Survive and thrive

Trauma is no respecter of gender, creed, ‘race’, sexuality, continent, weather system ... you get my drift? 

When trauma arrives it does not first check any passport or identity document, it is swift and uncompromising in its severity. Trauma sweeps through all real or imagined borders.

It is like being picked up from your everyday life and sucked into the centre of a whirlwind only to be unceremoniously thrown from there and landing in a confused state of mind and body somewhere else. I’d compare it to suddenly awakening in the middle of an Olympic hurdles final in a wheel chair. Flummoxed and confused you reel from side to side trying to regain your balance and negotiate the obstacles in front of you. 

You can see what you ought to do, but the first thought is that everything from thereon in is impossible.

Having been traumatised in the past I know that it is all one can do to try to breathe - much less to figure out how to progress from this moment to the next. Nevertheless, the survival instinct does eventually kick in and you decide to endure. You find or make your own way through. This is when you regain your ability to be extraordinary. This is the first moment of triumph in your new reality. 

I am blessed that I have found many more such moments.

I am now thriving. Following my survival of the traumatic events I bore through the pain and made it to today where I can say “It’s good to survive and thrive”. Doing otherwise was never really an option for very long.

My life is blessed.

I am constantly awed by other people who have also experienced their own traumas and keep on keeping on. People like Beverly Kearney, the track and field coach who suffered severe injury but refused to give in to defeat. I have seen images of her in her hospital bed and trackside in her wheelchair as she coached her team to repeated victories. She never gave up, she too, survived and thrived.

Each one of us faces our own traumas. They may never be the same as mine or Beverly Kearney’s but they are traumatic in each individual life. We can survive and thrive, it all starts with the will to do so. We have to keep on trying.

“And when people ask me ‘how is it that you have succeeded in spite of your obstacles?’ And you know what I tell them? ‘I don’t have a choice.’ I don’t have a choice. Because my hero is my history, and my history is a legacy of people who have triumphed over tragedy, who have succeeded in spite of the oppression. How can I fail because they have taught me failure is not an option.”  

Beverly Kearney

In plain sight

I had to have blood taken today, but when the nurse called me I remained seated. Luckily she did not remember me, although I remembered her all too well from my Maroon Day last year when she was less than focused on the situation.

It is because of this that I specifically asked to see another nurse this morning.

I named the one I did not want to see, and the reasons why. The Dr laughed and said that he had to remain professional but he could see that there were possible reasons why many people didn’t want that particular nurse.

I was glad.

So when I turned up this morning I was pleased to book myself in with the correct nurse.

That’s when it all went wrong.

My nurse, a kindly and gentle woman, was being called on by this other nurse to help her with patients and then, for me, disaster struck. Nurse W (my selected practitioner) began to run late with her appointments. I was in the waiting room for nearly an hour before I first heard my name being called.

Instead of rising to my feet I looked downwards and ignored the call.

It’s a strange sensation hearing your name being called and totally ignoring it. I knew that it was me, and not some other Marjorie Morgan, that was being summoned, but it was Nurse X who was striding across the waiting room yelling out my name.

As I sat there, trying not to draw attention to myself, I noticed other patients looking around. I think I was more obvious than invisible because I realise now that I was the only one not looking around for this mysterious Marjorie Morgan: I knew where I was.

Nurse X went back to Nurse W and from down the corridor I could hear her saying, “The patient you asked me to see ... I’ve called her, but she’s not here. Have you already seen her? That’s strange. I’ll ask the other nurses.” From the one-sided conversation I knew they couldn’t understand where I was. Yet, I stayed still.

I hadn’t yet decided how I was going to announce my presence to the receptionist again, but I knew I was not going in to see Nurse X and so I sat and listened to the search for me.

“I’ll call her once more,” said Nurse X as she came back to the door of the waiting room.

“Marjorie Morgan!” she bellowed. Heads all seemed to turn towards me. No movement. I stared straight ahead. “Well,” Nurse X exclaimed, “that’s strange. I’ll just get the next patient. John Smith?”

As the door closed behind them both I got ready to get up and go to the desk. I knew the other patients would find this a strange situation but I didn’t care. However, I was saved from that move because at that moment Nurse W came to the door with the Dr laughing behind her, “Marjorie”, she said as she looked at me.

“Yes,” I replied as I walked towards her smiling face.

“The Dr just told me the story. Sorry for the wait. Could you just sit here while I finish with another patient?”

I sat outside her consulting room as she dealt with another of Nurse X’s patients and waited some more. I didn’t mind waiting. I just was determined not to see the giver of pain that day.

