trauma

Helping Another

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Out of nowhere it seems, an almost forgotten sense of peace has entered my heart. A steadying of nerves without invitation brought my mind and body back to a near lost state of existence. Stuttering words have once again begun to calm and my stream of thoughts float in logical harmony, free of jagged distraction. I again am coasting down stream in a river of gentle ease.

What events could of have taken place to softly and radically bring me back from the doorsteps of chaos and internal clutter. When only hours earlier I had been gasping for breath as gut and brain relived fractured recall of hallucinatory decay without notice from one unpredictable moment to the next? Simple, a forgotten joy that I dropped somewhere over these past few whenever’s was reactivate.

The actions leading to this shift are no great secret, helping another in spirit by supporting them in a genuine way is all it took. By stepping out of the center of my justified self-indulgent pity. To highlight the love, light and growth that has evolved out of an situation of challenge in someone else’s path of living buffered my own core tarnish. How wonderful to be able to help another human being to recognize their own beauty, strength, power, passion and growth. In return, with out expectation I experienced a spike in my own life current.

Through this action of self abandon and genuine guidance, to point out the positive glow via a life challenge is an absolute natural high for me. It has a multi dimensional flow effect on all and restorative for all parties involved. I have forgotten the pure magic and the force that there is behind the action of helping another. This one small action has done more than a thousand meditations, I thank you my friend for this moment. Last night was my first night without traumatic nightmares in months. At least that I can recall, I thank you again.

The power of supporting one other in even the smallest of ways is a powerful way to uplift every vibration upon this planet. It is so easy at least for me to forget this. Today I am grateful to wake with joy, to wake with calm, to wake with a renewed sense of possibility and knowing. It has been sometime since I have felt “good” in my core, the importance of having the good is so that I have something to compare the “bad” to. For so long I have been stuck on only the bad I forgotten about the good feelings…  My inner compass has been reset, last night has given me a return to personal navigation. Today I am grateful… It is still a journey… I do not know what tomorrow brings, but I am grateful for today…

Love and Light Always

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adult male rape, Selfportraits, trauma, Uncategorized

THE MOST DANGEROUS THING

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Unfiltered, here I am, naked, no decorative words, no room for flounce, not now, not within the womb of this cool circumstance. Raw and writing, it is we, it is he, Fernando along with the others which equal the new entirety of me.

I’ve decided no longer does it matter if there is an audience for my words or images. I now write because I need to write, I create my art because it is not only an essential part of my creative expression. It is a necessary segment of the healing equation, I still fall back on these words “art saved my life”.  Now I write with a slant on the unfiltered, just me and my selves. If another is helped as I stagger on my current path of wonder and stumble all the more glorious. Perhaps the flow of these writings will read more organically without the hindrance of self-criticism of thought, word, art and tongue.

I am afraid I am finally facing the raw fact that my trauma has become one bitch of a battle. It is increasing in bite and fervor. Sobriety has been a song and one I don’t give much of a shake about, even with all my trauma bullshit I have not thought once about drugs to deal with it. The trauma however is rupturing, ripping, splitting and soaring through the roof of my being. I am not sure who is winning in this wrestling match of wills. I do know I am not happy with the feelings beating me up each day, leaving me exhausted, bruised and raw.

Most days my thoughts are so tangled that I make no sense speaking. When I do manage to speak I often trip up my vocals. I mutilate simple sentences for example, ga-ga-ga-goo-goood goood morning. For a normally fairly grounded intelligent sounding person it becomes a bit humiliating. I often rock back and forth when I am alone typing, channeling my never existent autistic youth.

Yesterday, despite my gut intuition, I met with a therapist for the second time. It took me almost five years to reach a point where I was capable of receiving “professional” help. I understand fully that he has not been trained in trauma recovery, and may not even be queer sensitive. But surely he has a degree, and I assume based on his appearance he is of the human species. I also hope he had entered this field with an empathic heart, he does not seem old enough to be jaded and over his profession, or is he?

Aside from him being late for the second appointment in a row (note both appointments). Cutting me off, not hearing my needs then telling me to ignore my feelings. He then instructed to “Move on” “get over my past” to “get my old job back full time” please note I can barley function in my current part time position. I was instructed to “change my thoughts”  again. I explained this is something I do all day through many spiritual and personal teachings, meditations and techniques I have even developed along my personal journey.  I explain what someone in trauma goes through. I explained that I/we need tools to move forward and heal, I explained that I/we would like to learn how to cope with the subconscious thoughts that strike in the middle of night. Example: when I/we wake tossed on the floor in the middle of the night. Living out a rape, how do I/we move past that… I am enraged right now simply thinking of this session… yet I am moving forward I can not even finish this paragraph. _ RAW WRITING.

