Alexis Rose's Blog, page 47

As the Seasons Change…

As the season’s change

I think of those hands  that courted me with flowers

put a band on my finger

held our babies

dabbed my tears as we walked  through our empty nest

and now hold me close  as we enjoy the twilight

and settle in for winter’s embrace.

©Alexis Rose

 

Thank you for reading my memoir, Untangled, A Story of Resilience, Courage, and Triumph

http://www.amazon.com/Untangled-story-resilience-courage-triumph/dp/1514213222

https://www.amazon.com/Untangled-story-resilience-courage-triumph-ebook/dp/B013XA4856

 

photo:pixaby

 

Finding the Volume of my Voice

I was invited to and attended a luncheon this past Saturday for trauma survivors. There were ten amazing women aged 20-69 who sat together and shared (as much as we were comfortable) our experiences, talked about our healing and learned about trauma-informed leadership. Most of us didn’t know each other, and the facilitator made it a safe, respectful and comfortable environment.  We each had up to three minutes at the beginning to stand up, introduce ourselves, share what we wanted about our story and talk about what we would like to bring to the survivor community in any form of advocacy.

Some of the brave women shared in some detail their traumatic story. My elevator speech is,  “I’m was a victim of unimaginable abuse for the first 20 years of my life, followed by 17 years of threats to stay silent. I live with complex PTSD, and my goal is to be a voice that begins the conversation about PTSD and help end the stigma of living with an invisible illness.” I don’t ever go into detail about the abuse that happened to me. It triggers me and it may trigger others or worse they may compare their trauma to mine.

This Wednesday I’m going to talk to a book club about my book Untangled. I’m very excited to be invited and meet and talk with the women in this book club. It’s going to be an interactive evening and I’m thrilled to answer their questions. I’m also aware that I may have to gently explain that I’m not comfortable answering a question if it gets to personal. I have no problem doing that, but sometimes, I have to make sure I check myself so I’m not declining to answer a question from a place of defensiveness.

The third event I have this month is, I’m co-teaching a class on using creativity as a tool for personal growth and healing. Again, I’m thrilled to teach this class. It’s in my wheelhouse of things I love to present and I love to see participants create and explore.

As I find myself getting involved in more opportunities where I’m in a position of speaking my truth, writing honestly and openly on this blog, preparing to write another book, and trying to live a more authentic life I’m struck by the notion that I need to control the volume that I want for my voice. I literally went from hiding in the shadows 12 months ago, to sometimes being front and center.

I have learned a lot the past year. I know what I will and won’t do as far as speaking engagements, book signings, writing opportunities and advocacy work. I let myself use this past year as a learning experience and rarely turned anything or anyone down. I’ve been very fortunate in the opportunities that come my way, and I’m grateful for the enormous support I’ve received.

I’m comfortable with the volume of my voice right now. I don’t have aspirations to be the biggest voice in the world of mental health support/advocacy. I do, however, feel that my low, steady volume is what suits me the best. I’m a believer that a ripple is what affects the change. I want to continue to be the ripple. I want to continue to be accessible to those who contact me through email, my blog, my facebook page, and through reading Untangled.

The facilitator at the luncheon last Saturday, asked us to write on a sticky note what we wanted to do for other survivors after what we had learned today. My answer was, the title of this post, I want to find the volume of my voice. I don’t know if the volume will change, maybe it will increase slightly, maybe not. But I know for sure, my voice will never be silenced again.

 

Thank you for reading my memoir, Untangled, A Story of Resilience, Courage, and Triumph

http://www.amazon.com/Untangled-story-resilience-courage-triumph/dp/1514213222

https://www.amazon.com/Untangled-story-resilience-courage-triumph-ebook/dp/B013XA4856

 

One with the wisdom of nature

In this moment the only thing I heard

were the birds happily singing. 

The only thing I saw were the leaves

gently swaying on the branches. 

