Gwynn Raimondi, MA

Love is a word

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It’s [love] a human emotion.
No, it’s a word.  What matters is the connection the word implies.
~Matrix Revolutions

Love is not a victory march
It’s a cold and it’s a broken Hallelujah
…
Maybe there’s a God above
And all I ever learned from love
Was how to shoot at someone who outdrew you
It’s not a cry you can hear at night
It’s not somebody who’s seen the light
It’s a cold and its a broken Hallelujah
~Rufus Wainwright, Hallelujah

The opposite of love is not hate, it’s indifference. The opposite of art is not ugliness, it’s indifference. The opposite of faith is not heresy, it’s indifference. And the opposite of life is not death, it’s indifference.
~Elie Wiesel

Love is just another four letter word,
But that never stopped nobody.
~Hey Violet, Like Lovers Do

What does it mean to love?  To love another.  To love yourself.  Romantic love.  Platonic love.  Parental love.

How do we define the ideas of mature love and immature love?  

How do our attachment wounds and trauma come into play?

How do we not have expectations, demands and assumptions and still have our boundaries, wants, and needs met?

How do we know when we are in love?  How do we know it’s actually love and not simply a repeat of a well known (and ultimately harmful) pattern or cycle?

How do we know when our relationships are helpful and not harmful?  

What is passion?  Is it a repeat of harmful patterns?  Does it really boil down to chemical reactions (dopamine, serotonin, ocytocin)?

When we love a person, be that our Self or another, how do we treat them?  How do we want to treat them?  Are we willing to do the work of love to make the shift?

I deeply believe the work of breaking our inter-generational patterns and cycles is an act of love.

But what does that mean?

Love is caring. 
Love is boundaries.  
Love is connection.
Love is being seen and heard, exactly as we are. 
Love is seeing and hearing another, exactly as they are.
Love is being accountable.  To ourselves.  To others.  
Love is holding others accountable.  
Love is encouraging growth, expansion. 
Love is beginnings and endings.  Love is allowing the beginnings and endings.
Love is not forced, however, love is work.
Love is a verb.  An action.
Love is freedom, liberation.
Love is change.  
Love is release.  Letting go.  

Love is not flowery words or poetry.
Love is not forever and ever if the cost is stagnation.
Love is not promises we can never keep simply because we are human and we cannot foresee what the future holds.  However, love is commitment. 
Love is not ownership.
Love is not confinement.
Love is not punishment or retribution
Love is not lies or dishonesty to “save someone’s feelings”.  With our Self or with others.
Love is not safe, in that love is a risk, love is vulnerable and vulnerability.
Love is not comfortable.  In fact, love encourages discomfort.  Because discomfort is a sign of growth and change.
Love is not pain.  (There is a distinct difference between pain and discomfort).
Love is not isolation.  
Love is not about winning or getting rewards. 

These are some of the ways I’m finding myself defining love at the moment as I look at my relationships, with others and with myself.  As I consider my own wants and needs.  As I consider my own attachment wounds and tender spots.  As I open and acknowledge some of the places I could focus some processing and healing.  As I open and acknowledge many of the patterns and cycles I have broken and disrupted.  

Love is an emotion, sure.  Love is a feeling, absolutely.  And in so many ways, love is non-verbal and indescribable.

And.

Love is not an excuse for breaking boundaries.  Love is not an excuse for harm (i.e. I’m doing this because I love you or for your own good).  Love is not hierarchies or striving or needing to prove our worth.  

Love is a willingness, and the ability, to do the challenging, uncomfortable, work of breaking the patterns and cycles that have been passed down to us and of healing our own wounds and processing our own traumatic experiences.  

Love is not easy, but the choice to love can be.

/../

This essay was originally shared in my weekly newsletter on April 19, 2020. It has been edited for publication here. To receive my most recent essays, you can subscribe here.

