gwynn

We have (more) work to do : Reflections on RBG

September 21, 2020 By gwynn

The state controlling a woman would mean denying her full autonomy and full equality.
…
When I’m sometimes asked when will there be enough [women on the Supreme Court] and I say, ‘When there are nine,’ people are shocked. But there’d been nine men, and nobody’s ever raised a question about that.
…
My mother was very strong about my doing well in school and living up to my potential. Two things were important to her and she repeated them endlessly. One was to ‘be a lady,’ and that meant conduct yourself civilly, don’t let emotions like anger or envy get in your way. And the other was to be independent, which was an unusual message for mothers of that time to be giving their daughters.
…
You can disagree without being disagreeable.

~Ruth Bader Ginsburg

I, like many, am grieving the death of a role model; the death of a woman who inspires and motivates; a woman I wanted to live forever. Who, I believe, many of us wanted to live forever, or at least until mid-November.

And, in our hearts, we knew her days were numbered. I am grateful for her, and others like her, who have helped to clear the path for so many of us, so that we can do our work in the world. She fought for as long as could, both oppression and cancer. So many of us have been holding our breath with every report of her health for the last couple of years, and perhaps many are still holding their breath even with her death. I for one, feel like I have been able to take in a huge inhale, finally.

She was only one woman; the fate of our individual lives, our country, of the world, should not, did not, and does not, rest solely on her shoulders. Yes, she was an amazing woman, who accomplished so much in her life and for our lives. She is a giant, there is no denying that.

And, she was only one person.

We, you and I, our mothers and grandmothers, our daughters and nieces; our fathers, grandfathers, sons, nephews, have always needed to a part of the fight; of the revolution; of the resistance. We all have needed to, and many of us have, stated “I dissent” to the inequalities and atrocities of the world we live in.

Revolution does not rely on the life of one singular person. And revolution does rely on all us, as individuals and as a collective. We need to continue RBG’s work, which to me means we each need to continue our own work in the world – both our own inner work and our outer work.

Yes, we need to mourn. Yes, we need to grieve. Yes, we need to take a moment and fully comprehend what the loss of this freedom fighter means to us each individually and as a collective. Her life, and her death, has had and will continue to have deep impacts on us all. Taking the time to grieve, to stop and consider these impacts, is vital as we move forward.

Taking time to grieve is a vital part of our work.

As we grieve, we can also acknowledge her path is not the only path. Nor is it even the best. There are many ways to freedom. Many ways to liberation. Many ways out of authoritarianism, oppression, abuse. Her way was what was possible for her, at the time she forged her path.

We now have many other paths we can forge.

This doesn’t negate the importance of her work or her role in history. Or her role in our individual and collective lives. It is true that we needed her, many hers, to get us where we are today. Without her, and those who worked along side her both literally and figuratively, woman would not have the right to have our own bank accounts or own our own homes. She lead the way to helping us obtain many of the resources we have, and take for granted, today.

It does mean we need to continue the evolution and revolution she was a part of continuing leading (because racial and women’s rights did not start with her) . It means we need to continue to work towards change, and perhaps the ways we do that are different now than they could have been 60+ years ago when she started clearing her path.

RBG’s life and death gives us all much to aspire to. But none of us can, nor should be, her. And her way, while thank the goddesses and gods she did it her way, is not our way now.

She did not rest, until death. I am personally, selfishly, grateful for this. And I know, that rest MUST also be part of our work. She worked towards affording us the ability to see how no one person can, or should, do it all. She did much, this is true. It is also true she had resources. She had aides, assistants. She had financial resources. She had a husband who supported her and her work, and took on some of the more traditional “woman’s work” in their home so she could focus on her career and work in the world.

Yes, she burned the candle at both ends for most of her life. It is also true that she had much support that allowed her to do this for as many decades as she did.

And.

The idea of “burning the candle at both ends,” with or without resources, is a staple of capitalism. It is a staple of white supremacy. It is a staple of misogyny. It is the idea of meritocracy. It is the idea that we must “earn” our value, our worth. That we must sacrifice much in order to be respected, in order to be deserving of respect. She worked more hours than any single human should ever need to work in their life time.

Am I thankful she did? Fuck yes, I am. And part of why I am thankful, is that her doing this has helped bring us to the place socially to see the harm in this way of being.