The only thing I smelled was the

earthy moss growing throughout the woods.

I was one in the moment

with the wisdom of nature. 

©Alexis Rose

photo:pixabay

 

Thank you for reading my memoir, Untangled, A Story of Resilience, Courage, and Triumph

http://www.amazon.com/Untangled-story-resilience-courage-triumph/dp/1514213222

https://www.amazon.com/Untangled-story-resilience-courage-triumph-ebook/dp/B013XA4856

 

 

She listens with more than her ears

She listens with more than her ears.

The light from her soul

and the joy in her heart

illuminate the world around her.

Silently saying a prayer

she feels the comfortable beat of her heart

as she flows to the music within.

©Alexis Rose

photo:pixabay

 

Thank you for reading my memoir, Untangled, A Story of Resilience, Courage, and Triumph

http://www.amazon.com/Untangled-story-resilience-courage-triumph/dp/1514213222

https://www.amazon.com/Untangled-story-resilience-courage-triumph-ebook/dp/B013XA4856

Grief and Mindfulness

Some mindfulness masters teach, that you cannot fully begin to meditate until you have wept deeply. I once read a story of a Zen teacher who flirted with meditation for years before he decided to commit. He recalled how he wept openly and often for two years and after he had grieved for many things in his life, only then was he able to sit in silence.

I was sitting outside this morning, enjoying the beautiful day when I began to feel the pull of profound grief and sadness for the life I had uncovered. For the loss, for the pain, for the torture, for the years that I clung to survival as my only way of life. Sad for the years of having no hope, no dreams, no promises made…thinking that whoever came into my life would go. Not by virtue of old age, sickness or played out friendships. But would just turn around and go. I don’t dwell there very long anymore, but sometimes, it’s a place I walk through after being triggered. 

I began to recall the lesson about weeping. I thought about the many times during guided meditation that I would begin to shed tears. Not weeping, but feeling the unmistakable wetness on my cheek from tears. Feeling the tears stream down my cheeks, I stopped and pulled myself back to reality. The reality of kids, shopping lists or work. Never understanding that perhaps those tears marked the beginning of my spirit wanting to open up, cleanse myself through grief and help guide me on my path. I couldn’t tip-toe around those intense feelings, I didn’t understand that there is openness after grief, and it is an important part of life and growth. 

Before I came in to write this, I grabbed a leaf that was floating down from a tree, made a wish, blew it away and came in to write.

I wished I could go away deep in the woods without the sounds of the world and cry. I thought about a story I once read of a girl in the silver boat who had gone through the woods and came out on a beautiful shore. I thought about my intense pull to grieve, and to also have the life I want to live. I yearn to go into the woods without the sounds of the world and cry. But I get triggered in the woods, bad things happened in the woods. And, yet, I love the woods! My desire to go into the woods to grieve, to find peace, is coupled directly with trauma so triggering that going into the woods is a challenge. Mindfulness comes in by bringing myself back to the present, after experiencing a flashback. But, that’s not the simple experience I want for my life, my grief, my practice. It’s a paradox. 

I realize that the girl in the silver boat and the zen master who said they wept for years are stories. They are books, metaphors that help show us another way and provide hope and give us strength to keep trying, keep breathing.  Admittedly, sometimes I don’t have faith in my ability to heal completely. I can stay in my head and trick myself into thinking it just the words I am supposed to feel, not feelings I am supposed to feel.

My body, my mind, my soul  wants to feel the feelings and grieve whatever it is I need to grieve. I yearn to be like those who have the ability to find solace in quiet places. Who come out of a weekend alone with full cups and peace in their heart. I’m not ready to dwell in those quiet places. I have been wonderfully surprised that some mindfulness teachers are saying, that if a person is  working through trauma, perhaps sitting and meditating is not the best path at the moment. For me, that’s the way it is right now. I accept it and respect the reality and the process of healing. Someday, I may be able to cry an ocean of tears that will take me through the woods, to the sparkling sea, and then be able to sit on the cushion just acknowledging my thoughts vs spinning into the past. 

