Gwynn Raimondi, MA

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

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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.

Practices to help us slow down

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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

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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.

Being in the present

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I’ll never try to keep you
But I’ll try to be
The kind of place
That makes you 
Always want to stay.
~J. Warren Welch

Never expect
Never assume
Never demand.
Just let it be,
If it’s meant to be,
It will happen.
~Unknown

Never chase what doesn’t want to be caught.  People leave and we want them back but what we really need, is to love ourselves more than they every could.  You are worth more than a love that didn’t stay.
~Ventum

When we live with unprocessed complex trauma, we have a very low tolerance for the unknown, for liminal space, for chaos (and we view chaos as anything unknown or unforseen). We like to have plans.  We like to know what is coming.  We like to have the future all mapped out.  

We struggle with last minute changes.  We are challenged when letting things unfold in their own time.  

We have a need for our lives to go a certain way, for our plans to work out exactly as we planned them.  We have our futures fully mapped out and deviations from that cause us overwhelming stress and anxiety.  

We feel uncomfortable in the present, in the here and now.  We are constantly doing-doing-doing, looking for the next thing, planning the next event, the next project, the next stage of a relationship, next promotion, next, next, next.

This discomfort in the here and now can be overwhelming.  With our sympathetic nervous system activated and constantly on high alert our “normal” way of being in the world is looking for escape from the present. It has us looking to the future to try to avoid harm.  

We struggle with staying present in the now because our systems don’t feel safe.  They don’t feel safe in the now, they don’t feel safe in the future, because they weren’t actually safe in the past. 

Learning to teach our activated sympathetic nervous system that we are actually safe in the moment, this moment now, is the only way we can move away from always being in the future and come back to the here and now.

Self regulation and co-regulation are important parts of learning how to feel a sense of safeness in the present.  Helping our nervous systems slow down, to not always be on high alert is a skill that most of us weren’t taught or modeled in our childhood or adolescence.  These skills don’t come naturally for us, and so as we begin to learn them, they may feel strange, uncomfortable, even wrong.  

The reason they feel so strange is that we are doing something new and different.  We are beginning to grow new neural pathways, which can be a slow process.  Learning new ways of being can be awkward, and there will be times we just don’t want to do it.  Being present can simply feel too much, too overwhelming, the work too hard.  There will be those days.  

And.

Being able to be present, be in the now, can be an amazing experience.  To not have the pressure of needing something to turn out a certain way, to not have an endgame, to allow things to be as they are, to unfold as they will, can be freeing.  

Once we move through the discomfort of the new and different, once we have taken the time to grow the new neural pathways and practiced new ways of being, our sense of safeness in the present moment allows us to enjoy the now, as it is, without needing to escape into the future.  It allows us to let situations unfold, in their own time, without needing to micromanage them or try to dictate every moment or the final outcome.  

It allows us to feel good in our own skin.  In this now.  As it is.  To enjoy our life, and yes to feel the depths of the sad moments too – the difference being we are feeling it all in the moment, instead of stuffing things down to leak out at a later time.  

Being present, allowing the now to be Enough, is tricky business.  It asks us to face our demons, to process our trauma, to be accountable for our own actions, to do the work of learning to self-regulate in helpful ways, to connect to and re-integrate the lost or hidden parts of our Self.  This is intense work, it is hard work.

And it is work that I believe is so very worth it. 

/../

This essay was originally written for my weekly-ish newsletter on August 8, 2020. It has been edited for publication here. To receive my most recent essays you can subscribe here.

We will be exploring these ideas, and how to change the ways we are in our relationships with others and with ourselves in my new six month group Trauma Informed Embodiment™ for Relationship.  You can learn more about it here. 

Emotional intimacy & complex trauma

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I’ll never try to keep you,
but I’ll try to be
the kind of place
that makes you
always want to stay. 
~J. Warren Welch

I want love,
  passion, honesty,
and companionship…
  sex that drives me crazy
and conversation that
drives me sane.
~steve maraboli

love fearlessly,
for Your heart
beats brave.
~Matthew Spenser

When we live with complex trauma, entering into new relationships, be they platonic or romantic, can be activating.  We can want to dive into the depths too fast, reveal our past too quickly.  We may be impatient to allow things to unfold as they will.  We could want guarantees, promises, to know exactly what is happening.  We want a sense of control, not to be controlling, rather to calm the chaos that is living within us.  