Nurse W said later that she would say I was in the toilet or something. I said I’d rather she didn’t lie for me, but I knew that it could be professionally sensitive for the other nurse (and the rest of the staff team) if she knew the real reason for my refusal to see her.

With numerous vials of blood drawn I walked back through the waiting room and met several glances of curiosity that were dying to know why I was in plain sight (and hearing) but refused to answer Nurse X’s call.

They may never know until they, like me and several other patients, experience the rough and unforgettable treatment at the hands of Nurse X.

I’ve never done that before. Been in plain sight and purposely hidden. It felt odd. But I was protecting myself, so that felt right.

Sometimes I am a sheep ...

It’s getting cold and nobody likes to be standing outside longer than necessary, so I don’t quite understand how the following scenario happened – especially as I am a person who is none too fond of the cold.

I went to the cash point at the rear of the store, there were two machines but people were snaking behind just one of them. I joined them.

I stood there looking at ... nothing in particular while moving from foot to foot in an attempt to keep warm - in the way that queue members do. The people at the head of the queue seemed to be taking an exceptionally long time at the machine. I looked over to the other one, there wasn’t a sign on it saying it wasn’t working, but I still stayed where I was.

Then we moved forwards. I was still cold and as I moved closed I peered even more at the other machine. I still couldn’t see any sign (as if I thought it would materialise as I got closer!).

Other people came and joined the queue.

The man who was behind me cleared his throat and spoke, I looked around at him. “Is the other machine not working?” he asked. The question in my mind was voiced.

I laughed as I said to him, “I don’t know. I’m just a sheep! I saw the queue and joined it.”

The woman in front of me also turned and started laughing. “Me too!” she smiled at us, “I’m not sure, I did the same.”

The man who spoke up repeated his question to the person leaving the head of the queue. “No,” the departing person confirmed, “it’s not working.” Someone then felt brave enough to approach the cashpoint and said, “No, the card reader is damaged.”

With a sigh of relief we all settled back down into our English reserve and resumed our quiet places in the queue feeling justified that we hadn’t broken queuing protocol.   

Sometimes I feel like a sheep but sometimes I just know I’m so English! We love our quiet queuing. 

Be ... who you are

To be who you really are you need the right space, the right passion and the right reasons.

In other places, with other people, it’s like you’re on vacation from your own life. When it’s right, you’re THERE: fully present and active in your own life.

You can’t be WHO you are otherwise.

Find it (space), find it (passion) find them (people). 

Be who you really are.

Fierce protection

I will protect the people and things I love fiercely: that includes myself.

I am not habitually a violent person but once – many moons ago – when someone persistently violated my personal space I did use physical force against them.  It shook me terribly for several hours, days and weeks. I have never forgotten the feeling of impending danger that I experienced and wanted to avert. I am not proud that I used force, but I am satisfied that I did the right thing at the right time.

That said, nowadays I use (as is my lifelong practice) the verbal skills of negotiation and personal engagement to avert any crisis.

Just last week I had cause to confront two youths riding a scrambler, at speed, on a footpath where I was walking with three children.

I did not approach them with aggression, although I could have, I was just intent upon sharing my thoughts – in a calm way – about the impact their reckless actions had and could have on others.

There was an initial standoff which included revving up of the bike as the rider turned the machine back towards me in a show of aggression. I walked forward regardless. I was determined but not stupid, I quickly assessed the situation and keeping eye contact I proceeded.

Insults were thrown at me, I decided to parry them with soft words and gentle inquiries. It seemed to work. 

Within a few minutes, the rider and his pillion passenger were calmer and nodding in understanding as I spoke with them. I explained that I knew about high-spirited actions but all I was asking was that they be considerate to the possibility of not so able people walking on the foot paths.

We parted amicably. The rider smiled from behind his balaclava and winked an acknowledgement of his understanding.

I was still calm as I went back to where my son and his friends were hiding around the corner. They were all safe that day, as was I. And I know things would have been so very different.

I am not easily deterred from doing right for those who are maligned. You see, I will always remain fiercely protective of those things close to my heart.

Protective Factors

Most people have an intrinsic desire to live. They have factors in their lives that protect them against taking unnecessary risks and ending up in dangerous situations.

Other people, sadly, are devoid of the protective factors in their lives that guard them against negative acts to themselves or others. This is usually the case when relationships break down, when beliefs about relationships are questioned and the social bonds that hold us together are difficult to hold on to.

This is not just some random anthropological or social theory, this is a reality – to me, and to many others.

