From the Heart
I thought my calling was changing,
but it’s still very much the same.
My passion remains in traumas field,
as I’m driven to help with pain.
By believing I needed to move away,
trauma called back once more.
I’m now taking a different approach,
with much more learning in store.
Why am I called back to this trauma,
a connection to what I can’t see.
Though in honesty if I’m truthful here,
in helping others I’m helping me.
~
lizalizaskysaregrey©2017
The centre of a flower, the heart of a flower does not break. It is only the outer, external layers that get broken by life but the centre remains whole.
~ Liza
Healing comes from within and if we enter into our own hearts, we can perhaps, with practice, start to experience a place of wholeness. We can discover a place in which we are whole rather than remaining trapped in a place where we are broken.
I have suffered trauma, I have worked for a number of years with those that have suffered trauma. I have sat with them while they have experienced the most unbearable feelings, held these feelings for them when it was necessary and helped them in various ways towards their recovery. What I have come to realise is that trauma does not go away, traumatic events have a way of returning to haunt us, the effects of past traumatic events continue to live in the body, they reignite and burn through us time and time again, they are after all our experience.
Trauma is experienced by the very humanness of who we are, the person we relate to and recognise and the one we identify with. Trauma is like a deep scar that has never really healed, we can continue to cover it, treat it or ignore it but like a scar it remains.
I believe that if we can go into the heart and look at these traumatic events from a place of stillness, love and wholeness we can perhaps separate ourselves from the one who identifies with these feelings and they just might be easier to bare.
It works for me, I’m not suggesting it would work for everyone but to try is to know. I have come to terms with some of the things that have happened to me, I have watched as the observer, detached in a way from the event. Yes they can come back at times, times I’m not prepared, it was only the other day I found myself in tears, but I know where to go, I know where I can make sense of these feelings.
I feel it’s in our identifying with traumatic events that prevents us from moving on. They won’t ever go away, after all we are human, these things happened to us and won’t unhappen. But if we can allow ourselves time in the heart, to acknowledge these happenings, view them as an observer, as well acknowledging and sitting with the feelings they bring we might start to free ourselves a little.
I believe it’s the heart that holds the key to healing, the core of our being that is timeless and constant, the place that was there before the events happened and the place that remains whole.
I believe healing of any type comes from inside, we have the potential to heal ourselves if that is what is meant to be, we have the potential to be whole.
lizalizaskysaregrey©2017
If you’re interested in a heart centred healing approach please check out my other blog https://restingintheheart.com it’s in its infancy but I’m hopeful 🙂
I remember my first concert, special memories were made that night.
The children caught up in the terror attack in Manchester last night will carry very different memories and these memories will be carried throughout their lives. Some of these children will have been injured, some critically. Some would have witnessed death in the most devastating way, been carried or run from the building in absolute horror or found themselves in hospital. Families were split up, parents looking for children and children looking for their mums and dads, I think we all recogniser the horror of that. Some concert goers thought the noise was the loud bang of a balloon going off, there had been balloons in the show. Those that got away will always remember the day that death nearly stood next to them.
Concerts will never be the same, they will be full of memories, they will bring fear. As adults these children will not want to allow their own children the pleasures of attending a concert. Crowds will always hold a hidden threat, it could always happen again and this will be passed on through generations.
Memories were made last night, but not the memories they had hoped for. Some of these children will be traumatised for life, they will suffer terribly and their mental health will be damaged. The child that went to their first concert last night will carry that with them always, but not in the way they had hoped.
Love for the children caught up in the terror of Manchester last night, love for their families and anyone else that had loved ones caught up in the horror of the event. Love also for those that don’t understand me, may you never experience such devastating trauma yourself.
lizalizaskysaregrey©2017
The pain of all your suffering
is felt in every verse.
Stretched across the page,
traumatised from birth.
Salty tears are mixed with ink,
and yet invisible.
Telling your story of
childhood not reversible.
Your family don’t know you,
born into original sin.
Your mother turned a blind eye,
just because of him.
I see it in all your tiny cracks,
they’re very clear to me.
You lay down in your writing,
so that all of us can see.
Now you choose to write it down,
a ploy to get it out.
It’s really buried deeper,
won’t come up if you shout.
There are those who look away,
they don’t want to know.
What’s with all the writing,
is there some place you could go.