She did her work the only way her generation was allowed to. She had to prove her worth and value so that she could bring about the change she did. She had to work harder than her (white) male colleagues to gain respect. She had to dance the line of being a “good girl” and a rebel rouser (without looking or acting like a rebel rouser).

Now the new generations get to do it differently. We get to do it Our way. And this is all thanks to her, and those like her.

“Our way” will look different for each of us. This doesn’t mean we can’t do this work together, in community, in collaboration with each other. It means the way I do my work will look different from the ways you do. It means we must do our work in the ways that are true to each of us individually. We can, and must, do this in tandem, in collaboration, and in support of each other.

There is no One Way to bring about change. No one way to bring about social justice. There is no singular cause that is more vital than another in our work towards liberation.

ALL of our work is vital and it ALL intersects. We need people whose main focus, like mine, is trauma work. We need people whose main focus is racial justice. We need people whose main focus is body liberation. We people whose main focus is reproductive rights, gay rights, disabled persons rights, trans rights, indigenous rights, sex workers rights… anti-capitalism work, anti-oppression work, anti-rape culture work… (list non-exhaustive). We need everyone doing their work, both inner and outer. Because all our work feeds and supports each others’ and not a one of us can do All the work alone, by ourselves.

Let us take the time to mourn the loss of an amazing human. And let us not allow her death to have us spiral into despair and hopelessness. This work was always resting on all our shoulders. The work has always been All our responsibility. RBG was amazing and some could argue super-human, and even so, she alone was not going to save us from a continued downfall of humanity.

That has always been up to each of us. We each have always, and continue to have, a responsibility to ourselves and to the collective, to do our work. To work towards change, towards doing different, towards moving away from trauma reactions that cause harm and towards taking the pause and considering our responses so that we can break cycles and patterns of harm.

All is not lost. As long as we continue our work. Within and out in the world.

/../

This essay originated as an Instagram post, which I expanded for my weekly(ish) newsletter on September 19, 2020. It has been further edited for publication here. To receive my most recent essays you can subscribe here.

Reclamation, Resistance, Self-Compassion, & It isn’t all ours to shift

September 14, 2020 By gwynn

Knowing yourself is first step towards self reclamation. ~Amit Gupta

One is never afraid of the unknown; one is afraid of the known coming to an end. ~Jiddu Krishnamurti

The oldest and strongest emotion of mankind is fear, and the oldest and strongest kind of fear is fear of the unknown. ~H.P. Lovecraft, Supernatural Horror in Literature

I believe it is important for us to acknowledge that any trauma processing work that we do, is all about unlearning old survival patterns, cycles, and instincts that no longer serve us well. Most of us have been using these old survival tools for decades. We know them. We know them likely better than we know any other part of ourselves. And even though they no longer serve us, they are still what is known and therefore what is comfortable for us.

Doing this work of calming our nervous systems, connecting to our boundaries, reclaiming our bodies, and coming into the present moment by finding our center and ground is all the work of the unknown. Unknown because it was never modeled for us as kids (in fact I am guessing the opposite is what we learned). Unknown because we have unprocessed trauma living within us. Unknown because we live in a culture that doesn’t make space for such things.

And what is unknown, we often interpret as scary, terrifying even, especially those of us living with relational or betrayal trauma (trauma that we experienced due to the actions of a caregiver or trusted loved one against us). The unknown can be full of all kinds of horrible things, and often we think the “devil we know is better than the devil we don’t.”

All of this spills over into our relationships with others: our partners, our kids, our friends, other family members. Those of us who have experienced relational or betrayal trauma don’t know how or who to trust, or how to be vulnerable (or who to be vulnerable with). We don’t know what it is to express our emotions or boundaries in a way that doesn’t cause harm (to ourselves or others). We don’t know how to be able to tolerate other’s uncomfortable emotions, let alone our own, and become quickly overwhelmed and agitated by “big feelings” of grief, sadness, anger, etc that another person is expressing.

All this avoidance of emotions and sensations and vulnerability and expression makes it pretty tough to have deep, authentic, relationships, with anyone, including ourselves.

Of course we all carry our own stuff around with us: our histories, our trauma, our biases, our skewed lenses and view of the world. All of us.

And.

