The Loving Presence of God Helps Mend Our Wounds

Spirituality in Nature

Many times when we think about traumas and mental health, we think about the need for individuals to improve their own self-worth. Self-worth is a large part of we overcome shame and guilt and begin to find a feeling of wanting to belong. Guilt is the idea that we have done something bad, while shame is the idea that we’re inherently bad. Although, shame and guilt are just as powerful as one another shame is usually the destructive part of us that believes we can do longer change or do better. Everyone at some point in their lives experiences shame. When I was working with alcoholics at the rehabilitation center, the majority of them felt shame for what they had done and believed that they could not change. People who are LGBTQ experience a form of shame for the way they were born and never learn to fully believe in themselves. Many times people deal with shame by overeating, withdrawing, exhibiting compulsive behavior and more. These are all unhealthy coping mechanisms people pick up because shame directly impacts our personal self-esteem.

Brene Brown says, “If we want to live fully, without the constant fear of not being enough, we have to own our story.”

There are many times we feel inadequate and like we will never be enough and it is in those feelings we begin to act out those exact feelings. The message we say to ourselves is, “I am not worthy.” Because of what happened to me as a child, sometimes I feel like I will never be worthy of love. However, there is one guiding principle that diversifies us from our shame. That diversification is a fire in the soul. What is a fire in the soul? That is the loving presence of something larger than us.

In Elizabeth Smart’s autobiography, “My Story,” she walked through her tragic story of kidnapping, rape, slavery and horrendous abuse. Every ounce of her self-worth and self-esteem was stripped by Brian David Mitchell. Although, there were plenty of times she thought of planning her escape and dreaded the idea of living out the rest of her days as his wife. There was not a single point were Elizabeth Smart thought of taking her own life. Seeing those words written in her book made chills run down my back. How could you go through something so terrible and wicked and not want to die?

 

Elizabeth Smart had something that I believe is an essential part of healing and recovery for all victims of mental illness. She had an undying love for a higher power. I believe that there is something that happens to us as humans when we hold on to the concept of our soul, to the concept of something larger than us.

With spirituality, we are able to connect to a wholeness that is lost without it. The idea that God is inside each and every one of us is not just a Christian fallacy. I believe in order to self-actualize, there needs to be a connection to a creative force or energy that completes who we are. Many times, mental illness can be the consequence of what I consider to be a spiritual crisis. I believe my diversity is in the fact, that I am a strong believer in all religions, spiritual groups, and practices. I have practiced Wicca, shamanism, Buddhism, Hinduism and Christianity.

I take and pull from each of the disciplines and create a spiritual template that aligns with my soul. Indeed, that creates an everlasting flame that will never blow out. Cultivating a resilient spirit is dependent on finding wholeness within ourselves and overcoming shame.

I believe one of the best ways to heal shame is to find forgiveness and healing with your higher self. Religious diversity, no matter what it is, will be a core component of my counseling methodologies.

 

Never Give Up Hope

 

How Saving Our Inner Child Can be the First Step to Healing

I remember the day I fully became human, on that day,  I realized I was no longer a child. For, being a child is unlike being an adult in every way. I think it was a slow progression really; the day I stopped being a child. However, it wasn’t really something I ever noticed. It was comparably like hair that grows. Every 3 to 6 months, my childhood would  slowly escape me but I couldn’t feel it. And everyday went on like the same day just in different ways.