When I was decades younger I thought I was always to be denied regular involvement in special peoples’ lives. I believed that routine bonds and relationships were never meant for me. The continuous denial of my reality caused me to seriously think about a negative action in my life.

It wasn’t helped at all by the fact that in my family keeping secrets and denying the truth were regular behaviours. I felt excluded, and I quickly realised that the bond that kept others together, was not part of my makeup.

All the protective factors that I saw easily glide into others’ lives seemed like a rocket ride to the moon far away for me – impossible. Their positives became my living negatives; it really hurt. It was a period of intense anxiety as my personal identity was realised.

As I became more isolated from meaningful family relationships my sense of crisis was deepened. I went undercover in my ownfamily.

While others did not seem at all bothered by the obvious secret, to me it became almost too heavy to bear. I was sorely tempted to throw it off the top of a local hill – without a parachute.

Somehow I found my own social bonds that have become vital protective factors in my life. For these I am eternally grateful. What others may slip into easily, like a birthright, I had to struggle to reach but now it fits like a hand-made glove.

I have relationships that have altered my perspective and given me a deep sense of social meaning and focus. I have my own protective factors in my life and I am bouncing with well-being and happiness.

Let go ...

If you hold on to some things, that makes it difficult to obtain other new things in your life: because you don’t have the capacity to hold it all.

There comes a time, with some things – even precious things – that you just have to let go. So that you can grasp the new opportunity with both hands and hold it as securely as it deserves to be held. A tenuous touch on a possibility will not, generally speaking, lead to fulfilment.

For the chance at tremendous possibilities you really have to ...

“Let go. Let go, and move on.”

Management (2008)

Source of confidence

Last week I was privileged to attend a meeting with outstanding academics and as soon as I was in that environment I was imbued with a fresh charge of confidence.  The people in the same room as me exuded a sense of assurance that made me proud to be amongst them.

As serious topics were discussed I made notes and thought of questions to pose and answers to give. There was an electric charge of positivity that was as refreshing as a spring rain after a season of drought.

On my drive home I wondered where and how different people get confidence in their ability. Do they gain it from others or is it personally created. At some point people have to believe in themselves, whether they are gifted a seed or they make their own: personal confidence in you ability can take you a long way.

This much I know.

Who are you?

“Who am I?” Is just as valid a question. If someone who knows you well ever asks you that question then it really is time to stop and think about who you are at that time. 

Why would someone close to you ever have to ask about your identity? This can only occur when you are pretending to be someone you are not. Then you will understand why this person, who knows how you usually act, will be both shocked and amazed that you can behave so differently.

They may gently guide you to a different place or they may have to walk away and leave you alone.

The questions that you need to ask yourself at that time are:
Is this really me?

Was that really me?

Will the next expression really be me?

Sometimes we can get caught up in the tidal wave of behaviour and lose ourselves. If there is a moment of clarity and redirection (whether coming from ourselves or from others) we should seize the chance to change to who we really want to be.

Nobody is continually impressed by people pretending to be who they are not. I’ve found that pretence is not a good basis for building any relationship.

Be your own rock

Remain firm in your convictions.

Believe in the quest of your cause.

Keep on keeping on.

Make the changes bit by bit.

Take the lead in your own life by maintaining the commitment to yourself.

Simply focus on your goal and quietly and steadily move towards it; each day, every day.

STEP UP in your own life.

Releasing control

I like to plan things. I do this because I like to know what’s happening.

If I’m in control then if anything goes wrong the only person I will be disappointed in is me… and I can deal with that.

So it came as a bit of a surprise to me the other day when I text a few friends and said I had a free evening and did they want to do something, anything they could think of. Of course, as soon as I’d sent the texts I began to regret it and thought of immediately inventing a text delete or rewind button to retrieve sent text from cyberspace.

‘Ah well …’ I thought, ‘let’s just see who gets back in touch.’

I had released some of my control and it felt strange for a while. My mind started making plans about how I’d get out of this rash decision making moment. Was it panic that came and settled on my shoulders making my muscles tense? Maybe it was the unfamiliar fear of letting someone else look into my mind and be in touch with my feelings.

I have had times in the past when I felt that I was too quick to trust people, I experienced deep disappointments and then I learnt to trust only myself. But eventually that leads to loneliness. Even when I was surrounded by groups of people I knew that I was standing alone. I only had faith in myself. I somehow comforted myself that that was the best position to be in. It wasn’t.

Having the strength to believe in the goodness of others is not hard. People really do want to know each other and be known.

