Alexis Rose's Blog, page 11

Monday Mantra

Your inner beauty, your strengths

and your talent

Far outweigh any deficits

you may have.

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©words/photo: Alexis Rose

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

The Quiet Descent to Tender Ground

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 understood that climbing all but that last steep incline would leave me stuck, and breathless. Allowing space for the blinders to slowly creep back into place.

I push through. One last climb to release the locked, cold grip of the past.

Then quietly, I make a gentle descent.

The thick, foreboding, dangerously tricky mountain range emerging steadfastly behind me.

Scar tissue replaces open wounds.

I work to try and accept my abilities in the wake of my past.

A sense of accomplishment for not giving in to the siren call of hopelessness fills my fragile, resiliently strong whole self.

Committed to finishing that arduous climb and having trust in a committed therapist gave way to a quiet, gentle descent.

With calloused feet on the tender ground

I exhale gratitude every day.

Today, with the mountain range in the distance

I continue to heal on flat land with a warrior tiger as my teacher.

The quiet descent to tender ground holds fast and strong with truth,

with acceptance, and unwavering commitment to living in the light even on the darkest days.

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

©words and photo: Alexis Rose

Hello and Welcome

Wishes and Dreams

Gratitude and Peace

Hope and Faith

Trust

Self-acceptance with compassion

Letting go with confidence

Finding the beauty in

Full moons

and

Crunchy leaves

That’s both

the Justice and the Restitution

Hello and Welcome

to the next 365 days

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©Alexis Rose, Photo by Brooke Lark 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

So I was at a coffee shop the other day…

Last Sunday morning, I arrived early to meet a friend at a quiet suburban coffee shop. As I stepped inside, I stood face-to-face with a large man standing there with a pistol strapped to his belt in plain sight. Besides the workers, he and I were the only ones in the shop at that moment.

The way he was wearing his shirt he was obviously trying to show off his weapon. He had on a button down shirt that could easily cover both sides of his belt. One side was down, the other side was tucked precariously so his gun was showing in plain sight.

Two things struck me right away. The first was, why is this man standing here at 8:30 am with a gun hanging off his belt, and two, is he going to shoot us?  I have seen plenty of plainclothes police officers with their department-issued weapons and badges on their belts in plain sight, and my instincts told me this person is not an officer.

We live in a conceal and carry state. I don’t personally know anyone who walks around with a gun, so I’m not sure what that looks like, nor do I know the laws, but I was sure concealed meant out of sight. But to be honest with you, I’m not positive what the word “conceal” means when it comes to having a gun in public.

I am very triggered by guns. I have gun violence in my past and the mere sight of them causes me to experience increased anxiety and fear. I stood there frozen for a few seconds, and locked eyes with the guy then scanned the exits. I also noticed the workers were all laughing, singing, talking and relaxed. Just a group of young people working their shift and bonding with each other. I was confused and stood rooted in place until he sat down in the corner by the window.

Because I look at the world through a trauma-related lens, I sometimes need to know what is socially acceptable behavior and what is just extreme distrust in strangers. I honestly didn’t know what to do. In my mind, this person was either a bad-guy and we were all about to get shot, or I was going to ask him if he was a cop and that’s why his weapon was showing.

Intuitively, I thought there could be other possibilities and before I confronted this stranger with a gun, I texted a friend who often suggests other ways for me to look at things (probably the way most people look at social situations) and has saved me a lot of embarrassment throughout the years.  I asked him why a person would be sitting here with a pistol hanging off his belt. He told me to be aware, but most likely it’s just some guy who wants to prove that he can carry a gun. When my friend arrived she looked over at him and made the same determination.

It never occurred to me that I suggest to my friend that we go to another coffee shop because I felt uncomfortable sitting in the same place as this person who was openly carrying a gun. The point is, it didn’t matter why he was there or why he choose to have his weapon out in the open. He has the right to carry it, and he was exercising that right. This is not about him or his right to carry a gun. This is about me, and my feelings of internal safety.

I used to put myself in unsafe situations because I knew how to navigate the behavior around certain kinds of people. I stopped doing that a long, long time ago. I have learned the difference between perceived safety and real safety.  But when I came face-to-face with that guy a few days ago, I immediately got triggered into old patterns of fight/flight/freeze and responded by staying in a place where I didn’t feel safe.