Those of us who are able to become more and more self aware, who are able to become more and more at home within our own skin (literally and figuratively), are also able to see, at least sometimes, what stuff that is coming up in relationship or in our interactions is ours and what is the other person’s. (This is boundary work, y’all.) And that then allows us to begin to have deeper and more authentic relationships with other people, as well as with ourselves.

Yes, this work is challenging. And yes, I have many moments of “I don’t wanna” or worse, that deep feeling of overwhelm of just having So Freaking Much to unlearn, unravel, dislodge, and process. It is exhausting when we think of all the harm that has been done to us and all the ways it impacts our lives.

And with every moment that we are able to be present, each time we catch ourselves before we go into overwhelm and soothe our systems, with every intentional and mindful yes and no we utter (and honor), we are shifting generations old – that’s hundreds if not thousands of years old – patterns, cycles, and ways of being.

That’s pretty freaking huge.

To be able change a family or cultural pattern that has been being passed down for hundreds, possibly thousands, of years? That makes us all super heroes and heroines in my book.

I believe is important to mention: it isn’t all our work to process or shift or heal. We are individuals and as such we each can only do so much within our own family systems in bringing about change. Of course we will pass some things on to the next generation that we wished we didn’t. And. Let us for a moment (at least) consider all that we have stopped, shifted, and outright changed.

We are all in the process of learning. All of us. We are all in the process of unlearning. All of us.

We are all in the process of breaking generations old cycles and patterns.

We are all in the process of healing our own wounding.

We are all in the process of trying to provide salve to those we unintentionally wounded.

Well, at least, I believe most of us are.

And for those of us who are in this process, I believe it is vital that we learn self-compassion.

Not that we give ourselves a pass, or make excuses for harm we have caused. Rather to acknowledge that we are human, fallible. That we will make mistakes. That the wounding we carry is not our fault, that we didn’t ask for it, that it isn’t fair we have to carry it. That we are doing the best we can with the tools we have and we are in the process of seeking new and different tools to continue this work.

This work of reclaiming our bodies, of reclaiming our whole Self, of feeling good in our skin, of being present even when we are in uncomfortable emotions, sensations, and situations, of trying to find our ways to deeper and more meaningful relationships with others and with ourselves… it is not something we know. It is not something we grew up learning or witnessing. It is not something that feels normal (yet). It is different.

It is unknown. And so we fear it, we have a resistance to it, we try to avoid it, we shy away from it. We sit in that space of “I don’t wanna!”

This is all okay. This, I believe, is a normal reaction. It is of course so much easier to remain as we are than it is to do this work of processing and shifting and reclaiming.

It is an act of bravery, of rebellion, of self-care, to do this work. Doing this work is breaking possibly hundreds, if not more, years of wounding, of harm, of trauma.

And that is enormous.

/../

This essay was originally written for my weekly(ish) newsletter in April 2018. It has been edited and revised for publication here. To receive my most recent newsletters you can subscribe here.

Putting down the armor

September 3, 2020 By gwynn

Sweetgrl, You have the power to break the cycles that have been passed down to you. You have the power to dismantle them. To question them. To shift them. To no longer accept them. ~Anisah Amat

stay open darling, the world needs your kind of softness. ~s.c. lourie

stay soft. it looks beautiful on you. ~nayyirah waheed

There’s a lyric in Beyonce’s song Daddy Lessons that goes:

Came into this world
Daddy’s little girl
And daddy made a soldier out of me
Oh, oh, oh
Daddy made me dance
And daddy held my hand
Oh, oh, oh
And daddy liked his whisky with his tea
And we rode motorcycles
Blackjack, classic vinyl
Tough girl is what I had to be

Many of us grew up needing to be a Tough Girl™, even though we were (and still are) highly sensitive and emotional people. There was no room for tears or “weakness” growing up in our homes. Stoicism was rewarded and a Tough Girl™ I-don’t-give-a-damn attitude was applauded. Being soft, being sensitive, being emotional in any way was both ridiculed and punished.

Our Tough Girl™ persona has probably served us quite well through most of our lives. As teenagers it may have been required for us to survive those challenging years of adolescence. As we grew older our inner Tough Girl may have generally protected us from being hurt too much emotionally, mostly by not letting us actually get close to people or reveal too much of our actual inner workings (and emotions).

