Alexis Rose's Blog, page 8

You’ll know when it’s time to share your story

So much has changed since my memoir was published nearly four years ago. Before I wrote the book, my entire life was focused on keeping quiet, not telling, protecting those I loved, or who loved me. It took me a long time to understand that by keeping quiet, I was actually protecting the people who hurt me in my life. Writing Untangled was a way to announce in a really big way, that I will not keep quiet any longer.

I have been in a poetic place with my writing lately. It’s been easier for me to express myself in poetry. It’s a way to get to the meat of my feelings. I absolutely love the creativity of poetry. It feeds my soul, it takes me to places where I say to myself, “If I could paint a picture, this is what it would look like.”

The other day someone said to me, “I like your writing because it comes from an emotional place, it’s about the feelings. That is exactly how I would describe my style of writing and speaking. I know that feelings are universal and relatable.

When I have speaking engagements, I focus on feelings, and how I’ve learned to live a purposeful life while struggling with PTSD. But, aside from my typical sentence of, “I’m a survivor of unimaginable abuse and neglect for the first 20 years of my life, followed by threats to stay silent for the next 17 years,” I have not shared much of my story while speaking in public.

I’m not ashamed of my past. I’m not ashamed of my story. It is the truth of what happened in my life, to me. I didn’t choose it; the people in my life made those choices to traumatize me. What I believed was, if I shared my story, maybe the audience would compare their trauma to mine. I was fearful that they would minimize what happened to them and how the effects of their trauma impacted their lives.  If I kept the conversation about feelings, emotions, and symptoms then survivors of trauma could relate to myself and each other. 

I’m real and honest when it comes to sharing what it’s like to live with my symptoms and the effects of my trauma, but that comes without much back-story. My PTSD is from prolonged and pervasive trauma. That’s as deep I get when doing presentations.

Recently, I began to ask myself, am I shaming myself back into silence because I feel my story is so unrelatable? Am I sharing enough of myself?

A few weeks ago, I heard a speaker at my son’s school talk to the kids about the choices he made in his life. His past was the stuff of movies.  I remember thinking to myself, “Wow, he’s so resilient and brave.” The audience was listening with respect. I keep in perspective that there may have been plenty of times in that speaker’s life where people have doubted his story. People have openly disbelieved me.

Tomorrow, I have an amazing opportunity to speak to a group at EmpowerSurvivors which is a peer-led organization of healing support and education for survivors of childhood sexual abuse and trauma. Elizabeth Sullivan, founder of the organization came to hear me speak to a college class a couple of weeks ago. At the end of my talk, the instructor asked Elizabeth if she would be willing to tell the class about her organization. With no notice, and nothing prepared Elizabeth got up, shared her personal story and told the class why she founded EmpowerSurvivors.  Just like the speaker at my son’s school, I had tremendous respect for her resilience and bravery, and for sharing her story to this large group of people.

Then it hit me! I’m in a place where I am ready to share. I’m ready to be vulnerable and celebrate my bravery and resilience. I know that my presentations, interviews, and events will be a lot richer if  I’m not inadvertently shaming myself into silence. I’m grateful for all the healing I’ve done. It’s enabled me to share with others that a person can not only survive, but thrive in spite of a horrific past, and  PTSD.  I instinctively know that tomorrow as I prepare to speak with a group of survivors that it’s time to share my story.

[image error]

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

 

 

 

 

 

 

Ease into Spring

The whispers playing off the breeze

entice us to look closer 

at the bouquet of color

rising up  from winter’s cool hands



We catch our breath

and like  water rushing

around the rocks

we ease into spring

[image error]

 

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

©Alexis Rose, image source: Pinterest

Thank You and Be Free, My Insecurities

I packed my bag of insecurities

and sent it floating down the river

I watched it hit the rocks

and get caught up in the swirling current

clinging; begging to stay

for just one more day

one more week

a few more years

I gently called to the baggage

“let go, move with the current

find open water

and be free”

My insecurities

have served their purpose

keeping me cocooned

in a place of quiet and fear

Until the day

I began to practice

setting boundaries

and showing my strength to others

instead of silently resisting

the fear of being alone

Then came the day

when I trusted; I knew

that I could take

those insecurities

those fears of saying, “no”

and send them down the river

I started with a few silent

notes on the current

until I grew stronger

Today with feet firmly

rooted on the ground

I packed those insecurities and thanked them

for all the ways they protected me

and brought them to the river

With an open heart, I watched as my baggage

let go of that last craggy branch

and floated gently on the current

to the open sea

I may run into that baggage again

as I move with the current of life

We’ll have a chat

and then just as old friends do

who live on different and distant shores

we’ll bid each other farewell

until we meet again

[image error]

©Alexis Rose, Photo by Nathan Anderson 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      

You’re Not Invisible, I See You!

