Navreet from London, UK, knows first-hand the powerful healing potential of story-telling. Here she beautifully highlights, through sharing one of her own traumatic experiences, the importance of having a compassionate space in which our stories can be received and not diminished, and also the incredible power of our intuitive voice…

There is a voice inside my head.

It tells me whether you’re worth getting to know.

It reminds me to lift my gaze once in a while and breathe in the sky.

Sometimes, it wakes me in the morning, insisting on what I ought to do next.

It never tells me why.

It does not tell me how I should fix my hair or if buying the black pleather midi skirt in the sale was a good idea.

It offers no suggestions when I don’t know what to make for dinner.

Though I wish it would.

These are the things I need help with the most.

But I have learned over time to listen and to trust this voice when it speaks.

And I know now that between us, we’ve got this.

******

I am staying at my boyfriend’s flat on main campus at Aston University, in Birmingham. I usually live away on a different campus site but while he is away on work experience, I can stay at his so I can use the library.

I am a good girl.

One evening, I decided I didn’t want to stay. I wanted to return to my flat in Handsworth Wood, to see my flat mates, have a soak in the bath and, sleep in my own bed.

The moment I decide, I hear a voice that tells me, Don’t go.

But I want to.

And again, I hear, Don’t go.

I feel a nervous dread in the pit of my stomach. I don’t know what it means. Maybe it will pass.

It doesn’t.

And I still want to go home.

Eventually I decide to go but to appease the voice, I remove my jewellery, leave my cards and cash but take enough money for the bus fare there and back and, £1.20 to call my boyfriend from a payphone. It’s the early 1990’s. There were no mobile phones then.

It’s about 8pm when I leave. It’s fine, I tell myself.

Walking through the subways of Birmingham alone is risky. And gross- what with all the flashing and catcalling.

As I make my way through what feels like a concrete dungeon, I notice a policewoman walking up ahead.

As anxious as I am, I take this to be a good omen.

I walk fast to catch up with her, so that we look like we’re walking together.

The bus comes almost immediately. Another sign.

I sit near the driver. Because I am sensible.

My flat isn’t far from the bus stop. I am on the home straits. I spot an empty phone box and decide to call my boyfriend. The nervous dread is still with me but I know I’ll be safe in here. After all. It’s a box.

I call my boyfriend and as soon as we begin to speak, the door opens behind me.

A hand appears out of nowhere and presses the switch hook of the phone. I hear the pound coin drop to the bottom and the hand removes the coin.

I don’t remember dropping the receiver. But I do remember watching it swing from side to side.

I feel arms tighten around me and something sharp against my neck.

I’m scared. I’m so fucking scared.

My heart is beating so fast. I feel it pulse in the back of my throat.

I can’t breathe. My mouth is dry. I’m fighting so hard to stop my knees from buckling.

Is this really happening to me?

I think I’m told not to move or make a sound.

He wants money. I don’t have any money.

He pushes me up against the phone and grabs my bag.

How will I get out of here?

Then something happened.

I felt a deep sense of calm and clarity come over me. I was fully present. Embodied. Alert.

I hear the voice in my head. So, what happens now? How does this end?

I run through different scenarios in my mind.

Maybe I’m stabbed and I die?

Or maybe I’m raped, stabbed, and then I die?

Or maybe I’m stabbed, but I end up in intensive care, and then I go into a coma, but then I die?

Do people hold vigils for unknown brown women?

Is my life important enough to make it on the news?

The voice says, Well, it doesn’t sound like you have anything to lose, then. But if you do survive, the police will want a description. At least get a description.

I raise my hands calmly, and I slowly turn around to face him. I tell him he should check my pockets for money. As he does, I take a good look at him, and I take the image of him in—the colour of his eyes and his hair, his clothes.

The Stanley knife in his hand.

He notices the tracking movements of my eyes, and he quickly spins me round and pushes me up against the phone. His grip around me is much tighter, and his hands are moving over my breasts.

The voice tells me, Don’t move. Don’t even flinch. Let him touch you. Let him think he has you.

As he does, I wonder how I got into the phone box. What hand did I use to open the door? Which way does the door open?

His hands are moving downwards towards my groin.

And in that moment, I decide.

I’d rather die.

I force my weight against him and push him back into the door and use his weight to leverage the door open.

The door opens. I run. I think I am screaming.

And when I realise he’s not chasing me, I want to find him and kill him myself.

There is an Indian man standing in the driveway of his house, watching me.

‘I’ve just been mugged. Which way did he go?’

He tells me he doesn’t know. He tells me he thought we were together, but that he couldn’t be sure because of the steam and condensation on the windows.

I start running down a side street, and he tells me it’s not a good idea.

He asks me if I’m okay?

Of course I’m not okay!

He offers to drive me home, and I tell him he’s crazy.

‘I’m not getting in a car with you. You’re a stranger. You’re a man.’

He offers to bring his wife along so I feel safer, she just has to get ready, and get her

purse. And baby.

While I wait outside, every single member of the extended family appears at the door, wanting to know what happened, wanting to come along for the ride.

Eventually, everyone is seated in the car.

