Gwynn Raimondi, MA

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.

The stages & tasks of grief

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Every broken heart has screamed at one time or another: Why can’t you see who I truly am? ~Shannon L. Alder

When you experience loss, people say you’ll move through the 5 stages of grief … Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression, Acceptance … What they don’t tell you is that you’ll cycle through them all every day. ~Ranata Suzuki

No one ever told me that grief felt so like fear. I am not afraid, but the sensation is like being afraid. The same fluttering in the stomach, the same restlessness, the yawning. I keep on swallowing.

At other times it feels like being mildly drunk, or concussed. There is a sort of invisible blanket between the world and me. I find it hard to take in what anyone says. Or perhaps, hard to want to take it in. It is so uninteresting. Yet I want the others to be about me. I dread the moments when the house is empty. If only they would talk to one another and not to me. ~C.S. Lewis, A Grief Observed

Most of us have heard of the Kubler-Ross stages of grief (denial, anger, bargaining, depression, acceptance). It is a standard way of looking at grief and how we as humans process it. Sometimes folks think it is a linear progression, that once we finish one stage we’re done with it and move onto the next. And grief doesn’t actually work that way. We may feel each of the stages at different times or we may feel them all at once or we may have both experiences at different times.

During my clinical internship we utilized Worden’s Tasks of Grief, which are a bit less known, and I feel more powerful and representative of how we actually process grief, whereas I see the stages of grief as the emotions we cycle through when grieving.

The tasks of grief are:
Task 1 :: To accept the reality of the loss
Task 2 :: To work through the pain of grief
Task 3 :: To adjust to an environment in which the deceased are missing
Task 4 :: To find an enduring connection to the deceased while embarking on a new life

As I’ve said before, we don’t only grieve the deceased though. We grieve relationships that have come to an end. We grieve our children growing up and leaving home (which we also simultaneously celebrate their achievement). We grieve paths not taken and choices not made.

We have the opportunity to grieve what was taken from us when we were young, either through abuse or neglect.

And we can utilize the information of the stages and tasks of grief to do this work.

When I look at my own abuse, I think about the little girl who existed before it and then who essentially died because of what was done to her. That may sound dramatic to some. And it is true that the abuse any of experienced changed the course of our lives, irrevocably. The young, innocent, trusting person who existed prior to the chronic abuse and or neglect ceased to exist and grew into the people we are today.

We will never know what our lives would have been without the abuse and neglect we experienced. We will never know who those innocent children would have grown up to be.

When we are able to begin to consider all that was lost, we can then start to feel the emotions that come with that loss. The denial (which can also show up as it wasn’t that bad). The anger (or rage of what was done to us). The bargaining. The depression. The acceptance (which isn’t about it being okay, but about understanding these things happened and they deeply impact us).

We will cycle through all these emotions, often having more than one at the same time. This is part of grieving what was lost, yes. It is also part of processing the trauma itself. Of allowing ourselves to come into our bodies and actually feel the sadness of what was done.

And while feeling the emotions and sensations is vital, we also need to find ways to process them, to allow them to flow and move out of our bodies, minds, beings. We need to feel yes, and also to not get stuck in the feelings.

Emotions want to flow. They want to move. They want to come and go.

And since many of us have lived our lives at least partially dissociated and suppressing our feelings (emotions and the physiological sensations that go with them) we need to learn how to process them.

Worden’s tasks give us a way to do that. They give us a framework. One where we can acknowledge and accept the losses we experienced because of our trauma. Once we have acknowledged them we can then work through those emotions and sensations, feeling them, allowing them, and knowing they are valid and real. To accept the impacts of the abuse and how it has influenced our choices and lives and to create the space to ask all the what if questions we want. And to find ways to connect to those younger parts of us, to let them know they are safe now, and that you will keep them safe.

It is intense work. It is non-linear. Each individual comes at this work in the ways that are right for them. Often we move back and forth between tasks or are working through more than one task at a time. There is no one right way to process our trauma or our grief associated with it. We each come to this work in our time and work through it at our own pace.

And it is important work, I believe. Vital. So that we don’t perpetuate harm. So we don’t continue cycles and patterns that hurt us and can hurt others. So we can begin to live our lives on our own terms, becoming more and more self-aware and learning to shift and change the ways we respond to others and ourselves.

/../

This essay was originally written for my weekly(ish) newsletter on September 8, 2019. It has been revised and edited for publication here. To receive my most recent essays (and more) you can subscribe here.

We will be utilizing both the stages and tasks of grief in the seven week writing program Embodied Writing :: Unspoken Grief. To learn more and register you can go here. We begin on September 16, 2019.

