~ Posted 31st October 2015 ~ (PM – referring to PM yesterday – Friday)
 
So how’s this for the power of the human spirit? 
 
This is what my blog is all about... to try and show how a person who is “said to be broken”, can still function perfectly well when the true meaning of their life is where they find their call in any one moment in time.
 
My last blog post was all about the morning struggles yesterday with stress and anxiety overcoming me.  I had also received a call in the morning before I went shopping to ask if I would counsel someone who was in a very hurting place.  As all should know by now, I have only presented myself as an “Online Logotherapist”.  I just don’t feel confident enough to do face to face counselling even though it was something I had done naturally and successfully many times before I was ever a trained counsellor.
 
The client sounded so distressed, that I could not bring myself to say no, even though I knew it would add to my stress levels that day as a result of my own lack of confidence and my fears. 
 
Once my shopping was done and my son had gone to work, I did see my client and it turned out to be the most meaningfully rewarding encounter with a unique and beautiful person.  I was able to help them and that meant so much to me personally as I took another courageous step up the mountain of my own life.
 
It amazes me how often I can allow my own lack of confidence and my fears to hold me back from my own progression, but if someone is hurting, I cannot say no to being there for them.  That doesn’t mean I’m any less scared to “put myself out there”, but for me, I believe and KNOW that the calling of my life is to be there for others and to share my experiences and heart with them in any way I know how and possibly can.  So when “Life calls” I find myself saying “YES”, then somehow just putting my trust in “Life” that everything will work out ok... and inevitably, IT DOES. 
 
A dear friend send me the following beautiful words yesterday:

Strangely, late yesterday afternoon, I unexpectedly  had yet another face to face client whose life seems to be in turmoil... two in one day and “I did it”... another testament... to me... of the power of "my" human spirit. 
 
I want others out there to know also, that there is “more”... like I’ve said before... “there is always more”... just give yourself a chance... take chances... leave your comfort zone occasionally and explore the possibilities that “Life” still has in store for you personally... you might be surprised at what “more” there could be waiting especially for YOU...
 
Every time I take a step towards my own area of “courage”... I am surprised!  I believe that one day I won’t be so surprised anymore... I will know... “This is who I am... who I was always meant to be... doing what I was always meant to do”...
 
I wish the same for all those who are reading this today who have not yet found that incredible place of personal meaning and freedom in their own lives. 
 
It exists... Carpe Diem (seize the day).
 
I would love to add “& Courage” to the title of the following poem that I love so much:

Opportunity
This I beheld, or dreamed it in a dream:--
There spread a cloud of dust along a plain;
And underneath the cloud, or in it, raged
A furious battle, and men yelled, and swords
Shocked upon swords and shields. A prince's banner
Wavered, then staggered backward, hemmed by foes.
A craven hung along the battle's edge,
And thought, "Had I a sword of keener steel--
That blue blade that the king's son bears,— but this
Blunt thing—!" He snapped and flung it from his hand,
And lowering crept away and left the field.
Then came the king's son, wounded sore bested,
And weaponless, and saw the broken sword
Hilt-buried in the dry and trodden sand,
And ran and snatched it, and with battle-shout
Lifted afresh he hewed his enemy down
And saved a great cause that heroic day.
 
By:  Edward Rowland Sill (April 29, 1841 – February 27, 1887) American poet and essayist was born in Winsor, Connecticut. He was orphaned when young and brought up by his uncle, Elisha Sill in Ohio.
 
~ Pana

~ Posted 31st October 2015 ~ (AM)
 
This week has been so busy and so stressful with one thing and another with emotional highs and lows to go with it.  On Thursday I attended the Logotherapy Advanced course workshop at the university.  What a beautiful day it was for me... although I did experience a lot of anxiety over my broken front tooth...I could not fully be myself worrying that everyone could see it... and smiling funny to try and keep it covered!  (No... I still haven’t called the dentist... far too scared and not enough money to pay for a new cap!) I felt so embarrassed though, I knew I would have to go to a dentist soon, before the next student workshops, because I couldn’t let the new students see me like this... I’ve got little enough socialising confidence without having to look weird too!  
 
At teatime during the workshop, we surprised one of our beloved trainers with a birthday party and it was just a beautiful day all in all.  This trainer was my trainer during the last phases of my own studies and I know for sure, I would not have made it without his gentle, all-accepting, loving nature.  We travel together to and from the university on workshop days and have such deep and meaningful conversations in the car.  I always go home feeling rejuvenated on a spiritual level, but exhausted as a result of all the socialising and on an extreme emotional high at the same time due to the intensity of our discussions both with the students and trainers and the traveling conversations.  As a result, I went to bed far too late and woke only 6 ½ hours later which is always a problem for me!
 