Everyone except me. There is no room. The grandfather decides he will stay behind.

The drive is excruciatingly slow owing to the weight of the car. There is a smell of baby sick.

The baby is crying.

I am crying.

‘What are you crying for?’

The grandmother says, ‘It’s not like you were raped.’

Silence.

‘He didn’t touch you down there, did he?’

‘No.’

‘Well, that’s all right then, because otherwise you would have been spoiled.’

I want to get the hell out of here.

We eventually arrive at the campus, and as I watch their car drive off, I find myself standing in the silence, looking up at the night sky.

I am home.

I made it home.

Who is Navreet?

Navreet Chawla is a storyteller, spoken word performer and workshop facilitator.

Drawing on over 20 years of experience as a pharmacist in complementary medicine, and her background in performance, Navreet facilitates narrative healing and shared storytelling workshops and teaches yoga nidra, a deeply restorative relaxation practice.

We now have our full quota of stories for our 4th KindaProud pocket book; #Emerging Proud through Trauma and Abuse due out on 10th Oct. CLICK HERE to find out how to get your copy! 

The 10th September 2019 will see the 16th World Suicide prevention day, and still the amount of people taking their lives every year is on the increase…

We desperately need to change the narrative around these experiences within society to ensure this epidemic starts to decline.

Our 3rd pocket book in the KindaProud series aims to do just that. These 17 brave Peers have spoken out about their personal experiences in order to make the topic more openly spoken about rather than something that has to be avoided – may their voices reach those who need to hear their messages, may their light brighten up the darkness in the lives of many… 

CLICK HERE TO READ THE #Emerging Proud through Suicide Press Release

CLICK HERE TO ORDER YOUR COPY 

It’s a well-known teaching within NLP type life coaching that we get more of what we focus on, and Ana has found this to be true through teaching herself to focus on the blessings of her life, rather than her painful past. Despite having experienced violence and sexual abuse, Ana has emerged as a courageous and compassionate lover of life…

I grew up in post-communist Romania. Looking back it feels like I grew up with my feet in two different worlds. One foot firm in a past and an eternal present, and one in this world of the “future” that had suddenly taken over our lives. One foot in the beauty of our home, our garden, my books, the love of my parents, the astonishing nature around me, the fantasy and charm of my culture with it’s fragrant fairy tales, myths and legends. The other in a world of chaos and uncertainty, of parents struggling to make ends meet, of fights and crisis, anxiety and overwhelm with the hardships of life.

I rarely refer to the dark times of my life as “abuse” or “trauma”. Most times I call them challenges, just as my parents and their parents before them chose to call them. As I am writing these words, I am experiencing a deep sense of peace, gratitude and appreciation for these challenges and the way I learned to deal with them, as they have shaped the person I am today. Wise, loving, courageous and resilient. And most of all, deeply in love with life and the world around me.

And I sit here and wonder I how should write this story so that what you take from it are not the images of pain from my past but rather an understanding of the feeling of love and empowerment that these happenings conjured in me.

This story is a long one, my dears. A story long as time itself I sometimes feel. This I understood from a tender age: the long chain of pain. What I kept understanding after every beating or tirade of curse words thrown at me, was that as bad as I was having it, my mother, father and those before them had had it worse. Much, much worse. But always diminishing from generation to generation. As I write these words I am so incredibly happy to say that my family’s chain of pain ends here.

You couldn’t go easy on children in those days. It was their whole survival at stake. Mine and my family’s challenges taught me how to take a blow. And man, did it serve me well when life struck them at me.

The best way to take a blow is to soften. Soften in the body and soften in the heart. Let them absorb and neutralise the shock. My mother taught me that. No matter how aggressive she was towards me, I could never bring myself to harden towards her. And when I did, I was in deeper pain than when I didn’t. I could never bring myself to hate her. In fact, I only loved her more.

Being angry with her just didn’t make sense after all. Why would I harbour all those feelings when I could see plainly that she loved me more than life itself but that she was lost and in pain. When I could see so clearly that that the blows and hurtful words did not come from her, but rather from what a painful, traumatic past had programmed in her. How could I be upset with her when she’d come to apologise and explain what she was going through and how scared she was that if I did not succeed in life I would be condemned to a similar life of uncertainty and hardship?

I could not be upset with her when what I was actually feeling was awe. My mother and my family have been through some seriously tough times. Growing up they would all share with me stories of their childhood and later life. And I would ask to hear them again and again. I could not, and still cannot get enough of them. And I look at my parents, as I looked at my grandparents and I cannot help but wonder: “How can you be so full of joy and love of life? How can you laugh so hard at your own stories? How are you not crushed by all this hardship? How are you still so in love with the beauty of life and all that is around you?”

My family and especially my mother did not go easy on me, it’s true. But by god did they shower me in their love. They worked themselves almost to death for my delicious food and brand new clothes that they never had, for our bountiful Christmas, with bags of presents under a tree each year, that they paid for in bloody sweat. We would dance and laugh and sing together, we would climb hills and have adventures in wild forests. And they taught me how to love life, music and nature and all the beauty around with a fierce passion…

…So when the blows came, you see, I had no choice but to soften. Soften and learn. Soften and surrender to love and understanding. Anything else only meant invoking more unnecessary pain.