Moving into softness

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If we turn away from our own pain, we may find ourselves projecting this aversion onto others, seeing them as somehow inadequate for being in a troubled situation.  ~Sharon Salzberg,Real Love: The Art of Mindful Connection

Attachment is a unifying principle that reaches from the biological depths of our being to its furthest spiritual reaches.  ~Jeremy Holmes, John Bowlby and Attachment Theory

Why do people have to be this lonely? What’s the point of it all? Millions of people in this world, all of them yearning, looking to others to satisfy them, yet isolating themselves. Why? Was the earth put here just to nourish human loneliness?  ~Haruki Murakami, Sputnik Sweetheart

As we adjust to our “new normal” and social distancing, many of us staying “safe at home”, our anxiety may be running rampant.  As we are either in close quarters with those we normally live with or are alone because that is our normal, we may find ourselves feeling frustrated and our attachment wounds being activated.

This can have us turning to all kinds of unhelpful or even harmful behaviors.  Behaviors that we developed at a young age that were meant to either keep us alive, or are meant to try and get our attachment needs met (in perhaps a very backwards sort of way).

We may find ourselves picking fights.

Pushing people away.

Feeling “clingy” and demanding.

Allowing (untrue, harmful, and hurtful) narratives about others or about ourselves to run rampant in our heads.  

Falling back into ultimately harmful relationships (and remember, a relationship doesn’t need to be outright abusive for it to be harmful, any relationship that keeps us stuck in repeating hurtful patterns and cycle and doesn’t encourage our healing and growth, is harmful).

Our anxiety may be over the top.

Our fear of abandonment may be going wild.

So much is happening in our minds and bodies right now as we move through this unprecedented and totally unknown space.  

We can find ourselves becoming rigid.

Hard.

Immovable.

Ultimately stuck, stagnant, repeating patterns and cycles that hurt us and others. 

Now is the time for us to slow down.

To find ways to calm our systems, take a half step (or more) back, and to consider situations from a more rational place.

A time to examine if the reaction we are having is based in an old trauma, the present situation, or some combination of the two.

A time to consider how our past pain and hurts are impacting us in the present.

A time to find new, helpful ways, of soothing our systems.  Of managing our overwhelm.

A time to shift into softness.

To connect to compassion, for ourselves and others.

To find ways to be more vulnerable, with people who are safe enough.

To explore our own wants, our needs, our desires, for our relationships, for our world, for our Self.

To nurture our own bodies and minds, those we care about and for, our planet.

To consider what fulfills us, what ignites our passions, what gives us a sense of abundance.

To expand, to transform, to evolve.  

To move into softness is counter-intuitive when our fear response is activated.  It is challenging to do even in the best of times.  We live in a culture that encourages us to disconnect, to judge, to be harsh and hard.

Moving into softness can be challenging.  It requires self-awareness and a willingness to shift, to grow, to transform.  It asks us to come home into our bodies, to learn to sit in the discomfort of our emotions and their bodily sensations, to expand our windows of tolerance so we can respond to situations with love for ourselves, others, and our relationships.

We are in challenging and complex times.  Finding ways to calm our systems, to rest, to allow the space for our own evolution is vital.  We are at a precipice in the collective, a time for us to decide if we want to continue on in the harmful ways, destroying our relationships and planet, or if we want to shift into a nurturance culture, one of caring, of compassion, of coming together and lovingly encouraging each other to expand outside our comfort zones, to break generations old patterns and cycles, to revolt against all that keeps us apart and to evolve into the people, and the society, we have always dreamed of.

/../

This essay was originally written for my weeklyish newsletter and has been edited for publication here. To receive my most recent essays, you can subscribe here.

Last weekend Sarah Martland (Founder of Trauma & Co) met to figure out ways we can support our community right now.  We have changed the pricing the the Trauma & Co Community to make it more accessible to more people, and we’ve also made some changes to what all will be offered in it.  We have also brought an offering planned for later this year forward, as well as added an extra pricing level.  You can learn more about Resourcing for Complex Times: Supporting Ourselves Through Challenging Experiences here.

