Category: being & becoming

So here’s a thing :: As you step into your power and light, there will be people who will try to silence and shame you even more. It may seem like these people are crawling out of the woodwork – they could be people you have never met, they could be people you have only met a few times and they could be people you have known your whole life. And regardless of how long or even if you know them, they will think they have the right to try and pull you back down in the shadows, to suffocate and smother you back into being small.

And our culture gives them that right. Patriarchy and white supremacy are ALL ABOUT silencing people, and shaming us, and trying to keep us small and obedient. It is all about telling us that our experience isn’t true or valid or that we are stupid or ignorant. It is all about projecting all their own self-hatred out into the world and onto you.

Here’s another thing though :: the only way we are going to change our culture is if we DO NOT LET THEM silence us. The only way we are going to create a world where all are free, is by standing in our light and power, and when we get knocked down to get back up and do it all again. The only way justice will prevail is if we keep speaking our Truth, over and over and over.

Because even though They have the “right” to continue oppressing us, continue silencing us, continue shaming us, continue raping and murdering us, WE have the right to say FUCK YOU and HELL NO and take back our voice, our bodies and our Self. WE have the right to fight back and say NO MORE and to create and be the change we want in the world.

Yes, they do have the power at the moment (and for the last millennium or two) and that in no way means they get to keep it or they are on the right side of history. Stand in your power. Speak (or yell or scream) your voice. Be UNapologetically you. ALWAYS.

xoxo

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So here’s a thing:: Shame disconnects us. from being who we truly are. It has us disconnect from our body, from our spirit. Shame fills our mind with stories about being too much or not enough, stories of unworthiness or undeserving. Shame wants us disconnected. When we are disconnected we *feel* empty and lost. We *feel* the stories of being too much and not enough. In our bones. It’s almost as if we believe we can’t *feel* any other way. And it is a feeling. A sensation. It goes way beyond “negative thinking.” These stories live in our body. They are implanted in our muscles and flow with our blood. We feel them as not feeling good or right in our skin; in constantly wanting to fix; in not knowing or defending our own boundaries. We *FEEL* these stories, every single day. They remind of their presence. Constantly. Here’s another thing: we have a choice. We can try to stuff these stories, to fill that empty sensation or knock it out of being by all kinds of not so good for us actions: eating foods that don’t really nourish us, not getting enough sleep, ignoring the warning cries of our own body and spirit. Stuffing, stuffing, stuffing; literally and figuratively. Here’s one more thing: It doesn’t have to be that way. We *can* dislodge these stories. We can loosen their grip and even move them on out of our body. We can connect to who we truly are. Beneath and beyond the stories. We can find and connect to our power, our strength. We can learn to feel comfortable in our skin, in our body. We can re-write our stories of deserving and worthiness. Together. Because Shame wants you totally disconnected. From yourself and your community. Shame wants you alone. And one way to fight the Shame beast is to connect to your people. To show up just as you are, and be with others who show up as they are too. Together we can fight the Shame Beasts. You are not in this alone. Not ever. Remind yourself of that. Reach out to the people you believe are Your People. You will be amazed how if truly are, they will welcome the all of you with open arms. I witness this magic every day in the circles I guide. It is beautiful and gorgeous and there are almost no real words to describe it’s power and magic. If you are interested in learning more about the circles I gather, I invite you to sign up for my weekly love letter to learn when the next one will be forming. http://gwynnraimondi.com/newsletter xoxo

It’s been an intense several weeks. From the lenient sentencing of a rapist to the mass murder hate crime at a gay, latinx bar, my own rage and grief have been off the charts.

I’ve been writing a lot too. Here. On Facebook. In my newsletter.

As I process and express my rage and grief and frustration with the outside world, I’ve also taken time to slow down, reflect, and look inward.

I’ve been becoming more and more aware of my own actions and complicity in the white-supremist, patriarchal, misogynist, rape culture we live in.

This awareness feeds my rage and grief.

We talked about all of this in our monthly call weekend with the Exploring Our Shadows circle. I half joked that I just fucking give up and I’m going to move into one of the circle member’s ranch and raise unicorns with her.

Because I’m done. Cooked through.

Exhausted to my marrow.

Sick to my stomach.

And as a friend noted, there is no time for this doneness, for this exhaustion, for this nausea.

There is work still to be done. So much work to be done.