Seasonal Grief

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So it’s true, when all is said and done, grief is the price we pay for love. ~E.A. Bucchianeri, Brushstrokes of a Gadfly

Anything that’s human is mentionable, and anything that is mentionable can be more manageable. When we can talk about our feelings, they become less overwhelming, less upsetting, and less scary. The people we trust with that important talk can help us know that we are not alone. ~Fred Rogers

You will lose someone you can’t live without, and your heart will be badly broken, and the bad news is that you never completely get over the loss of your beloved. But this is also the good news. They live forever in your broken heart that doesn’t seal back up. And you come through. It’s like having a broken leg that never heals perfectly—that still hurts when the weather gets cold, but you learn to dance with the limp. ~Anne Lamott 

Only people who are capable of loving strongly can also suffer great sorrow, but this same necessity of loving serves to counteract their grief and heals them. ~ Leo Tolstoy

I’ve mentioned before how much I dislike the month of August.  Historically it is month filled with death anniversaries (of long-time important pets, people, and a couple long term relationships).  I feel extra anxious throughout the month as my body re-experiences the losses of years past and my mind going through another round of processing.  August has a heaviness to it for me.  It feels oppressive and generally speaking all my “stuff” is really up, front and center, leaving me exhausted at the least and feeling like my life is spinning out of control at the worst.

This past month was no exception to any of this.  And to say I am thrilled to be in September is the understatement of the century.

It is also true that this August has also been filled with new found appreciation of this season.  Of the heat.  The sun.  Of those little in-between spaces where I can breathe.  Those joyful moments of watching my kids enjoy the sun and water and sand and driftwood; as well as those happy moments of retreating to the shade, eating popsicles or painting on our deck, and cuddling on the couch watching shows together.  

This August, the first August in my memory, was filled with both ands.

Truth is all my Augusts were likely filled with lots of both ands.  Lots of dark and lots of light.  And because of where I was in my life I couldn’t see it all.  This is what it is.  And it is true several Augusts I was deep in the raw and traumatic grief of recent losses, and so seeing any light in those dark times simply wasn’t possible.

Both experiences, past and most recently last August(s), are true.  Both are valid.

It is also true that now we are in September I feel like I breathe better.  Like a weight has been lifted.  Like all my stuff that has been stirred and swirled up for the past 31 days is settling down and I can get back to being the person I want to be in the world instead in a constant struggle with my own automatic trauma responses and focusing on little else than slowing them down so I don’t damage fragile relationships or even the more stable ones.

I believe we all have times of the year that do this to us, that are filled with anniversaries and or stir up all our “stuff”, our deep woundings, our painful losses.  For many this time of year is the holiday season.  For some it is summer.  For others we have a specific month that just feels like Hell Month.  Some experience multiple times during the year that are like this.

In all this stirring, there is grief.  Old grief.  New layers of old grief.  New grief.  

Grief is a part of life.  Learning to feel, to process, to be in, and to allow it flow… this is our work.  

Acknowledging how that grief shows up for us – in our bodies, in my minds, in our moods, in our emotions, the ways we interact with others.  Learning to slow down and recognize what is happening, how grief is affecting us and our lives, that is not a simple or easy process.  And it can be done.  

This is the work of our own unraveling and rebuilding.  The work of falling apart and putting ourselves back together.  The work of dismantling and creating something new.  The work of deep love, and the heartache that we open ourselves up to because of it.

We all have much to grieve.  Death, any type of death, is a transition.  This is true as much for the person or thing that has died as it is for those of us still left standing.  We each experience death within our own lives, within our Self, differently, and still we all experience it.  Change, even good change, means the end of something.  Every beginning is preceded by an ending.  

And.

There is a beauty in grief.  It means we loved.  We loved deeply.  

As we begin our grief work of what could have been, that What If grief I’ve written about before, we find the deep love we have for our Self, our past selves, our current Self, and the Self we are becoming.  There can be no grief without love.  And that is what makes grief work beautiful, all the love that is a necessary part of the work is revealed.

/../

This essay was originally written for my weekly(ish) newsletter on September 1, 2019. It has been edited for publication here. To receive my most recent essays (and more) you can subscribe to my newsletter here.

In Embodied Writing :: Unspoken Grief, we will spent some time unearthing and embracing all the love we have for our younger Selves, our present self, and our future Selves. If you would like to learn more you can go here.  Partial scholarships (of 50%) are available for those who are called to this work but cannot afford it.

Breaking cycles & grief

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Be fearless. Have the courage to take risks. Go where there are no guarantees. Get out of your comfort zone even if it means being uncomfortable. The road less traveled is sometimes fraught with barricades bumps and uncharted terrain. But it is on that road where your character is truly tested And have the courage to accept that you’re not perfect nothing is and no one is — and that’s OK. ~Katie Couric

You’ll learn, as you get older, that rules are made to be broken. Be bold enough to live life on your terms, and never, ever apologize for it. Go against the grain, refuse to conform, take the road less traveled instead of the well-beaten path. Laugh in the face of adversity, and leap before you look. Dance as though EVERYBODY is watching. March to the beat of your own drummer. And stubbornly refuse to fit in. ~Mandy Hale, The Single  Woman: Life, Love, and a Dash of Sass

A thing about doing our own personal trauma work is that we are doing the work of breaking long standing cycles and patterns, many that have been passed down through generations and generations.  We are also helping stop the cycles being passed forward through future generations.  It is intense work and the ripples move in all directions.