I clearly remember the first person who asked me to do something for them and without hesitation I said yes. My dear friend said ‘Marj, can you do me a favour?’

She didn’t say what it was or give me any further details about who, when, where, what or why but I knew that because she had asked and because I trusted her that there was not danger in the request. I knew her. I believed in her goodness. I knew her goodness would not mean anything negative for me. So I went ahead without fear.

I think that after disappointments we learn to protect ourselves sometimes we close down our lines of communication and trust in order to heal the injury. What this weekend has highlighted to me is that after an emotional injury you have to learn to have faith in people again just like a baby learning to walk. You have to take small steps until the faith and trust muscles are strong enough to take you through the unknown.

Exercising trust builds good muscles. Control muscles, like everything else, needs balance. These work great together. Fear of letting go can cause intense social cramps. Working the combined faith and trust muscles gives me increased flexibility and wonderful experiences.

I had several replies to my texts. All very bright. People were busy, working or had other arrangements planned but they wanted to do something with me as soon as we were both free. I smiled. That alone was worth the risk of sending the texts. Although I was not going out with them as I had hoped, I was still happy.

Then I got an unexpected call. And from there my whole weekend changed.

I have been learning again.

I have trusted myself to make good decisions.

I have been working my ‘faith in others’ muscles.

I ended up having a spectacular weekend and I don’t feel as if I’ve lost anything by not being in control all the time.

The release and the pleasure that I gained from having faith in someone else gave me a brilliant feeling of satisfaction and peace.

It didn’t really matter whether it all turned out marvellously or not - but on this occasion it did - the point that I learned again was that I cannot trust someone or something until I’ve given them the chance to prove themselves trustworthy. For me, this weekend, trust has meant giving up control and relying on something or someone other than me.

It was fun and it wasn’t as hard as I thought it was going to be.

I released control and got stronger at the same time.

It’s all good.

To be known …

Taken from a secret source …

‘My biggest fear and my biggest desire are the two sides of a single coin: to be known. I know it is life changing to want these things. I need my life to change. I guess that’s what frightens me so much. That’s what makes me sit and do nothing or do so much that I have no time to think about what I really want.

I met someone recently, well I knew them a long time ago, but I started to get to know them only recently. With them I have the sense of freedom that I usually get only when I’m alone. You know, those quiet moments when your mind is completely open and honesty is the only emotion that holds reign. Anyway, I felt afraid when I first opened up to them, but also a sense of unbound joy! I felt like I was flying without a parachute because I didn’t need one – a safe landing was guaranteed.

There was this intense feeling of happiness at releasing my thoughts without censoring them. Especially the thoughts that I had held in my heart for years, the ones that had kept me alive and the ones that put vital distance between me and death. Those thoughts. My dark thoughts. The ones where I think the worst things about, seemingly, the best people.

Then one day I dared to speak some of this hidden part of myself to you. You know who you are, I don’t need to name you here and now. I started speaking and carried on at breakneck speed because I was afraid that if I stopped I’d never start again. I didn’t dare to look at you for the first plunge into the truth pool, but when I paused to take that vital breath essential for continuation, I noticed that you were actually listening to me. Really paying attention, not just to my words but also to all of me. I felt it. I sensed the genuine interest. It unbalanced me although it was exactly what I’d been hoping for.
(I’d been searching and finding imitations for a long while, so when I happened upon the real article, I was suspended into a state of shock. For ages I could not understand if it was a game to you, or if you really liked me and wanted to be my friend. I often felt I was in a dream, but I was awake and you were there – because you chose to be, again and again. I’d ask myself what were you getting from this contact that made it worthwhile for you. My life and actions were set out like an accountant’s profit and loss book. Sterile and precise. You still came back to me and looked right into me. Your eyes never lied.)

It had come to a point where I just needed to be with you. To know you in my life and most of all, for my sanity, to have you know me. I decided that day that I wanted to be known by you. So I decided to spill some of my heart.

I guess it was a kind of test. To see if you would balk at my revelations. Show disgust and remove yourself from the circle of my life. I wanted to tell you the hidden parts of me. The secrets I’ve been to scared to voice.

I’ve already told you some things, some little pebbles of information compared to the mountainous load I want to spill now. I told you things I was ashamed of and things that I was scared to own but were all mine. You heard me, you breathed normally and carried on with the conversation.

You did not dismiss me and my heavy heart as totally naïve, too sheltered, neither did you label me as an inexperienced fool. My life experience was valued by your true attention.

My response to your reaction to me is laughter, peace, relaxation of my whole self, increased confidence in my voice to speak.’