This has all been very interesting to me. I now have it firmly ingrained my mind that I have the right to leave any situation where I don’t feel safe. That is not unreasonable and I don’t have to justify it to anyone. I feel like this was an important lesson for me to learn, and I definitely learned it.

Some people may not have even noticed or cared that this person had a pistol hanging off his belt. I did, but that’s just me. I wonder, What would you do in the same situation?

 

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

 

 

Wisdom reminded me too…

Breathe in

Breathe out

Surrender and release

Illness led me to rest

But I forgot to breathe

Triggers led me to

grounding techniques

But I forgot to exhale

Life situations led me

to worry

take action

then anxiously wait

resulting in exhaustion

Wisdom reminded me

Just Breathe

Just Be

Then I

breathed in

breathed out

surrendered and released

[image error]©Alexis Rose, image source: Pexels.com

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

The Woman Sitting in the Dark

Who is that woman sitting in the dark?



A mom, wife, friend

She is a survivor.

A reader, writer, hiker, dreamer

She is struggling.

A hopeful, helpful, optimistic. compassionate light

She is too weary to turn on the lights

or care about the monsters in her dreams.

A woman who works tirelessly to embrace her life

live in the truth, recognize joy. 

Where did she go? 

That’s her, over there, sitting in the dark.

Waiting…just waiting for the light of dawn.

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

image source: Pixabay

“Wow, I had No idea!”

I spent a lovely evening with a couple of friends who I see, maybe, once every 5 or 6 months. The last time the three of us got together was the beginning of August. Our lives are very different, our day-to-day support system is separate, and we don’t stay in touch unless one of us sends out an email suggesting we gather for dinner and a chat.

Because hadn’t seen each other for so long we spent the first two hours just catching up on what’s been happening. There has been illness, surgery’s, births, deaths, sold homes, new homes, and some other big life events to catch up on. Even though we are all probably FB friends, none of us really use social media for anything to except post occasional pictures of our families.

As we were catching up, there was a lot of exclamations of:

Wow, I had No idea!

I have written about friendship in the past. It’s a very interesting topic to me. The past few days, as I’ve been reflecting on the tumultuous year I’ve had, and the year of transition and change for many people I know, I found myself again re-visiting the topic.

When I think of friendships, I ponder four questions: What is friendship? How do friendships endure? What’s the difference between an acquaintance and a friend? And how much do we need to protect our hearts from the risks of true friendship?

The last ten years as I have been healing, growing, and changing, I have had to ponder the question of friendship more than once. Sometimes, I was trying to discern who was no longer healthy for me. I can be attracted to people who feed my tendency to be taken advantage of, or who belittle me. I know how to deal with that because of the way I grew up, so I’ve had to learn to catch myself when falling into that kind of relationship.  Other times, I was un-friended by those couldn’t deal with the fact that I was suffering from PTSD. They just couldn’t handle it.

When those relationships ended I felt a sense of loss, but I also knew the decision was a healthy one. I don’t do a lot of blaming on either side, because I understand that these things sometimes happen.

When I really love someone as a friend and we become part of each other’s inner-circle, I do not protect my heart. I believe if  I feel I have to protect my heart, that means I’m not giving freely of myself. When I commit to a friendship, I share my thoughts, hopes, desires, and (most) secrets without reservation. My friendships are based on honesty. My friends and I know the difference between telling each other what we need to hear rather than saying what we want to hear.

I also believe that a healthy friendship is symmetrical. In other words, both parties are equally committed to the relationship. I’m committed to supporting and encouraging my friends and being there as they grow and change. I’m committed to seeing them through the minutiae of life. And hopefully, I can do that without judgment. The symmetry is, I know my friends will do the same for me. That doesn’t mean that there are times when people need time, and space because of life circumstances, ill health, or whatever life happens to bring, but the underlying commitment is never wavering, no matter how much time or distance passes between us.

My circle of friends is small, which I love. I thrive on more intimate relationships with a deep emotional connection.  I may not see one friend for years, some I see once a month, some weekly, some I communicate via text several times a week. It doesn’t matter how often we see each other, as we have unbreakable loyalty and complete trust in each other.

There are some people in my lives who are more like acquaintances rather than friends. These are people that I sometimes meet for a meal or activities. They may be a constant person in my life, but I keep them at arm’s length. My conversation may be little more than scratching the surface, the idea of sharing something intensely personal causes me some anxiety, and I typically never bring up the fact that I struggle with PTSD.