So... as tired as I was yesterday (Friday), I knew that I had to take the opportunity in the morning to go buy and order supplies for the upcoming student workshops in November.  As I have mentioned before, I struggle with agoraphobia, so leaving my house is not an easy thing for me to do at all.  I build up quite a good dose of anxiety before I even get to the gate, and often change my mind in the end and stay at home instead!  But this time my son was at home on a half-day so it was a good opportunity to have him with me for an added dose of courage whilst shopping, although, at the last minute, I decided to let him stay at home so he could have a good rest before work.  I felt that as long as he helped me out of the gate I’d be ok and he’d still be home when I arrived home... I could do it.
 
Driving to the printing and stationary supplies shop, I felt a little anxious, but still not too bad... managed to park in a busy parking lot and went into the stationary shop. 
 
A lady approached me to help and I gave her copy of my list of items for the printing / binding order and other purchases.  She somehow lost her copy and wanted to know what else she needed to get for me... well, that’s when the anxiety started to hit me... I found myself looking at my list, and it was as if I could not see or remember what I’d written on it... Mind vacuum was happening and with that realisation, I immediately started to feel real stupid... unconfident... “Mother’s dithering idiot” again!  I started making excuses... “I don’t have the right glasses on”... tried to make light of it... “I’m nearly 60 years old”... the lady laughed and we finally go through the list. 
 
Filling in the printing order form, the lady asked for my phone number and immediately I could not remember... the part number I started to give her, I thought was from an old phone I once had!  Again... Mind vacuum due to anxiety!  So embarrassing!  I felt very small and very alone... wished Andrew or someone was there with me.  After what seemed like eternity and with me struggling through my mind and phone, and asking her like an idiot... “How can a person find their own number on their own phone?”... almost ready to call Andrew to ask him what my number was... I finally remembered! 
 
Once all was done, the lady came around the counter to help me carry all the purchased items to the car... the Mind vacuum was so bad by then, that by the time I reached the door, my mind was in such a panic state with this lady carrying the heavy box of paper walking alongside me.  With my mind racing, my panicking thoughts were...
 
“How did I get here... car... what does my car look like... what colour... blue... was blue my old car... (I looked for blue)... yes, there’s my car thank Heavens...”
 
(I get to the car and discover I’ve taken out my house keys before leaving the shop instead of my car keys... so now she’s standing there with the heavy box, while with my hands filled with my purchases, I’m frantically fumbling through my  overcrowded handbag for the correct keys)... AARGH!!!
 
This all happened in a matter of seconds, but I felt very shook up afterwards... very insecure about “me”... my abilities to leave my home... with my confidence now even more shattered... my self-perception further deteriorated!
 
Sometimes it sucks to be me!
 

• “Mind vacuum” is my own description of what happens to me when I’m feeling very anxious.  If it is not a form of dissociation happening, which I am sure it is, then perhaps there is another name for it and I would love someone to tell me what it could be so that I can look it up and try to make sense of it and maybe find a way to help myself and others when it happens.  If you can help, please could you write to me on my blog contacts page?  Thank you.

 

• Do you struggle with this problem also?  Please write and let me know.

 
(To be continued)
 
~ Pana

Posted 27th October 2015
 
Friend: Isn't it actually quite bad that neither of us have been healed through therapy??  To live most of our lives haunted by so much and broken in so many ways is just really heart-breaking!
 
Pana: I sometimes think that the effects of child abuse on a person’s life, depending on good support systems (chruch/family/happily married), etc. is a "forever" thing, and that we can only learn how to manage it and find ways to our peace and happiness in spite of it.  So I'd like to believe that our contact as child abuse survivors meeting to talk things through, is for this purpose... to be a strength to one another and that even if we are never fully healed, that we can somehow help to make each one’s load a much lighter one.  And hopefully a knowledge of Logotherapy will help you as much as it is helping me each and ever day... just that little added strength, until one day you are writing your book, or serving at a local shelter or organization where you will be loved and appreciated as much as you have always dreamed and even more, realising that your life has indeed got meaning and that there is a unique "Life task" just waiting to be fulfilled by nobody else but you.  There is nothing better than having a purpose and meaning in life... no amount of pain and suffering can stop you once you know what your purpose and meaning potential is.
 
