Womanhood: A Story of Our Time

10/14/2018

3 Comments

My story as a woman begins so long ago I have no conscious memory of it; it is the story that all women descend from, and echoes down the generations. The story starts in my grandmother’s womb, as my mother was conceived and the egg that would one day become me was formed within her…

“Let’s dive into this together and see if we can figure it out” I said to two of my girl friends.

For over three years now I’ve been regularly experiencing all sorts of cyclical symptoms, in fact it’s fair to say, it’s not been a good experience right from the first menstrual cycle I had over three decades ago. But I want to try and create a shift in my thinking and feelings about it and have a good experience with this aspect of my womanhood before these cycles cease altogether.

And I did indeed manage to achieve a new perspective, in our few hours that we took time out of our busy lives to explore this often taboo topic. The nature in which it is dealt with in our society, often in secretive discussions (from which men are largely excluded), has been insidious in its effects. Effects I want to stop at me rather than pass on to my daughters, or at least take the momentum out of them.

Over the years, after hearing many people’s stories and learning much from anthropological accounts of the female journey through womanhood, I have come to the conclusion it is an aspect of us that is intended to be held in reverence and to be embraced, rather than held in resistance and distaste. It is not an aspect of us that it intended to induce pain, or shame.

One of my friends led the discussion, moving me backwards and forwards and remaining focused on taking the powerful insights and reflecting them back to elicit further insights, it was quite a journey and she was very skilled at it. It’s a story I believe many will relate to and can have powerful healing effects for future generations.

The emotions we feel are carried in each of the cells within our body, positive emotions fuel our wellbeing and negative emotions create dis-ease and disruption to our biological makeup if not dealt with in a healthy way. Our tendency to suppress our emotions is learned early in childhood and, therefore, we are a veritable hotch-potch of everything from our ancestral make up to our own life experiences.

My great grandmother had, by all accounts, been a force to be reckoned with. She was a woman of the Victorian era, a teacher with a strong sense of morality. My mum once told me that she and my aunt used to go to her grandmother’s house every day after school (my gran – by then – was a single mother and worked) and they thought everyone’s grandmother taught extra lessons. But of her biology and feelings I know nothing.

My maternal grandmother was, by contrast, an unassuming woman. She was born at the start of the twentieth century and had just one older brother, of whom she was very fond. While I was well acquainted with my gran, she lived to enjoy her centennial celebration and many great grandchildren, she spoke very little of her own life and her feelings towards it.

Yet there are some defining moments of her life that I have come to know, mainly through my mum. I know that despite my gran’s apparent passive nature in contrast to her mother’s assertive one, it is likely there was a strong determination that lay beneath. Struck by illness and a long convalescence in her school years, she managed to persuade her parents towards the school she really wanted to attend all along.

My gran married young, the inference was that this was an act of rebellion, and had three sons to a man who would eventually walk out one day to get a loaf of bread and never return. One of my uncles saw him once in the years afterwards, at a football match, when he got given a coin. Needless to say, a divorce was had.

Her second marriage was one of deceit as well, her husband pretending to be many years younger than he was. They were married just before the end of the Second World War and had two girls together; he died when my mum was only seven.

This was, apparently, a blessing as my mum was not as passive as her mother. Mum can recall sitting on the floor drawing a picture and hearing a loud crack behind her as my gran went from one side of her peripheral vision to the other in an instant.

My grandfather was an aggressive alcoholic, and lung cancer was squeezing the very life from his body; gran had just entered her fifties when he died. It was the context though in which my mum had been conceived and in which the first physical traces of me – the egg from which I was later formed – were created.

However, this was not my gran’s last insult. A few years later when her parents died and – despite being a widow with two young children to look after (by then her boys, my uncles (who were much older), had begun to make their own way in the world), it was gran’s older brother (who was married with no children) who inherited the estate.

This was life for women back then, there were social customs and laws that limited their choices. Much has changed but, as my friend pointed out, it is only in recent years that domestic violence has become socially unacceptable, she recalls the campaigns of the 1980’s to raise the profile of this issue.

Life for women has changed enormously in my own lifetime, but not as much as it changed for my gran in her lifetime. To have been born into a highly restrictive era for women and yet have lived the last fifty years of her life quietly, and so entirely on her own terms, watching future generations being born into an ever-evolving society must have been quite something.

And yet still we bleed metaphorically and physically in ways that are quite foreign to that of our design. I recall my mum being whisked into hospital for blood transfusions and finally a hysterectomy as she literally bled out in her late forties. This seems to be a common crescendo to the reproductive years for many women, accompanied by years of mood swings, hot flashes and many other debilitating symptoms.

For my own part, I recall the introduction to my reproductive years vividly. Being a competitive swimmer, and training twice daily in the pool, it was not an option to ‘sit out’ for a week each month. I found that in order to use suitable sanitary products required a surgical removal of my hymen. Being admitted to hospital for an operation ‘down there’ at age twelve was embarrassing to say the least.

Then there were the cyclical physical symptoms, the dull aching feeling in my lower back that signaled the beginnings of some pretty acute and incapacitating cramping if there were no Askit powders to hand. I remember mum introducing me to Askit (a non-steroidal anti-inflammatory drug that tasted fowl as it had to be mixed in water and drank), her drug of choice for the same symptoms.

In later years I used Mefenamic Acid for the same reason, as it had the good grace to be encapsulated and was easier to swallow. But the pain was severe even in my thirties, before I had given birth. I can remember one night, around midnight, crawling around the floor in our lounge just trying to ease the pain. Then of course I was up and out for work the next morning.

I used to think I am someone who is sensitive to pain, but a midwife set me straight on that when I delivered my second child. In deliberating whether to give me a local anesthetic before ‘sewing me up’ she told her assistant “no, go ahead, this one has a high threshold for pain.” Mind you, by then I’d had a lot of practice.