But our Tough Girl™ persona, is just that: a persona. And honestly, it is more than likely that plenty of people saw through it while simultaneously going along with it.

It is a form of our armor, for certain. It allows us to rarely feel sadness or hurt and to stay in anger and or defensiveness. And while this may have been a great survival tool growing up, it turns out it’s not such a great way to be if you want to be in an emotionally intimate relationship.

Who knew?

Softness does not come easy for many of us. It may be something we have been working at for years. It may seem whenever we begin to feel softness, we can only sustain it for a short time before the armor goes up and Tough Girl™ takes charge again. It can be a challenging journey, and even with all our tools and resources we may struggle to allow our vulnerability, our softness, to come through very often.

Softness, and vulnerability, is related to how we are able to trust. For those of us with complex trauma trust is rarely an easy thing. The entire time our brains were forming, we learned to not trust, or more to the point that there wasn’t anyone to trust and that people, particularly adults, were inherently untrustworthy.

And while this armor is incredibly protective in many ways, it is also lonely and even harmful. The armor, the Tough Girl™ persona, prevents emotional intimacy, which means, in short, that it prevents us from being truly seen.

If we can’t be truly seen, we are left feeling alone, and cannot meet our very human need to have a sense of belonging nor are we able to develop secure attachments.

What does this mean? Well it means that until we are able to be soft, to be vulnerable, appropriately, we will only ever be surviving and not able to to truly thrive.

Survival is important. It is actually mandatory, from an evolutionary point of view.

Thriving is vital, even though we don’t need to thrive to survive.

Many of us may not even know what thriving could look like, and we most certainly don’t know what it actually feels like (though perhaps we can imagine).

To me thriving looks like ease. It looks like softness. It feels gentle. It feels loving. I imagine there is much laughter in thriving. And probably a lot of tears too. And in the laughter and the tears there is a being held. Both being held by ourselves and being held by trusted, and trustworthy, others.

Thriving definitely does not include defensiveness. It does not include rigidity. It does not include blaming (ourselves or others).

It does definitely include compassion. Empathy. Love. Boundaries. Patience. Joy as well as grief.

Having the tools and resources to do this this work, this work of moving away from rigidity, from either/or thinking, into softness and the non-duality of both/and, is always one thing; utilizing them, practicing them, is something different entirely. Practice is key. Compassion is key. Patience with ourselves and others is key.

To softness. To emotional intimacy. To thriving.

/../

This essay was originally written for my weekly(ish) newsletter in August 2018. It has been edited for publication here. To receive my most recent essays, you can subscribe here.

Practices to help us slow down

August 24, 2020 By gwynn

She wore her ferocity like armor, and it was purely asexual armor. Liraz was untouchable and untouched. ~Laini Taylor, Days of Blood & Starlight

I’m learning to let go of my shields, to take the armors off (they are too heavy anyways) and march unguarded, if ever the need arises, towards the battlefield in defense of love. ~ Ayokunle Falomo, thread, this wordweaver must!

Pretty armour doesn’t make a warrior. ~Mark Lawrence, Emperor of Thorns

We live in a world that applauds busyness. If we aren’t doing-doing-doing, then we are wasting time, wasting space, wasting our life. Rest is unacceptable. Self-care is considered selfish. Slowing down, or worse, actually stopping, is a clear sign of our laziness.

A truth is if we are overwhelmed with our busyness, there is little to no time, space, or energy for true connection — not with our own Self, not with those we hold most dear, not even truly with our community. The more we are doing the less we are being. The more we are distracted with our long to-do list of task after task after endless task, the less we are questioning why we are allowing ourselves to be so busy, the less we question the status quo, the less we question if there is another way to live, another way to be, a way to actually feel fulfilled, loved, connected.

A way to move beyond our busyness, to find our way to being able to tolerate being present in, and even learn to enjoy, the now, is by coming home to our bodies. When we are able to slow down and calm our sympathetic nervous systems and then move into the work of connecting even more to our bodies, our boundaries, our connection to ground and our own center, we learn to be in the present, we begin to feel the grip of those endless to-do lists loosen and our whole being be able to relax.

This is a process. And there are some little tips and tricks, beyond the nervous system exercises I share in my weekly newsletter and on social media, that I have found helpful, perhaps you will too.