Friend: You know, until my ill-health took hold, I used to be a complete extrovert, worked hard, had a great social life and on the whole coped well. Of course I had my down times but it has never been this bad.
 
Pana: The longer we allow the down times to take hold the harder it becomes... I am still struggling at times, even though I have found great meaning in my life, because I also let it go too far for too long. 
 
Friend: I realize I have too much time to stew on far too many things that have happened in my life! I’m limited in what I can do about it simply because, 1. I’m so ill, and 2. even if I was able to do something to make the most of my time, I just don't have the money.
 
Pana: I know what you mean... I really do.  Sometimes the hole we've ended up in just seems too deep and too impossible to get out of... I've been there too remember.
 
Friend: My dream had always been to do charity work for the Red Cross all over the world once my kids were grown up but sadly I became unwell after they finished university.  I had been slowly getting worse over the years but managed to cope.
 
Pana: Our children were like magic... they gave us so much strength and courage to cope... unbelievable.  It's like they helped to take the focus off of our "selves" and they were also there for our inner-child... they made her laugh and feel alive and well.  At least I have grandchildren now... God bless you that you will also have grandchildren someday soon and that you will be able to have them in your life... I miss three of mine so much that I ache, because they are just too far away.
 
Friend: Once I was housebound, I realise that I started giving up! 
 
Pana: It can happen so easily... we are often very fragile my dear friend. 
 
Friend: My daughter once told me in a very mean way that I was still alive and that I shouldn't give up. 
 
Pana: Our children find it very hard to put up with us being down so much and it is something they can't quite grasp.  As their parents, they need us to be strong for them. 
 
Friend: But when one is in constant severe pain, also suffering from debilitating migraines, having renal problems, diabetes, high blood pressure, terrible anxiety and ultimately from agoraphobia due to me being so isolated, then it’s not easy to live life to the full. It’s actually simply impossible! I don't expect anyone to understand.
 
Pana: I understand!  I had that agonising gout for three months... I wanted to die... I found myself giving up... I knew I could NOT live with that constant pain.  How you do it I will never know.  I know I couldn't.  I think in that regard, you are WAY stronger than I could ever be.  I have already told my sister that if I have a stroke or become unable to communicate in any way about pain, etc.  I want to be given painkillers which I refuse now... but I do not want to be in pain and unable to help myself with a strict diet, etc. as I am now used to.  If I have to rely on others, I don't care that the meds will probably kill me in the end, but I DO NOT want to be in any pain at all!  I never want to experience that gout pain again!
 
Your courage to keep going... to bravely go out to pay your bills and shop when you need to even though you suffer such excruciating pain all the time... well, that to me shows the incredible power of your human spirit... I feel honoured knowing you!
 
Friend: When my mom was so ill the last ten years of her life after a spinal operation went wrong, constantly in agony, I also didn't get it. Unless you suffer such pain yourself you just cannot imagine it! I was always a deeply compassionate nurse but even seeing the agony of cancer patients, you still can't know until you experience it yourself.  That’s just life. When I was in labour with my kids I thought that was the worst pain I would ever experience but the pain from my back is ten times worse and constant and you don't get a beautiful baby at the end of it!!
 
Pana: This is FACT... NOBODY can possibly understand until they feel and experience it for themselves!  I honestly felt the gout pain was far worse than childbirth... there was just no breaks in between the intense throbbing and searing pain... no sleep for days... etc., and nobody understood what I was going through... I was very much alone throughout most of it with people only popping in every now and then to help when they could take time off of work, etc.  My beautiful daughter, sister and someone from church.  Just trying to get to the bathroom or needing a cup of tea was a torturous affair for me... I felt totally alone and stuck... I wanted to die as a result. 
 
Friend: I have to just keep getting through each day as best I can - it’s about survival.  The rest - the past, the abuse, the pain of my inner child - that I can only deal with in tiny bits because my physical health is so overwhelming and all-consuming!!
 
Pana: At least you are prepared to allow the "tiny bits" and that alone is commendable for someone who has the physical and emotional struggles that you have.  It tells me that you are still a fighter... doing your best each and every day with the strength and courage you have in you.  Some might say that “tiny bits” is not enough... but I say that it is HUGE!  You are giving "Life" a chance in the best way that you know how... for YOU... and by NOBODY else’s rules or measurements of what you should be doing or where you should be on your road to healing.  This is YOUR Journey... your incredible and unique journey dear friend, and for as long as you are not giving up on your search for that seemingly elusive goal of finding that something "Good, Beautiful & True" that you KNOW lies somewhere beyond your emotional and physical "state", then you ARE a winner and nobody has any right to say otherwise.
 