Our systems may not have the ability to tolerate the unknown and liminal space that is required for new relationships to unfold in a ways that are beneficial for all, not rushed or pressured, slow and steady.  The slow and steady growth of a relationship may activate our anxiety, as things aren’t moving “fast enough” or we don’t actually know where they are heading.  

This makes sense given our histories.  Unknowns almost always led to harm in some way.  We learned from a very early age how to recognize patterns so we could navigate abusive and neglectful situations.  When we are early  in a relationship, patterns are being established and not yet known – this activates our stress and trauma responses.

We also may want to jump in and have our selves be “seen” and “known,” which may lead us to revealing parts of our selves or our history too early in a relationship before real trust has been established.  (This is what we call trauma bonding.)  We want to feel connected so desperately that we do whatever we know to try and “make” that happen.

One of the issues with this is we actually can’t “make” connections happen.  We cannot force intimacy.  True intimacy, emotional intimacy, is something that needs to be cultivated and nourished; it is something that grows and deepens over time with trust.

In order for emotional intimacy to grow we actually need to have good boundaries.  We need to know and defend our limits.  We need to be able to speak up when we are hurting, not in a blaming or accusatory way, rather in a way that is vulnerable.  We need to be able to be comfortable enough with the idea of rejection and endings.

This is all counter intuitive when unprocessed complex trauma is running rampant in our systems and being.  Our boundaries tend to be either overly soft or overly rigid (and sometimes depending on circumstances both).  We are afraid of communicating to another when we are hurting, and then when we do we place blame and accusations instead of showing the tender, soft, hurting side.  We are so terrified of abandonment that we do whatever we need to smooth things over and not have confrontation… which builds up over time until we finally explode or implode.

Emotional intimacy is challenging for most of us.  It means being vulnerable.  It means not having an agenda or endgame.  It means releasing expectations and assumptions.  It means putting a stop a to making demands.  It means allowing space and time for things to unfold naturally and not forcing things in the directions we think we want.  All of this goes against what the trauma living in us wants us to do.  

This goes against what our neural pathways, our brains, know and understand.

Which means, in order to get to this place of emotional intimacy, we literally need to grow new neural pathways.  We can do this in a number of ways.  Embodiment or body-centered mindfulness can be part of the path.  Taking baby steps in learning and doing different, practicing over and over.  Learning to regulate our nervous system.  Reclaiming our body as our own.  Finding ways to expand the pause between being activated and reacting to a situation.  Practicing all these things over and over and over again.

And even with all this foundation, we still need to actually communicate our wants and needs.  To share parts of ourselves, in the right time and space, that feel tender, vulnerable.  To take a breath when we are activated and to look at it and decide if old wounds are being poked at or if new ones are actually being created (or perhaps a bit of both). 

All the embodiment practices in the world won’t replace actually speaking and sharing our wants, needs, boundaries, desires, or hurts.  

The more we are able to speak, to communicate without trying to manipulate, limiting our expectations of responses, letting go of our assumptions about what the other person will or won’t do or say, the more we bolster those new neural pathways.  The more we do this, the easier it becomes.

Though I’m not sure it every becomes easy. 

Unlearning our old ways of being in relationship, and learning new ones, takes time, practice, and compassion.  There is no quick fix or easy way to do this.  It asks us to be self-aware, accountable, and vulnerable.  It asks us to let go of harmful stories of what relationship “should” look like.  It asks us to come home into our bodies, into the present moment.  It asks us to process our childhood trauma.  

It asks us to do things that were likely never modeled for us, to do things we’ve never done before and that feel foreign, strange, even wrong (even though in our logic brain knows it is right).  It asks us to go against what is known and comfortable and move into the unknown and discomfort. It asks us to be accountable for our words and actions, without shame.  

Through this process we need to remember we will mess up.  We will get it wrong at times. We will fall back on our old harmful patterns and cycles.  This is where our self-compassion can come in, where we need it to come in.

Learning to relate in new and different ways takes effort.  It takes bravery.  It takes a willingness to be wrong.  

It takes love.  Real love.  Without expectations or assumptions or demands.  Without promises or contracts.  Without cages or prisons or obligations.  

Love for others. Love for our world.  Love for our life. Love for our Self.

/../

This essay was originally written for my weekly-ish newsletter on July 26, 2020. It has been revised for publication here. To receive my most recent essays and learn about ways to work with me, you can subscribe here.

We will be exploring these ideas, and how to change the ways we are in our relationships with others and with ourselves in my new six month group Trauma Informed Embodiment™ for Relationship.  You can learn more about it here.