Usually after I practice my embodiment practice, I find that poetry flows so easily from me
As a child growing up in family dysfunction, writing was a lifeline.
Now, with years of healing and embodiment under my belt, I find that what comes out of me is the story of redemption, and holistic healing. It solidifies the integration of my story within me as a place of power where pain once held me hostage.
The experience of family pathology and dysfunction begins before we are conscious.
It begins in our imprinting, before we can speak and often before we can remember.
Generational patterns live within us as what Dr. Peter Levine calls “procedural memories”. While we can’t access the cognitive memory, the body knows what lies beneath. It tells the story through tears, trembling, anxiety, depression and other ailments that serve as messengers.
This poem is about how I really didn’t know I had a self. I grew up fractured and traumatized by a narcissistic mother...
Change is hard. It’s f*king hard. It hurts. Kicking all your rocks uphill. Breaking the cement of your hard-wired broken brain. We don’t particularly like to think about changing either. We want to be accepted for who we are. We want to be loved as we are. And there’s something very important about that, about being content with yourself at your essence.
But, as with everything in life, things are not so black and white. The eternal paradox exists in the background. In the ying and yang of it all, we notice that we can and must love ourselves at our essence. And, yet still we can be longing for continued growth. After all, we evolved through forward motion. And, naturally, we desire forward motion in our own inner-worlds as well.
Even the most broken of us. The most self-sabotaging among us still long, deep inside for change. Still strive for it, even if many futile attempts have failed.
So, what makes it so gut-wrenchingly and painfully hard to change?