So. I down another cup of coffee, take in and let out a deep breath,  and remember.

Remember. Who I am. What I stand for. What my work in this world is.

Melanie Dewberry talks about the importance of being named, of claiming our true name for our Self. Her words have stuck with me, swirled within me. Their truth.

My name.

I believe in the power of words. In the power of myth. In our collective unconscious and the ancestral history that lives in our body.

I believe every generation has their own stories. Their own truths. Their own lies. Their own unique mythology.  These stories are a mix of wisdom from the elders and their own new found wisdom and truths.

My generation, growing up in the 1970s, had Wonder Woman, the Bionic Women and the Six Million Dollar Man,  and Charlie’s Angels. These were each mythological beings that we could relate to, aspire to. They each fought for justice and freedom for themselves and others.  Yet they were each still not quite whole, still very one sided and flat. And then, in my mid-20s came Buffy, the Vampire Slayer.  And well, I felt, finally, the mythology for my generation, Generation X, had been born.

How does this tie together?

We’ll get there, I promise.

Back to naming.

My name, Gwynn, given to me by parents, is a good name for me. It means light, fair, blessed, holy. I have dark eyes and hair and always took the definition of “light and fair” to mean that I was a bright light in the world who believed in fairness and justice. This definition goes with the traits of being a Libra (my sun and moon signs). I made the meaning of my given name fit me. I didn’t allow it, even at a young age, to not fit me.

And yet, this name is not complete. My parents did not give me a middle name and so, before I married my husband and took his last name my initials were GR.  Not quite complete.

Then I married my husband and took his last name, moving my maiden name into my middle name slot. And my initials magically became GRR.

Ahhhh.  That’s more like it.

GRR. Yes, that is fitting.  Everyone who realized my new initials, my new name, commented on how fitting it was for me. And yet, I felt it was still not complete.

Stay with me…

In the Buffyverse (which includes the series Angel) I found my names, my meaning. It wasn’t Buffy. While she is a great archetype and fully human in her god-likeness, she never clicked as me or mine. Instead, I found Illyria (last season of Angel), Sineya (the first slayer), Dark Willow and Light Willow and I am some swirled together combination of these four. A first, an original, an old one. A leader.  A warrior against darkness and evil.  Overflowing with rage and grief and love. A destroyer. A creator. A mother, nurturer, teacher, guide.

In these moments of wanting to run away and raise unicorns, I remember this. Who I am. That my name is GRR and sounds somewhere between and beyond a howl and a roar and a wail.

So even when I am bone tired and want to quit and give up and run away, I know that is not who I am.

I cannot run away from injustice. I cannot sit down and shut up and continue to allow the world to keep on keeping on by oppressing and murdering and raping.

I cannot turn the other way. Not even to myself. Especially not to myself. And when I learn or realize or unpack another layer of how I have contributed to this fucked up world we live in, I make repairs as best I can and do everything in my power to do different.

This doing different means to continue becoming more and more self-aware. To continue recognizing the ways I have personally perpetuated the stories of the patriarchy and rape culture to my children, my friends, my world and to do every thing in my power to unravel what I’ve done.  To allow the awareness without shame. To allow the awareness with all the rage and grief it needs and deserves.

Recognizing our own parts in creating and allowing and perpetuating this world we live in isn’t an exercise in self-hatred or beating ourselves up. It isn’t an exercise in confirming what a horrible human being any of us are. It isn’t an exercise in confirming how we can never do anything right.

It is an exercise in self-awareness. In remembering. In healing. In allowing.

I am bone tired. I am exhausted from the glib responses of people who claim to be healers. I am sick from the shirking of personal responsibility. I am angry with the constant pointing outward and lack of looking within.

So. Another cup of coffee. Another breath. Perhaps a nap. And then marching on.

This marching on includes listening. Creating space for other voices to be heard. Allowing for the pain to be spoken and experienced. Making space for the discomfort.

Because owning our own shit is uncomfortable. Acknowledging our own participation in creating an unjust world is not fun or pretty or filled with flowers and rainbows and sausages. It hurts. It stirs up all the shit. It forces us to think and then act different. And once we know, once we see, we can’t unknow or unsee.  And that is where the true discomfort lives.

Make space for the voices that cause you pain. Make space for the emotions that create discomfort within you. Look within and become curious how you have silenced others, how you have contributed to our oppressive culture. And if the story in your head says “not me,” I invite you to question that story.