A bad therapist is the next worst thing to the actual traumatic event itself. I can not imagine anyone speaking these same words to someone who has just comeback from a tour of duty or lost their family to some horrific action of violence. I suppose a gang rape to faggot is just another disposable crime even in the eyes of a therapist. (please note the wrong therapist I know the majority are absolutely brilliant)

An average day for me, requires about 3 hours of meditation just to make out the door. Before I can go to my humble semi-stress free part time job. About once or twice a week I have at least one severe flash back during my waking hours. Two weeks ago, while walking down my block I hallucinated a full on rape, asshole ripping open, choking, suffocation, blood, restrained arms up against a fence the full nine yards. That was a pretty average scenario as of late. The week after the same situation took place while I was writing while sitting on a bench in the local park looking at trees. Boom out of the blue, restrained, suffocation, notebook on ground etc…. but this is my current unreality. “don’t think about it” he says. Again I say… seriously?

Last night three nightmares woke me up, usually I do not much of them, only the fighting, sweats, screams etc. But they are becoming more vivid as of late. Today I had to leave a simple task job after only an hour, because I freaked the F*@K out. My 10 minute walk home took about an hour, I was in a trance state the entire time. I crashed from exhaustion upon my arrival home (rather where I stay). More daymares, physical fighting and screaming and kicking. And he tells me “change your thoughts” “move on” I think to my self again, sarcastically, seriously?…I sorry I just forget to come out of trance states and nightmares to say “get happy” “get over it” Move On”….

Yes “change your thoughts” I agree completely, I do it all day everyday, minute by minute. This roller coster practice is enough to drive any normal person insane. I gently participate in many meditation techniques and lovingly embrace every fricking letting go method there is. But I can not delete reality, when something has never been dealt with it has to come out somewhere. Fact? or Fiction?

The most dangerous thing to a person in trauma recovery is… and I will say this again and again. Is having an unqualified person sitting opposite them on the other side of a desk when you are in therapy. This is not only dangerous it is negligent and can even be lethal. Last evening I felt so hopeless, lower than I have been, and closer to ending my life than and period in recent history. But I am as stubborn man, I will make it through this. Salt stains and all, I may not have much say during this period of my life that is up lifting. My core self is still in here somewhere, and it will come to the surface again. Until then, however long that takes be well be kind and be loving the best you can.

Thank you-

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Peace, reflective

LOVE-PPF

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LOVE-Past, Present & Future
There have been times in my life when the emotional weight that I’ve experienced did not make sense. I would find myself, lashing out or struggling free of reason, no matter how diligently I had worked my personal program of understanding. I wrestled with the undertones of situations I knew existed, yet could not put a finger on the lingering stains of uncomfortable.

There are appeared to be no situations, life imbalances, personal unrest, medical or mental issues to cause actions/reactions in my behavior or feelings. Life in general seem to be ok, reasons appear impossible to peg for emotional unrest. Nothing in this lifetime appears with any justification to have a legit connection. In some instances I believe it may be due to a past life footprint, stirring deep inside the soul cavity, an echo of unresolved issues. A traumatic situation perhaps that has never been mended, carried over from a previous life cycle.

My belief is we store these imprints much like we carry the histories of our early childhood memories. Often we don’t remember the good or the bad as we grow older, yet they are always there. In the instance of past life footprints rather than locked safe in the vault of our mind, they are embedded in the vibration of our soul, the core of who we are. The undefined being within, the ignored self of science, the truth that only you or I can understand the truth that only you or I need to understand.

In short, I am moved to suggest, in a moment when agitation arises and there is no connection of logical abundance. While grounded in the “now” of this existence, take
a moment to meditate, love heal and release the “heavy” around these emotions. Before acting out, begin to look within, there may be no answers for present events. Meditate to understand, acknowledge and heal any past life situation. Then wrap the feelings around it in light and release any past events and emotions with love and light. For myself this has been a very helpful tool, one I stumbled upon via guided  instinct.

If willing, answers, resolve and healing will come to you as it has with me. Lingering agitation or that unknown “itch” is our intuition, our inner voice guiding us. I suspect in some cases the story line is rooted in a past space and time, showing some care to these situations can prove as helpful as healing the now. Love is always the message, resolve and forward motion is the goal.

Just a thought from me to you-
Love Yourself & Another Past Present and Futrue

 

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Images, Selfportraits

EXPERIENCE of LIGHT

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ROCKETS & NESTS 4J *soft/complicated, mixed media

Thursday mornings tend to be my standard errand day, also a day when my mind and eye are most engaged with the world around me. I am 100% in love all things at the same time inspired by everything, it is almost to much to handle and nearly impossible to get anything accomplished. Between photo snaps, note breaks and formal writing stops I am lucky if I hit the market, library or dry cleaners at all.