Menstruation was also the beginning of migraines. Walking to school one morning, I rounded the corner past some neighbours houses and noticed I had little lights dancing across my field of vision. By the time I’d gotten to school and started the first lesson of the day (it was home economics and we were making an apple pie), I hadn’t got past peeling the apples before I felt unable to keep my eyes open. The pain in my head was one-sided and quite excruciating and I felt totally nauseous.

Someone at the school had to call my mum to come and pick me up. The pain had gotten so bad by the time she arrived that I was literally lying curled up on the floor of the school hallway and only vaguely remember dozens of kids running past as the school bell rang signaling playtime. I was lost in my own haze and have no idea how I walked home.

Then there is the issue of blood flow for women. I remember when I started working at my first ‘real’ job after university; I’d worked there on a secondment during my postgraduate diploma and was quite familiar with the staff in the Human Resources department. The organisation had just employed a new Training Manager and she was quite a character.

What I remember is her arrival one morning after her hour’s bus ride to work. She rushed straight to the loo and then afterwards, in the office with the door closed, she went on to explain to the little gaggle of us women who worked there that she had really heavy clotting and had to go home again.

I was quite taken aback that a woman could experience (as a matter of course) such hemorrhaging that there was no sanitary product that could allow her to go about her normal day. And, unlike the menopausal women I mentioned earlier, the Training Manager was not an older lady; she was actually quite young and only recently married.

A friend told me of her experience when she started her own reproductive years. Her cycles were irregular and painful and – as a young teen – someone advised her sit on the ground against a tree in the moonlight, next time she was menstruating, and let herself bleed into the earth. With nothing to lose she did just that for a couple of nights.

While she doesn’t know why that worked, within three months her cycles evened out and she has never had any issues since (she is now in her forties). Perhaps it has something to do with recalibrating with nature’s natural rhythms and flow.

If menstruation has had its issues, then pregnancy and birth took everything to a whole new level. My children are pregnancies five and six, each one before was a ‘blighted embryo’ – a condition I was told that was usually a one-off occurrence.

After having had surgery to remove the first empty sac, the second time around I decided that – rather than undergo another general anesthesia and surgery – I would take an alternate (debatably more natural) route to evacuating the empty sac. That time I was sat in a ward with several others all undergoing the same process, given a drug called Misoprostal and a metal tub to collect the ‘evacuations’ in and told it would just feel a bit like period cramps.

Pretty horrific is my succinct description of that process. Having already described the pain of a normal cycle, you might imagine that pain as nothing compared to the pain kick-started by Misoprostal. There was no sedate lying in bed, I ended up locking myself in the ward toilet and – on all fours – stayed there in my own vortex of pain, contraction after contraction, until the sac was passed.

Suffice to say, by blighted embryo’s three and four, I opted again for unconscious surgical removal of the empty sac. But these failed pregnancies were not, of course, just about process of physical recovery. While I was philosophical, each pregnancy had carried its own hopes and dreams; most had a name and a bond created within.

After finally managing to successfully conceive in my late thirties (a whole other story on its own), throughout the early stages of pregnancy I had weekly scans. If every emotion we feel is felt in our very cells, you can imagine the stress on that young embryo as I contended with the constant stress of maintaining the pregnancy. It is no surprise my first child displays quite an anxious personality at times.

My first experience of labour took physical pain and exhaustion to yet another new level. After a day of early labour pains and then over twenty two hours of labouring, with not much progress, I finally looked at the midwife and told her I wanted an epidural.

She called for an ambulance to take me from the maternity centre to the hospital, as that is where epidurals were done. Unfortunately it was a Saturday evening and the ambulances were busy so, in the end, it took three hours before I was transferred to the ambulance for the fifteen minute journey.

Having made the decision to seek pain relief, as time ticked on I got more and more frantic. By the time I was loaded into the ambulance, I screamed murder every time we had to cross over a speed bump in the road. I remember finally arriving in a theatre to await the anesthetist, and I could hear the midwife talking to him on the phone obviously debating the need for urgent attention as he was being called to another operation.

I cannot remember the words I yelled, but they obviously sealed the deal as the anesthetist promptly arrived and the epidural was at last dispensed. My daughter was born twelve hours later by ventouse. It was a long night.

My second pregnancy was a bit more relaxed and, for the birth, the midwife had agreed to admit me to the hospital straight away given the horrific ordeal of the first birth. I had decided to try and deliver naturally, but did not want to rely upon an ambulance if I wanted pain relief.

As it turned out the second labour progressed much more quickly than the first and, by the time the midwife arrived, she felt the hospital was too far to travel. She did something for me then that helped me enormously, she grabbed my hips and showed me how to move with the pain rather than resist it.

Almost four hours later, feeling like I had finally mastered the art of labour, I heard the midwife comment to her assistant that they would need to get me to the hospital as the baby was going to rip me open (she had her hand above her head superman-style). This was all it took for my body to respond. With a final involuntary convulsive push she was out, and I needed sewn back together.

That was when the comment was made about my tolerance to pain. As I showered afterward, blood draining everywhere, I remember hearing someone delivering a baby in the next room. It was quite a shock to hear how harrowing it sounded from the outside. No doubt I’d made similar sounds, but from the inside I had withdrawn into a quite space.

I just remember thinking “I never have to do this again.”

And I contrast this with friends and other women who have had amazing experiences that – in comparison – were pain free. They have described their menstrual cycles and labours as ‘mild discomfort’. We are all different.

Sharing these experiences with my friends created a new perspective. There has clearly been trauma, mine from the moment I was an egg in my mother’s womb, and through my own life experiences since birth, and it has been played through this journey of womanhood.