I am not a Zen teacher. I don’t necessarily want to be able to sit for hours. I try to live mindful, present, and surf the waves of emotion as they happen. I also intend to stay the path.  I set my intention every morning, I try to evolve, but know deep down inside that without shedding the tears, feeling the words, experiencing the grief, I will never heal the way I want to heal. Without grieving over the life that was, I will continue to open the scab without letting it healing into a beautiful gnarly scar. 

photo:pixabay

Thank you for reading my memoir, Untangled, A Story of Resilience, Courage, and Triumph

http://www.amazon.com/Untangled-story-resilience-courage-triumph/dp/1514213222

https://www.amazon.com/Untangled-story-resilience-courage-triumph-ebook/dp/B013XA4856

 

One with the movement of nature

I am one with  the movement of nature…

I am Peace. 

©Alexis Rose, photo: Shelley Bauer

 

 

Thank you for reading my memoir, Untangled, A Story of Resilience, Courage, and Triumph

http://www.amazon.com/Untangled-story-resilience-courage-triumph/dp/1514213222

https://www.amazon.com/Untangled-story-resilience-courage-triumph-ebook/dp/B013XA4856

Day Nine

Thank You Jason, https://aopinionatedman.com for helping me promote Untangled. Enjoy this excerpt from the book. Be sure and check out Jason’s blog, it is always interesting!

HarsH ReaLiTy

We arrived in a beautiful resort town in the early afternoon. I hadn’t seen any place like this in the country so far. It felt exotic and was bustling with tourists. There were a lot of shops, smiling people and a beautiful beach. I didn’t know what sea this was but it looked stunning. It felt strange to be surrounded by so many vacationing people. How could they be so happy and carefree? My brain couldn’t compute how oblivious people were. The incongruity helped me relax enough to take in the sounds and sights. Arik said we would sleep on the beach that night. That didn’t worry me because I assumed it would be full of kids like us, who couldn’t afford a hotel and didn’t want to sleep at a hostel.

Feeling carefree, we walked around the city for a while. It never occurred to me to ask why…

View original post 1,289 more words

The Mountain Climb is Rigorous and Uneven

Sometimes the climb to the top

of the mountain 

is rigorous and uneven.

Rest and gather strength

on the summit.

Look to the person next to you

who never strayed from your side.

Then with a smile and a wink

set off together  for the next adventure. 

©Alexis Rose

photo:pixabay

 

Thank you for reading my memoir, Untangled, A Story of Resilience, Courage, and Triumph

http://www.amazon.com/Untangled-story-resilience-courage-triumph/dp/1514213222

https://www.amazon.com/Untangled-story-resilience-courage-triumph-ebook/dp/B013XA4856

 

 

Looking Back

I’m hunkering down to write my next book. I’m ready, have done all my superstitious before I start to write rituals to get myself in the zone. What did I do instead of start writing my non-fiction book? I decided to have a little fun with 1,000 words and write my first short-story. I hesitated to post it, but after showing it to a few people (my next beta readers?) I thought I would go ahead and make a huge departure from what I usually post and share it. I hope you enjoy, Looking Back!

Looking back, she realized it may have been her intention to leave what she knew behind. She had been dreaming of the diamond-glinted turquoise waters, and the sound of waves comforted her restless soul. She didn’t purposefully set out to leave the comfort of home, she just wanted to find some peace, some quiet, some insight into why life had unfolded into the daily grind of never-ending responsibility.

The advertisement for the cabin had been benign, but enticing. North woods rustic cabin with expansive views of Owl Lake. Firewood included. That was the draw, she was willing to go without indoor plumbing, but cut and available firewood were the luxury item that sparked her interest. She began dreaming of sitting by the fireplace; reading, writing in her journal, snacking on her simple meals and resting. She made reservations and was on the road the following week.