And.

When we decide to do this work, that is the very first cycle we are breaking.  We are going against the status quo of our families of origin and our culture.  We are calling out the dysfunction that we were raised within and stating it isn’t okay.  We stop keeping secrets.  We stop keeping up appearances.  

And sometimes, those around us, don’t particularly like it.

Going against the grain is rarely comfortable.  And when we begin to break these patterns and cycles those around us become uncomfortable too.  

This can show up in a number of ways.  From subtle to overt attempts at gaslighting, sabotaging our work, desperate attempts to keep the status quo, including saying what we know happened never did.

Or.

Those around us can actually begin to do their own work.  

Or.

There  is a combination of all of the above.

When we begin and continue on the path of our own trauma processing, we can lose people.  Friends and or family.  This looks different for everyone of course, and isn’t always true; and I’ve seen it happen often enough, that I it is something I always talk with my clients about.

As we do this work, our relationship with our Self shifts and changes and so our relationships with others also shift and morph.  The relationships can either grow stronger or they can disintegrate, and often we are surprised by which relationships do what.  

These losses, of friendships, of family, are not easy or simple losses.  There is intense grief involved.  There may be times when we think doing this work isn’t worth the losses.  And that is okay.  We are where we are in our process, and it is true that sometimes holding on to a relationship, even if ultimately harmful to us, is what we want and need at that time.  And so, we stop our work in many ways and perhaps continue it others.  Or we stop for a while and then come back to it.  Or we work on strengthening the relationship so that it can tolerate our own growth (and the growth of the other person) and then come back to the work.

And.  In that last option, the other person has to be willing and able to do some of their own work too.  This is something we can’t control or dictate.  

I believe there is incredible power in doing our trauma processing work.  Breaking the patterns and cycles of inter-generational trauma is no easy feat.  And it is also so freeing.  Liberating.  We learn how to develop deep and vulnerable relationships with ourselves and others.  We learn how to feel our emotions and their sensations without going into total overwhelm.  We learn resilience.  We learn peace.  We learn to be generally at home in our bodies.  

And often there are losses that come with these incredible gains.  Those losses can cut deep.  They can be horribly painful.  And you are the only one who can ever judge if they are worth it or not.

I will say though, that while I have experienced intense loss because of my own work on setting boundaries and calling out harmful or hurtful behaviors of others, and while I miss some of those people daily, I am so much happier in my life and body now.  

We can miss people and also not want them in our lives.  

We can heavily grieve these losses and know there is a freedom in the loss too.  

The more we are able to embrace this, the more of our own work we are able to do.

/../

This essay was originally written for my weekly(ish) newsletter on August 27, 2019 and has been edited for publication here. To receive my most recent essays (and more!) you can subscribe to my newsletter here.

**Essay now on Substack

High maintenance, low drama, and other code words

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She’s not high maintenance, you’re just low effort. ~Unknown

“High maintenance” is a great way to make a woman who puts tons of effort into her own life sound like a burden on a man. ~Unknown

Having standards doesn’t make you high maintenance. It makes you a bitch who knows what the fuck she wants. ~Unknown 

I’ve in and out of the online dating world since last fall.

Something I’ve noticed on many CIS/hetero male profiles are the phrases “No high maintenance” or “no/low drama“. These are code words for “I want a woman who I can walk all over and won’t state her needs or wants or, if she does, she won’t demand or fight for them.” These are code words for “I don’t want to have to deal the consequences of me being a jerk or selfish or inconsiderate of another human being I’m being intimate with“. These are code words for “I’m the only one who actually matters, who is actually fully human, in this relationship.“

I don’t think (most) men think these things consciously. They have been trained in this culture just like we all have. We have all been trained that women are meant to be accommodating, submissive, quiet. We have all been trained that when a woman is angry or frustrated then she is being hysterical and unreasonable. We have all been trained that when a woman states her needs or wants that she is being demanding and just too much.

And as a dear friend says “Priviledge. It’s a hell of a drug.“

This past week I read an article in the Paris Review titled The Crane Wife. It is a written by a woman telling the story of her breaking off her engagement and cancelling her wedding, the reasons why, and the ways she sold herself out in the name of not being a “burden” or a “bother” or too demanding.