As I talked about this journey, and about my other journey, the journey to a more authentic me, my friend pulled out some words I had used as I had shared:

the pain of loss (including my twin brothers who were born prematurely in the pregnancy before me and subsequently died), and the physical pain endured (not just by me, but the generations before);
the shame felt in having my hymen removed, in unsuccessful pregnancies, and – ancestrally – in domestic violence and in abandonment;
the reclamation of me, Shona Keachie; the process of evolving in my beliefs about me and the world;
the feeling of safety to be able to talk about these things today;
Trust in the way life works, in the bigger picture;
The process of mastering pain;
The process of shedding old wounds, old pains, in the journey to me;
The desire to embrace my womb as a seat of feminine power.

As I look back now, I am in awe of each of the women in my lineage for all that they endured. I now live in an age and a society where being a woman need no longer be about sufferance and for that I am truly grateful.

Just prior to catching up with my girl friends I had watched the final episode of one of my favourite TV dramas, Nashville. At the end, Callie Khouri (the creator) had said “that’s a wrap”. That is how I felt about the chain of pain that has been created through my womanhood, it ends here. Each player has played our part, the show is over.

One of the most miraculous gifts we have been given is the power to create another life. The mechanics of all for women have been suppressed for so long, it was time to take a look in the darkness and see what lurked there.

And as always happens, when we shine a light in the dark, everything brightens. I feel the possibility for an entirely different future for my daughters, and for the daughters out there that are still playing their part in this chain of pain in societies and families where pain and suppression still occur.

After all the years hearing about feminism, embracing womanhood means something entirely different to me today. Rather than something in opposition to the masculine, or trying to compete with it. embracing womanhood is about embracing reverence and joy, the very art of creation.

If what you read here resonates and you’d like a fresh perspective (and only that, it’s not advice you have to take or act upon) on a situation in your own life, feel free to contact me or click here for further information. To be the first to receive these posts, you can also opt to subscribe to my blog.

3 Comments

Shift Focus and Make Time for You

10/7/2018

3 Comments

In the evenings, when I used to work in the corporate world, I’d get done with putting the kids to sleep and then responding to emails and it would be 10pm; time for bed. It would also be the point at which my partner would switch off the TV he had been watching and silence would surround me like a comfortable blanket at last.

Then there would be this feeling of having just missed something and a subtle, but persistent, energetic tug at my sleeve that was always present in that moment. I later learned (when some contemplation time opened up for me) that was my inner voice waiting to be heard; a voice which I now regularly focus in on through my writing.

This week I have been reminded of that time. It’s the school holidays here and I’ve had barely a moment to myself. This has coincided with the clocks moving forward, so getting things done in the evenings after the kids are in bed has been challenging. There has been a lot to do, with end of month reconciliation and returns for my partner’s business, as well as all the usual rounds of invoicing, quotes and endless housework and other chores.

While I’ve made it a priority to leave my partner in charge for fifteen minutes each evening while I lock myself in the spare room and meditate, I will admit I’ve been starting to get resentful about some of the tasks on my plate.

The word ‘resentful’ reminded me about last week’s blog Interdependence as Our Healthy State when I wrote:

Interdependence is the mutual giving and receiving of things that are enjoyed and valued. If you find yourself feeling resentful in anything you are regularly doing for someone else, and vice versa, then you are not in an interdependent relationship with them, you are in a co-dependent relationship. Giving something of yourself when you don’t want to, especially if it receives no appreciation, is the road to ruin.

This is because there is no love given or felt when it is done in resentment. So I decided to take a look at the many hats I wear in each day for more insight on those I am giving freely, versus those I can resent (at least at times). It was a worthwhile exercise, and one I’d recommend, listing everything I do and how I feel about each. It gave me a deeper understanding of what affects me negatively and positively.

It was no surprise that My Work - which is about growth and expansion into higher consciousness and sharing those insights with others - is what I truly love; it is what I literally live for. This and looking after my kids, my wellbeing and my relationships are the only things on the list I enjoy or care about. Everything else feels like I’m just churning the mill to be here and be part of society.

What came to light are the little areas that act as tipping points into wholly resenting tasks – one in particular is picking up after others, who are perfectly able to pick up after themselves, just so I can live in a reasonably clean and clutter-free space.

This gave me much needed perspective as, often when I’m feeling overwhelmed, it creates a black cloud over all the tasks I’m doing and the resentment becomes all-consuming.

While this was a practical and useful insight to gain, what had been particularly irking me this week, is the awareness that I have two others topics that are very activated for me right now and I am desperate to dive into and write more about them.

That little energetic tug on my sleeve I get when there is a thread that needs unpicked, and the butterflies in my tummy knowing there are more ‘ah ha’ moments to be had, keeps getting the ‘pause’ button pressed. I had begun to worry about how ‘cut-off I was from my own inner voice and broader perspective.

Yet I need not have worried. A friend had passed along a short guided meditation, not something I generally use. Most often I simply meditate in silence and focus on my breathing. However, this week my thoughts have been a bit too pervasive, so I thought I’d give the guided meditation a try.

It was a beautiful experience. At 10 o’clock at night, as exhausted as I was, I sat down in surrender and pressed play. It was silent and still and yet I imagined myself as this gigantic being standing amid the cosmos just watching as whole universes expanded and a light-show of amazing proportions played for my pleasure.

There were moments when I took my attention from the expanse of the cosmos and just zoomed in on the details: I saw a single daffodil dancing in the sunshine, and other beautiful but indescribable things on other planets.

In just a few minutes I had entered a state of serenity, wonder and peace. It was a great reminder that our authentic selves, the love within and the broader perspective are always present; it’s just a case of switching focus.

I realised time was not a problem; the fact I’ve had to press pause on some inspiration I want to unpick is okay. Just understanding what that little energetic tug on my sleeve is nowadays is a miracle in itself. And better, I have two days next week when both kids will be otherwise occupied and I can dive into these delicious topics that I want to explore. Nothing is lost and, inevitably, more depth will be found.