And when that sexual abuse came my way in my 16th year, I knew how to take the hit. I instinctively softened my heart and cushioned the blow. As I was watching that man, almost 3 times my age, I could see how lost he was inside and understood how much unacknowledged pain he was harbouring. Not to justify or excuse his actions. But to have the full picture of how we both got there.

Circumstances had it that I was travelling to a different country at the time, without my parents. When I went back home and I told my mother about it, she gave me another gift that I will always cherish: When I asked her, Mum, do you think I should see a counsellor now, she looked me deep in the eyes and said: Ana, my love. If YOU think you need counselling you only need to say the word and we’ll find you the best one around. But I know how strong you are and I know you can so easily recover from this. If you need mine or anyone else’s help I am here for you ready to jump in and help. But see how YOU can heal YOURSELF first. Everything that you need you already have within yourself.

What an amazing gift! It might seem strange to western standards. Outrageous even, that I did not receive counselling but was left to sort out my feelings by myself. But what my mother told me that day is the single most empowering thing anyone has ever told me in my life. And oh, yes, I healed. And in the process I grew strong and wise. I learned how to land on my own two feet and forge my own path in life. But most importantly, I learned how to love unconditionally.

As I am writing these words I can tell you this: My life is not easy. Nor would I want it to be. But not a day goes by without my heart leaping with joy at the sight of this majestic dance of light and shadows that we call life.

Every day I could choose to wear my hardships as a cape, show it to the world and watch it in the mirror, using it to shield me from love and fun and laughter, from trust in myself and my fellow humans.

I choose instead to do what my family taught me. I choose to dance my life with passion, joy, happiness and gratitude and most of all, I choose to love.

Ana’s Bio:

I was born in Romania 4 years before the fall of communism. Living there up I was deeply fascinated with my country, my people and our culture and was deeply frustrated seeing how the ravages that communism left behind, the corruption and poverty were rapidly destroying our land and our people. Ancient forests decimated, ancestral customs forgotten, a rich and vibrant culture left to disintegrate.

All of this inspired me to start traveling in a quest to learn about different ways of life and heal myself so that I can go back and start projects that will help heal my country.

Arriving in the UK and inspired by the values I grew up with, I began to teach green cleaning and to offer environmentally friendly cleaning services. I am convinced that if we learn how to care for our homes with respect, awareness and gratitude, we will naturally be inspired to care for and heal the environment.

However, my biggest breakthrough along the way was developing The Psychedelic Food Journey, a nutritional therapy meant to heal our connection with food by the practice of embodied eating. Through this Journey we learn how to connect to our bodies on a deeper, cellular level and appreciate food in the way we are truly meant to. We learn to eat from gratitude and inspiration and in the process we not only nurture our bodies, but also our souls.

Find out more about what Ana does now at: ana-dreams.com 

Thank you Ana for shining your beautiful light in the world ❤

We will soon be gathering stories for our 5th (yes 5th!!) KindaProud book;

#Emerging Proud through Psychosis and Schizophrenia

Have you received one of these disempowering labels but choose not to live by it?

Please CONTACT US HERE  if you are interested in sharing your story with us.

Existential crises can be catalysed by so many different issues; sometimes the cracks already there caused by earlier traumas in our lives cannot hold and something pushes us over the edge… a lot of the time those edges can lead to us having no option but to make changes for the better – to find meaning in the darkness.

When feeling ‘consumed by despair’, Peter re-claimed his soul and made a decision to start giving gratitude for what was positive in his life. He realised that after having spent years being numb to emotion due to working within the heartless capitalist system, having feelings was actually completely normal.

Now, not only having emerged proud from his depression, Peter is advocating for social and environmental justice within accountancy and runs an ethical company based on that with the priorities being for the prosperity of people and the planet. We couldn’t wish for a more aligned accountant for #Emerging Proud Press, and yes, Peter is good ‘weird’ and we wouldn’t have it any other way! 

In September 2008, the crisis in capitalism took hold and continues today, with unfettered greed destroying our ecology and society. On the same day that Lehman’s crashed I went to the doctor and told him that I couldn’t cope anymore. I had been working as a Financial Director in a Telecommunications company. I’d worked very hard for many years and at 50, and on the death of my Dad, I started questioning the meaning of life. Making money for company shareholders and earning a large salary had taken away my soul and rendered me empty. 

 

I never went back to work. As the stock exchanges around the world fell, so did I. By April 2009, I was in total meltdown. I was suffering from anxiety attacks and was very depressed. All I could see was destruction, factory farming, uncaring people, homeless people, a world falling apart. I could not see any positive things, so I hid at home, not daring to venture out of my house. 

 

Despite being out of control, depressed and unable to cope with being alone, I had decided that going to a psychiatric ward was not in my best interests. I knew that I was a risk to myself. But the experience of my older brother taking his life by suicide in 1980, whilst he was in care, lead me to believe that full-on professional help was not for me. I was lucky to convince everyone that I was well enough to function in society. It was not true, but I clung onto life, frightened to leave my home.