Because we can’t be raised in this culture and not internalize its training.

And only when we become aware of what we have internalized can real change in this world happen.

Create space. For you. For those you don’t agree with. For being wrong and making mistakes yourself. For the opportunity and possibility of change, healing, for unconditional love.

xoxo

(Did you like reading this? If so, I invite you to subscribe to my weekly love letter. It’s filled with goodness and comes out every Saturday evening. You can sign up for it right here.)

So here’s a thing: Standing in our power and setting boundaries doesn’t always have to look Big and Loud. It can. It can look Huge. It can look like screaming from the rooftops. And it doesn’t have to. Sometimes standing in our power and setting boundaries looks like walking away. Sometimes it looks like not engaging. Sometimes it looks like we are standing just a tiny bit taller and firmer. Sometimes it is a quiet “No.” Or even a “No, thank you.” Sometimes it is simply silence, while saying “lalalalalalalalalalala” in your head. It can certainly look like “FUCK YOU” or “FUCK OFF” also. All this is true. All this is a valid expression of your power. All of this is a valid expression of your voice. All of this is valid ways to set and stand in your boundaries. Because sometimes it actually isn’t safe to say FUCK YOU or FUCK OFF. Sometimes doing so could actually cause us harm – physical harm, harm to our income, harm to our children or other family members. Yes, we absolutely need to speak out against abuse. Yes, we ABSOLUTELY need to speak out against oppression. Yes, we have the right to our voice and to use it whenever we bloody well please. And sometimes, there are people in the world who will kill you, or bring harm to you in some other way, for you doing so. This isn’t a reason to be silent and endure. This IS a reason to be silent and walk (or run) away and find your people. The ones who will stand with you. The ones who will join their voice with yours. The ones who will not let you fight this fight alone. Because this is their fight too. Because this is OUR fight. Together. Walking away is another way to say No More. Keeping yourself alive for another day is a way to quietly and defiantly say Fuck You. Finding your people and banding together and raising your voices in unison and harmony while building each other up and becoming stronger and stronger is another way to tell the system to Fuck Off. You do not need to do this alone. Not any more. xoxo. (Did you enjoy reading this? If so, I invite you to subscribe to my weekly love letter. You can learn more about it and sign up right here.)

So here’s a thing:: I’ve been thinking a LOT about the word “unleashed.” It popped into my body and mind the other day and it won’t leave. It’s sunk it’s teeth into me and I’m allowing it and all it means swirl around in me as I try to understand its meaning and importance in my life and work, right now. The idea of needing to be unleashed is pretty huge. If we need to be unleashed, that means something is on a leash in the first place. Tied up, bound, pushed down, tamed. Silenced, domesticated, probably ignored. Not respected, not honored and not allowed in its natural state. Generally speaking by someone else, though often we comply and put our own leashes on. The thought that I, or you, or anyone, needs to be unleashed makes me ill. This is oppression at it’s height of power. To wear a leash, literally or figuratively, is giving, willingly or not, our sense of self and autonomy away. I believe Shame has everything to do with this metaphorical and sometimes literal leash. I believe this leash, while outwardly looks like connection to another, is truly all about disconnection. Disconnection from our experience, our truth, our voice. Disconnection from our self and who we are. This leash is about obedience. Being docile. Being controlled. Writing about this symbolic and very real leash is literally making my throat feel tight, as if I am wearing a collar. It is interesting to observe, to notice, how my body reacts to words and ideas and to know that it has taken years of my own work, sometimes with therapists, sometimes coaches, sometimes on my own, to remove layers of my collars and to claw that leash to threads. Here’s what I know:: It is not easy or glamorous work to become unleashed. What we are tying down and burying and trying to pretend doesn’t exist isn’t pretty. There’s rage in there. And grief. And some more rage. And probably more rage still. We are trained that rage/anger/fury are bad. That being unleashed equates to being out of control and dangerous. To this training I say FUCK YOU. I am not a pet. I am not something to be put on display for someone else’s consumption or amusement. I am not here to be controlled by someone else’s rules or choices or expectations. I am me. Mine. You are you. Yours. We don’t need to wear these collars and leashes any more. Let’s tear them off. xoxo ( I’m going to be writing more about this word in my weekly love letter. If you’d like to read it, and I would be honored if you do, you can subscribe to it right here: http://gwynnraimondi.com/newsletter )