It can be too easy to lose ourselves in the everyday churn of life. But if you learn how to focus, you will be able to find yourself amid the mayhem and make time for the things that are truly important to you.

If what you read here resonates and you’d like a fresh perspective (and only that, it’s not advice you have to take or act upon) on a situation in your own life, feel free to contact me or click here for further information. To be the first to receive these posts, you can also opt to subscribe to my blog.

3 Comments

Interdependence as our Healthy State

9/30/2018

2 Comments

I was listening to a discussion about interdependence yesterday that got me intrigued. On one hand what I was hearing felt like it held some deep truths yet, on the face of it, seems in juxtaposition to the self-concept I hold of being independent. I love the kinds of challenges that expand and evolve my thoughts.

I have a friend who often calls my independent nature “the lone wolf”. She too was once a lone wolf, but circumstances have led to her relying on a bigger community of support than she might otherwise have sought.

While my desire for regular solitude, and repellant reaction to dependence, may seem like they add up a fierce independence, listening to this conversation about interdependence has now led me to conclude otherwise. The journey to me, my authentic self, has inevitably shifted me from independence to interdependence.

There is a part of me, for example, that thinks of myself as having ‘opted out’ of the kids’ school community, standing instead as the lone wolf. This is true on some levels; I have opted out of after-school activities, much of the socializing, and extra-curricular ‘volunteering’ for crafts and events. This, however, has more to do with the motives that previously drove me to participate, I had been putting my desire to ‘fit in’ and have others like me before my own health and wellbeing.

But now, from a place where I’ve put my own needs to function healthily first, I care more about the other members of the community. In fact I ‘see’ them more clearly now than I used to and am able to help in ways that benefit both me and them.

There was one mum that used to really trigger me emotionally. She is, in many respects, my very opposite – extremely active in the garden, kitchen and with outdoor activities generally. She is also a very active volunteer at the school, supporting crafting and events.

In the days when I used to feel ‘obliged’ to participate, she became a focal point of my subversive loathing. Now that I have deliberately decoupled myself from the unhealthy desire to be liked for things I hate doing, my own needs are better met and I find myself much better able to perceive and acknowledge how she is really feeling – rather than try to create her as the villain in the scene who deserves whatever crappy thing is thrown her way.

And now, without the narrow focused lenses on, I can also see that – while in practice we may seem quite opposite in the things we enjoy doing – we clearly value many of the same things (like home-grown organic foods and sustainability). I recognise that much of her lifestyle – while perhaps not obviously of direct benefit to me – is lending to the creation of the kind of world I want to live in. That is pretty cool.

The premise of the discussion on interdependence that I was listening to, was– while many people have largely lost that ability to perceive not only how others feel, but often how we ourselves actually feel - we will need to, once again, become more emotionally intuitive in order for our race and the planet to thrive.

This makes sense from a spiritual perspective. If we all derive from - and are still connected to - the same source (a state of unity) then we are, effectively, already interconnected. None the less, as we invented things that created less physical reliance on our natural world and on each other, how other people were feeling became less important. People, like the planet’s resources, became commodities; objective rather than subjective. So our modern societies have evolved valuing intellect over intuition, independence over interdependence.

Just the other day my partner and I were discussing some trees that are growing on our property. There are two Phoenix Palms which were here when we bought the house a few years ago; planted on a verge that is possibly about 3 or 4 metres at the most from the house.

These trees were quite small when we arrived, but they have gotten rather large and can clump and grow up to 12 metres tall. Aside of the dangerous spikes that run along their leaf stalks, they are also extremely heavy trees as they hold a lot of water. So, should they ever fall, the house would most certainly be damaged.

There are quite a few trees on our property that were obviously not planted with their mature size in mind. I have found this to be quite common in the various places I’ve lived and visited. People seem to plant more with instant gratification in mind rather than the changing shape and form of their environment and the impacts of that, or plight of future residents or generations.

What is interesting about all of this is that the human intellect, by virtue of all its invention in the creation of independence, actually does care what people think but in a totally narcissistic and independent way. The intellect doesn’t care if the outcome is win-lose, so long as it is “I’ who wins.

This is in contrast to the more healthy approach of being aware of, and meeting, our own needs, which then allows us to help others in an interdependent way. This is an approach concerned with win-win.

We were born being able to decipher other’s moods and feelings, and because we were so reliant on our caretakers (usually parents) for our physical survival initially we had to care about how they felt. It’s because of this reliance on them emotionally and physically that we put so much faith in what they thought and believed, whether it resonated with us or not.

This is why we each ended up with so many layers of false beliefs about the world we were born into. This is how I came to hold a self concept, which perhaps many of you share, that it is more important to fit in than it is to even give my wellbeing a single thought.

To put our own wellbeing first is how each of us can begin on the road to interdependence. It is so much easier to love myself, and other people, regardless of where we each stand on this journey when I do it from a place of honouring my needs.

Interdependence is the mutual giving and receiving of things that are enjoyed and valued. If you find yourself feeling resentful in anything you are regularly doing for someone else, and vice versa, then you are not in an independent relationship with them, you are in a co-dependent relationship. Giving something of yourself when you don’t want to, especially if it receives no appreciation, is the road to ruin.

Interdependence doesn’t necessarily mean I do something for you, and you do something for me. It means we give and take based on what we feel good about giving. There are times I find I’m in a position of giving more to certain people and receiving more from others.

For example, I have often looked after one of my daughter’s school friends because of her parents’ work schedule. It’s not that I love looking after kids as such, but this particular arrangement has suited us all well, my daughter and her friend play well together, so I feel it’s a win-win.

On the other hand, I can think of the many times a neighbor has helped me in times of need and – while we have been able to reciprocate on the odd occasion – the ‘receiving’ scales feel tipped in our favour; I just make sure to show my appreciation and help them when we can.