 

The depression continued. I took anti-depression drugs and went to talking therapies, I cried continually, and I couldn’t see a way forward. Thankfully, my wife stuck it out. I was in a living hell and could not see a way out. I think that possibly the one thing that kept me alive was the impact my brother’s suicide had on my family and me. My mother never recovered and was clinically depressed until she died. The tragedy of losing him always haunts me, and I refused to do this to those around me. Without the lesson of his loss, I may have followed him. Thankfully, the agony caused by his suicide on my family is lodged in my heart. Despite my living hell, killing myself was not an option. 

 

I remember one day in September 2009 a year after the initial breakdown, when despair consumed me. The experience of starting the new university degree was not as I expected, and I stared into a dark pit of despair. I sat there thinking that it was time to give up, to end it all. Continuing life with constant depression seemed pointless and ending it all seemed a serious option. I remember crying for the loss of not seeing my adolescent children grow into adults. I realised that being able to live to be with them as they grew up was worth the struggle. I decided to fight the depression, to take responsibility for my future and to make it the best one possible for myself and everyone around me. I think, at this point, I found my soul again, I realised that no matter how hard, there were things in my life that made it worth living. I started my journal, writing down three things that I was thankful for each day, a practice I continue ten years on.  

 

I found that the main thing that took me out of a depressed state was activity. So I gradually learnt to fill my time. In the early stages, I dragged myself to watercolour painting classes. As soon as the classes were over, I would rush home to safety. It was through activity and appreciation that I gradually claimed my sanity back. The big breakthrough seemed to come when I got fully engrossed in an MSc in Economics at the UEA (University of East Anglia, UK). Here I was able to fill my time reading, writing and doing maths. Gradually, as time moved by I started to move away from the depression. Slowly, day by day, I got better. Slowly the dial stuck on – DEPRESSION, moved slowly upwards so that it pointed at – FUNCTIONING BUT DEPRESSED, then to – DEPRESSED AND OCCASIONALLY SMILING. Now it often points at – OLD, WEIRD AND FUNNY.  

 

I gradually learnt that having ups and downs were normal. Depression comes and can go as quickly as it came. But importantly, having these feelings are better than having no soul, working for a corporate mega entity that puts shareholder profits above society and our planet. 

 

To my surprise, I found that people couldn’t see inside my head and to others I was ‘normal’. I never was and never will be, but that’s a secret that I keep to myself. I completed the MSc in 2011 and received a distinction. In September 2011, I got a part-time post Lecturing Accounting in a business school. Being busy seemed to be the answer, and so I started an Accountancy Practice. I’m a good accountant, and so I decided to use this skill to help as many people as possible. Also, I am now in the final stages of completing a doctorate in education, where I am arguing for changes to the accounting curriculum to incorporate social and environmental justice.  

 

Ten years on from the crash, I now lecture on several undergraduate and postgraduate courses. It is a privilege to work with young people and people going through the changes that education brings. Outside of the part-time role at university, I run an accountancy practice with a team of young trainee accountants. We are focusing on building a team that cares about what we do helping charities, not-for-profit organisations and people who are proud of what they do. To do this, we have a mix of for-profit and non-profit clients. Emerging Proud press is a typical non-profit client. We share the money that we make fairly across the team and our clients (in reduced pricing for those that need it). We aim to give a genuinely caring service and to help people realise their dreams. I am very proud of what we do and would never have got here without the breakdown. Despite the pain, I was so fortunate and was able to breakthrough. 

 

My doctorate focuses on environmental and social justice in education. I feel my life has a purpose, and I am lucky to be able to fulfil it. I look back on my breakdown as the point where I found my strength. I accept that the world is in crisis and that I should attempt to fill my time with a purpose to improve it locally, nationally and even globally. Without the breakdown, I would never have got to this place. I am so lucky to be alive. Thank-you, thank-you, thank-you to my family (both dead and alive), my wonderful wife, my amazing children, to my friends and to the ecology of the earth to whom I owe everything.

By the way – I still think my moods go up and down with the stock markets, so if you hear that I am depressed, sell all your shares!

 

To find out more about Peter’s ethical accounting company, and his work as Lecturer, go to:

You may remember the fabulous Martha from her interview will Will Hall on Madness Radio a couple of weeks ago. Now Martha #EmergesProud to share her story for our KindaProud series.

Life is complex, messy and so full of paradox – how wise Martha is. Having emerged out of a hugely traumatic ordeal catalysed by taking Ayahuasca, Martha has managed to integrate the trauma so much so that she’s found gratitude within the pain of it all.

Martha says; this life is so utterly sacred; so incomprehensibly full of pain, magic and mystery; that when you realise this all at once, it’s okay – maybe even understandable – to go ‘mad’ for a while.

We couldn’t agree more Martha…

My journey of emerging proud through trauma, begins from recognising what happened to me as a trauma– not as something that I must have deserved, because nobody around me was questioning it.

I was in Colombia where I had been living and working and had gone on a retreat to do Ayahuasca, a hallucinogenic plant medicine native to Latin America. I had a strong reaction to the medicine, that I now feel is connected to the strong and ultimately misguided intention I went in with, which was one of wanting to dissolve my ego completely.

