When a predator stalks an animal and the animal gets away, the natural reaction is shaking to release the trauma. That shaking happens when you are ready to remember….
Where am I in judgment of you for remembering the trauma and speaking your truth?
Where am I in judgment of me for sharing the story?
Everything that is times a godzillion will you destroy and uncreate it all?
Right and wrong, good and bad, POD and POC, all 9, shorts, boys and beyonds.®
The first time…
Panting and smelling the stink of stale beer on his breath, he pushes me up against the cold basement wall jabbing his hand in my panties.
“Good girls don’t tell. Good girls don’t tell.”
I leave my body behind…until
I’m suddenly running towards the light, up the basement stairs, pushing on the screen door, feeling in every cell of my beingness I’ve got to get away! Feeling him coming up quickly behind me. Cloaking energy.
I am around 3-years old. Good girls tell the truth. Except I tell and my mouth is washed out with soap.
“Good girls don’t tell.”
When I remember (first of many) and trust my knowing… I hear
“That didn’t happen.”
“You’re making it up.”
My sweet body knows. After ten years of trying I am pregnant two weeks after he died.
My sweet body knows. Holds the memory until I’m ready to remember. Those times when my shoulder and arms lock up…when the cold runs through my back, when the shaking happens for no apparent reason.
My sweet body knows. Once I remember….that memory dissolves, my shoulders never lock up again.
I’ve been in it all week. Triggered. By the storm, by the news.
Waking up in the middle of the night, skin crawling…coming out of my body, jumping when touched…knowing it’s PTSD and working the tools I’ve gathered.
Crying. Shaking. Knowing. Trusting. Journeying. Coming back to center.
When a predator stalks an animal and it gets away,
the natural reaction is shaking to release the trauma.
That shaking happens when you are ready to remember.
Many of us are shaking and quaking.
Shaking off the shackles of doubt.
Shaking off the bullshit that we heard.
Shaking off the trauma.
Sharing the truth.
Enough is enough.
that was never mine.
It was never yours.
A fierce rage is rising in women,
an ancient power that’s within us and around us.
I thought I was alone.
There are so many stories.
Truth is rising.
Protect the children.
Protect the women.
Protect the earth.
Protect the water.
We’ve fucking had enough of the bullshit that created this,
it’s ancient, it’s sticky, it’s murky, deep, dark and dank.
Listen to what’s being shared. Don’t look away. Tell the truth. Use your voice. Sing your soul stories.
Opting-in to be in right relationship with all sentient beings.
Is not to single out one group and make them wrong.
Is not to take the rights of one group to benefit another.
Is not about building walls.
Barriers down. Barriers down. Barriers down.
We are better than this…
What if this is the time to embrace the pain and suffering,
the unconsciousness that created this with love.
We all are part of this choir, let’s tend to each other.
Align with compassion.
Align with vulnerability.
Align with the shaking off.