Deep Breathing...

Deep Breathing as Survival (drafted March 2017)

Last Wednesday the temps suddenly dropped and everyone had to put their winters coats back on. I work in a historic building in downtown Chicago and our heat comes from radiators. 

As I walked through the office that day trying to focus on my mounting list of work tasks, I began to hear the all too familiar clicking sounds of the radiators. I had heard them all winter but after having the heat off for a while, the hissing clicks  sounded especially loud. 

I grew up in public housing projects that had radiator heat. The clicks of the radiators reminded me of both of my childhood home. A home in which I was not safe. A home in which I was sexually, physically and psychologically traumatized by my father. A home that I escaped and never returned.

As the clicks continued, I found myself unable to focus on my work but without really knowing why. I felt panicked and unstable even though I knew I was not in any direct danger. I was distraught because I needed to settle since I had a shortened work week given a surgery that I had scheduled for later in the week. 

I breathed deeply and I just survived the day. I struggled emotionally throughout the work day. I prayed that the cold days would end. 

On Friday, I was admitted the St Francis Hospital in Evanston for an outpatient procedure. During the pre-op process a nurse shared that I would be given a sedative that would put me asleep so that the surgeon could begin my surgery but that I would wake up mid surgery. My heart immediately began to race. My father used to sexually assault  me when I was asleep so the thought of waking up when someone was hovering over me was unsettling. I tried to express my general concern to the anesthesiologist and he did his best to be reassuring. I still felt uneasy. I worried that I would wake up feeling startled/frightened and instinctively try to defend myself. 

I breathed deeply and tried not to angst. 

I was then wheeled to a pre-op/post-op room to await being wheeled into the operating room. For some reason the multiple beds in one room and an older woman who began moaning after getting out of her surgery reminded me of being in the hospital for my first abortion. It was a late term abortion and women and girls all were put together for our procedures. I was the youngest person there and it was one of the scariest experiences in my life. I hadn't thought of that day/night and those collective moans for a long time but suddenly, the memories came flooding back.  

I had to force myself to stop thinking about it. I needed to hold my shit together since my surgery was about to happen. Breath, Sekile. Breathe. 

I was then wheeled into the operating room. I was not scared but was still unsettled about waking up mid surgery. My anesthesiologist tried to chat with me to keep me calm by chatting about music he liked from South Africa. Then the nurse began to use "soft" restraints to strap each of my arms down so that I would flail around once I woke up. This almost pushed me over the edge,  even though theoretically I understand the purpose of the practice. All I could think of was waking up and not being able to defend myself because I was strapped to the bed. In an instant, I was disempowered and trapped. My anesthesiologist began asking me where my name was from and I blurted out "I can't focus on that right now, I am feeling anxious and overwhelmed!". He continued to do his best to keep me calm but it was a lot to take in and was happening so fast. I guess I breathed through it.

Luckily when I woke up in the middle of the procedure, they had put a tent up that visually blocked out what was actually happening. I was able to hear first and then adjust to the situation. Not being able to see was a good thing for me in this moment. Like I've already said, I thought I would wake up and want to protect myself, especially if I found a man hovering over me. 

In the end, everything went well. I was even able to go to a party yesterday, less than 24 hrs after the surgery. But this situation reminded me how much I live with my trauma daily. Trauma histories are heavy and looming. These experiences are sometimes hard to carry and are unpredictable.

I know there was nothing that could be done about the radiators but the hospital experience could have been improved upon. I wished I had found the courage to inform the people who were providing health care to me that I was a sexual abuse survivor. I just kept saying I was feeling anxious. I could not name my pain. On the other hand, I feel like this should not have to come from me.  All health workers should be trained  to provide trauma informed care and know that the hospital experience itself can be a traumatic event.  They should be aware that many of their patients may have trauma histories. It's more than just being nice and saying "you'll be ok". I had to do a lot of self regulation to get through that minor procedure. They all were medically competent but were clueless about how their "standard" practice of strapping someone down can illicit strong feelings of vulnerability and anxiety for some patients. I do recognize that I am economically privileged given my access to health care. That does not preclude the fact that health professionals can be more responsive to the complex needs of their patients. Asking me if I have trauma history should be right next to the asking me if I have any allergic reactions to medications. 

I breathed deeply through it all and survived yet again. But this post is evidence that I am still haunted by my brief hospital experience 2 days later. Luckily, there's lots of air out there...