Friend: I’m thrilled for you that you’ve found the courage & motivation to deal with everything head-on.  It’s incredibly brave and I’m in awe of u!
 
Pana: Thank you for that... but it's important to know that the courage and motivation comes in waves... it's still a bit of a rollercoaster ride for me, but the object is to never-ever give up!  "Onwards and forever upwards" as my sister, Sharon would always say!
 
Friend: Thank you for all your love and kindness. I appreciate it immensely!  Look after yourself my friend and remember despite me not being as brave as you, I am here for you too.
 
Pana: Thank you.  I need you to not try to compare yourself with me.  We are totally unique, as is our journeys... nobody can say whose courage serves better than another’s.  We all have different pasts, presents, thresholds, triggers, support systems, etc.  We are unique.  Your courage cannot in the slightest degree, be measured against mine.  I am not living in constant pain as you are.  My pain is not your pain, and visa versa.  I have experienced my own physical pain and don't believe I could have your courage in that area, yet you are surviving with your own physical pain daily. 
 
We are all different and that's why sharing our stories with each other and others who might identify in some way is so important to our "trying to understand" better.  This world would be such a better place if there was more “trying to understand” and “unconditional love and acceptance” for one another in our unique differences and diversity and a lot less finger pointing.
 
~ Pana
 
(If there are any male adult survivors of child abuse out there who would like to share their stories or have a written conversation with me about their experience, struggles and victories over suffering, then please do write to me on the contacts page.  Thank you)

HOPE WON’T GIVE UP ON YOU!
© All rights reserved ~ www.pattyskeys.co.za
 
There’s always hope, no matter what,
Even when the storm clouds block out all light,
And stinging winds blind your sight!
 
Hold onto hope; don’t let go,
In the blackest night where you are lost,
And frozen to the bone by the coldest frost!
 
Let hope encourage you to go on,
Though oceans divide you from your goal,
And rugged mountains take their toll!
 
Hope still exists in a blazing fire,
So don’t give up, no matter what,
Even if clinging to life is all you’ve got!
 
When the billowing waves surge and you’re clothed in doubt,
Know that there’s one thing that is always true,
HOPE WILL NEVER, EVER GIVE UP ON YOU!
 
(23 January 2007)

~ 22 October 2015 ~

I wrote this whole conversation as a result of this one picture quote that I saw on a Facebook friend’s page today!

Oh YES!  This is one of the best I’ve seen in a long time!  Just this last weekend when I was once again struggling with depression and even deep depression and “those destructive thoughts” again, missing being with my family so much, I wrote:
 
Another Weekend Alone
© All rights reserved ~ www.pattyskeys.co.za
 
The days are so long
They drag on
They drag on
Where is my family
Why do I ask
They’re visiting theirs
I feel so alone
The air feels dead
My thoughts are lost
In my dull empty head
And the days just drag on
And on and on and on
I long for my family
But I don’t really belong
 
(17 October 2015 ~ Another weekend alone at home... it’s not different to any other day... but for some reason, I feel lonelier on weekends, because I know my family are not at work and they’re also not with me either... they’re with each other... and theirs)
 
Now this doesn’t mean I suddenly want family to remember me on weekends... I get a lot of catching up on work done on weekends, and also, because it would not feel real if family felt they had to entertain me on weekends.  This is not about that or even about them...  It’s about those times when the depression overtakes and negative intrusive thoughts and feelings take over... take me back to my childhood where there had to be times when I felt totally forsaken by the world... invisible and not important enough to those who I felt were very important to me... those I needed most... “in the moment”. 
 
Those thoughts and feelings still infect my mind constantly... it just is what it is... there are days I desperately need friends, but “I feel I can’t call on them”, because I’m too sad to be good company... I would just make them miserable too. 
 
So really... the choice to be alone in such depressing circumstances is my own, because of a number of factors like that and...
 
Depression takes me back to that place where I was not worthy enough to be loved... to where I knew didn’t belong... etc.
 
Do you ever feel this sad and alone at times... as if the whole world has forgotten you... as if it would be better if you didn’t belong anyway, because... if it’s so hard to live with yourself at times, how on earth could you expect anyone else to?  At times like this, it’s so important to really work hard on understanding our own emotions... where are they really coming from... what are they really saying... are they today’s truths, or are they lies from the past still infecting us... and... what can I do to help myself through “this”... to heal from it... to stop it happening in the first place?
 