I got what I asked for in that I did temporarily experience many expanded, ego-less, joyous and profound states; but I inevitably became caught, overwhelmed and confused by them and so journeyed unwittingly into the ‘mad’ realms where it felt as if my internal world had been turned inside out and life was just my imagination.

My state became one of high excitement and disruptive playfulness, as Universal Oneness was seen to be a reality. Whilst I felt that nothing really mattered anymore, I saw at the same time how every movement and action had profound meaning. It felt like life was simply a work of art and we were all artists; dancing together as an expression of beauty, paradox and truth amidst the routines of daily life.

This was my internal process…on the outside, I expect it looked like I had just really lost the plot. I didn’t try to hurt anybody, but when a group of men began to restrain me, you can bet I fought back. There were too many of them though, and eventually I found myself on the ground lying on my front with my hands tied to my feet behind my back, as other retreatants ate their dinner and chatted at a nearby table.

I found myself in this position several times – hands bound to feet, face pressed uncomfortably into the ground – often for just having too much energy and not being able to sleep. I remember lying there quietly and feeling pain in my body from the time spent in this distorted position. At one point, the shaman’s sister put a blanket over my whole body, to cover me from view. When this happened, I disassociated and saw myself from above. I remember thinking that perhaps I had died. I couldn’t think of any other reason why I would have been covered and so the belief I was dead continued for the rest of the retreat.

I felt how strange this was, that here I was tied up on the ground, contorted and alone, while others around me didn’t seem to care or even notice. But my state of consciousness was so expanded that I had no self-pity or sense of injustice, just a bemused acceptance.

When the shaman insisted I remove my bikini top for a tabaco cleansing, I asked if I could keep it on. I didn’t want to be topless. My arms were held outstretched by two assistants and other retreatants were pottering about around me. He said no, and I took it off obediently. I felt the lack of consent and dignity in this, but accepted his word, like everyone else.

After the retreat, when I found myself locked in a shed outside his house, where a few remaining retreatants were staying, and realised the bowl on the floor was for me to go to the toilet in, I felt a private sense of humiliation – but with no other option, simply accepted it.

It didn’t seem to occur to the shaman or the facilitators during the retreat that I was sensitive to the ayahuasca and so perhaps shouldn’t be drinking as much as other people. Perhaps they trusted that the medicine would do its work, but without any form of communication or therapeutic connection – I feel this was an irresponsible way of doing things.

It wasn’t until I had a further breakdown in the UK, induced again by psychedelics, that I was able to access psychological therapy for my trauma. It took months for me to understand that I should not have been treated the way I was in Colombia. The psychologist had to work hard to make me believe that just because I was in an altered state, being tied up for hours at a time and locked in a shed with no toilet was unacceptable. She told me the fact I was in a vulnerable state did not mean that I deserved this, it in fact made it worse.

What I understand now is that the reason it took such intense psychological therapy for me to accept my experiences as trauma was because at the time, all around me there were other people, none of whom ever questioned the power dynamics of what was happening. This made me feel invisible and worthless – like a disgraced child and left me with feelings of being deeply unsafe in groups.

Yet, despite everything I am grateful for my journey with ayahuasca. When I think back to the person I was before all of this happened and compare her with who I am now, I am unequivocally kinder, less judgemental of others and more flexible in my thinking. It’s also true that so much of what I experienced and discovered in those initial highs has been confirmed by five years of much steadier inquiry in the form of zen meditation: That this life is so utterly sacred; so incomprehensibly full of pain, magic and mystery; that when you realise this all at once, it’s okay – maybe even understandable – to go ‘mad’ for a while.

The reason I’m telling my story now is because I never thought I could. Its only through platforms such as Emerging Proud that stories such as mine – that tread the less clear path between light and dark – can be fully held and heard. I hope that the conversation around Ayahuasca can expand to encompass the paradox, pain and learning that my narrative offers. I have no blame for the shamans, facilitators or other retreatants. While I was hurt, traumatised and humiliated by what happened, I don’t feel it was intentional. Through my altered state I may have hurt, humiliated or traumatised some of them in some way, without knowing or meaning to.

What I need most right now, as I share my painful, messy, complex human story is forgiveness and compassion – for myself and everyone around me. I think the whole world could use a little more of this too, as more and more of us are called to step forward, bravely owning our actions, bearing our hearts and speaking our truth.

Martha now works within the NHS as a mental health worker, and is doing a masters degree in transpersonal psychology, spirituality and consciousness studies. She’s also the co-director of an interdisciplinary think tank for psychosis research in Bristol. Martha has a keen interest in and love for Zen Buddhism and depth astrology.

Martha now sees her experiences as a Hero(ine)’s journey….providing integration, learning, making sense of her life, validation and most importantly, connection.