Sticky Notes: Write a single word or phrase on a stickie (or several) and stick it on your bathroom mirror, your refrigerator, your closet door, your window sill, your walls, where ever you like. The more stickies you are willing and able to put up around your home, the better. These are gentle reminders of our intentions, of the ways we want to live. When we walk by them and notice them, we can take a moment to breathe in and exhale and allow that word or phrase to enter into our conscious mind. Also, when we pass by them and don’t consciously notice them, our peripheral vision will see them and send that message into our subconscious (which is where the real work of shifting and change needs to happen).

“Tattoo” your inner forearm: Write a word or phrase on your inner forearm with a marker (trust me, even “permanent” ink washes off relatively easily). This serves the same purpose as the stickies, the difference being it is more of a constant reminder of what we wish to embody.

Window Chalk the Windows: Same as the previous two, but putting these words or phrases on our windows, glass sliding doors, and or mirrors. We can embellish the words or phrases as we like, adding flowers or butterflies or hearts or whatever you like.

Some words and phrases you could use:

Ease
Love
Gentle
Breathe
Slow or Slow down
Rest
Compassion
Play
Laugh
Soft/Softness/Soften
I am love(d)
I am enough
I am safe in this moment
I am worthy
I am deserving
I am my own Self
I am NOT her
Break Patterns
Break Cycles
Rebel
Revolt
Shift

You get the idea.

Folding Laundry “Meditation”: While folding laundry practice paying attention to what you actually doing. No TV on, no music, simply standing or sitting folding the laundry, noticing each piece of clothing — its colors, textures, size (You may also begin to notice stains and small holes or tears that need attention!). In time you can add breathing to this exercise if you like, taking a slow, big inhale as you begin folding the piece of the clothing and letting out a fully, big, forced exhale as you finish and set it on the folded clothes pile.

Washing Dishes “Meditation”: Similar to Folding Laundry, but adapted to work with washing dishes: noticing the temperature of the water, the way the soap bubbles melted, the colors and textures of the dishes and utensils. You can do this even as loading the dishwasher, it is all about noticing what is happening, what you are doing, paying attention. When you notice your thoughts have begun to wander, bring them back to the task at hand and back to noticing.

Cleaning “Meditation”: Adapting the above exercises to any type of cleaning exercise: sweeping or mopping, cleaning mirrors, windows, counters, toilets, tubs. Noticing the feel of the rag or sponge or brush in our hands, noticing the difference between the dirty parts and the parts you just cleaned, noticing colors and textures, etc.

Laughter: Google “dumb dad jokes” and go to the images and let yourself chuckle. Or watch your favorite comedian or comedy show or movie. Read a kids’ joke book. Whatever it takes to laugh, do it. (Laughter has been shown to help calm our sympathetic nervous system and to boost our production of endorphins and serotonin.)

Connecting to nature: Go sit at the base of a tree, go barefoot in the grass, sand, mud. If you like hiking, go for a hike. If you like gardening, go pull some weeds or transplant a plant, or harvest the fruits and vegetables you have been growing. Water a house plant and stand with it and talk to it, breathing in the oxygen it is is producing and giving it some extra carbon dioxide to process.

These practices are things you can try if you are feeling resistant to the more “formal” nervous system regulation exercises or in addition to them. They are ways to help us slow down, to be in the now, to remind your body that in this moment, you are physically safe.

None of this is a quick or easy fix. None of it will completely change you overnight, or within a week or even within six months. And you will start to notice little shifts, you will start to take those moments to pause, and in time those pauses will become longer and longer.

/../

This essay was originally written for my weekly-ish newsletter in August 2018. It has been edited and revised for publication here. To receive my most recent essays, you can subscribe here.

From connection to relationship

August 17, 2020 By gwynn

We are all so much together, but we are all dying of loneliness. ~Albert Schweitzer

To be fully seen by somebody, then, and be loved anyhow – this is a human offering that can border on miraculous. ~Elizabeth Gilbert, Committed: A Skeptic Makes Peace with Marriage

When I began my business/private practice almost eight years ago, my main value, intention, and driving force was connection. I wanted to connect with others. I wanted to connect with myself. I wanted to guide others to connect with their own whole self – body, mind, spirit, and soul. I wanted us to connect to our breath. To connect to the present moment. I wanted to connect more with my own family, my community, the greater world. I wanted the same for others.  Connection.

