The aftermath of walking with emergence
NOTE: This post was originally published on my creative writing Substack Summer 2023.
Hey y’all.
I thought this container was going to be one where I published something about Ritual every day during the 30 days. Now, I am staring the last week in the face and sitting with why I want to be disappointed with myself for taking the space I needed. The last two weeks were hard. Hard isn’t even the word. I can do hard things. The last two weeks felt like The Tower1 card in a tarot deck. I’ve experienced a lot of growth since October of last year. And, when I decided to take my leave of absence from my PhD program, I thought my soul would feel like it could breathe a bit. But, what I didn’t expect was the various life issues that would cause my physical body to respond as it has. life has been LIFE-ing.
I suffer from C-PTSD.
Complex PTSD. If you don’t know what it is, let me tell ya, it’s a nice and spicy version of regular PTSD. Super juicy, my friends. C-PTSD was coined to give a name for the lived experience of those who suffered multiple traumas. If you are a survivor of abuse, had an abusive childhood, etc. you are probably aware of C-PTSD as the trauma was ongoing for an extended period of time. In addition, I am Black and a descendant of survivors of the transatlantic slave trade.
Crows are brilliant creatures, and one sign of this brilliance is they store in their DNA warnings for their future generation. Like, “yo, this plant is poisonous. Do NOT eat,” type of warnings. And, as humans, our bodies do the same. This is something I am thankful for. I am grateful for these “knowings” when it comes to unsafe situations and people. However, the problem is these signals from my body tell my mind that I could die if I engage with people/places/things that trigger said signals.
This wouldn’t be an issue if I were in actual, physical danger.
But, many times, my body tells me to run if, for instance, the music is too loud in a restaurant and triggers my sensory sensitivities. Or if I hear fireworks randomly. And, what about the seminars I have attended where the content didn’t engage with or acknowledge one of the many aspects of my marginalized identity that left me feeling unseen and unheard. The feelings I experience in my body are real. However, I cannot run from every trigger. And, to be completely honest, the version of C-PTSD I live with is such that I may never know the roots of some triggers. Some of them aren’t mine. What I mean by this is, some of my triggers are not borne from personal experiences, but rather the experiences of my ancestors. They coded warnings in my DNA.
They loved me enough to code warnings in my DNA.
So, how do I live with the warnings and not respond in ways that are toxic or unhelpful? How do I identify the trauma root, give thanks for the warnings, and work to ensure that while the scar remains to remind me, that the wound is healed? What does that work look like?
I recognize that therapy is beneficial. I have been given excellent somatic practices to remain grounded. I use them in my own spiritual practices and even suggest them in readings with clients. But, I yearn for the wisdom practices of my ancestors. What did they do before the interruption of slavery to real from traumatic experiences. I sit with the understanding that while therapy is helpful and life saving, that its practices are often based without regards to the Black, embodied experience. And, many times indigenous understandings are not considered with certain disabilities and symptoms in mind. They say you can’t have your cake and eat it, too. Buuuuuut, if I eat the cake and my body uses it to nourish my body, am I not also keeping it, too?
In any case, I am sitting with these questions. I am listening.
The archetype of the Tower is one of extreme upheaval and change. Everything that could be pulled from underneath is, and it’s a burning, heaping mess that usually has you asking, “Why me?”