At the end of the day I can’t be everything to everyone and, even although in a survival situation I might get by without help from others, there are many things that others are much better at (and enjoy) than I am. And I feel able to receive these gifts from others much more freely than I did before I started to put my own wellbeing first.

It’s ironic, but being selfish is the road to our recovery. Interdependence is the ultimate healthy state of our society, but that begins with each of us accepting it as our own healthy state, and beginning to put our own wellbeing at the forefront of our actions.

If what you read here resonates and you’d like a fresh perspective (and only that, it’s not advice you have to take or act upon) on a situation in your own life, feel free to contact me or click here for further information. To be the first to receive these posts, you can also opt to subscribe to my blog.

2 Comments

Embracing the Feminine within All of Us

9/23/2018

0 Comments

Within each of us there are aspects of feminine and masculine, and what I’m about to share may initially sound somewhere between controversial at best and revolting at worst, but I think it is a bit of a litmus test that shows where we (as a society) are up to on this topic. It certainly revealed to me where I sat.

A while back a friend shared with me the idea that, instead of sanitary products, I should use a menstrual cup to collect blood and use it as a plant fertilizer. I think the phrase she used was “spray it around the house plants.”

My first reaction was “Eew!”

That was a reality check since blood is a common plant fertilizer, in fact a specially manufactured blood and bone mixture even sits in our garden shed as a standard stock item. So why was that my reaction to my own blood? Blood that is likely more healthful for my plants than that which we purchase.

Kate Morton sums it up quite well for me in one of her novels. There is a chapter where she recounts the memories of a 17-year-old girl on the beach with her family back in 1938. Her dad was trying to cajole her into a game of cricket on the beach and she didn’t want to play, so she said she had a headache coming on…

Headaches carried the whiff of ‘women’s business’ and Mr Smitham’s lips tightened with awe and distaste, He nodded, backing away slowly. ‘Rest up then, eh, don’t exert yourself-‘

This made me chuckle as it’s an attitude that most females today have experienced even if it is one they don’t carry themselves. I would have to be honest and admit it’s obviously become woven into the fabric of who I have become. Menstruation is a topic I’ve learned to discuss in hushed tones to a select few rather than revere it for its part in one of the most sacred and miraculous of all human creations – another human.

Despite a deliberate focus and journey to a more authentic me over the last few years, there are still so many of my beliefs about myself and the world that are left unchallenged and untouched, yet feeding into my life in ways unseen. Until someone challenges those beliefs…

I knew as soon as my friend suggested it we had unearthed a valuable insight; a real doozy actually.

This one lies at the door of the patriarchal age, a topic that I’m going to open up a bit more and explore. What is the patriarchy? Why am I seeing it referred to more and more often? Is this a women’s lib thing? Yes and no, it’s so much more, because it’s about all of us.

A patriarchy is a system of society or government in which men hold the power and women are largely excluded from it. Our societies have predominantly been patriarchal for thousands of years and it’s only now, having seen a huge rise in civil liberties for all in the last few decades, we are starting to uncover what that means for all of us.

While we are not yet where we need to be in terms of honouring each individual on this planet, we are shifting across the precipice of awareness. Having suppressed many of the feminine aspects in all of us, and having overplayed others for millenia, we are where we are, as I discussed in Porn – Good or Bad earlier in the year.

Back in the 1990’s I found it fascinating to read iconic books like: Men Are from Mars, Women are from Venus, by John Gray; His Needs Her Needs by Willard F Hartley; and, Why Men Don’t Listen and Women can’t read maps by Allan and Barbara Pease. It brought out the often unspoken different interests and priorities of men and women.

However, as it turns out, these were not definitive guides to the roles and needs of men and women, more a marker of a point in time; the beginnings of awareness.

Donna Eden and Davis Feinstein talk about how the landscape between men and women is changing in their book, the Energies of Love. Looking at America through the eyes of historians and sociologists gives us all some useful insights. Here are three eras they have defined in relation to marriage, a microcosm of the male-female dynamic:

For the settlers there, until about 1850, affection and emotional intimacy were secondary to the basics of physical survival, such as food, shelter and protection.
From 1850 to the mid-1960’s love, intimacy and a fulfilling sex life rose in importance within the dominant model of marriage. In 1939 when women were asked to rank eighteen qualities they’d want in a future husband, love was ranked fifth – economic support was still considered more important. By the 1950’s surveys revealed love to be climbing up the list.
In the current era however, love has – to a great degree – become the mutual exploration of our infinitely rich, complex and exciting selves. The ability of a marriage to support each partner’s personal evolution has emerged as a pivotal dimension of marital satisfaction.

Don’t Let a Label Be a Limitation – Use it as a Jumping off Point

A quick scan tells me that there is a whole host of online communities and self help groups out there for highly sensitive people, which, in itself is not a bad thing. But when I pick up words like “protecting yourself” and “fragile”, I want to scream from the roof tops.

I have to admit, I’ve always been pretty sensitive about being called sensitive. The term implies weakness, yet I’ve survived this world and - determined to prove people wrong - have even thrived to outside eyes.

Sadly that required building a hard shell around me in a bid to ‘protect’ myself. While it didn’t succeed in obliterating the essence of who I am, it completely obscured it even to my eyes; to the point of not knowing me.

Over the last few years I’ve set about quite deliberately dismantling the protective armour to discover what lay beneath. Layer after layer unveiled, I am now rebuilding my relationship with the world from my internal core and am truly starting to see how authentic thriving is possible.

I have discovered my body is like a finely tuned instrument, apparently more so than most, every sense I have is sensitive to all that is around it and reverberates within.

I have a deep and rich inner world that I explore asking myself all sorts of questions about life and purpose. I sense other people’s emotions and can tell if someone says “I’m alright” when they are not, I viscerally feel others’ pain and passion – even if it’s only watched on a TV screen, and I sense the same through music and art. When I spend time in nature I appreciate the intricate intelligent design of it all, and marvel at all creation.