Connection was my word for the last part of 2012, all of 2013, and then stayed with me from there on after as a base, a foundation of my work and being in the world.

Connection pushed me out of my comfort zone. It had me reaching out to people I never would have before.  Connection expanded me in so many good and glorious ways. The friendships that grew from my own drive for connection are some of the most important in my, and my family’s, life.

Connection also brought me closer to me. Connecting with my body, connecting with my mind, connecting with my spirit. Unearthing and understanding some of the connections within me. The connections of my traumatic past and the my ways of being in the present.

And of course the intellectual connections: personal and political, social and self, individual and collective. The connections between trauma, grief, and embodiment. The deeper still understanding of systems and our inter-connected-ness as humans on this planet.

So much connection.

And even with all this connection happening, within and outside of me, to my body, to my intellect, to my Self, to my world, I still felt lonely.

Sometimes deeply lonely.

And not only lonely, but also alone.

A thing about trauma, is that it has us self-isolate. It also impacts our attachment styles and relationships. If we experienced trauma young enough, and the trauma was inflicted by primary or even secondary care-givers, our ability to trust others is deeply impacted.

In other words, it affects our willingness and ability to form deep, vulnerable, emotionally intimate relationships.

Which then, leaves us feeling lonely and alone, even if we are connected in some or many ways to other people. Because, if we haven’t processed our trauma, we are still in an activated state; we are weary of allowing others in; we “know better” than to allow ourselves to be vulnerable by stating our wants and needs. And deep, intimate, relationships cannot form. Because we are still in survival mode.

Until we can feel a sense of safeness in our body, a sense of physical safeness, we can’t move on into the work of emotional safeness and vulnerability. Our brain stems and nervous and lymbic systems need to be soothed and calmed and feel like we are physically okay before we can move into the next level work of emotions, compassion, and empathy, which includes vulnerability and the ability to state our wants and needs and then (more than not) have them met.

Our brains literally will not allow us to do the emotional work until it is convinced we are physically safe. If we have trauma living within us that we have not processed, our brain does not believe we are physically safe (because trauma, and our fight/flight/freeze response in our amygdala is concerned about actual physical safety and literal physical survival) – even if our frontal lobe, the logic part of our brain, knows that actually we are physically safe.

When we are in an activated state, we are not connected to our frontal lobe, we are living back in the survival response state of our amygdala.

Living in that survival state has varying degrees. Sometimes it shows up as full on panic attacks, other times it appears as a relatively low-grade anxiety or depression. And even if we are in a relatively low grade state of anxiety or depression, even if we can partially connect to logic in our frontal lobe, our brain stem and amygdala are running the show and will over-ride our frontal lobe and logic brain.

What all that can look like in our personal lives is that we have many important connections. We have friendships and relationships that mean the world to us. There are people in our life who have literally saved us and who we love dearly and deeply.

Even so, moving to a deeper level of intimacy with other humans is really hard. It is something that terrifies us in a way that is non- and pre-verbal. In a way that we know stems from trauma and has no logic in relation to the present moment and or person.

Part of our own personal trauma work is in calming our brain stem and limbic and nervous systems enough for them to understand that we are actually physically safe in this present moment, so that we can move into the next level territory of exploring what exactly emotional safeness is and how even in times we put our trust in a person we perhaps shouldn’t, we will survive it. Now is the work of moving beyond connection into relationship. Intentional, deep, vulnerable, intimate relationship that takes work and bravery on our end.

Relationship, attachment, belonging – these are also basic human needs. But they come after our physiological needs of food, water, shelter and the ability to use the bathroom; they also come after our need for physical safeness and safety. Until we have been able to (correctly) convince our activated systems that we are indeed physically safe, moving into relationship and emotional safe-enough-ness is nearly impossible.

/../

This essay was originally written for my weekly-ish newsletter in January 2018. It has been updated and edited for publication here. To receive my most recent essays you can subscribe here.

We will be exploring our relationships, how complex trauma impacts them, and how we can begin to shift that, in the six month Trauma Informed Embodiment™ for Relationship that begins September 1. You can learn more here.

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