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Here's a gift to all of you out there breathing through it all:

1 minute breathing exercise

Survival in Practice

I’m typically a chatty Cathy…except for when I’m in pain. When I was in labor with my children, I was sooooooo quiet. Labor was painful and somehow I intuitively turned inward to survive it. During my first labor and delivery, I remember my grandmother being very worried about me not using medical intervention. She and her bible sat in the corner. She was present and prayerful and I was grateful for her. Cedric was right beside me and I recall when the pain got so intense I looked at him and said “I don’t think I can do it!!” He looked back at me and said, "Yes, you can”. I turned inward and I did.  I pushed out a 7 lb 15 oz baby boy. It was then that realized that I could survive what was quite surely one of the greatest physical pains that a body can tolerate. I set the terms, no pain killers, a Ghanian fertility doll as a focal point and loved ones present to help me get through. But ultimately, it was me who had to get that baby out of me and had to deal with the pain associated with childbirth. It was no joke but I felt like a bad ass after. During labor, it was my silence that was most necessary. I had learned the Lamaze breathing/panting (ineffective) technique, but I just wanted peace and quiet so I could listen to my body and survive the pain. With each childbirth, I refined my desire for intentional silence during labor. I learned Hypno birthing and incorporated affirmations that helped me believe that I could birth my baby. This practice is necessary only because we have been taught to fear our bodies and the child birthing process as well as deny our strength. The hypnotic state was really a deep relaxation and meditative process. It required inward reflection and visualizing a place of peace. Even the verbal prompts Cedric had practiced to help me go deeper into a hypnotic/relaxed state were distracting in the labor process because of my deep desire for silence and turning inward. I needed peace and quiet to survive that pain. No nurses coming in and out poking and prodding, no lights on, no massages. Just me getting through that shit. Leave me alone. I birthed an 8 lb 7 oz baby boy that day with very little pushing thanks to a very self determined little one.  By the time the 3rd labor came along, I was skilled at childbirth and also at knowing which conditions were ideal for me. Silence and solitude during labor! I wanted my support system there, which now included Cedric and the boys. I had the boys with a family friend while I was in labor but they were the 1st ones to hold and see their little sister after she was born. Unfortunately, my midwife did not get the memo about my need for peace and quiet and got on my damned nerves the whole time. She could not accept that I was in charge of my birthing process and kept trying to offer suggestions. Irritated the fuck out of me. What I have realized is that when I am in pain, deep pain, I hurt too much to explain myself to others. Cedric was my advocate but we could not regain control of the labor and delivery process. I felt disempowered. I recall that process as my worse birthing experience simply because I felt imposed upon and I was not allowed to just lie there and meditate til that baby was ready to come out. She wanted me to shift positions and just kept talking. I needed to just survive the ugly beauty of my pain in peace. Thankfully, a 8 lb 6 oz baby girl blessed me with another quick labor and put me out of my noise induced misery.

I find myself in pain a lot lately. My current pain is not physical, it is psychic, emotional, psychological and spiritual. It still hurts and it’s hard to explain its fullness to others. I tend to retreat into myself during these times. It's simply too tiring and painful to try to help others get why and how a happily married, mother of 3 beautiful children with a bunch of sister-friends who owns a home, smiles a lot, and is a professor is dealing with anxiety and life long depression. My support team is ready to help—friends call, family members pray, Cedric does the heavy lifting at home and is the affirming spouse that I need in my life. I am grateful. But I have learned that sometimes I still have to--need to-- turn inward to survive my life. Especially when I feel my survival and joy are at risk or are being threatened. It is how I have survived before when there was seemingly no one at my side (go ahead, insert your “but God” here). Turning inward is how I am still here. I need to time to think, to name my pain, and at times go numb to survive it. Turning inward feels safe in this moment. Being in silent solitude through pain also allows me to spiritually ground myself and to store my reserves so I can tackle life as it is dealt. Living in solitude means not having to explain why I stopped listening to someone in the middle of their sentence, or why I am not feeling happy at "happy" moments or why I am not interested in things that typically bring me joy like socializing and exercising and eases some of the pressure. It means not having to cry in public or navigate answering the dreaded question "how are you doing?"

Prayer, meditation, silence, and out of body robot mode—have helped me survive before, in beautiful times like during childbirth and in horrific times, like during child sexual abuse.