My mid week enthusiasm may be in part due to my minimal excursions from block number 11 where I reside. Back home in New York, I walked everywhere most days, never to tire always inspired. I breathed a carnival of sensory happiness, often coming home only to spin back out for a deeper emersion. Since my return to the mid-coast of Chicago in autumn of 2013 I have become somewhat of a recluse. Thursdays are my great adventure day, where backyard tree-houses and front yard detail strike a temporary fascination streak, at times it is enough to fire up enough artistic and spiritual fuel to feed my creative need for another week.

Now that I am in my middle years, I am fascinated with the organic curves, knots, and often wicked grace of trees. Cloud formations always impress, dressed and set with back drop skies of shifting seasonal shades mystify. All of mother earths creatures, plant life, water and air retain my interest unlike dismissal of younger years. For the time being my alter of appreciation falls upon suburban lawns rather than the magnificent parks and gritty squares of the island of Manhattan where I belong. A place where structures, graffiti, art, pedestrians, clatter, filth hold me strong.

MORNING THOUGHT:
I had a funny idea one Thursday morning, as I often do. Story board visions ran through my head as I saw myself “ghosting” in the after life. Not “trapped” and suffering as in a Learning Channel ghost hunter hype series. You know, all miserable… moan, moan thud. Just the opposite, very happy, and madly in love with this globe and it’s living occupants. I, dead without regret, refusing to leave this bubbled existence without assistance from an invisible supernatural ejector seat.

From the great unknown my almighty light keepers where summoning me, like a collective of spiritual mothers with a toddler at meal time, gentle and prodding. Coaxing with sensitive yet firm vibrational ease, the messages that pulsed may be impossible to describe here. The general transmission delivered was the usual. “The time has arrived for you to ascend to new dimensions, unimagined in any book, meditation or vision within your understandings, a greater purpose is part of your spiritual evolution now, your earth journey has been completed. The time has come to leave…” None of this was spoken in global tongues, all by sensation, heat and other understanding, many of you know what I am talking about. Stubborn, as I often can be, I am prone to get in my own human way. Naturally I insisted on staying right where I was, in some strange suburban yard up a tree translucent to most determined to haunt on my own terms.

My morning, inspiration hit as my feet stepped and my mind wandered back. I remembered how I have always been fascinated by cultures, sociology, interactions between groups of all people, individual behavior, the human experience. As I passed each home between the hours of 10a.m. and noon I envisioned the expansion of life within these cabinets of brick, wood, and stone. Each home called out with it’s own language. The exterior structure and grounds sang descriptive tales of it’s cultures, families, individuals, lifestyles and critters. I became intrigued by the care and lack of that each dwelling reflected.

That is when it struck me, I want to shadow and haunt when I exit the realm of the living. Not an individual home, rather entire neighborhoods. Fluttering about while watching in silent bliss, hovering while people garden and built those humble tree-houses, perform mundane task like cleaning garages, taking out the trash or repainting shutters on luxury 3 day weekends. Oversee grounds like a mystical landscape architect with a quarter of a mile view, as trees bow in winter and spring forth in mid months of warmth.

As I stood under a great Oak Tree on the corners of Lombard and Madison Streets, with eyes shut, feet planted on cool cement and lungs filled with fresh damp air. I felt with every vessel in my heart that I wanted to experience a little bit of every life. To me this is not haunting at all, this is loving in a different dimension and nothing could be more life affirming. This is loving in the ultimate parental form, the greatest honor, not to die for ones country but to live for ones world.

To experience without the confines of human timelines, health or worry. To watch as each bud burst forth in spring from plant and tree. To bare witness to the birth of new borns, be present with birds eye view as drops of rain cascade down blades of grass during an August sun-shower. Offer comfort during moments of human duress and celebration, to whole heartedly be apart of these experiences, to learn love and wrap one in light. I don’t understand why these feelings struck me so strong or lingered as they do. Perhaps I should nurture them while I am  among the living, maybe that is all this experience of thought has been about. Funny how the mind works as we click keys and write, hammering out the spiritual subconscious through key strokes is another form of the language of light..

Ah! It just hit me wrapped up this page, should you believe as I do, this to some degree is what our Angels and Protectors experience. How wonderfully awesome this is not a story about ghosting at all, it is a story about living.

