The gap between surviving and living is like the trek across the Grand Canyon on foot for many when it comes to child abuse. I know for me the traditional methods, each looking at their tiny piece, left me flat. My body was wracked with symptoms, each with their own potion. I was at one point working to function with 11 different prescriptions. The medical doctors had many labels. Fibromyalgia, chronic fatigue, anorexia, depression, anxiety, PTSD, dissociation… Right? The money and energy poured down that rabbit hole. Years of my life were wasted in this wasteland of existing. I ask my psychiatrist on my last visit. “ How do I remove this from my body?” He shook his head.

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I decided that it might be wiser to ride the rapids with guides who got their learning from experience rather than a book. It was a different mindset.  It became clear that healing was my responsibility, no one could do it for me. I threw my pills in the trash… There is no magic pill.

I encountered, or should I say re-encountered meditation on my first journey. My body resistant… What? Sit still? I had been running for 45 years. I read lots of books and took a few classes locally. It somehow felt a familiar, comforting, thing to do even though my body and mind were fighting the shift. Each of the instructors had their method of teaching and each tradition had a proper way to go about this enigma of meditation.

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I remember asking one of the instructors if I could count. I shared that when I was a little girl and frightened I would count, circularly, and I could disappear.  As if blasphemy, she answered with a shake of her head, no, thats different. It’s not. I think most children who live in constant distress have developed a strategy for centering themselves. Each has their own special brand. Here were a couple of mine. I developed a tempo with my foot, I focused my mind on counting the movement of my foot. Eyes open. Circularly 1 – 10. Growing up in the country I would run from my home after trauma to my secret place in the cliffs. Alone in nature the only thing out of sync was me. I would sit and think, telepathically clear of all other human thought, until thoughts had run dry finding myself in trance with access to the wisdoms needed to go back for another day. Many bounce up and down, rock back and forth, chant, usually with their eyes open.

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That’s a big thought. Right? What sort of tools must a child have to get up and have breakfast daily with the people who do them harm? Offering forgiveness each day? Here we find the tools to heal. Stop for a moment sit still and remember. Turn back and take a hard look at that child and take a deep bow… he/she saved you. They were amazing little magical Warriors. After all they did for you to have a life it’s time to repay them by making the decision to live now! You have been surviving for a long… long time.

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