 I won’t stay forever but this is where I am in this moment. This is survival.  

Rerouting...

Captain's Log: 11.16.15

I need to write this now. Before I know the outcome. Before the celebration. Before I even know if there will be a celebration. 

Before the possible disappointment of not getting the call. 

I'm feeling joy in this moment. I am feeling on edge and fearful but I am joy filled about taking a risk professionally. Besides all the shit talking I do, I'm not a big risk taker. 

Never been entrepreneurial. Never gamble. 

Never share all of me with any one person. 

Never say what I think and how I feel when it needs to be said and especially to those that have power over me.

I play it safe. 

This may be hard to believe for some but I'm very cautious. I fear failing. I fear falling. I fear making mistakes. So I am hesitant and over process everything in my head and with others. I worry a lot. 

What if I listen to myself? What if I change course? What if I make a mistake? What will others think? What if I say, do, or write what I actually think and feel?

 I wake up full of anxiety most days and I stuff it down or breathe through it until it subsides. I do what others say I should be doing although I often silently protest. I resist in the forms of ambivalence, avoidance and being "under" productive.  

But today I await the response to my recent risk taking. I listened to this loud little voice inside me, it was Monique, reminding Sekile what her life goals had been way back when. She wanted to be a social worker. She wanted to serve her community. She wanted to help girls and women. She asserted herself, forcing me to not settle for another's life quest. 

My child abuse and incest trauma directed me towards a profession that was founded on helping others in crisis and transition. Yet, as I continued with my studies and came in contact with folks who questioned and critiqued my life choices, I cowered and shrunk in the light. I changed course to be like one of them. The intellectuals and scholars. Their eloquence demanded respect and I loved the way they commanded others' attention. I also wanted to be like the well off middle class folks. I didn't want to financially struggle and kept hearing "you won't get paid a lot as a social worker". I knew I couldn't go back home and be a dependent in an unsafe and violent house. No, I refused to return to that hell.

But mostly,  I wanted to be seen and heard so I plowed forward on their path thinking it was my path. I worked hard at trying to be them and even when I thought I had perfected emulating them, they still shunned me for not doing it right. I contorted and disguised myself and the toxic process exposed me anyway. Today I thank them for helping me see me for me, for I have been wearing a very heavy mask. 

I have been off my path for so long, I almost forgot who I was and what I set out to do with my life. This year, I felt myself cracking under the pressure and began to come undone. The mask was heavy and I needed clean air in my lungs. 

So I had  a choice to make, go deeper into this false life or take a risk and retrieve myself. 

I am no less afraid. I am no less unsure. I am no more clear of my path...but I took the risk and it feels electric! My joy feels bigger than the nagging fear of failure that is ever present. I do hope my phone rings with good news of a new position but I want to cherish this "before" moment of joy. This moment of choosing to do the unthinkable. This moment of not walking away but of choosing to walk toward my light.

this quote helped to propel me forward

Captain's Log: 4.16.15

It's been exactly 5 months since I drafted the post above. I decided not to publish it because it would have publicly revealed that I was on the job market. Well, I never got the call I was waiting for back in November. The university offered to position to another deserving candidate. Instead, I propelled forward and committed to searching for a position, whether inside or outside of higher education, that would bring me joy. There was more disappointment along the way and my emotions have been heightened and conflicted in ways I did not know was possible. I think my turning inward and moving away from many of the activities and people I loved was in some ways acts of self preservation. I just needed to steer all my energy in simply staying alive and staying stable psychologically.  By the end of 2015 I was emotionally, psychologically, and physically drained but my spirit is strong and I am determined to live.

It's been 5 months and in those five months I have not only become clearer about my path, I have found another job!!!!!!  I remain afraid of the unknown but I feel unstuck and spiritually free. I am living through both my pain and joy in this moment and accepting their coexistence. This is my journey and I have chosen to reroute. 

Deweeding My Garden

My intention for today is to let go and let Goddess

.

To be specific, I am in great need of letting go of 

self doubt, shame, resentment, anxiety, apathy and fear.

These emotions have haunted me over the warm seasons of 2015,

 growing like weeds instead of flowers and today, on the Autumnal Equinox,

 I am deciding to tend my own spiritual garden. I will let these spiritual weeds go and let them die.