Even though I know these people are going to be in and out of my life, they are still just as precious to me. Besides just hanging out and having fun, they have taught me quite a few lessons along the way. My acquaintances tend to look and react to the world through a different lens. I like that, it’s interesting.

As I pondered the way I interacted with people in the past, I would say, I behaved more like an acquaintance than a friend. I shut myself off from showing any feeling and wouldn’t let anyone get close to me. I was always the smiling, tell me anything, kind of friend who had no needs, just let me be there for You.  I have learned to show my vulnerability, and have learned to set healthy boundaries most of the time.

I’m going to gather with another group of acquaintances this evening. Some of these people I haven’t seen or talked to in over a year. That’s okay, it will be a pleasant evening with engaging conversation, and most probably a lot of exclaiming, “Wow, I had no idea!”

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

 

 

 

 

Too Much On My Plate

A large (un)balanced platter filled with

stress

worry

money

kids

work

health

sick family

sick animal

doctors

lawyers

triggers

car(s) repairs

creating healthy boundaries

navigating PTSD symptoms

holidays

an unrelenting month-long illness

This plate just crashed

I think I’ll reach for a new and balanced smaller plate

[image error]©Alexis Rose, Image source: Google Images from source

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

 

The Waves

Surfing the waves…

I feel thankful, I feel happy, I feel stunned.

I feel tired, I feel confused, I feel scared and sometimes terrified.

I feel sick.

I feel a sense of peace and connectedness to the world around me.

I feel hope, I feel calm.

I feel numb.

I’m full of anxiety, fear, doubt, distrust, restlessness.

I am up, I am down, I am happy and I am sad.

I feel fear, I feel safe. 

I feel content.

Emotions; We all have them, and they come and go like waves. Some of them are little sets of gentle ripples and some are as intense as a tsunami. Waves come, and waves go, each breaking on the shore of our mind and bodies, each is time-limited. 

I have learned to sit with the emotion, to understand that even the most intense feelings will soon ebb. Even though it sometimes feels like they take up all the space, I know that if I remember to breathe and sit for a moment that it will pass.

When I feel the intense emotions begin to rise, there are times I try for control. I want to balance perfectly and ride them to the shore with ease. But the reality of life is that even the most eloquent and prophetic surfer wipes out. It’s okay. Another set of emotional waves will come soon enough.  Sometimes gentle, sometimes stormy, sometimes so small they are barely noticeable. That’s normal, natural, human nature. 

I feel grateful.

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image source: Pixabay

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

Reflections From My Inner Spirit Mirror

I stand in front of a mirror. It is not the kind of mirror that reflects your outside self, but the kind of mirror that reflects your psyche. It’s the kind of mirror that reflects how you think, emote, or not emote, and feel. It is the kind of mirror that reflects back the years of psychological and emotional damage. I call it my inner spirit mirror.

It took a lot of courage to approach this mirror the first time.  I was terrified because I knew that if I had tried to stand in front of this mirror before, I wouldn’t have seen any reflection. I felt like a nobody with no-body. but something compelled me to look at the effects of the trauma and how it damaged my mind and spirit and left my soul in tattered ruin.

Countless times, I could only stand looking into that mirror for mere seconds before running away in shame, but I was determined to keep going back. Each time I went back, I began to have the courage to view my reflection and started to name what I saw. Even though it was difficult to see myself, I’m glad I was brave enough to stand in front of that mirror and look deeper into my spirit.

At first, all I could name was the lies that were told to my soul. The lies that perpetrators tell their victims to legitimize what they are doing or have done. At that time, all I could see was the hurt, pain, fear, and wretchedness of the first twenty years of my life.

Then to my amazement, as I stood steadfast in front of my spirit mirror, I began to see a light emerge from my core. My reflection of who I am, who I want to be, and what they couldn’t take from me, started emitting a stronger and stronger beacon of hope. At first, it was hard to trust the truth of the mirror. I could have turned away and continued to believe the lies, or I could believe my truth and trust my reflection.

Today when I stand in front of my inner spirit mirror, I see my reflection. I acknowledge the courage it took to stand there, to refuse to look away in shame. Now my inner light shines through, giving me hope that I can face each day, to stay the course, to continue to heal and grow. To trust, to believe that although at times, I’m still experiencing symptoms, what I see is the true reflection of me.

Excerpt from the book, If I Could Tell You How It Feels

[image error]photo: Janet Rosauer

Thank you for reading my new book, If I Could Tell You How It Feels, available in both ebook and paperback from Amazon.