Guest Blogs

Would You Be Me?

This deeply resonates with me.

Patricia Grace

Exhaustion runs deep, into my core, my blood, bones, every atom of my being. I am tired. Even with enough sleep, I am tired. Winter’s weariness? Failures of self?

“It hard being me,” I lament to a friend, and whisper out-loud to the gods. It is hard being me, and I’m tired of it.

My thoughts tend to believe the worst every time, and that tendency consumes me in winter. Bleakness of soul matches the frigid temps. The havoc of this engulfs me in ways that wreck relationships. Others there willing to love, offering warmth and real caring, are shoved away brusquely. My best feature is turning away from you coldly.

Is that all there is left from childhood? Taking my trust, only coldness remains. I need you to keep away from me. Aloof, yet needy. It is so tiring being me. Dreaming of being someone else consumes me once…

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Guest Blogs

The Price of Abuse

Patricia Grace

photo by Patricia

Price tag? One life.

Thinking back on my life, and looking at it now,  the wonder is how this place was achieved with so much trauma and anxiety ruling each day.  The power of one individual makes me take stock, but with a sense of sadness at what was stolen.

My life is worth admiration. Yet I’m not in it enough to appreciate that fact. There it is beside me as if I’m living that life apart from the real body and being. Retreating to my safe place is where I still go.

Though work occurs now to be present in the moment, it is work. At least now there is awareness that I go elsewhere.

A therapist once said, “Just show up.”

What did that mean? Years later, after the book, and delving into the community of women survivors of childhood sexual abuse blogging on-line, I…

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Guest Blogs

The Quiet Descent to Tender Ground

The healing power of perseverance…

Untangled

Eight years of muscle straining, oxygen deprived, mind exploding, grief-laden work to manage the grip of the skeleton hands of the past.

The rocky terrain and deep crevasses that held the traps of programmed words ready to pull me down into oblivion were navigated at a snail’s pace of impatient mindfulness.

Deafening winds and echoes of the past kept knocking me down, pushing me sideways, making it hard to grip the rope.

After every storm passed
I took the time to rest in the snow caves of acceptance.

So many times, wanting to give up, give in to the beast of symptoms.
But trusting, knowing, that my Sherpa would guide me through the sharpest peaks and deepest valleys.

Summiting many times, thinking there were no more hidden mountains.
Then catching glimpse of the last, gnarly climb looming just around the bend.

Everything inside me screams, “No, leave it!”
I intuitively…

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Guest Blogs

GROWTH

Patricia Grace

Living a reclusive life doesn’t mean no opportunity for growth. No matter how I hide it comes knocking, and knocking me down. Those closest offer the greatest opportunity at overcoming long standing behaviors that keep me from my best self.

Instead of pouting, turning off and away with coldness from loved ones who hurt me, the pain and tears come. And come some more. Old wounds not healed, (can they ever be?) are easily made to open causing today’s hurt to compound into pain that doubles me over.

So this is healing. Tears, pain, then more of both. The damage done was that much.

And after the tears, though more leak out over time, there is a lightness and forgiveness for those whose insensitivities caused so much pain. Pain that did not match the circumstances. Pain that went much deeper.

Why does this affect me so? Going there, opening the…

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Guest Blogs

Those Days

This poem deeply resonated with me.

Untangled

Those days
when
you know you are
okay
but you don’t feel
okay

those are the hardest
days
to navigate.

Nothing is wrong
but
everything feels
overwhelming
exhausting
scary
unsettled.

Those days
are the hardest
to just breathe.

Just be…
Just be what?
calm?
relaxed?
grounded?
trusting?

How in the present moment
when there is nothing wrong
can
I exist in a state
of uncomfortable
wobbliness?

Because those days happen!

Because that is the nature of my PTSD.
©Alexis Rose, Photo by Duangphorn Wiriya on Unsplash

Thank you for reading my books:  If I Could Tell You How It Feels,  and  Untangled, A Story of Resilience, Courage, and Triumph

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Guest Blogs

Book review: I Walk With a Limp

An in-depth review of my new book from a wonderful mental health blogger. Please follow her blog to experience her insight and wisdom – shared from the heart of one who knows the challenges many of us face on our journeys toward healing.

Mental Health @ Home

Book cover: I walk with a limpI Walk With a Limp: My Personal Journey as a Trauma Survivor by Barbara A. Lawrence describes the impact of the physical, sexual, verbal, and psychological abuse she first experienced as a child at the hands of her family.  She writes about the PTSD she developed as a result, along with a myriad of other issues including alcoholism and bulimia.

The book is divided into four sections: backstory, living with PTSD, breaking the silence, and a journey of healing.  It’s a mixture of narrative and poetry, and also contains pictures from her childhood.  Warnings are given at the beginning of chapters in which material may be triggering to readers.

The author sets the scene well, including small details that help the reader to create a strong visual image.  While the psychological impact of the horrific physical and sexual abuse she describes might be the most obvious, she also writes about…

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Guest Blogs

why heal?

The Wisdom of Tears

159.why heal

When we want to give up on something, we hopefully weigh our options. We ask ourselves why we want to give up, and what would the cost and benefit be if we gave up. 

“Why live?” is a familiar question to this blog, so I wanted to think on the question of “Why heal?” Why go to therapy? Why read these books and articles about my ailments? Why try being healthy? Why take time to think of things that hurt so much to even recall, and had so little justice or affirmation?

I always told myself that I do these things because I don’t want to end up like my parents, whose refusal to heal turned them into the horribly broken and abusive people I know them to be. I would also remember how I want to be a wife (and maybe a mother) someday; a woman who’s…

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