I wouldn’t swap any of that because it is the essence of who I am and, frankly, the only experience of the world I would relish. But it does come with another side. With every sense heightened, sensory overload needs to be managed.

For example, the first thing I was aware of this morning was my partner’s rhythmical breathing as I lay contentedly amid that state between dreaming and waking up. This instantly changed as he awakened. Just as my cat’s ears prick up, my body is also on high alert, quickly tuning in to more of the sounds around; a car starting up and our neighbours putting out their bins. I’m awaiting the loud and insistent “mum!” requiring a more hastened arising than I would like.

It is mid-winter here in the southern hemisphere and the days are short, so getting up in the dark is par for the course at the moment. My ideal entry back into consciousness each day would be a gradual and steady awakening of the senses.

I like to open the curtains to slowly let in natural light and let my eyes adjust, instead I open the door to the lounge where my partner had already turned on every electrical light in the place and my world is suddenly ablaze with bright lights, my eyes scrunch in defence; it makes my insides churn and creates a viselike grip between my temples.

That is before I even talk about the smell of coffee or the mood of the other people around me or the list of tasks that require completion before we can get out the door. And because it is winter, my partner had started up the van to heat it up before setting off, so I could smell exhaust.

Suffice to say, by the time I drop off the kids each morning, I feel like I’ve survived something. Just the very fact of living with other people creates sensory overload. It wasn’t so bad when I was growing up, my parents liked things low key too, and we didn’t have 55” TV screens and 24 hours a day of streaming content to contend with.

Yet there were some highlights this morning. In taking the garbage out for collection, I stopped to smell the White Michaela blossoms on the scratty tree at the top of our driveway. I forgive that tree all it’s scratty looks with its half shed leaves, because the scent of the blossoms are just so blissful and were a welcome escape from the exhaust fumes.

Then there was the beautiful conversation with my younger daughter who, in the absence of her older sibling (who is visiting nana) was rather more grounded and calm than can be the case with her sister around. I had this lovely swell of appreciation and deep sense of love flood over me.

Funnily enough I didn’t realise there was a label for the way I am wired and some of the things I’ve found difficult until recently. While I hate labels, this one may serve a purpose, if only to have those I love understand how I experience the world and, hopefully, help others who are wired this way begin to thrive rather than just survive.

Back in the 1990’s a psychologist called Elaine Aaron coined the terms Highly Sensitive Person (HSP) and Sensory Processing Sensitivity (SPS). Personally I’d rather embrace the trait than label my persona, I feel we are all a bit too multidimensional for that.

“Sensory Processing Sensitivity (SPS) is characterized by a high level of sensitivity to stimuli and reflects an increased sensitivity of the central nervous system” says Botenburg et al. “It also correlates with a deeper cognitive processing of physical, social and emotional stimuli.”

Elaine Aaron says “Inevitably HSPs are more easily overwhelmed. When the noise or stuff going on is about right and interesting for others, it’s too much for HSPs. And keeping an optimal level of stimulation – not too much, not too little – is very, very important to every creature. The sensitive ones just need ‘less’ to be comfortable.”

It’s the ‘less’ that is often not accepted or appreciated in a world that is increasingly vying for our attention though, with an acceleration of information and stimulus available. And it’s that social unacceptability that often creates low self esteem and self doubt, or even depression, anxiety, symptoms of autism, sleep problems and more physical health problems.

While sensory overload wasn’t generally an issue for me in my early home life, as soon as I entered the realms of dealing with other people and of the working world, it was often hard to feel good about myself. I remember starting a job in a recruitment office, and being seated right next to the owner of the place who was a chain smoker and sat there puffing away at his cigarettes all day. It made me feel so wretched that the first thing I did was buy a rather large extractor fan and sat it on the desk between us.

Being called things like too sensitive, whiny, anxious, unhappy and even neurotic, and having people tell me to “toughen up” or “just relax, you’re making a big deal out of nothing” was devastating. In fact it led to a whole period in my early twenties where I was diagnosed with “general anxiety and panic attacks.”

This was a defining moment in my life, and one that lies at the root of my distaste for words like fragile and protection. It taught me how my reality was controlled by my reactions. Now, while I can’t readily control the involuntary reactions of my senses, just having an awareness of what is happening makes all the difference, it helps me to control how my body is responding.

While I did not know about SPS back then, there have been moments along the way that have helped me understand that what I was experiencing was not a result of some neurosis.

For example, blue eyes are more sensitive to light than other eye colours. This helped me made sense of the migraines that – since the age of twelve – have often been triggered by bright lights. Yet, without awareness of sensory sensitivity, it can come across to others as whiny when I complain about all the lights getting turned on in the morning rather than the curtains being opened.

I also know my body is sensitive to all the popular stimulants like caffeine and alcohol and does not appreciate any medication stronger than Panadol, it can feel awkward to refuse such things on social occasions, especially in the face of people saying “you just need to lighten up”.

Living with others has taught me that some people need noise to drown out their thoughts so they can concentrate, but I know I need quiet so I can hear my thoughts before I can concentrate. So having music on in the house or car can be a point of contention.

Open plan office areas taught me about the perils of horrid fluorescent lighting, uncomfortable chairs, and the soup of human emotions that I was required to swim in just to say I had turned up. That is before we even talk about the endless meetings and having to look in one direction (and look interested) for long, boring sustained periods.

Literally every sense is more finely tuned. I can even get touched-out (I learned that is ‘a thing’) especially when I have kids haranguing me and wanting to cuddle up or have ‘one more hug’ at bedtime after a day of constantly giving my attention out.

Scary or violent movies and documentaries are too visceral to contemplate, and I get overwhelmed at parties, conferences (I have a strong aversion for the superficial) and at shopping malls and definitely kids indoor playgrounds.