Do you see me?

Yes, yes I see you. You are a beautiful light!

I feel like I’m invisible, I want to be invisible

I see you. You are worthy of being seen, being heard!

The injury of a frayed, and tattered soul, repaired

by being seen, being heard and loved.

Reminded and mirrored

that the truth of who

you are at your core

has always been there

it just needed acknowledgment

and tender loving care.

Do I have to stay strong? Do I have to stay silent?

Your strength is in speaking your truth!

Will, it ever get better, will the pain stop?

It does get better, the pain changes. It ebbs and flows!

The pain and suffering

eased by a witness who

listens with respect

with belief, sadness, and anger

at the injustice of what had been.

Learning to trust that your

frayed and tattered soul

is safe, and it’s okay to mend.

To cease inserting that second arrow.

Is it okay to ask for help?

Yes, it’s important to ask for help. You’re important!



Will I be okay?

Yes, you will be okay…you Are okay!

With compassion, tenderly nurture

your present and future self.

Connect and attach

begin to feel whole.

Breathe…rest in it as long as you can.

Let yourself be one.

Exhale, knowing that injuries heal

frayed edges become softer, and the light will begin to shine through.

As I drive away, I spend the day thinking, that one of the most important gifts we can give another person is to be their mirror.

To understand that to be a mirror for someone is not just a concept, but that sometimes a person’s reflection is non-existent. That sometimes our own reflections may be non-existent.

It is a true gift to be able to say to another person, “I see you, I hear you, you deserve to be here, you matter!”

[image error]

Photo by Jovis Aloor 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      

The Gratitude of Friendship

When we get-together

and our first thought

is to give each other big-smushy hugs

because we are filled with the gratitude of friendship

it feels like the down of a favorite comforter.

Both of us present, talking authentically

about the stuff that matters

as the server quietly takes our plates.

Shoulders relaxed

we both exhale fully. We breathe…because

it’s safe

we get each other without judgment

total acceptance of who we each are.

When the tears well up in our eyes

and sometimes spill over because of life’s pain

or life’s happiness

it’s met with

open-heartedness and sweet empathy.

When the fear or suffering of illness

for ourselves or loved ones

comes sneaking into our lives

rest assured dear friend

that we are walking together, holding hands

on our sometimes dusty paths.

[image error]

©Alexis Rose, 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    

Moon

I believe the moon holds the secrets

of the trees whispering in the night

When I was younger

I knew it held

wishes and dreams, terror and screams

At times I’d look away

when reminded that its fullness

provided excuses for others to inflict pain

As if that rock in the sky

could provide permission; proclaim an edict

that on these nights as the season’s turn…

Then I learned that if it held the secrets in the night

It also held the truth

It’s deep craters holding the truth

safe and protected

Today when I heard the pull of the tides

and felt the expansion of emotions

I looked up at the big rock in the sky

and said

the moon is just the moon, and it is beautiful!

[image error]

©Alexis Rose, photographer: Shelley Bauer from the collaboration: Of Earth and Sky

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

 

 

Dancer in the Sky

She moves through the sky

pirouetting on pointe

Long sinewy arms

gracefully stretching

the expanse

Flowing skirt billowing

and swaying

she moves effortlessly

through the air

So tall, so beautiful

she opens my mind

and soothes my soul

The wind shifts

and I watch her float away

dancing, morphing

into someone else’s picture in the clouds

Overhead

the deep blue stage stand empty

and bright

As I turn to walk away

I catch the white

of another dancer in the sky

[image error]

©Alexis Rose, image source: Google

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

The Dance of Acceptance

Here I go again; the dance of acceptance. I have a pattern of every so often “forgetting” that I live with PTSD. I’m not sure if it’s mental gymnastics that I perform with gold medal perfection, or that it’s normal when living with a chronic illness to experience fluidity of acceptance.