So... this is not about blaming others for what we are going through... this is a genuine struggle people like me have at times and it’s one we have to keep pulling through in order to find the true love, acceptance and joy that DOES exist “somewhere outside of ourselves”... outside of our own broken emotional downer times.
 
On Sunday morning, the depression still hadn’t left, so I deliberately made the decision to go to church to be with others... taking action to help myself.  And to top the day off on a really positive note, my daughter invited my son, Andrew and I out for Sunday lunch and we had such a lovely, relaxing time with her.  
 
I am pretty good at wearing the appropriate positive mask when I need to until my true emotional state stabilises.

No one would ever know the truth of the emotions behind my mask, not unless something happens to cause my mask to crumble and fall off... it can happen in an instant... most of my masks are not held on with very strong glue, but... as long as they are not disturbed in any way, they hold fast usually for as long as needed.  It does take some energy to keep them there though... there’s no denying that.  When I am away from the situation that required the mask and I can at last take it off to reveal my true face, I often feel totally spent.
 
Gladly, the worst of my depression left me as a result of the beautiful time we spent together on Sunday with my daughter for which I am very grateful!    
 
I think what happens is, that being with others when in that state of depression helps to uplift me out of the depression... gives me enough time for emotions to stabilise and set right again in the mind... so... leaving the place where the depression started is a good idea where possible.  Go window shopping... fishing, anything that will help you to find your strength again just by being distracted from your troubles... a way to quieten the voices from the past that so often take over and bring us down again just as they did in the past. 
 
The battle is to fight against the workings of my own mind continuously... when I’m down I don’t feel worthy of love... I don’t feel I belong... etc.  All it would take is a phone call to one of my children... “I need to be out and be with family... can I come”... or to get into my car and go and attend a church activity to be with others... to share, laugh and have fun... but how does one do that when they are already in the state of “unworthiness”... a real emotion that takes over... Instead the urge is much stronger to just curl up inside my little bubble again... but part of me is crying out from in there... “Can’t you see me... can’t you hear me... HELP ME!”  Hence the poem... again... nothing to do with my family not wanting me in their lives, but everything to do with my destructive perceptions during times of emotional struggle...
 
Being aware of one’s struggles is so important... it is the only way we are ever going to defeat our more negative selves!
 
You know that saying... Action speaks louder than words... well, "take action"... it’s worth it for the sake of shortening depressive episodes and even stopping them in their tracks... and for the sake of working more towards the positive rather than allowing the negatives from our past abuses to continuously have so much power over us! 
 
(It’s as if the “abusers work” is NEVER done in us... How can we let them have so much power for so long... it has to STOP... We have to find a way to take back our power!  To reclaim from them what was always ours!  Not by deliberately hurting them back, because then we are no better than them... but by transcending our struggles to become victorious over them... to rise above what “they” should never have done to us in the first place)
 
This is why I say... Healing from child abuse takes VERY HARD work... we have to be consciously aware of it and do something to help ourselves... nobody else in this world can do this “WORK” for us. 
 
This link sent by one of our Logotherapy students to her Trainer arrived in my Outlook Inbox this morning while I was writing my blog post for today... I felt that it needed to be included here as a result.  I felt that it came for a purpose and might touch someone out there reading it just as it has touched me.  It’s beautiful and worth the read! 

http://mobile.nytimes.com/2015/04/12/opinion/sunday/david-brooks-the-moral-bucket-list.html?_r=3&referer

~ Posted 21 October 2015 ~
 
I mentioned before, how absolutely petrified I was the day I had to stand in front of my Advanced course Logotherapy class to do my very first presentation ever.  It was the scariest day imaginable for me. 
 
I’d grown up believing I was a totally idiot... my mother’s useless idiot... and all the abuses I’d suffered over the years with more than one abuser adding their bit of damage to my soul added exponentially to that destroying message which I carried with me all the way into my 50’s.
 
The fear I had of having to stand up in front of my class to do that presentation was unbearable to say the least.  Two weeks before I did my presentation, I developed so much pain and swelling in one of my feet that I had to use crutches to get around... it was agonising!
 
From as far back as my childhood, I had suffered what the Dr’s had described as psychosomatic pains in one or other of my joints, because they could not find any other cause for my aches and pains.  The pain always seemed appear in different areas of my body, but as a child, it was mostly in my thumb and finger joints.  At times, my skin used to burn so sore that it hurt to comb my hair, and even light pressure on my skin felt as though someone was pushing onto a bruise... it was very uncomfortable. 
 