These are all things I have known from the inside are not a result of my imagination, yet without being able to educate people more objectively about Sensory Processing Sensitvity, it has often invited many unwelcome comments and been the basis of arguments. It is true to say I was pretty defensive about the issues.

Feeling pain more acutely is another common symptom of SPS. I hesitated when I had to answer a question about that, as dealing with pain is just another part of the armour I’ve worn. I do feel pain but, just as I determinedly focused on not reacting to being tickled when I was younger, I also focused on not reacting to pain.

The reality was that I used to absorb the shock in order to not react to it, internalize it, which is just setting myself up for sickness. When I birthed my second child, I learned how to work with my body in order to feel into and release the pain.

I just feel so much, on so many levels, and it can be draining. The world we live in can feel like a smorgasbord of stimuli set to frazzle the nerves.

Arguments that others might consider a spat or insignificant, or even just a differing of opinion, are often huge for me. When I left home my mum said “I’ll even miss our arguments”. Not me, I like things to be peaceful.

Yet I was determined not to become a victim so was always asserting my needs, and am quick to stand guard if I sense an injustice.

Then there is the dynamic in relationship with my partner who has Attention Deficit and Hyperactivity Disorder (ADHD) which, while sharing some similarities with SPS, also has some diametrically opposite issues to contend with. Each of those has the potential to be the source of the others’ stress, and requires us to each have understanding and respect the others needs in order for us to make the relationship work.

And, of course, there is the grand slam of challenges for someone with any kind of sensory sensitivity: parenting.

With the constant over stimulation involved, sensory overload abounds. I heard another say “I don’t like surprises and I don’t like change, and since parenting is largely comprised of just that many times in each day I get overwhelmed”. While I relate to that, just having to give my attention constantly outward rather than nurturing my inner life is the key factor in energy drain for me.

That said, when I turn back to the amazingly positive aspects of having SPS, I know it also makes me a better parent as I am more aware of my children’s needs. My ability to empathise, my intuition, my creativity, my deep appreciation of little things, and even my visceral awareness of others’ pain and passion. All of it – and more – are the essence of who I am and the key to joy in my life.

I understand why there is a lot of advice out there about protecting our energy, as overwhelm surely drains it. But it is really more about asserting our needs than protecting ourselves. It’s subtle, but it is different. One is about operating from a strong centre core, an inner knowing and honouring of your true self, the other is about defense and armour.

My desire to help others can mean I have often put others needs before my own. But learning to put my needs first gives me more energy to give to others, using the special talents and gifts that being sensitive gives, which makes me happier and healthier.

I read that our authenticity and desire for deep, meaningful relationships, also makes those of us with sensory sensitivity more attractive to others. But the key thing to remember is that good relationships are not about giving more to others, it is about giving more to ourselves. A healthy relationship is one where both people value themselves enough to make sure their own needs are met, just as I wrote about recently in Great Relationships Happen When You Put You First.

Since writing about this journey to me I’ve been on, most of my articles speak to this issue on some level. Some of the relevant ones that spring to mind are Taking Your Own Space, Taking a Break from all that Mental Activity (which talks about strategies for dealing with stress), Step out to reach in, Meditation – the Cornerstone to Your Success, Life is in the Little Things – Finding the Extra in the Ordinary, among many more.

My daughter also has Sensory Processing Sensitivity, and I have learned it is wise to manage her activities carefully. In her first year at school her teacher wrote “she appears to move between being a very young wisp of a child to a rather demanding princess.” Even now at 7 years old, she is not capable of having play dates or doing any extracurricular activity on school days without getting completely overwhelmed and tuning out or melting down (spectacularly).

But I would hate for her to see herself as fragile, despite all that I have written in here about what it feels like to have SPS.

I’d rather she embraced her sensitivities, anchor herself from within and thrive from her centre core rather than create armour on the outside to deal with it. Just as I too now embrace it as I rise from the ashes of my previously burnt out life.

Having a strong sense of who you are, and embracing and honouring that, gives you that inner anchor. Once you have this, you don’t need the hard shell on the outside anymore, you can let it go. You don’t have to protect yourself from the world. Just prioritize your own needs and you will flourish.

If you want to find out more about SPS there’s a whole raft of information available online. Here’s a great introductory video, an overview and a test. If what you read here resonates and you’d like a fresh perspective (and only that, it’s not advice you have to take or act upon) on a situation in your own life, feel free to contact me or click here for further information. To be the first to receive these posts, you can also opt to subscribe to my blog.

1 Comment

Meet Challenges with an Open Heart and Mind

7/15/2018

1 Comment

Years ago I heard the observation “People don’t do things to you, they do things for themselves.” This means if someone is trying to take my power, it’s because they feel powerless. If they are striking out to hurt me, it’s because they feel wounded.

Thinking “poor wee me” is not an attitude that has ever served me well. Nor I believe does it serve anyone else, other than to elicit a bit of sympathy. Casting me as a victim is not just unhelpful, it’s harmful.

I don’t need to condone what another has done, or analyze why I find myself in trying circumstances, I just need to focus on what I can take out of it. Any challenge I meet is not uninvited. By that, I’m not saying I’m sitting around asking people to take a shot at me or have life serve up some stressful situations; it’s more that I’ve held fears that open up the possibility to these challenges actually occurring.

I remember many years ago being on a long-awaited beach holiday; work had been really stressful. A change in CEO had resulted in a dramatic change in my working environment, one where I felt I’d gone from being valued and included in strategic issues, to being marginalized and pushed out. So this holiday was one where I’d resolved to unwind.

I was doing a pretty good job of it - lying on the beach each day, only taking a break to go and splash around in the waves or get an ice cream - until I received a text from a number I didn’t recognise. It said something like “Heads up the boss is on the war path, someone has made a complaint about you and everyone is talking about it.”