If you’d like to discuss these issues in relation to how they can be better addressed and supported within the Mental Health system, sign up for our event in London in Jan:

CLICK HERE FOR MORE INFORMATION

ACISTE is on a mission! Every year thousands of people have life-changing spiritual experiences that often radically alter their values, worldview, career choices, and relationships. Yet very few helping professionals are aware of the latest research, common responses, and unique needs of these “spiritual experiencers.” ACISTE trains and certifies mental health professionals, life coaches, and spiritual guidance counselors to work sensitively, effectively, and collaboratively with those in the process of integrating a variety of spiritually transformative experiences. Get certified this year at our annual conference, November 14-17, 2019, in Atlanta. [Learn more and Register]

Holly Chapman from British Columbia, Canada, now harnesses the wisdom from what was once labelled as symptoms of various ‘illnesses’ as her ‘board of directors’, listening to her visions, voices and sensitivities and embracing her ‘superpowers’ has helped guide her to a life she is now proud of – and so she should be! We are KindaProud of Holly and the hard work she’s put in to thrive through trauma; here’s her story so you can see why…

Photo Credit to: Leah Lipson

When does my story really start – Where do I begin; before my physical creation as an egg in Baba’s (grandmother’s) womb, with stardust – genetics/cellular structure & bloodlines, perhaps the birth where I landed in Toronto Ontario Canada on April 3^rd 1980, with a family carrying un-checked ancestral trauma is where I’ll begin.

Preeclampsia during pregnancy with birth complications definitely affected both my mother’s and my own health; Mum was bed-ridden and experienced much pain and I was born green struggling to breathe via emergency caesarean. There seem to be many definitions within various communities about, ‘What is Trauma’ and the simple one that resonates with me is ‘too much – too fast – too soon!” It never quite felt like either of us were ready for our new roles … despite our deep desire to arrive. An’ if empaths are born out of chaotic environments, the universe surely matched me well as a seed in training as I quickly developed the ability to read an’ feel the adults around me accurately (this superpower would later be labelled as paranoia, hypervigilance, or hallucinations). In addition, it was consistently noted that I was “mature for my age” and an advanced, yet struggling student who didn’t get along well with others. Another gift often acquired via exposure to traumatic circumstances is an openness to other levels of awareness that is historically cultivated through study, meditation and years of practice leading to mastery. Obtaining this additional sense of the world – too quickly and without context – eventually resulted in my diagnosis of multiple mental/physical health challenges.

Diagnosis:

Migraines including Abdominal Migraines / Full-body Migraines

Absence Seizures

Dissociative Identity Dis-order

Obsessive Compulsive Dis-order

Anxiety & Depression

Chronic Pain

Leaky Gut

Hair-Pulling (Trichotillomania)

Scoliosis & Spondylolisthesis

Central Sensitivity Syndromes which include Myalgic Encephalomyelitis/Chronic Fatigue Syndrome, Fibromyalgia, Multiple Chemical (and food) Sensitivities, Irritable Bowel Syndrome, Tension Type Headaches, Temporomandibular Disorders, Postural Orthostatic Tachycardia Syndrome, Restless Legs Syndrome, Irritable Larynx, Complex-Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, Non-Cardiac Chest Pain, Myofascial Pain Syndrome.

And exhale …

But how did I get this way?

 

“There comes a point where we need to stop just pulling people out of the river. We need to go upstream and find out why they’re falling in.”

– Desmond Tutu

Brief List of Lived Experiences – Trauma & Abuse:

Early witness of domestic violence

Continued domestic violence

Living with the inconsistency, insecurities, and impulsivity of a single-parent struggling with past trauma, mental/physical illness and addictions (in & out of rehab)

Bullying throughout school and first 15 years of employment

Rape, sexual abuse, molestation (multiple experiences beginning from age 5 – early 30’s)

I’ve nearly drowned three times

Bit by dogs on multiple occasions

Multiple residential & school moves

Fallen down stairs (multiple)

Break-ups & Divorces

Huge Financial Loss (multiple gains/losses/gains)

Arrested under the influence of prescribed narcotics & anti-psychotics (multiple)

Sudden job loss / inability to maintain secure employment

Home Invasion

Eviction from residence

Assulted with a knife

Physical Abuse

Neglect

Drug abuse

Self-harm

Head Trauma (Multiple)

Three personal encounters with suicide

Three horrible Motor Vehicle accidents (The 2^nd accident someone died)

Near Death Experiences

In 2013 something shifted; following the third motor vehicle accident within a 6 year timeframe I was heavily medicated, unable to walk or talk or control my bodily functions, losing all material assets, including my home and – relationships, including my mother, that once formed my so-called life. I made a decision and it was this: I’d been willing on three past accounts to remove myself from this planet for reasons in that current moment I deemed quite insignificant, so was I willing to take a leap of faith this time in favour TO LIVE? You bet! And so I did. Moving from one city to another out of necessity created challenges in the transition of my healthcare needs, including prescriptions and though I don’t advise the “cold turkey” approach – it worked for me. What would a refugee do; what did my grandparents do escaping from war in their home countries? I come from people who moved with the times; my grandfather turned crops and my grandmother served tables – I come from masters of survival. I rode the rough tide of withdrawal with only one thing in mind – It’s my time to thrive! I knew I could conquer this metaphorical mountain, in fact I’d trained for this beyond my biological lifetime here on Earth. Finding peace and comfort between where I was and wanted to be became the practice. I discovered being here now is where the connected healing is at, and if “ya gotta feel it to heal it” holds truth then I’ve received a great gift and teacher through the intense pain I live with because I discovered a whole new realm of feeling, very different than my felt experience 33 years prior. Receiving the download during one of my episodes that pain is information running through me and how I process that perceived sensory “sensation” is now up to me. I began building a relationship with this body re-wiring new healthy patterns, often guided by two questions: “Does it serve” & “What is needed?”

