Photos and video with hashtag #warrior


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Instagram photo by skyler.mechelleI forget when my therapist would sit across from me, waiting in trust and patience and grace, as I thrashed and clutched the arms of the rocking chair in her office, whilst all the thoughts and memories and voices screamed over each other. The hidden becoming known, at rapid speed. This practise that eventually brought me back to myself, after months and months of only hearing the shouting chaos, thinking I was crazy, tipping off the ledge, finally allowed me to discern and differentiate the agonising screaming chaos…and then the dissected pain, from me. This is what it looks like to live this. Every single day, I sit inside myself, and wait until the pain settles and I discern what is real and what isn’t. Even so, not even that will take the pain away. It just allows me to be aware of it. To know that taking a break is a gift, but that if I take it for too long, I will drown in the sorrow when I wake up to it. So, I choose to navigate my sea, and simultaneously be guided deeper into knowing it. Because being aware is how I come home. To my grace, my belly laughs, my joy, my hope, my courage, my intelligence, my power, my wisdom, my silliness, my unicorn, my colours. I did not know what my true about me, until I knew what was true about my life. I second guessed everything, and 99.9% of the time the trauma’s conditioning won because the trauma was more known. More secure. More understood. But now I am…but even so, the trauma doesn’t go away.
Instagram photo by skyler.mechelleHearing his voice, her voice, their voices - the memories, the thoughts, the pain - the trauma, the truth, the story - my voice, my being, my emotional clarity and honesty as clearly as I do now, and differentiating the trauma from my person and present comes at a cost. I have sacrificed everything, over and over and over again, because I know that everything is not worth ME. My trauma is so intense, I knew in every part of myself that I would die if I let go. I will become insane, if I choose to not face. I know, I have, and I chose addiction instead. I will lose myself to the trauma, if I do not choose to sit with that little girl within me and hear her retell the story of what they did to her. I know, I have, and I ended up dying in a hospital from an autoimmune disease instead. No matter how long it takes. No matter how many hours I lie awake, listening to her scream and feeling the pain surge in my body. No matter how many people think I am fucking out of my mind. No matter what, I choose me. I choose to navigate THIS, and come to a place where I am secure in the safety of knowing the pain, rather than dissociated in the instability of hiding from it. Have you ever sat with fear, until it stopped yelling? Stood in the room with fear, and listened to it, until it knew you were aware of it? Sat on the floor with fear, until you held it’s hand in yours, and cried together? My fear lives in my skin. My fear lives in my vagina. My fear lives in my head. My fear is my truth. My fear is the struggle that will never leave me. It was drugged, manipulated, scorned, hated, silenced, cut out of me, starved, beaten, and raped more times than I can remember before I sat down on the floor with it…and realised the chaos would never settle, if I didn’t listen. I forget that living this way isn’t normal, because it is my forever normal. (Part 3)
Instagram photo by skyler.mechelleYes, I have moments when I subconsciously walk this "living a life" thing out like “normal” human, but subconsciously living and experiencing to me is VERY fucking different than subconsciously living and experiencing to the average Joe. But who really is average? (I am adding that last bit, because I am worried that I will be hated for my truth, and all these thoughts rise about what a bitch I am. Conditioning 101. Hello, again! Living after trauma means we will always think these thoughts of "Who will believe you?" How we hear them can shift, depending on how far we want to go down the rabbit hole and be aware of it, but they will never go away.) Deciding that nothing external to me could create the awareness and strength I have committed to, and nothing I could believe could change what I have experienced or redeem what has been done or silence the conditioning that comes, was one of the most pivotal steps in choosing to live. And, choosing to sit with that decision (and all the decisions that come after it), until I could know that the harassing voices, the insidious memories, and the intense physical embodiment are happening INSIDE me and not external to me, as some demonic representation of the pain coming to drag me back into hell, has been the only thing that has kept me sane. Being aware of who I am, vs what I experience and experienced, has brought me home to myself every single time. But it isn’t just one choice, it is multiple choices…every second of every day and I can never stop. I can never stop being aware, because to me not being aware brings me straight back to the unstable ground that threatens to buckle my knees and shove me to the floor and chain me to a hospital bed. I go insane. I don’t know what is real and what is not real. I lose my ability to discern. I lose my home, inside of me. If I don't let myself believe what I don't want to, I lose. (Part 2)
Instagram photo by skyler.mechelleIt's nice to take a break from writing. I understand that it is probably even nice to take a break from reading the words I write. But, even when I take a break from writing it...I can never take a break from living it. I can never take a break from living this. Every single second of every single day thoughts and memories and voices run through my head. My mind split into many different pieces. My body reclaiming itself, and not hiding any part of the truth it experienced from me; the trauma doesn’t just exist in my knee, and when I touch my knee it becomes real. It lives in every inch of me, and it never goes away. It just doesn’t live without awareness anymore, because I know how to listen. I choose to listen. I fucking choose to say, right now, that I am not “healed,” I am alive. ...and some moments it is a lot fucking harder to admit that than others. Sometimes the chaos in my head is unified, other times it is sporadic and static like, the weeks I don't sleep it is isolating. It has taken a fuck ton of energy to sit with, acknowledge, and become aware that everything I experience IS truth, for me. Whether it is a truth of the moment that quiets and is released once it is validated, an uncovering of the past that affirms what my body has told me it experienced, or an experience in the present that triggers the past, I stand in deep honesty with myself and consciously choose to not deny what I am experiencing, moment to moment. Being aware is my full time job, which is probably why 90% of the world hits a threshold with it when the pain, and awareness of said pain, becomes too much. (Fuck, I get it.) We gleam onto external sources, in the most innocent way, to give us SOMETHING ELSE to listen to other than ourselves because fucking hell…hearing the screams of your past self in your head as you feel your father penetrate you, your mother slide her fingers into you and throw your head into the bathtub, your aunts hand you drugs, and your neighbours buy you over and over and over, then wake up and go to work or tend to children, or deal with “normal” life will make anyone go insane. Part 1

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