When we fall back on harmful patterns & cycles

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There is in all things a pattern that is part of our universe. It has symmetry, elegance, and grace – these qualities you find always in that the true artist captures. You can find it in the turning of the seasons, the way sand trails along a ridge, in the branch clusters of the creosote bush of the pattern of its leaves. We try to copy these patterns in our lives and in our society, seeking the rhythms, the dances, the forms that comfort. Yet, it is possible to see peril in the finding of ultimate perfection. It is clear that the ultimate pattern contains its own fixity. In such perfection, all things move towards death. ~Frank Herbert, Dune

I must not fear.
Fear is the mind-killer.
Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration.
I will face my fear.
I will permit it to pass over me and through me.
And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path.
Where the fear has gone there will be nothing.
Only I will remain.
~Bene Gesserit Litany Against Fear (Frank Herbert)

Be mindful of people who feel like home, when home wasn’t a safe place to be. ~TheMindGeek

Change is often challenging.

And if we’re really honest with ourselves and each other, change can also be terrifying.

Why is change so terrifying? Why is it so easy to fall back into old (often harmful) patterns, cycles, even relationships? Why do we keep going back to things we know are hurtful and or damaging?

The why we do this is simple enough. It’s because when we were young, as our brains were first developing and our neural pathways were forming, as we were learning about the world around us, we lived in abusive, neglectful, and or chaotic environments. The neural paths that were then formed, associated what is known and understood with this chaos or harm.

We learned at an early age how to navigate harm. How to side step it. How to get through it. The chaos, in many ways, became “safe.” Even as it was hurting us.

It was safe because it was known. Not because it was actually safe. Not because it wasn’t causing harm.

Simply because it was known.

Breaking patterns and cycles is stepping into unknown territory. A land without any type of road map or navigation system. A land without paths or trails for us to follow.

Breaking patterns and cycles is not known to our brains. It is not what our neural pathways understand. It feels foreign because it is.

Because of this it feels uncomfortable. Even terrifying. It may not feel right. It likely won’t feel good at first or for a while. Even though what we are doing is actually good for us.

We fall back on old (harmful) patterns and relationships because they feel safe. They feel safe because they are known. The cycles we fall back into again and again remind us of our chaotic childhoods and that is understood.

We know how to navigate chaos.

We have no idea how to navigate peace. Real (non-oppressive, non-abusive, non-demanding, assuming, expecting) love. Freedom. Calm. Actual safeness.

And because we don’t know how to navigate it, because it is foreign, it feels weird, uncomfortable. And not just weird, oftentimes boring. And even more often, out and out unsafe. And so we avoid it, run from it, resist it, reject it.

So what does this mean then, as we are doing our work to break life long, often generations old, patterns and cycles to also learn to trust ourselves? As we are doing the work of processing our trauma? Of coming into our bodies and the present? How can we trust ourselves if what feels “safe” is actually harmful? How do we sit in the discomfort of change when every fiber in our being is screaming No! Go back to what we know!! ?

How do we leave, and stop returning to, relationships that are abusive, oppressive; that stunt our personal growth and healing; that keep us stuck in patterns and cycles that are harmful not just to ourselves, but ultimately to our children, to our other relationships, to the ways we interact with and in the world, when those harmful relationships are what feel like “home”?

First we need to develop a metric fuckton (yes, I believe this is an actual measurement) of self-compassion. Because a truth is we will fall back into these patterns. We will revisit these cycles. We will retreat to these relationships. That all, ultimately, cause us harm. Cause those around us harm. Cause our world harm.

We need to understand this is not failure. This is part of the process. With each falling back, it will feel less and less “right.” Not that the new ways of being and doing in the world are comfortable yet, but that what we knew just doesn’t quite fit anymore, and we know it, we feel it, viscerally.