Healing & health recovery are possible! With access to social media and the world abroad we’re seeing some amazing “miracles” in recovery these days; I use my time and resources with wellness in mind. Socrates reminds us that, “The secret of change is to focus all of our energy not on fighting the old, but on building the new.” Unemployed and seemingly unemployable, rebuilding my foundation became my work; I recognized the internal scaffolding was a ‘lil’ sketchy and I could see what was holding me up.

What’s worked for me:

[Seek Trauma Informed practitioners]

Meditation

Mindfulness

Breathwork

Affirmations

Yoga / Trauma Sensitive Yoga

Reiki (Change energy – Change life)

Tai Chi / Qigong

Gyrokinesis

Strength Training

Nature

Walking

Warm Baths

Naps

Self-Regulation (emotional)

Animals

Prayer

Movement

Dancing

Tapping

Shaking

Figure Skating

Krav Maga (Martial Arts)

Rock Climbing

Music & sound healing
Drumming

Singing bowl (music box with maracas, tambourine, thumb-piano and wooden frog)

Chanting

Kirtan

Emotional Release Exercises
Grief circles
Shamanic Healing

Ho’oponopono Reconciliation & Forgivness Ceremony

Tobacco Ceremony

Sweat Lodge
Church
Volunteering
Peer Support Groups (ex. Opening the Circle, a support community for those impacted by sexual abuse or sexual violence)

Applied Kinesiologist

Kinesiologist

Personal Trainer

Neuro-Visual Therapy & specialized prism lenses

Psychotherapy / Psychologist

Group therapy including Cognitive Behaviour Therapy, Dialectical Behaviour Therapy
Intuitive Art / Art Therapy

Anger Management

Self-Regulation
Re-Parent

Research on Happiness, smiling and posture. And practice.

Retrain basic employment skills

Basic Health Care, check-ups & dental hygiene

Massage

Acupuncture

Reflexology

Osteopathy

Chiropractic

Fascial Stretch Therapy

Drink Water

Self-care

Transitions Lifestyle System (TLS) & Supplements

Elimination of sugar, alcohol, coffee, and processed food-like items

Gut Health/Anti-Inflammatory Nutrition

Recovery Capital Conference of Canada

Attend free university lectures / workshops

The library was a fantastic resource
ISTA (International School of Temple Arts) level 1 & Practitioner training

Multiple Self-development courses

Camps or Retreats

*Psychedelic Psychiatry  – Psilocybin Mushrooms / micro-dosing
*Ayahuasca Ceremonies

Cannabis
CBD Oil
*MDMA
*Done with intention/ceremonial/sacred held space

Trust the process. It’s ok to have goals, and be here Now. I know I am enough. I had to toss the story of “that’s not for me” “I’m poor” “that’s for rich people” “out of my league” … I’m Becoming my best healthcare advocate. I wondered how athletes recovered and I researched (then I implemented); they participate in active recovery plans, they typically have healthcare teams, and they show up consistently! I Intuitively knew that what I’d been told was impossible – is possible. I also gained inspiration from artists & creators as they often brought dreamworlds into reality and my visions then became tangible.

“Every next level of your life will demand a different version of you.”

It wasn’t until my 29^th year on this planet that I even gained an awareness that society en mass wasn’t composed only of bullies, beaters, cheaters, rapists, thugs and the like – sitting in an evening held continuing-ed classroom, reading a text on abnormal human development / psychology where I realized this was my life all in one book wherein the content was unsettling and frightening. My “normal” had just been challenged in a BIG way; discovering this information provided me a pathway of hope – a map to return to self. I suddenly understood how I’d reached my current circumstances and I knew it wasn’t my fault. I kinda felt like Alice in Wonderland at times. I was able to apply child development frameworks to work back- rebuild-remedy recurring chronic dis-eases/ill formed patterns in my life.

It’s been my experience that from a young age we’re read a fairytale on how life will be if we do this or that, follow these steps, or bad things don’t happen to good people so do good always (whatever that means). Based on this combination of ideals encouraging people to control their external environments and destinies through willpower with the idea that fairness is expected and desirable in life, I often found myself susceptible to negativity, drained energy, failure, disillusionment, and feeling overwhelmed as life presented itself fully.

I realized one day that many humans seek out and pay money to achieve an altered state, so I’ve accepted the symptoms of visions, a plethora of sensory sensitivities, and voices. They’re my board of directors and together we move through life; I work with the team.

“Butterflies can’t see their wings. They can’t see how truly beautiful they are, but everyone else can. People are like that as well.”

