, unhappy and abused. And I have had a part to play in that dynamic occurring.

Yes there are the rare but horrifying psychopaths whose terror we would have no control over, but so many of the ‘me too’ stories are women asking for men to define the scenario, to be respectful, healthy, wholesome no matter what they are confronted with. We are again giving away our power by asking them to be solely responsible for holding women safely.

We are asking for men to be brought up to respect women, to do things differently, but why aren’t we asking for women to make this change too? In every relationship dynamic, we can never expect our opposite to make the change, we have to create the change for ourselves and perhaps they might follow our shining example!

Why have we been meeting film directors in their hotel rooms, instead of insisting on a space we are comfortable with? Why do we choose to drink away our inhibitions at frat parties? Why did I stay in the room when I ended a relationship, after I had said ‘no’ to one more time? Why did I not get up at leave, why did I not set my boundaries clearly, why did I not honour and respect myself enough to do what I needed to keep me safe?

We are asking men to respect us, but do we respect ourselves? When do we say ‘No’ with clarity, strength and follow through. I’m not talking about the ‘life in danger’ scenarios, I’m talking about the every day abuses that I hear women happy to rage about but refuse to take accountability for. Yes men have their work to do, but so do women. Should a man take advantage of a inebriated woman, absolutely not. Should a women be inebriated in a circle of people she is not safe with? Are we treating ourselves with respect as we stumble and slur? Are we treating ourselves with respect when we stay with a misogynist boss for the sake of our career? I can hear the thousands of excuses being hurled at me as I write this, the shunning of blame straight back to the men, the justifications for staying when your body was screaming to leave, the fears. I hear them all, I acknowledge them all, I honour them all AND still there is space to take back our power for ourselves, not from men but from the ether where we left it. We don’t need to lord over the masculine, we simply need to claim back the feminine in all its powerful and radiant glory.

Robert Moore lectured to the effect that the uninitiated man becomes an unwise aggressor and the uninitiated woman a victim.

Initiation (the supported process of shifting the psyche from child to adult) helped me find my strength, my clarity, my respect and my ‘No’. Not since my initiation have I encountered these myriad dynamics of abuse that I previously encountered daily, because my energy and perspective has shifted so significantly. It is in my power to deign to let myself become victim or instead to hold compassion for those who act out their wounds and place my boundaries firmly between us.

I will endeavour to raise my son to be a man of self respect and my daughter to be a woman of self respect. I know that if I achieve these aims, they will mirror that respect out into the world through their actions, words and deeds. That is also the choice I make for myself.

I stand in my power and say and act ‘No’ when I need. That is enough.

Maverick

This week I watched ‘The Darkest Hour’ with Gary Oldman playing Winston Churchill. One of the core pieces that I loved within this film was how clear it was that Churchill was an emotionally messy individual; by all accounts an alcoholic, perhaps without financial savvy, fractious, demanding AND alongside this a brilliant mind, a wordsmith, family man, and the one who determined to save Great Britain from Adolf Hitler.

He was a maverick: ‘an unorthodox or independent-minded person’

When my brothers and I had to decide which three words we would have on my father’s gravestone, I pushed for Maverick. I can’t even remember now what the other two words are but I knew I wanted a word to honour his fuck-ups and his genius all at once. That is who he was to me.

What I saw from the film was that it took the character of a Maverick to save us from invasion, it took that single minded belief, that ability to walk against the tide, and a little bit of ‘crazy’. I watched the film and I saw my father.

My father did terrible things, he sexually molested me, he paid little attention to the emotional needs of his children, he was frightening in his temper. And he did wonderful things too. He transformed people’s lives both through his psychiatry practice and his generosity in bringing in to his home those in need, including the homeless. He invented psychometric computer programs that are still used globally today (he just forgot to patent them!). His mind was brilliant and broken.

I was not really able to see my father this way until after he died, until then our relationship was just too painful. In watching ‘The Darkest Hour’, I was reminded how important Mavericks are in the world and how an individual can be two parts simultaneously – dark and light.