I deal with and know how to ride the waves of triggers, and day-to-day symptoms; that is part of my everyday life. I manage that as I manage my household chores.  It isn’t until I come face-to-face in a serious way with something I would like to do, but I’m unable to do because of my current abilities, that I remember that it’s because I have PTSD.

Recently I had to revisit my vocational abilities. That was extremely disappointing. I was the only one surprised by the same results. My family and friends watched me go through the stress inducing exercise knowing what the result would be, but they understood why I felt I had to go through it once again.   I would like to say that now I fully accept what my limitations are,  but I can’t be sure.

Last night, I had a conversation with my friend who takes me deep-woods camping once a year over the 4th of July week. We go into the Boundary Waters Canoe Area where there are few people and no sounds of fireworks. I’m super motivated and excited each year and in my head, I’m a great remote camper. But, the reality is, that I am triggered a lot of the time because of what happened to me in my past. I can work through the triggers, and I absolutely love being in the outdoors, but the PTSD affects my experiences.

As we were talking last night, I asked if we could try a trip where we portage more than once and go deeper into the remote areas. He said, “there is no way we can do that!” He explained whenever we have tried going deeper into the woods I get really triggered. We went on to talk about the other ways my symptoms come out during the camping trips.

Last summer, on a camping trip to the mountains of Colorado, I developed altitude sickness and we had to get off the mountain. We were exhausted by the time we got down to a low enough altitude and we wound up throwing our sleeping bags next to a river and sleeping outside under the stars. Sounds beautiful, and it was. Except for all the flashbacks I was having. I didn’t know if it was because I was tired, crabby, and just wanted to be in a bed, or if it was because of my PTSD. My illness is not my automatic go-to for explanations on why I can’t do something. Part of the dance of acceptance!

I began to have an awareness that what I wanted to experience while taking these trips, was not happening in a positive way for me. I wasn’t saying anything out loud; instead, I was doing a lot of negative self-talk about bucking-up, figuring it out, and stop being such a baby.

It wasn’t until we were talking about it last night, that I really accepted that even with my limitations I can still have a wonderful experience camping. As long as I’m with someone who understands PTSD and how to react (or not react) when I get triggered I can still experience and recognize the fabulously healing reset of being in nature. I can also find meaningful ways to earn a bit of money (and I have) while being mindful and respectful of what is healthy for me.

I have some long-lasting effects from the trauma I endured. Because of the extent of my trauma, I have PTSD. Maybe this is not a forever illness, I don’t know what the future will hold. Most days, I’ve accepted that I’m still going to suffer from symptoms and live with some deficits.

When I lose sight of this, I find myself getting very angry at my PTSD.  When the anger and frustration well up, and starts to boil over, I make myself stop, sit down, reflect, rest, and try to focus on the goal of what I want for my life.

And I’m sure, as it seems it has become a pattern, that there will be times that I am going to do the slow dance of acceptance.

[image error]

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    

She Becomes A Lotus

Rising from the mud

Shaken by the moon that shines behind the shadow trees

She tenses and listens.

Hearing the leaves rustle in the wind

the cicadas hum, and the birds

flapping their goodnight wings

her mind feels tricked by the sounds of the night.

The humidity in the air creates

a slow-motion dance of fog

circling the dark shapes on the ground.

A chill, a shudder, and it’s over.

The night is over.

Now the sun hits her face, drying the mud.

Slowly, she turns around and walks away

knowing that without the mud

a lotus would never rise.

[image error]

©Alexis Rose, Photo by Christopher Campbell 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    

Tender Circadian Rhythm

My tender circadian rhythm

does not like to Spring forward

or Fall back.

It feels confused and lost

in the fog.

My usual disturbed and restless

sleep now has an assistant of

early a.m. risings; 4,5,6

oh, forget it, I’ll just get up!

I know it’s just for a few days

and mine is not the only complaint.

But it’s 6 a.m. and I’m wide awake

feeling that irritability song rising

to a crescendo.

I’ll stumble as I wait for my

tender circadian rhythm to remember

that it’s all okay

and part of this is

waiting for the warmth of May.

[image error]

©Alexis Rose, image source Pinterest, visualizeuscom

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