– Naya Rivera

Although I still experience extreme feelings of isolation I’m aware that I wouldn’t have gotten to this place along the journey without ‘a little help from my friends’ – I express gratitude to each and every one who has participated in my story in real-time, and shared presence with me. Especially to my partner Derek Tse who has stayed on for the ride, respected my “No’s”, and shown me that kindness, compassion and acceptance does exist in (Hu)mens. Thank you for witnessing my telling of some of the lived-experiences I’ve encountered involving trauma & abuse. I am #EmergingProud.

Blessings along the Way,

Namaste

Holly

You can get yourself a copy of Holly’s inspirational story in print in our 4th KindaProud Pocket Book of Hope, #Emerging Proud through Trauma and Abuse from 10th October 2019, when, with all of those who have taken part in this series, we aim to change the narratives for World Mental Health day to ones of not only surviving, but thriving ❤

Ty Faruki’s experiences of racial abuse and witnessing first- hand the atrocities of socio/political conflict resulted him being given a ‘disorder’ label. If anyone reads the reasons behind Ty’s behaviours and nervous system responses, they become understandable human reactions to the trauma he has been through.

Ty #Emerges Proud through Trauma and Abuse to tell his story and help to normalise these issues so that they can be more appropriately supported…

Making sense of my brain is like making sense of the unhealthy things that taste good. My father passed away when I was very young, and I always felt disenfranchised in Britain as a minority. Dad was of Pakistani descent, and my mother from the UK, with roots in Eastern Europe. I am the only one with a likeness of my father and, as a consequence, growing up in a predominantly white town attracted all sorts of unwanted comments. When I washed, I tried to remove my skin colour by abrasively sponging my skin, in a desperate attempt to turn white and ultimately fit in with my peers.

Following disputes between the family, both sides ceased contact. I was later diagnosed with OCD; I washed my hands like there was not enough water in the world and this later developed into stress, anxiety, depression and bipolar. I sought treatment but nothing worked.

In my teens I was run over by a known racist on his motorbike, the insults and slurs amassed, and my sense of identity decreased.

Later, I fell in love with photography and it took me to many places including Iraq during the liberation of Mosel by allied forces, Somalia during the major drought of 2017, Ukraine over a period of 5 years, Pakistan, Lebanon, Jordan, Japan, Kazakhstan and more, documenting humanitarian crises, conflicts and cultural histories.

The time spent in these countries made me witness to shelling, bombs, poverty and a guilt that comes with witnessing and leaving these circumstances behind. Watching bullets and shells channel the air to make their way towards an ill-fated destination still seemed unreal, until the bullets came in my direction, whistling above the trees to clink on top of my helmet and flack jacket.

Watching troops I had embedded with respond with mute emotions, knowing anything else could get them killed, and then returning to regular chit chat after battles had calmed, was surreal. The sound of pounding rockets fired from their immobile launchers was deafening and powerful. I remember the force slamming into my face, like an invisible wall.

Sometime later, I decided I wanted to focus on personal projects and took time to build these up. But I had not imagined for one second what was to befall me. I remember waking one morning, wanting to pour a glass of water and needing to consume it quickly. I was paranoid – telling myself that it might be poisoned if I left it alone. The fifth of November came, and screeching sounds through the air emulated times from abroad, where bombs had exploded, and bullets pierced the air above my head. When cars back fired, or building materials suddenly dropped onto the floor, I reacted internally with immense panic, biting into my pillow, hiding around corners, sweating profusely and dodging calls and appointments with friends and family.

As I write this from the city of Kharkiv, Ukraine, the air conditioning unit crackling above the couch I am sleeping on taunts me of a time in Iraq.

It is involuntary and when I tell of my ‘condition’ to friends their response is usually “well that’s what they say” and “yeah, ok”. I already feel crazy, and being told indirectly that I am, is clearly not useful to me or others suffering with the same.

Today I feel very different. Although I have not conquered my difficulties, I consciously challenge and fight them. Even though I return to habitual ground zero, the fact I am rebelling against my OCD and depression is a victory in itself. It knows I am here to reclaim my lands – and it too is hiding around corners, sweating profusely, dodging my calls.

Ty’s Bio:

Ty Faruki is a British-Pakistani photographer who began in film before progressing towards photography, seeing it as a preferred method of documentation and capture. His photographs have featured internationally in leading publications for a wide array of subjects including: New Statesman, The Irish Times, Financial Times and the Telegraph, as well as exhibitions within the Embassy of Ukraine and the Houses of Parliament.

He currently has plans to work on a project that seeks to help the public understand the difficulties people with the impact and effects of trauma live with. He is also working on a project about Islamophobia, and the problems Muslims encounter every day within the UK and worldwide.

We are so grateful to Ty and all who are bravely #EmergingProud to show there are always personal reasons behind what the current mental health paradigm dismisses as ‘bio-chemical imbalances’…

It is our hope that the more we can all shine a light on this the more focus can go on the provision of therapeutic interventions that actually help those suffering to not only survive, but thrive ❤

We are still collecting stories for our 4th Pocket Book in the KindaProud series; #Emerging Proud through Trauma and Abuse 

Please CONTACT US HERE if you’d like to take part.