Can you really lose childhood like a jewel lost in the night? All those long childhood afternoons spent in wondrous splendor vanished so completely – and why?Photo on 3-19-16 at 12.13 PM

The truth is we never stop being children, for it is the innocent child in us that is an authentic representation of who we really are. To lose yourself, in its entirety, is to stop loving the child within and to compromise valuable parts of who we are for the intrinsic desire to belong. Living from a place of worthiness and compassion is being in touch with the child that once stared at the sky in wonder and awe. That crouched barefoot in the mud and dug up worms and millipedes asking the simple questions over and over again: what can this be? Youth is not a sliver of time that is compounded into our physical beings, yet it feels that way. The world tells you to grow up and get a job, to work hard like your parents and to make it in the American dream. While little by little you face the saddening consequences of forgetting you were born a child, you are a child and you will always remain a child. We try to mask our hearts like they cannot tell we love them and all the while we’re compromising, everyday, who we are. It is this slow forgetful process that causes us to feel pain, to hate and to create vengeance and anger in this world. It is why we become open wounds waiting and hoping for someone to love us again. And through each new wound that emerges we hide away- we numb, we eat and we try to forget the slow blood thinning pain.

As we get older, unfortunately, every time we’re in touch with the experience of suffering, we unconsciously believe we can’t bear it, and we stuff our feelings and memories deep down into the crevasses of our mind. All the while, your heart and your inner child is pleading and begging you for the attention it deserves: “Hey! she yells, ‘pay attention to me.’ We believe that forgetting the child who was once full of energy and playful spirit will stop the pain of our self-compromise.

It’s time to evolve! It’s time to grow up. I am too busy to take care of this… All the while, the inner child is crying for attention and we continue to run away because we’re scarred of our own suffering.

Slowly we cannot feel and we can hardly see and feel compassion for others, but our inner child is in us and she is saying you need me and I need you. However, it is by rescuing the child within us that we begin to live again. It is by finally seeing and acknowledging our childhood wounds and our own self-compromise that we’re inspired to live more in-tune, authentic lives. By reaching out an acknowledging the hurt inner child, not only do we save ourselves, but we save our relationships, our experiences and friendships.

Queen Of The Nile

Queen of the Nile

The Queen Of The Nile

Face round and black as the cat loitering in the ally 
Eyes as dark as the deepening sea
Unscrupulously freezing the mind of the fates eyes
Ferocious and Mighty
Lioness engulfing the skinless body
Puncturing the thick bleeding muscle of its heart
Curse the haunting drum of the jungle’s beat 

Crying out-loud to her pets in the deepening trenches of the wicked forest, The Queen, barks:

“En-thrown the immortal symmetry of my pride stalked sanctification,
Dub my golden-speckled impishness as righteously entrenched with the battering of your vex-less momentary permanence

Maggots and Worms

Spineless you crawl like serpents in the warm, thick and melting juices of my carnivorous canal
I drop stale bread crumbs stained with the forests succubus for you to squander and your flea-pined brains think that I bring you a loaf molded by the iron-working hands of the gods
Bountiful and soft
Blind-less faith has made you tender like the petals that are stained red from the life-less asphyxiated corpses of your fathers
Like sightless un-encased moles searching for the tit of your mother’s breast
Living underneath my unpolished arm pits you dig in the enchanting darkness senseless and comically dying believing you are actually living.

Now chant the wakening song that you have sung for centuries as you walk shackled and manufactured waiting for a flight that will never departure
Thinking your white superiority and your horse-laden chariots were better than the men who lived by the edges of the seas and the center of the waters trails
Who cared for and tended to the land
Who saw warlords hung as monuments on Mesopotamian Isles and warriors were proud to call men
An age where fertility and agility was the jewel in which you sought and the women were the queens of the vast and toppling lands, whose minds and bodies stretched to the peaks of the highest mountains.

But because you have enslaved me
You have poisoned my blood stream
Broken my chastity and expunged my fluidity
Because you have tied your children, both men and women, with the iron chains of selfishness
Your days will be barren, industrial and solemn

And you will chew on my bread-crumbs like the dumb-witted beasts you are and spit will fall from the encrusted crevice of your mouth loosely hanging off the tip of your tilted flesh

Brain-dead and worthless.”

Queen of the
River
Wind
Land
And
Sea

A punishable curse cast before men of all ages
Dawning the empire of soundless pulses
Darkness falls
and black tidings encompass me