Love and Light Always
The Empowered Runt

 

 

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Images, Selfportraits

INSIDE SAFARI

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“INSIDE SAFARI II” – a private story

The sharing of my infant crib experiences is a conversation I have only afforded to a limited few through out my life. I protected these memories with hesitant thought of what others may think of this especial topic. Amidst life awakenings and what I feel comfortable calling a mid-life revival. Or what others may refer to as a “mid-life crisis.” I have ditched my concern of what my peers may perceive of my body, my adornments, word usage or personal history. Today I decided to open up about my crib connections with a distant friend for the first time do in part to one of my “electric itches.”

Before I could walk, talk or even crawl I had “visitors.”  These creatures where playful, silly and communicated without sound. Circling gently above my crib, large, soft and funny. My friends, four in number protected me, communicating through thought and vibration. Their messages and mission where uncomplicated upon these mostly night time visits. Bringing comfort to a young mortal life. Not yet able to contemplate the meaning behind the physical and emotional chaos around him. They radiated only love and safety reassuring me that I was looked after. Before I had any capacity of speech I had the capacity of love and understanding.

I believe it is true, people are born with an innate intelligence. Then many of us have our intuitive gifts “earthed” out of us. Through life circumstance and programming of intention and not. If we are fortunate we experience a personal revolution that awakens a shift. Or, we are intuitive and lead our own archaeological excursion back inwards. Taking us back to the beginning our root truths. Expanding a bigger, better, deeper, wider self. While stretching our concepts of time and understanding.

About six months back I had begun speaking with a talented artist through the Book of Faces. He happens to illustrate almost identical creatures to those of my toddler years. Never in my life have I seen anything that resembled my mystery figures in any form. Not in a sci-fi flicks, TV, or other form of art and creation.

Today I finally asked my friend about a few of his drawings. There is one in particular that is a drawing of my main visitor. I did not care how bizarre my story might sound I had an urge to speak. That meant I had to follow my guts guidance. His response was limited by design and I respected that. Although he made it clear he knew precisely what I was talking about. He also made a point that the visitors come to him. And he did not want to know anything else about them. – we each shared a “wink” moment then let the speaking rest.

I am satisfied knowing that I am not alone in my toddler coral club. Spiritual beings or hungry needy imagination, I was swaddled in love. I adore our cosmic protectors, I do believe that we all have messengers, angles or energy around us. what we choose to call them really doesn’t matter to me. Also it is pretty dam cool that I am at a point in my life where It doesn’t frighten me to say what I have experienced in life. I am grateful to recall the messages from my crib and reapply them to my life today. Safe Loved Open Guided and Free-

Love and Light
The Empowered Runt

 

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adult male rape, Images, Recovery, trauma
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INTIMATE FRONTIERS

 

One of the final frontiers left on my trauma recovery trail is intimacy without thoughts of chemical crutches. Through my adventures I have come to fully appreciate, embrace, understand and honor the impact trauma has had on my sexual unraveling. As I continue to mend the last of my obscure life interruptions. My approach has remained sensitive yet expeditious to right what feels wrong within. 

Sex and intimacy are two subjects that have been increasingly seeking attention within my mending psyche. Like all matters of internal importance, when the time arrives for me to heal and release them. I experience what I describe as an electrical itch or a soft urgency. Overtime I’ve “plugged” into my own inner clatter of sub-current speak. I do my best to listen and react knowing that my higher self has prepared me to move onward. 

I then begin a sensitive and respectful process of analyzation. Followed by my spiritual and human work, whatever feels right at the time. Before I know it issues begin to dissolve and release. Once the wheels are in motion matters mend rather fast. Through this wonderful mashed up journey of mine. I have been afforded the gift of heightened personal awareness. Along with a desire to take ownership and action of what many of us call our “personal truth”. What was once a process based on fearful hesitation is now rooted in joyful anticipation. I mend most issues fairly swiftly these days. Rather than pushing them off onto endless task lists. No longer do I treat my life as a chore, I am excited to experience change. I am now a participant in my own life, no longer a by-stander. 

Since the experience of my rape in 2011. Intimacy without chemicals has been a seemingly impossible situation to conquer. I have abstained from sex for just over six months now. Living in fear of flesh, sex and slamming is not a life time solution. It is what I choose to do for this period of time. 

Sex for the time being is not worth the price of admission. Not if the cost of entry is possible death by meth. I am not against the use of drugs, let me make this clear. I am not the moral police, I think drugs can be a hell of a lot of fun. Or…

Speaking only for myself, rape and crystal meth addiction took me to the darkest of spaces. They nearly took everything from me, they both left me for dead. My body mind and spirt felt like a peasant beaten in the dark of night by authorities in a third world country. Bloody, cold, unvalued, forgotten, not even a statistic… Just another discarded gutter fag. 