Then as we continue to do the work of processing our trauma, of coming into our bodies, of learning to be in the present moment, we need to be able to allow the space to be curious, to explore, to question ourselves and our motivations. Am I doing X because it is what I know? Is what I know about X ultimately harmful to me? Am I avoiding Y because it is unknown and therefore feels unsafe? Or is Y actually unsafe?

Sometimes we won’t know the answers to these questions, sometimes we will answer the questions incorrectly and end up continuing a pattern or cycle that causes us and or others harm.

This is part of the process. This is part of learning to do different. This is part of breaking those patterns and cycles.

When we enter into new relationships that feel “boring” we need to explore similar questions. Does this feel boring because it’s actually emotionally and physically safe? Or does it feel boring because we actually don’t have much in common and therefore is intellectually unstimulating? Do I feel anxious around this person because they may be a threat? Or do I feel anxious because they are offering me actual safeness, understanding, freedom?

Again, we will answer these questions “wrong” sometimes. And that is OKAY. That is part of the process. It is part of the learning. It is part of getting to know ourselves.

Remember that first step of developing some self-compassion? Yeah, that. We always fall back on that.

This doesn’t mean that we don’t do the repair work we need to do when we cause harm in our relationships, in our world. We do that too. Having a history of trauma is not an excuse to cause harm and does not give us free pass to perpetuate harm.

We can be gentle with ourselves as we journey through this work. As we enter into, then retreat from, then enter into again, the unknown territory of breaking patterns and cycles, of learning what it is to be in truly loving and freeing relationships. Of owning the ways we cause harm to ourselves and others, and doing the work of repair without shame, but rather with the true intent and motivation to create change, within ourselves, within our relationships, and out in our world.

/../

This was originally published in my weekly(ish) newsletter on February 17, 2020. It has been revised and edited for publication here. To receive my most recent essays you can subscribe right here.

We will be learning ways to break patterns and cycles, to slow down and self-regulate, to come into our bodies and reclaim them as our own in the six month Trauma Informed Embodiment™ for Sexual Trauma Survivors (TIE STS) program that beings March 16. To learn more click here.

Renewing in the Underworld

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Each of us has his own way of emerging from the underworld, mine is by writing. That’s why the only way I can keep going, if at all, is by writing, not through rest and sleep. I am far more likely to achieve peace of mind through writing than the capacity to write through peace. ~Franz Kafka, Letters to Felice‎

The most important journey you will take in your life will usually be the one of self transformation. Often, this is the scariest because it requires the greatest changes, in your life. ~Shannon L. Alder

Change is supremely inconvenient, uncomfortable and naturally scary. Yet we only move through life through the process of change, reinvention and renewal, and so bravery is our quintessential rebel for pushing us past our own limiting beliefs and behaviours. Bravery is feeling the fear, immersing yourself into it and through it so you can come out the other side. ~Christine Evangelou, Rocks Into Roses: Life Lessons and Inspiration for Personal Growth

Our world is filled with stories of the Underworld, the place of the dead.  It is often portrayed as a dark place, a sad place, a lonely place.  In western culture we don’t view the Underworld as a place of transformation, but rather as a final landing place, where are soul will rest, or not rest, for the rest of eternity.

In the story of Inanna, she spends three days, dead, in the Underworld after being killed by her sister, Ereshkigal, before she is freed by her handmaiden Ninshubar.  In this story Inanna’s time in the Underworld is that of transformation, reformation, and eventually rebirth as she emerges back through the gates with the aid of her friend and handmaiden.

I see our time in the Underworld not as a “final resting place” but more as a place of transformation like in the story of Inanna.  I see us traveling in and out of the Underworld throughout our lives, and have come to name this space and time The Goo.

Long time readers have heard/read me talk/write about The Goo before.  The Goo is that time and space when a caterpillar is in its chrysalis, and has totally disintegrated, but has not yet begun to form into a butterfly, moth, or dragonfly.  It is this in-between stage and is so often uncomfortable because the past is no more and yet the future becoming is totally unknown.  It can be a terrifying time, and it can also be a time of calm, renewal, and self-care and nourishing.  

