A voice?

The cause of sorrow is unprocessed grief. For most of my life, I have had a severe issue with powerlessness. My voice was robbed from me at a very young age. Seeking to understand and comprehend it seemed only to increase my confusion in the matter. Most of you are aware of what I have endured by now. For those who are new to my blog, I have been through a mess of trauma in my life. I am the survivor of Satanic Abuse in infancy, all kinds of abuse in childhood up to early adulthood. As an adolescent, I was assaulted, causing very severe brain injury. I have Dissociative Identity Disorder, MS and cPTSD. The effects of this upon me are still clouded in secrecy and darkness. Allow me to say that it is an incredible experience of powerlessness to be abused. In reaction to trauma, the human being often splits and represses the experiences altogether instead of feeling them through. We need remember that just because we don't feel these feelings, it doesn't make them go away. On the contrary, for years, even decades following these original traumas, these stuck feelings can be the cause of a whole host of difficulties. Physical problems such as arthritis, asthma and even cancer have been known to have their roots in stuck feelings. I am a strong advocate that pretty much all mental illness is a result of repressed emotion and early childhood trauma. Anyways, there are many ways the effects of these repressed emotions can manifest in adulthood. First of all, while the emotions remain repressed, a victim can be incredibly helpless. Because they are in a state of perpetual shock and trauma, they cannot speak about what happened to them or their feelings associated with these experiences. For me, personally, before I recollected the abuse I endured, I was a mess. I could barely vocalize my thoughts verbally. I was incredibly intelligent. I was going to university. But, my spirit was interrupted by my body. It wasn't until I started seeking counselling and actively processing my emotions that I began to reconnect with my true identity. I still have a lot of repressed emotion within me. In a way, I am still experiencing this effect. Another way repressed emotions can affect a victim is that they become powerless. Personally, the effect of this is obvious. I stayed in the abusive environments for way too long. Still, find myself enduring revictimization because I cannot fight for myself. It's an incredibly grave injustice that being the victim of injustice as a child makes you almost the target for bullies in later life. I am finally beginning to regain a sense of voice and control over what happens to me in my life. But, this effect is evident in so many ways. The bearer of these repressed emotions is often in dreadful pain, unable to express it because the experience matter, which caused the feelings are still repressed. I feel like a bird whose wings have been clipped in childhood. I do not know what I want. I cannot fight for what I want. As a result of these experiences of helplessness and powerlessness, a child often internalises these negative feelings and being full of self-doubt and self-hate. This makes me realise that in spite of the incredible leaps I have already made in my healing and recovery, I still have a great deal of repressed emotions within me. When I have the opportunity to heal of them and grieve of them, I will experience almost complete physical resurrection. #Saintinaday! Honestly believe it is the same for everybody. When people are given the grace to process their internal grief and shame - shame and grief hidden by years and tears - you will all experience a resurrection. Until then, let us remember the importance of boundaries. Let us remember the importance of healing the inner child. God's got us. The reason I write this post is because this powerlessness for me, coupled with a lot of specific trauma and specific defence mechanisms, is often the cause of a lot of regret for me. I've let the greatest experiences pass from me because I don't feel worthy. Here, I am realising the reason I couldn't trust in God's promises and surrender sooner is deeper than what I once imagined. I often let the most beautiful people get away from me without a fight. In the choices I make and in the choices I didn't make. As honourable as the decisions may have been, I often wonder, could I have done more? It's making me realise that some things are worth fighting for. Some people are worth fighting for. Some friendships are worth fighting for. Life is worth fighting for. Keep up the fight. Good times are coming. Right around the corner. I feel paralysed by life. Like I am looking at it through shattered spectacles. I can take a step in the right direction. One step at a time.

Safe flight, broski.