Believe me when I tell you,
I’ve so much respect for you.
For the days you live right now,
the traumatised child too.
*
lizalizaskysaregrey©2016
Dedicated to a friend but also to all those who write about early experiences of trauma and pain. I have so much admiration for you, your doing your way and I applaud you from the bottom of my heart.
I hate it your so angry,
well that’s what you think it is.
you’re struggling to cope right now,
and really in a tis.
As I watch you wound up like a ball,
just about to burst,
You don’t know how to manage it,
and coping with the worst.
I wish that you could understand,
what is really going on,
your thinking that it’s anger,
I’m sorry but you are wrong.
What I see in you is absolute pain,
with a sadness deep inside,
but you can’t acknowledge it,
this might be your pride.
If you could recognise the feeling,
bring it up and say hello,
it might start the healing process,
and might help the emotion go.
But while you stay in angry mode,
with walls built high around.
It’s hard for me to help you see,
it’s sadness that we’ve found.
Hi my lovely blogging community.
I have started a new blog and wonder if you would mind taking a look if you have the time and give me some feedback. My reason for starting this is I wanted a separate space to think about subjects close to my heart, see if I can be of any help to others. It is still very much in it’s infancy, I have more to do but thought this might be the best time to get your feedback. I’m not sure if it will be of any use but I’m hopeful.
I intend to continue with this blog, I just wanted to see if I could create something else.
I would welcome your comments, the nicer the better 🙂
I’m leaving you now,
I’m no longer fulfilled,
you no longer make me as whole.
I’ve sadness as I think of you,
also happiness in my new role.
We once were so right,
we clicked you and me,
an honest and truthful match.
But then came the day,
we’d changed so much,
a new plan I needed to hatch.
The trauma we’ve shared,
deep crisis and such,
I always saw it through.
It’s not I don’t care,
I really do,
I’ve still so much passion for you.
It’s just that I feel,
as I’ve grown beside you,
I’m not the same girl anymore.
And the things that I do,
they don’t impact on you,
or at least I’m not so sure.
I’m not going far,
I might see you one day,
our paths may cross again.
I’m not ruling it out,
my vision unclear,
it’s still connected to pain.
So please wish me well,
as I will do you,
let us want the best for each other.
I’m sending you love,
I’ll think about you,
I so want you to recover.
The rumble of thunder surrounds me,
it’s surfing over the swell.
That disaster will hit is inevitable,
timing I just never can tell.
My hearts racing ten to the dozen,
it’s out of sync with the clock.
What started this crescendo of madness,
is hidden now and forgot.
Nerves are standing to attention,
anxieties entered the room.
I need some space for reflection,
before the big band goes boom.
But now the suns up and rising,
butterflies cover the sky.
Happiness is pushing its way in,
for reasons I don’t quite know why.
I shouldn’t drink it won’t suit me,
I’m drunk on tea can’t you tell.
The waters calm and serene now,
no sign of the earlier swell.
I sing like I’m Nancy Sinatra,
the stage a place I am free.
I need to pull in theses emotions,
so the person you see’s the real me.
Turn off the black and white television,
sit down in an armchair of beige.
Practice taking on what is bad news,
without getting into a rage.
I need to pull in my behaviour,
work on my reactions for sure.
Understand that actions have consequences,
before I make any more.
But that’s the thing with experience,
it visits without being called.
I’m a product of what went before me,
turning me into this ball.
The door of the heart is open, come in and take a pew.
Come tarry here and feel the love, it’s all you need to do.
Stay a while, recuperate, take nourishment you need.
.
Repair the trauma in your heart, we have to stop the bleed.
Sit a while in peace and love, quench your thirsty heart.
Push away the pain you feel and go back to the start.
When your ready, take a step and then another few.
Recognise your own brave soul, the world belongs to you.
Our trauma is not obvious,
so everyone can know.
It’s usually buried deep inside,
too far to really go.
Jumps up when we are unaware,
and slaps us round a bit.
Dives back before we notice,
it’s always far too quick.
We feel it in our stomaches,
we feel it in our heads.
Never really leaves our mouths,
there’s nothing to be said.
If we knew what it was made of
we would have it in our net.
But moments we remember,
are easy to forget.
And so we keep it buried,
while it’s silent and asleep.
The monster of experience,
the one we have to keep.
lizalizaskysaregrey 