CURRENT TRUTH
Messages of intimacy continue to erupt around me. In my thoughts, my art, dialogues, writings and meditations. At a gallery opening this Saturday past, the subject of rape was a topic shared in private between several woman and I. As they asked questions about my photography and the subject matter. The images are a reflection of my mending experience after my gang rape. The images specifically encapsulate the “middle space” of my healing process, post darkness. When light begins to re-enter ones life. They are about the comfort of being SAFE. The tears flowed from a few of the women’s eyes. As they shared with me their own intimate tales of assault. One woman spoke of her experience for the very first time. 

An earthy sophisticate in her early 70’s described a terrified and obviously determined 10 year old girl. She had kept locked deep within safe from family, authorities and monsters. A fragile child never allowed to be speak for all these years. I was deeply honored that she felt SAFE to share her story. I stood with her as she held my hand I shared some of my accumulated perspectives. Along with a few tools that have helped me on my path. She had no tools 60 years past in rural Indiana. “He did the crime, I received the life sentence” she confided. For me this marked the beginning of the end of a long drawn awareness cycle. Or the opening to the closing of my intimacy release.  

CONTINUED OPENING TO A CLOSE
The following evening while on a rare venture to a club here in Chicago. I was busy doing my usual hoof and shuffle. Through thud and base while gagging on “fog juice.” I was approached by an extremely good looking and sexually aggressive young man. Although I declined his repeated advances. Intimacy triggers sparked through the epicenter of my pulsing brain. In general I do not “hook up” with folks I meet in clubs. This evening was no exception, I performed my usual twirl, cocktail and escape.

Not being able to figure out my emotions of the moment. I climbed from basement dance-hall in search of cab or sub-rail to destination home. That is when I had a snap second of desire. The desire was not sex, meat to hole. Although I had a nano-nag thought about companionship. Triggered by the handsome Mr. Generation next. My side saddle urge was to score a “teen” of  little wicked Tina. Then pop a rocket into my vein, this was not about getting high. This was about the demolition of fear and emotional retardation. I thank GAG (God Angels and Guides) for awareness, this is the key to all growth and recovery to all situations in my life. Ooh, sweet golden awareness, how I love thee.

Many men I know use crystal meth to take a sexual experience to a level of epic distortions. This was not my goal, my hope was to drop my own barrier walls. To be comfortable enough to allow another man to touch me, breath on and or in me. Most importantly to allow myself to reach out and be sensually connected. “Formal” sex was not a part of my conscious check list. My other objective was to be high enough to drop my sarcasm and humor. Often my defense mechanism when uncomfortable. 

This all sounds pretty basic, right? Passionate, tender heated, embracing, verbal one on one love. Love and communication without fear, free of hesitation void of calculated actions. Not so easy at this stage of recovery, difficult enough in daily life. Nearly impossible when rank and raw. I am getting there, patience is the other golden gift. 

This is not about body parts or geometry. This is about heart, head, flesh compassion and intuition. This formula use to be a part of my core approach to connective communication. Actually, it is still a part of who I am, it always will be. I proudly own this nugget of my personality. No matter how dormant it may be during this period of my semi-muffled sexual resurrection.

None of this is new, it is all part of the life detour recovery game. I am not special with this one, millions of us do it everyday. Anyone who is a champion in this accelerated course of Trauma 101 understands these various stages or repair. We all have our own pace and our own ways of making it through. I feel the shift, I see the horizon, I feel that this current veil has almost lifted.

Many I know in formal recovery programs would react to the very thought of sex and meth as a red flag. Naturally for many it probably should be, thats not my story. For me it was a 5 second cause to pause. It reenforced all that has been coming to the surface as I continue to move through these final frontiers. I realize now how much I have restored in my life. Just how much of me has come home to this temple of flesh no longer in decay. Recovery of any form in my eyes has zero timelines. It requires love, patients and personal sensitivity. It takes as many moments as needed to pause and shift up the game plan. Write your own rules or co-author with someone you trust not with someone you are suppose to trust.

All of our stories are important just as our lives are. We share our stories so we may heal. We also share our stories because this is how we help another human being in their journey. We each have a profoundly unique message and gifts in this lifetime. We each have our own platforms to use our voice. It may not be a lecture hall filled with Ted Talks fans, a blog, or big media presentations. It may be listing to your neighbor, being sensitive to a stranger on the street. Or finally being brave enough to let down our guard and be authentic with your partner a friend or even a family member. In these days of electronics that I adore, lets not forget the magic and power each of us harness.

Love and Light Always
The Empowered Runt

 

Intimate Frontiers

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