A Blog about PTSD, and Mental Health, with a bit of poetry sprinkled in along the way.
Enter the garden
which grew out of friendship
trust, and tender care
The delicate petals hold our secrets
gently and safely urging
us to let go, grow, and breathe
the colors of peace
©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
Across the decades
she lived fearlessly
with silent
fear
She trusted that the dry
strong muscles
of her wings
would keep her safe
as long as
she looked over her shoulder
Until the day
she decided
that the words
Fearless Butterfly
was a title of strength
A badge to print over
her heart
A re-frame for
peace of mind, body, soul
The Willow provided
a feathered nest of safety
to breathe
A landing pad for practice flights
And on those cold and windy days
when the sky is grey
and the Willow settles
under winter’s embrace
The butterfly
quietly grows
stronger
loved
free
fearless
©Alexis Rose, Photo by Luca Huter 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
I have a habit of making three or four big goals when I reach a new decade in age. I tend to do a lot of reflecting, and anticipate what kind of adventure I can write for myself for the next ten years. I started doing this when I turned 30. I believe it is because the first twenty years of my life were controlled by others in terrible, sad, and tragic ways. When I broke free of my perpetrators, I understood that I own my life, and I get to decide who I want to be. That revelation and freedom have been an intense/unrelenting driving force for my life since the age of 22.
With this most recent birthday, I’m now (as my friend beautifully described it the other day) in the mid-afternoon of my life. So, with that mid-afternoon sun shining gently on my face, I began to reflect: Did my passion for writing, speaking and trying to destigmatize living with PTSD help others? What was the impact on myself for learning, growth, and change? How can I continue to be a support to this community of survivors as I venture down a different fork in the road?
As I was reflecting, I recalled a wonderful talk given by Arthur Brooks at the Aspen Ideas Festival, titled: Strategies for happiness in life. In very brief summary, his four points were, “don’t rage against change, teach others what you know, take away the parts of you that aren’t really you, and surround yourself with love.”
I’ve stopped raging against change a long time ago. l respect that change is life. Everything is impermanent, including the feelings I encounter when change happens. I have taken away the parts of me that weren’t authentic, and definitely surround myself with love. My children want me to rest more; to relax, to not be so driven and hard on myself. I heard them; it landed, and I will be more mindful about the message I’m giving myself when the negative self-talk tries to sneak in.
As I hang out and look deep inside in my spirit mirror, I believe this will be a time of deep personal growth, a bit more rest, and a lot of self-acceptance. I’m looking forward to reflection in the mid-afternoon. There is a lot of daylight left, and the evening is still decades away.
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
I listened to the message of the water
as the waves lapped and splashed on the rocks
At first, I thought it was inviting me
to dive deep
to trust the cool darkness
and the baptizing waves
For the tiniest of seconds
my mind grew dark
as the tricky light of the clouds
passed across the sun
I turned and found the place
where the rocks were both
smooth and rough all at once
full of the earth’s energy
each stone delivering a surge
in both my hands and feet
The waves splashing against
the ancient log told me to
stop ~ listen to waves
feel ~ smell the cool, clean water air
taste the humidity
sit ~ breathe
I heard what the water had to say
its message soft, but loud and clear
it brought a smile to my face
and a relaxed peace to my heart
I listened, my heart listened and I received the message of the water
©words and 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
Meandering through
the crystallized mountains
my spirit awakens
with the message
of those who lived long ago
yet still, walk among us
They spoke to me of
kindness, respect
and the resolve to
stay steadfast
in hope and optimism
They showed me the
ability to ride
the tiger to battle
and to surf the waves
of emotions
I tasted the
tears of fear
of loss, of joy
I felt moments
that seemed unbearable
yet, still remained perfect
Hearing the laughter
Tasting the sweet kiss
Smelling the land
Touching the stars
Seeing the sun-rise
and set
Knowing
every day
every night
the times I fail
or falter
or act in the most human of ways
if I keep my heart open
and listen
the message remains the same
©Alexis Rose, Image source Pexels
Thank you for reading my books: If I Could Tell You How It Feels, and Untangled, A Story of Resilience, Courage, and Triumph
At seventeen the only thing that mattered
was driving our cars, watching the boys
and whispering don’t-tell-anyone secrets
we knew would never be shared
Singing our harmonies, and dancing with abandon
to the sold-out audience of the window’s reflection
candlesticks as microphones
best-friend laughter and coming of age dreams
The twenties bring spouses, children, houses, and change
At first scary, but different, and new
We’ll never grow apart
It happened so quick – those different paths
separated by the winds of change that we didn’t see
our words become sparse and shallow
Apart, we both trust
silently comforted that ours is a friendship
forged in forever-ness
intuitively we know to be patient with the wind
Life settled; together again
the forties knocked on the door
our conversations are deeper and different
until we heard that song
and instantly, the window once again becomes our stage
Another decade has come our way
our friendship once tested
is stronger than ever
We honor the waves of time
and are grateful for being patient with the wind
Her and Me ~ forever friends ~ since seventeen
©Alexis Rose, image by Pixabay
Thank you for reading my books: If I Could Tell You How It Feels, and Untangled, A Story of Resilience, Courage, and Triumph
For the first eight years that I was going through intensive therapy, myself and my therapist used the metaphor that I was climbing a mountain. I never realized how rocky, dangerous, and enormous that mountain range would become. It was an intense and exhausting climb to loosen and try to break the grip of oppressive mental and emotional pain. Eventually, after summiting many peaks I found I had descended to the other side. I stood there, surveying what I had accomplished and began walking down the trail. Respecting the process I had just gone through, I knew that using the metaphor of climbing a mountain was perfect for me at the time.
For the past 12 years, I have been incorporating acupuncture into my self-care, and to help me manage my PTSD symptoms. When I was going through the worst of processing my trauma and felt exhausted and powerless, I remember my acupuncturist saying to me, “For years, you have been running from the tiger through the woods with a broken leg. Now you are in the meadow, the tiger is pacing far from you, and your caregivers are standing like sentries, guarding you as you rest and heal.” I will never forget when he said that to me. I felt safe, and that I was protected from the fear of telling the truth, from believing the lie that the truth must always remain buried. His reassurance that day reminded me to trust the process and continue the climb, now with an added image of resting in a meadow, protected from the tiger.
I have now been on my healing journey for 10 years. I no longer see the therapist that I climbed the metaphorical mountain range with. He took me as far as he could go, and our therapeutic relationship ended over two years ago. I have been seeing a new therapist for the past 16-months and it’s been a wonderful experience. She has taught me ways of acceptance and self-compassion that I never dreamed would ever be possible. It was the next step I needed to take, and the trajectory of my healing has been amazing.
I just went through a very difficult Spring. It happens; the triggers can get the best of me and pull me down for a while until I gain my footing. When I needed some reassurance my therapist reminded me (as she has often done the past 16-months) that I had successfully fought the tiger and won. She has been telling me for over a year, that I’m a warrior, a goddess who sits on the tiger and rides it proudly. I had never told her about my acupuncturist and the tiger metaphor he used all those years ago because she was using it differently. Her words and visuals are completely different. The tiger is my friend and provides me with the strength I need. I can sit on it and relax with my lotus flowers in my hands, and exhale breaths of safety.
My healing process has been an incredible test of pain, fear, exhaustion, and strength. It’s interesting for me to recognize that the metaphors I use to help me heal have changed along the way. Each metaphor, and visual providing me with what I need to live my life with courage, and resilience.
Thank you for reading my books: If I Could Tell You How It Feels, and Untangled, A Story of Resilience, Courage, and Triumph
image source: Pixabay