There is a cleansing going on in our western society right now, where anyone who has ever faltered, made a mistake, royally fucked up or, worst case, been severely abusive is being silenced and shut down. I’ve seen on social media something to the effect of: ‘it doesn’t matter what good they have done, abusive behaviour wipes all of that away’. Does it? Should it?

I just don’t know if life is this back and white, that right and wrong is so clear cut. What if someone can have blurred and damaging boundaries and also create magic in the world? My relationship with my mother is super toxic but she is also a wonderful friend to others. I worked with Jamie Oliver once upon a time and I personally found him difficult (others found him inspiring) but I also hugely respect his drive to change the health of our children through food. My experience of someone can be diametrically opposite to someone else’s. I can also dislike one aspect of someone and appreciate another. One person can experience abuse another healing at the hands of the same person. So how does this tally? How do we bring abusers or fault makers to justice without cleansing our society of the inspiration and necessary change that they sometimes bring?

It makes me wonder how Einstein, Marie Curie, Van Gogh, Michael Angelo, Mother Theresa, Alexander Fleming, Emmeline Pankhurst, Jesus or Mary Magdalene would fair on social media today? Would we celebrate their achievements or chastise them for their failings?

How I reached this place with my father, of being able to respect his achievements whilst not accepting his abuse, was through conversation. Before he died we spoke about my accusation of molestation, he said his mother had done the same to him and there wasn’t anything wrong with that. It wasn’t an apology, it wasn’t really even an admission; soulfully, he still had a long way to go before being accountable to his actions. Yet from that conversation I could understand that he had been taught as a child that this behaviour was ok, that to look at it from my perspective (and indeed much of society’s) was something quite unfathomable to his psyche. He was acting from trauma. I have compassion for that.

And before I am shouted down from the rooftops, yes I still believe abuse must be called to account and appropriately dealt with. But that is the extreme end of our current cleansing and there are multiple shades of grey in between for all the characters and individuals of the world.

I am a flawed and loving person, which part do you see?

Victim Complex

When I was 22, I was operated on to remove a large ovarian cyst. Keyhole surgery and back home that afternoon was the suggestion; instead I nearly died.

The operation did not go as planned and I had to have four blood transfusions to replace my significant loss. I was a week in hospital and it was several months before I felt my strength return on so many levels.

During my recovery at home (if memory serves, just a few days back from hospital), I became upset when my mother left me alone in the shower to answer the phone. I couldn’t lift my right leg more than a few centimetres off the ground and I felt trapped within the high bath sides. My mother returned to find me in floods of tears. She sighed and told me that I was getting a ‘victim complex’.

What I really had was PTSD.

My mother’s family and background is one of army and boarding school, so I fully understand that she had been raised to have that stiff, British, upper lip and empathy was not a trait much nurtured, but wow those few words smacked me hard.

They spun around my head for years and years trying to tally with the way I had felt post that operation (and all the others shifts that had been made because of it – change of job, country and relationship). I believed my mother. I believed I was not handling my trauma ‘well enough’.

What I also noticed over those years was how invested I was in telling the story of my operation. It felt like such an enormous part of who I was; I would drunkenly insist on revealing my physical scars to all those that listened; it became an excuse for all my failings – weight, relationships, jobs. Most telling of all, I could barely recount the full story without feeling like collapsing into unending tears.

It was only when I began to explore the world of healing that I started to empathise with that younger self and the overwhelm I had been dealing with. I realised that without the right tools and support I had been left with two choices, the stiff upper lip of denial or the Groundhog Day story that defined me completely.

But there is a space in between denial and holding on to the story, neither of which serve, and that place is one of healing. That delicate place of acceptance – something happened to me and I was a victim without becoming victim to that trauma. I think that nuance is key to addressing how trauma can be honoured and processed and also crucial to moving beyond the potential to remain fixed in a story that can inhibit growth and vitality.

That space is one of liberation and is the right of everyone and it is a space that needs to be consciously chosen and strived for. It is a doorway that requires effort and application to open. It is not easy nor is it meant to be.

As Scott Stabile’s quote says ‘…I could survive it. It wasn’t comfortable, but it didn’t destroy me.’