I related to this article as if I could have written it myself. I look back on the twenty years I was with my ex and see all the ways I was “accommodating” and all the ways I “compromised” which translates to mean all the ways I didn’t ask for nor demand some of my own basic needs and wants. The ways I convinced myself those things weren’t important, that I didn’t need them, that I was expecting too much and being… unreasonable. I look back and see all the ways I gave my Self up, piece by piece, in the name of love, in the name of not being too much, in the name of not wanting to rock the boat and cause conflict.

I would love to be able to say that this behavior was all in the past. That I learned from the disintegration of my marriage how to not give up pieces of me, to stand up for myself, to honor my own wants and needs. 

I’d love to be able to say that.

But I’ve realized over this past few weeks, that I can’t. The pattern is still there, it’s just a different layer now.

I noticed over the last couple months how I was falling into this same pattern again with the person I’m currently dating. It looks different this time, of course. With my ex I wouldn’t state my needs or wants until I was completely overwhelmed and triggered, which always lead to a huge fight. I would bottle and suppress and try to convince myself things didn’t matter when they did, and there always came a point when I couldn’t hold it in anymore and would basically explode.

That hasn’t happened with the person I’m currently dating. And to that I say thank the gods and goddesses for therapy and growth. What has happened however, is that my own insecure anxious attachment has been triggered, more than once. Each time I have taken a step back, analyzed the situation, and then decided if it made sense for me to say something or not.

Good so far, right?

The problem became apparent when I constantly and consistently decided that it was all on me. That is was just my anxious attachment, my childhood trauma, the wounding from the betrayal of my ex. For a long time I didn’t say anything to the person I’m dating. I didn’t mention how much certain behaviors were hurting me.

And that wasn’t fair to him, just as it wasn’t fair to me.

Over the last couple months I have begun to speak up. I have begun to say how certain behaviors were hurting me, I’ve asked that he tell me before he’s going to do certain things. I’ve stated my needs and wants. 

I haven’t demanded he change. I haven’t told him he’s a horrible person or blamed him for my wounding. 

I have told him clearly what my needs and wants are.

There, with all relationships, of course, needs to be some compromise. There needs to be understanding of circumstances. There needs to acceptance that sometimes we just don’t have enough spoons to be the person our partners or friends or family may want or need us to be and sometimes they don’t have enough spoons either. This is life. 

And.

It is also true that we cannot be the only one being “understanding” or making concessions. Just as we know those close to us have their own struggles, they too need to understand we have ours. This doesn’t mean anyone accepts abuse. It does mean we all recognize that we all can’t be our Very Best Selves 24/7. And if we can look at the whole and see how the hurtful or stressful behaviors are the exception and not the rule, then that is when it makes sense for us to compromise. But again, only when we can look at the whole and see those behaviors as the exception.

We also need to look at our own patterns and determine if we have expressed our needs in a way and at a time that they can be heard and acknowledged. I found myself in a variation of my old pattern of not speaking up, and this wasn’t fair to the person I’m dating. It also wouldn’t have been fair to yell at them or tell them they were a bad person for doing the things that were triggering (because they are not a bad person, they are actually a pretty great person!). What was fair and appropriate was realizing my pattern, and then stating my needs and why I need them. Not demanding. No threatening. Asking if he could do what I needed.

This is all a bit of a challenge. We get to own our own wants and needs. We get to express them. That doesn’t make us “high maintenance” or “high drama”. It makes us humans who have a right to having our needs and wants honored, by ourselves and others. 

It means that we are human and do not have to sell ourselves short or shrink ourselves or give away pieces of our Self so that we aren’t a bother or a burden. 

It means that we have as much right and deserving to be respected, heard, and regarded as any other person. 

It also means we need to do the same for those in our lives. To hear their asks and decide if it’s something we can do. Sometimes it is, sometimes it isn’t. That’s true both ways. And when those we care about can’t meet our needs and wants, we need to then decide what our own next courses of action are; be that getting some of those needs met by friends or family or ourselves or if we need to examine the relationship as a whole and decide how we want to go from there.

Another person not meeting a specific need or want at a specific time doesn’t need to be a deal breaker. A consistent pattern of a person not meeting our needs or wants perhaps should be. When looking at the pattern, consider the circumstances, the context. If there are legitimate reasons for a behavior, not that it makes the behavior okay, but to understand it more. When we are able to learn to do this for others we can also learn to do this for ourselves.

We are all human. We all make mistakes. 

And.

For each of us, it is important to be able to state our needs and wants, to not shrink ourselves or give away pieces of who we are. To not try mold ourselves into someone we aren’t. Rather, we need to be our whole selves, the messy, the not messy, and the complex, both with ourselves and with those we are in relationship with.

/../

This essay was originally published in my newsletter on July 29, 2019 and has been edited for publication here. If you’d like to read my most recent essays and learn about my current offerings, you can subscribe to my weekly(ish) newsletter here.