This was in the days before devices, my little Nokia phone did texts and calls only and not from foreign lands.
Now my boss, since the CEO had put a new senior management structure in place, was someone who had previously been my peer. He was someone I regarded as having less experience than me as a people manager, and someone that I felt would be a ‘yes man’ to the CEO, rather than someone who would
advocate at the executive table for the customer experience.

I hadn’t adjusted well to this new arrangement emotionally, but had acted professionally. And now here was an accusation that put me in a position of weakness and I had absolutely no clue what was at its basis or if it was even true.

When I finally managed to get to an internet café and email my boss to ask if this was in fact true, he emailed back to say no one had spoken to him and, as far as he was aware, all was well; I should just focus on enjoying my holiday. This was easier said than done as I had, by then, had several other texts from this anonymous number purporting to be ‘an ally’ and weaving tales of gossip and treachery.

Suffice to say the rest of the holiday was a bust. I was totally consumed with what had happened. On the one hand I was worrying that there may be some basis to it, though couldn’t think of a single thing anyone would have to complain about (it was a bit like when you see a policeman and feel guilty even though you haven’t done anything). Then again, if there was nothing going on, I wanted to know who was behind the malicious texts and why they had targeted me.

There was nothing for me to do but wonder and fret and create all sorts of stories in my head and my anger grew. The holiday spiraled into chaos, a signature moment being the process of bartering for a new camera and literally screaming at the salesperson in frustration (such that it cleared the shop) as he kept changing the ballgame.

Using internet cafes, I was able to uncover that the number the text had been sent from was untraceable as it had been set up via an internet site using false details and hadn’t actually been sent from a phone. The company who facilitated this site cut off the number at once.

On return from my holiday I was relieved to find out that there had been no complaint to my boss, but I was still determined to find out who was behind it and went to the police. Ironically if I hadn’t had the number cut off from sending me further texts, the police could have investigated it more but, as it was, they could do nothing.

So paranoia abounded. It was something I inevitably discussed in confidence with my management team, each of whom was clueless as to whom it might be. But my paranoia sparked more paranoia as one of the Team Leaders then thought I suspected her and was devastated by this.

In the ensuing months a couple of staff issues came up that, having previously trusted me to deal with, my boss was now intervening. He and I were spending increasing hours discussing my actions and decisions when it came to our staff.

The whole thing had snowballed from my original reaction to the unsolicited text.

I never did find out for sure who the perpetrator was, though it was commonly believed to be someone who had been seconded to my team for a while. Even that was of no help because, as much as I racked my brains, I have absolutely no clue as to why she would have taken that action. To the contrary, the suspect was someone I valued and seemed to have a good rapport with.

In the end I could only imagine she had overheard something or other and taken it out of context, putting two and two together to get five. Even then, I have no idea what.

As I look back on this whole story as it unfolded, I can see that it was my initial resistance to ‘what is’ (in terms of the restructure and new CEO), that created my vulnerability. For whatever reason - though it will have been more to do with them than me - the perpetrator sensed that and things just spiraled from there.

While I didn’t immediately cut my losses and run, I knew it was time to move on. I could not rewind the clock back to the days I had been working with a senior team whose goals and values aligned with mine.

I had felt things had happened to me rather than being orchestrated by me, and I would think “I am a good person, why is this happening to me? I don’t deserve this.” That was indicative of my thoughts any time a change would happen that as not of my own doing- that was if I even acknowledged what was happening, often I would be too busy telling myself “this can’t happen right now.”

Out of that challenge, when I faced corporate restructures in my later career (and there were many), they no longer knocked me sideward as that first one had.

That whole challenge with the malicious texts taught me to go with the flow more, and to begin to let go of the impossible - controlling other people and controlling all circumstances. Now instead of trying to psychoanalyze each person or situations that upset me in some way, I look for what each challenge is trying to teach me; it puts me in the driving seat.

So when people come to me with their challenges I often think “What does this person need to hear right now that will be helpful?” I know it’s these moments of challenge that are the making of any one of us. Whether it’s for the better or worse is for each to determine, since it’s how we meet life’s challenges that will shape the outcome.

What is challenging you right now? And how will you meet that challenge in a way that helps you to learn and grow from it?

If what you read here resonates and you’d like a fresh perspective (and only that, it’s not advice you have to take or act upon) on a situation in your own life, feel free to contact me or click here for further information. To be the first to receive these posts, you can also opt to subscribe to my blog.

1 Comment

<<Previous

Forward>>

Honour the Past and the Present as We Move into the Future

Ease into 2019 – Do Less, Be More

Say Yes to You – ‘Tis the Season to Honour Your Sensitivities

Self Care – When You Should Put Your Needs First

Who is Holding You Back?

Are You Riding the Wave of Your Best Life?

Shine the Light on the Shadows of Your Childhood

You Are the Gift Your Ancestors Gave to the World

Be Fluid – How to Go with Your Own Flow

Get Moving to Get Moving: Where Physical Exercise Fits into the Soul Journey

You Know What’s Best for You, So Stop Giving Your Power Away

How to Be True to You When Life Pulls You in Different Directions

Womanhood: A Story of Our Time

Shift Focus and Make Time for You

Interdependence as our Healthy State

Embracing the Feminine within All of Us

Go Boldly in the Direction of Your Dreams

Get to Know Your Emotional Self – it will Change Your Life for the Better

Explore Your Limitless Potential

Your Answers are within

What to Do if You Feel Trapped by Your Circumstances

Loneliness – Meet the Most Important Person in Your Life

Introducing the Authentic You

Embrace Your Sensitivity Rather than Have to Protect Yourself from the World

Meet Challenges with an Open Heart and Mind

Categories

Archives

Subscribe to follow my blog

​Categories

Archives

Categories