The drive was uneventful. Miles of cows, forest, big blue sky and puffy white clouds. The radio-gods were with her, playing song after song of beloved classic hits of her teens and twenty’s.  Each song brought back memories of unabashed fun with friends in fast cars and smoking weed. The time of life when she was invincible. She had a screw-you attitude that she owed the world nothing and expected nothing in return. She wanted to be a free and easy spirit. For just a moment, before the next song played, she began to think about how it all went sideways. How did she end up, in a life that was continually unfulfilling, although looked envious to outsiders? She shuddered and left the thought behind as she belted out the next hit.

Her GPS indicated that her turn off was a mile away. As she drove the twisty turny dusty roads she noticed how thick and foggy the woods were becoming. Not the kind of fog that you can’t see through. This fog felt almost enchanted. She laughed to herself, thinking that she must really need a vacation.

At last, she arrived at the long narrow driveway. Parking her car and looking around she felt a sense of electricity in the air. The trees were a dense dark green, the ground was lush and moist with the dew that hadn’t been dried off from the afternoon sun. But there was something else that had caught her eye. The glint of Owl Lake that expanded from the back of the cabin. It was stunning. It almost looked like the ocean she had been dreaming about the past few weeks. It sounded a bit like waves, but she shook her head, got her bearings, grabbed her backpack and unlocked the door to the cabin.

She was drawn to the sliding back door. Drawn to the deck on the back, it was as if a siren song was playing in the distance and she was being called to the aft of a ship to look for mermaids. Dropping her backpack on the floor she slid the heavy deck door open, stepped onto the heavily wooded deck and found she was suddenly floating on a vast ocean.

Stunned at the sudden jolt of being adrift on the high seas, she began to scream for help. She was steady on the deck, but as she turned around the woods had disappeared, there was nothing behind her but ocean. Not knowing what to do, she threw open the sliding glass door, and stepped back into the cabin, hoping that she had just experienced the most intense hallucination of her life.

Back inside, she closed her eyes tight, said a quick prayer that she had been dreaming and quickly opened her eyes, hoping to see the woods through the front door and her car in the driveway. But all she saw was the waves of a turquoise sea. The sound of water lapping against the cabin that had suddenly transformed into a boat. The realization that this wasn’t a dream brought her to her knees. She sat down and with her head in her hands wondering if she had died. Was she in heaven or hell? Was she dreaming? What was happening? And then it dawned on her, that not only did her idyllic cabin in the woods become a watercraft, she had absolutely no idea how to steer or sail a boat, or for that matter where was the steering wheel. The boat seemed to be on a course, somehow steering itself. Was she on a ghost ship? As fear overtook her, she curled tight against the wall. Finding comfort in the steadiness of the wall, she fell into a dreamless sleep.

She woke up to the rhythmic rocking of the cabin on the sea. A bit disoriented, but with sea steady legs, she opened the deck doors to stand in the clear star lit sky. Breathing in the sea air she suddenly developed a knowing and trusting awareness. She decided to quell her fear and not think about what was happening until the morning.

As the pink sky appeared over the horizon she noticed the unmistakable outline of land. Her heart quickening, she found that the fear that had overtaken her when the cabin became a boat was tightening her chest and constricting her throat. Where was she landing and who would be on that island? She hadn’t given any real thought to the fact that the ship was being gracefully steered towards land, she just rode the calm seas all night long to what was now a large island with a beautiful white sandy beach and a green, steep mountain range.

The current brought the cabin to rest on the island. Off the boat and nervously looking around she felt a strange sensation, electric shivers coursing through her body. Looking up towards the highest mountain peak, she noticed a black owl totem, wood neatly stacked in front of it.