When we are able to allow ourselves to be in these in-between places, in The Goo, without anxiety or fear, we can find our ways to our deeper Self.  We can shed some of the pains that we had held onto for too long, and create space for something new, different, more true to who we want to be in the world, and not only a person reacting (unconsciously or consciously) to our past traumas and experiences. 

Learning to sit in this discomfort, in this unknown, is no easy feat.  For those of us with complex trauma the unknown can be so terrifying we freeze and or spiral into the depths of anxiety and or depression.  Being able to “know” what is next, having our plans (and sticking to them no matter what), brings us comfort and helps us feel like our lives are less chaotic and that we actually have some amount of control – which then brings us a sense of safeness which allows us to function in the world.

Here’s a thing though, life is chaotic.  It is unpredictable.  Each next moment is actually an unknown.  Plans change.  Natural disasters happen.  Accidents occur.  There is much out of our control, whether we want to think about it or not, and no matter how much we try to bring in order from the chaos that is living life as a human on this planet.

So.

When we are able to accept the chaos for what it is, simply part of living life, we may be able to begin to tolerate the unknowns, the in-betweens.  Once that happens then maybe we can learn to find ways to be in those in-between spaces, in The Goo, not only without anxiety, but with a sense of understanding the importance of these spaces, these times.  Then perhaps we can learn ways to nourish ourselves, to replenish ourselves, to allow ourselves to rest while we are in The Goo.  In the Underworld.  In the midst of transition and transformation and rebirth.

/../

This essay was originally written for my weekly(ish) newsletter on January 21, 2019. It has been revised and edited for publication here. To receive my most recent essays, you can subscribe here.

We will be spending some time in the Underworld in my seven week writing program Embodied Writing :: Too much, not enough, & shame. We begin January 27. You can learn more here.

Feeling our feelings

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We try so hard to hide everything we’re really feeling from those who probably need to know our true feelings the most. People try to bottle up their emotions, as if it’s somehow wrong to have natural reactions to life. ~Colleen Hoover, Maybe Someday

To feel intensely is not a symptom of weakness, it is the trademark of the truly alive and compassionate. It is not the empath who is broken, it is society that has become dysfunctional and emotionally disabled. There is no shame in expressing your authentic feelings. Those who are at times described as being a ‘hot mess’ or having ‘too many issues’ are the very fabric of what keeps the dream alive for a more caring, humane world. Never be ashamed to let your tears shine a light in this world. ~Anthon St. Maarten

For those of us living with trauma, we have spent a majority of our lives dissociated.  Meaning, we didn’t really feel our feelings (until perhaps we had no choice and couldn’t ignore or stuff down anymore).  We weren’t aware of our bodies.  We lived in our heads and outside of ourselves.  

And when we did feel our feelings, we never, ever, under any circumstances shared them or expressed them (except maybe anger).  Those of us living with complex trauma learned early on not to express our emotions, or at least we never learned how to express them in any sort of constructive or helpful way.

So when we start to come to this work of coming into our bodies and processing the traumas that live within us, we all have so much to learn and unlearn.

It is a painstakingly slow process that generally involves many almost imperceptible baby steps mixed with a lot of falling back into old patterns and cycles and finding our ways back out again.

I can say that it does get… less challenging… in time.  With practice, with patience, with self compassion.

Learning to sit in our uncomfortable feelings (and really for those of us who dissociate, all our emotions are uncomfortable, all body sensations can feel like too much) is not easy or fun.  And once we have learned how to tolerate our own feelings, well, now we get to actually feel those feelings and let me tell you I wouldn’t exactly call that fun either.

So if this embodiment stuff isn’t easy and isn’t fun and has us sitting in our uncomfortable stuff, what the heck is the point to it??

I actually used to ask myself this question at least once a week.  I’m not even kidding.