 I will have to pull them from their roots and burn them.
As a gardener, I realize that weeds are strong and 

that even the smallest amount of root left behind will allow it to grow and smother my

flowers and plants again. I accept that fact, for I cannot change it. These emotions live

within me but I will not let them consume and dominate me any longer. 

Today, I call upon the goddess mother, Kali, and my ancestors to support and guide me as I kill

off the old and destructive within me. I will use this new season to plant new

flowers and direct my energies towards new journeys and my desired ways of

existing in the world.  I know not what the future holds for me but, like a seed buried in soil, I will stand in the sunlight and the moonlight each day as I seek answers. I will take in fresh air

into my lungs and I will drink water plentifully. These acts are to honor my garden. my soul.

my spirit. my body. all else that is meant to be will blossom into the fruits of my labor and my love. I invite you all to pull weeds from your gardens as well for our gardens and spirits are connected. 

Here is a small ritual that I will do today to honor renewal. Join me!

Bulb Planting Ceremony.

You don’t need a yard or garden to do this, or to take lots of time digging a bed. All you need is a small outdoor (or indoor) space and a good-sized pot. You can find big plastic pots at garage sales or thrift stores, use old food containers with drainage, or you can invest in a lovely vessel for your flower bulbs of intention.

Visit your local garden shop or farmer’s market and pick up  any of your favorite spring or summer flowers. Grab a small bag of potting soil too if you don’t have any. They sell it at the dollar store.

Fill your pot with soil, and bury each bulb at least an inch into the moist dirt. As you place each bulb into the dark soil, state your intention for those things you want to incubate and gather energy during the winter months.

Water when you are done and let your bulb intentions gather their own momentum as they hibernate in the soil. Some months after Solstice they will send up their first shoots and you will be reminded of your intentions and the work you wish to do as the seasons turn.

Interested in other Autumn equinox renewal ceremonies? See here for the bulb ritual and others http://www.holistichotsauce.com/5-rituals-to-celebrate-balance-and-invite-renewal-at-autumn-equinox/  or share yours with us! 

My grannie and her neighbor tending to their garden

weeds I pulled soon after penning this post

Welcome to "I Usta Be Monique's" New home!

It's been several months since we lost Karyn Washington, founder of the Dark Skin, Red Lips Project and For Brown Girls  but a day has not passed when I have not thought of  her and the countless other girls and women we have lost to violence and trauma since her passing. Karyn's passing was both shocking and triggering yet it was also transformative in my own journey in healing. In the face of her horrible and untimely death I was forced to realize that I am still here. We are still here. Still raging. Still hurting. Still dancing. Still demanding more from our world. Still clawing at life. At justice. At healing. Together.

I was inspired to begin this blog/open diary to share my own survival of child sexual trauma and depression as well as my politics of justice. It is space for my testimony, which I am finally ready to share with others but also a space that I hope that we can dialog and generate new imaginings of our collective healing. Ideally it will also become a space for action and justice.

As a newbie to blogging, I initially began on user friendly Tumblr, but have put on my big girl britches and have migrated my blog here in my permanent text friendly location. Thank you to those who read my very first vulnerable words there and for encouraging me to keep speaking my truth and sharing my perspective

. For those new to this space, feel free to read my early posts and join me on this lifelong and intertwined journey of joy and pain.

My Grannie: The Brazen One, The Believer

She who dared to ask me what haunted me. She who believed me the second I told her. She who loves me, nurtures me, BELIEVES me, stands by me and protects me. My Grannie.

Mother's Day 2014: Honoring the ally-partners that love us

My life partner and co-parent has truly amplified my joy and has witnessed my struggles through my pain, respectfully, non-judgmentally and tenderly. Together we created 3 unique versions of perfection. They remind me daily that though they are of me, their journeys are their own. For these lessons, I am grateful.

Pain and Joy

These photos were taken during my jr and sr yrs of high school. My father was also sexually abusing me or terrorizing me with the threat of being raped during that same time frame. Joy and pain often coexist. We cannot assume that trauma is readily visible. We must come to understand that the loud silence of pain is real and often wears a smile. But when I look at these pics, I do also see authentic joy in my eyes. So thankful to know that my spirit continued to shine through the darkness.

You own everything that happened to you

Starting this blog is both affirming and terrifying. I am emotionally undone today. Tears. Excitement. Self preservation. Vulnerable. Exposed.