Hugging herself, she looked back towards the turquoise sea, the sun glinting like diamonds upon the water. She remembered!

photo:pixabay

 

 

Thank you for reading my memoir, Untangled, A Story of Resilience, Courage, and Triumph

http://www.amazon.com/Untangled-story-resilience-courage-triumph/dp/1514213222

https://www.amazon.com/Untangled-story-resilience-courage-triumph-ebook/dp/B013XA4856

 

 

 

Beauty from Broken Pieces

I don’t hide in the shadows any longer. It was a conscious decision, although at the time I didn’t really know what that meant. My memoir was published a year ago. I went from no one knowing my story to letting the whole world know my story. It’s more than a story, it’s my life, my truth. It’s true that I don’t lay out all the sordid details of my past in my book, and very few people in my life have earned the right to hear all the details, but, I share enough of myself and the resulting struggles I have with PTSD that I’m comfortable with the volume of my voice and that I’m being heard and making some wonderful connections.

I still struggle every day. It’s the way it is for me. Fall is a particularly hard time of year. Now, instead of pretending all is well while feeling like my soul is being crushed into jagged shards, I’m honest with people. I have learned self-compassion. Instead of saying, “I’m fine” coupled with a thinly veiled smile, I say, “I’m triggered, I feel shitty, and I’m trying really hard to stay present.”

To my surprise, no one has turned their back on me this fall and shied away. They still want to do lunch, meet for coffee, go for walks, and keep engaging. This is new for me. While hiding in the shadows and always trying to be okay, I was unreachable. I was still social but it was different. I had a thick wall up, and my social circle was different. Aside from a core group of very good friends, I was surrounding myself with people who sometimes bordered on narcissistic. I was attracting those kinds of people because it was comfortable for me. I could navigate that personality. If fed my desire to hide. A funny thing happened when I emerged from the shadows after Untangled was released. The narcissists dropped me like a hot potato. I’m not sure why? But when that happened; it opened the door for some wonderful people who are also starting to emerge or have come from their own shadows to enter my life.

I was having coffee the other day with a friend who is just beginning her journey of openness. It’s tough, especially for someone like her, who is a bubbly, open-hearted, extrovert. She has had an extraordinary struggle in her life. Her truth is real, and it’s shocking, and it’s gut-retching, and it’s her past. My friend, like me, had to repress her past in order to have a life.  Until that sneaky past caught up to her and she knew that if she wanted a fulfilling present and a hopeful future she had to look at these things square in the face and deal with them. I don’t know if she has PTSD, I don’t ask. But I relate to and greatly admire the courage she displays in the face of such turmoil and growth right now.

As we were having coffee, she brought out a package wrapped in netting and a ribbon. It was the beautiful rock that is pictured in this post. Rocks are extremely important to me. I started connecting with them when I was alone and being tortured in a country far from home. I picked up a white rock, put it in my pocket and knew that if I died and no one found me, I at least had a solid connection to something; a rock, the earth. I still have that rock in my jewelry box. Since then, I pick up rocks from everyday random and also wonderous places. I give rocks as gifts and use rocks as an activity when I do creativity workshops.

Coming out of the shadows is still a new way of life, and sometimes it still feels like an enormous risk. I feel broken, mostly from having to live with the symptoms of PTSD, but when I put that beautiful rock, with the pieces of glass, the double spiral beads and felt the solid heft weighing in my palm, I felt overcome with tears of gratitude and connection. Connections are what ground me. I found it was a constant struggle to let people connect to me when I lived in the shadow of fear.

My friend, who had no idea what rocks meant to me, said that she loves to create things from broken glass. She calls it Beauty from Broken Pieces. To me, that is a beautiful mantra for all us. You can’t get through adulthood without having some broken pieces, but we can find some beauty in our shards.

 

Thank you for reading my memoir, Untangled, A Story of Resilience, Courage, and Triumph

http://www.amazon.com/Untangled-story-resilience-courage-triumph/dp/1514213222

https://www.amazon.com/Untangled-story-resilience-courage-triumph-ebook/dp/B013XA4856