I have many answers for myself (and for you!).  Ultimately, for me, it is all about relationships, and having real, deep, meaningful ones; with myself, with those I’m intimate with, both sexually and not, with my children, with my friends and family.

If we not attuned to our feelings (emotions and bodily sensations), then it is very unlikely we are present in the moment, in our environment, or with the person we are interacting with.  If we are unable to be present with another person, then we are unable to connect with them on a more than a superficial level.  If we are only connecting with folks on a superficial level we feel lonely and isolated and we are also unable to tune into what is happening with the other person on a deeper level.

If we can’t tolerate to feel our own feelings then how can we tolerate to feel another’s?  And isn’t part of being in deep and meaningful relationship being able to hold space and be supportive of and to those who matter most to us?

That’s part one of my answer.

Part two of my answer has to do with our reactions and actions, which also impact our relationships. If we aren’t noticing our little “tells” that we are at the very early states of feeling overwhelmed, flooded, or triggered, then we are unable to do anything to soothe ourselves in those early moments.  If we are unable to soothe ourselves in those early moments, then those feelings build and build.  They may build over weeks, but still with every interaction that activates our sympathetic nervous system that we are unable to reset our system from, then the next trigger feels more intense.  This build up continues until we explode in one way or another.

That explosion can look like yelling and screaming and “losing our shit.”  Generally speaking when this happens we aren’t our best selves and have a tendency to lash out and cause harm to the other person (be that actual physical harm, or emotional or psychological harm may depend on any number of factors).  

That explosion can also look like illness.  Chronic infections, chronic pain, autoimmune issues, chronic colds or flus.  

That explosion can look like self harm, which includes over spending for “retail therapy,” over eating foods that ultimately don’t make us feel good, using drugs or alcohol to numb, and of course what we usually think of as self harm: cutting, binging and purging, suicide attempts, etc.

That explosion can also look like self isolation coupled with extreme amounts of shame and shoulding on ourselves (which can then lead to self harm or illness or “losing our shit”).

That explosion can look like any combination of the above.

None of these explosions are ultimately helpful for us or for our relationships.  

As a species, we humans need each other.  We were never meant to live in isolation or do this thing called Life alone, without any support or help. We are meant to live in community and in relationship.  We are meant to have deep and meaningful relationships where we are accepted by each other (even our uncomfortable feelings), supported by each other, held by each other, and lovingly pushed by each other.

Trauma, and specifically being dissociated, prevents us from being in community and in relationships.

And so.

Becoming embodied helps us relearn what to experience being fully human.

Being fully human has some very messy and uncomfortable parts to it, as well as some amazing and joyous parts, and everything in-between.

So, my short answer to my question above of why I do this whole embodiment thing, and why I support others in their own journeys to embodiment, is so I can be in deep and meaningful relationships with others and with myself and so I can experience all that living as a human has to offer.

It is a conscious choice.  It is made multiple times a day.  It is not a one and done.  

I am so much more embodied and present in my environment, relationships, and Self than I have been at any other point in my life.  Even so, I still fall into those old no longer needed survival skills of dissociation and isolation.  Even so sometimes my feelings sneak up on me when I’m not paying attention.  Even so I cause harm in my relationships, even though that is the last thing I ever want to do.

And.  I am also able to express my emotions to others, often without exploding.  My relationships have grown deeper and more meaningful.  Those closest to me see more of me than they have before.  I am able to get past defensive anger and get to some of the deeper emotions that are bringing up my armor relatively quickly.  I am able to laugh more freely and also cry more freely.  I understand myself so much more.  

I am able to receive love. To be seen. To see that others accept and adore me as I am.

And I have developed a deep compassion for myself and others that wasn’t there five years ago.

This work is not easy.  It is not generally speaking fun.  

And even so, I believe it is so deeply worth it.

/../

This essay was originally published in my weeklyish newsletter on April 15, 2018. It has been revised and edited for publication here. To read my most recent essays you can subscribe here.