Happy Friday?

The power of community, communication and broken pieces

Today did not get off to a good start.

So many hideously crippling parts of me were activated. It was like taking the class register at The School of Anxiety.

The part of me that feels unheard and abandoned has shown up like an unwanted guest at a Christmas party because my vulnerable emails to my daughter’s school – asking for support – have gone unacknowledged.

The part of me that fears exclusion, who believes that everyone else is having a wonderful time and can’t see how much I’m struggling, how alone I feel has rocked up like a bad smell from a blocked drain because I allowed myself to step into victim mode, to fully buy into the idea that I’m the only one with problems.

The part of me that believes I can’t trust or depend on others was accidentally added to the group chat because a vulnerable reply I gave to an out of the blue message from a friend asking, “Are you doing ok?” has not been responded to.

Let me tell you, these parts of me make a heady concoction of despair when they get together. It was excruciating and exhausting trying to contend with them all and so I did something brave

This picture was taken by me at my daughters birthday a few years ago

I fought against my natural instinct of shrinking and – let’s just say it – skulking around in victim mode. I chose to ignore the inner dialogue, that winey voice that barked warnings to ‘keep quiet’, issuing demands that ‘nobody cares, they don’t want to hear it’

And

I

Spoke

Out

I spoke all the truth I had in my heart to a glorious online community I am blessed to be part of, knowing that there were a handful of women who would silently hold my hand in understanding without judgement. They welcomed me, beckoned me with arms wide open into a place of safety and moved all expectations, like furniture, so I had space to pour it all out. The frustration, pain, fear and despair that had threatened to drown me brimmed over and spilt out. Tides of emotion roared and ripped from me again and again whilst they listened with laser focus – they heard it all and in doing so they reflected back the courage of my actions to reach out and speak the language of truth.

And then it was gone, the storm that raged inside me, that nearly had me sunk and we all remained in a virtual circle, hands entwined. We’d weathered it together and they had held me fast. Silence. They waited as something slowly dawned on me, an extraordinary insight. I had laid a trap for my well-meaning friend who asked if I was doing ok.

You see, I was full of hurt that we weren’t in contact. I felt let down that my communication was not reciprocated and I was angry that I could be going through so much and the ribbons of our relationship were frayed. So, it was very much a case of she asked so I told her, in no uncertain terms that I wasn’t doing ok. It was a desperate plea - I’m not ok, please help me. Please show me you care and I was right to trust my heart with you. After all, a lot of my pain was for my daughter – her Godmother – there’s an expectation isn’t there, for her to play a role?

Ah, that word – expectation – heavy, cold, cunning.

And there the die was cast. She didn’t respond so how could I trust her? I’ve been abandoned; she’s failed. Failed as a friend, failed as a Godmother. Sounds harsh, doesn’t it?

I had let the unreasonable part of me (let’s call her Una) loose, she took full control in her desperate attempt to protect me. Our conversation relaying back and forth.

Me: She might not have seen the message yet

Una: And why not? She sent you the message, it’s only polite that she wait and expect a response – why hasn’t she checked?

Me: Well, is it possible that she glanced at the message and is dealing with a lot so just hasn’t had the opportunity?

Una: Rubbish! If she’s even cast her eye over that message you sent and read how vulnerable you are, she should have responded with something. No, I’m sorry Sarah she just doesn’t care, you’re not important to her anymore.

Me: I’ve not been a good friend to her. I stopped going out and started turning down invitations. She’s given up on me.

Una: Exactly, she should have realised there was something wrong way back then!

In the moment after my storm, I dropped the expectations like boulders I had been trying to hold onto whilst treading water. I don’t know who’s right, Me or Una or neither of us. And actually, if Una is right, what can I do other than accept it.

Ah, that word – acceptance. A cease fire, weapons down. There is no fight to be had here and the peace of the stillness that acceptance had brought, the phone rang…

My daughter’s school, in response to a desperate email, my last ditched attempt to be open and paint a picture of my daughter’s autistic life and constant struggle to be in a school environment, of our life as her family trying to scaffold her with arms once dependable and strong but now fatigued and failing.

I wept, I wailed (I really did) and through my anguish my truth arose. I soke out exactly what I needed, we needed.

Me – Sarah – spoke my needs without hesitation, no guilt, no fear of rebuttal. I emptied all the broken pieces of me out for all to see. I placed them in front of the SEND assistant that had the misfortune of ringing me, I laid them out like a jigsaw on a table and here I am now, starting to put myself back together.

Today I broke.

Photo by Stephen Irwin on Unsplash

Today I shattered into a thousand pieces the patterning of my heritage, the belief from my upbringing that if I spoke out – told the truth – nobody would listen, it would backfire and I would be banished, branded a villain, a bad egg.

I am about to cross a threshold to transformation and I need to allow those old beliefs to die.

Staying quiet - not speaking the language of my heart – that well-worn practice must be released because Goddess knows it no longer serves me.

My own healing lies in the ability to communicate fully and truthfully.

The pain that I feel now, all the areas of my life that cause me discomfort and sadness can be healed by mu refusal to keep quiet. Closed mouths don’t get fed.

Communication, honest communication is the key to my healing. Through this I can make my hearts desires known to others so that they might have the learning opportunity to do the same.

So even though I feel cast aside

even though I feel unsafe

even though I feel unsupported

I know that I can access the power within me to be my own source of safety and support

I will not be ignored

I am a warrior

And today, I have allowed myself to break so that my old patterns of belief might be shattered, my truth might lead to my healing and I may be reborn.

I have woken my shakti energy and as she uncoils from her slumber, she undulates and weaves her power through me.

My focus word for December is TRUTH.

If any I have written about here has sparked something in you or has echoed a chime of resonance deep within, let’s connect. Together let’s build a community of powerful beings that shine a light of support and safety.