There were times when I would feel so agitated by even the thought of anyone touching me that it would feel as though just a tough with a finger would cause a rupture that would let out my desperate inner-screaming.  There are times when this still happens today when my stress levels are very high and I feel overwhelmed with life in general.
 
Well, it always seemed that these painful episodes would coincide with stressful times... or fearful times, such as preparing to do my examination workshop in front of my class, so I never thought anything more of the aching and swollen foot, other than the expected... psychosomatic aches and pains.  Nothing unusual for me.
 
Thankfully the pain and swelling in my foot subsided just before my presentation so I was able to stand on my “big day”.
 
But just prior to my presentation, I received an encouraging e-mail from my little sister overseas with a cartoon picture that she had drawn especially for me (of me)... “Mrs Courageous”.  Her gesture was so uplifting and heart-warming to me, because it told me that she loved me and really believed in me, and that she was proud of me. 
 
Also, shortly before my presentation I was visiting with my Dad and telling him how nervous I was about doing my presentation, even though I had prepared very well for it.  Daddy is just a little man, but one of the greatest mentors of my life... a gentle, loving family man who I love with all my heart.
 
I stood in front of him telling him how I’d come so far in my studies and how in a few days I’d be standing up in front of people for the first time ever to do my study presentation.  Daddy looked so proud of me as he took me by the shoulders firmly and staring into my eyes he said, “Do it for the family (surname)”.
 
Again, I felt authenticated, loved, honoured and a sense of responsibility towards my dad, my sister and family, to make the most of the opportunity I would soon have to complete my Advanced course year, with my head  held high.
 
When it was time to leave, I asked my dad what the time was and looking at his watch, he told me.  When I saw his watch, I made a comment, that one day I will get a watch with big numbers on it like that too... Immediately, without hesitation, he took his watch off of his arm and placed it on mine.  One of the greatest gifts I have ever been given and one of my most treasured.
 
My presentation was set for the 22nd November, the day before my 56th birthday.  Rina, a friend of mine, gave me a gift for my birthday and when I opened it, I found my beautiful star necklace.  Unbeknown to her was that the therapy story I was working on at the time was about a star... I called it, “When the Stars Fell Out of the Sky”.  The story was based on breaking and keeping promises... and it ends with one star that would never fall... a promise to myself to stay hopeful in believing in “true promises” and to never give up.  So you can just imagine how meaningful Rina’s beautiful gift to me was.
 
A laminated copy of the original “Mrs Courageous” drawing hangs on my wall in front of my computer, to remind me to stay strong and to face each day with courage.
 
I wore my Daddy’s watch and my star necklace to my Logotherapy Advanced course presentation on the 23rd November 2012, and I’ve worn them both to every presentation and Logotherapy workshop since then... they too give me a sense of courage and help me to be true to myself. 
 
I will never forget my promise to my dad to “Do it for the family”... I feel his encouraging and loving presence when I wear his watch and my star necklace reminds me to never ever give up no matter how afraid I am of moving forward or how sad, alone, hurt, or even futile life feels for me most times as a result of my day to day struggles...
 
I came to this world with a “Life Task” to fulfil, and I feel a huge sense of responsibility to achieving it...
 
Escaping this world is just not an option anymore...
 
~ Pana

A comment on my FB page made me think of this poem.  Does anyone else identify I wonder… ?
 
‘FIGHT THE GOOD FIGHT’ TO BE ‘ME’!
© All rights reserved ~ www.pattyskeys.co.za
 
I sometimes ponder upon my ‘haunting fears’,
I know ‘they’ were created since my difficult youth,
I wonder how I came so far with ‘them’,
For they exist, as plain as the truth!
 
I know I’m a special woman today,
I believe in the ‘LOVE’ of my heart,
Yet still the ‘fears’ haunt me so often,
And I’m sure ‘they’ will never depart!
 
I’ve learnt to expect ‘them’ - My burden,
To carry with me through all my days,
And although faith has made ‘them’ less frightening,
‘They’ still insist on ‘their’ ways!
 
‘They’ so want to rule who I am,
And control my destiny,
But I know all ‘their’ tricks and ‘their’ games,
And I will keep fighting, "The Good Fight’ to be ‘ME’!
 
(28 March 2002)

~ Posted 16th October 2015 ~
 
I have always believed this... that my life has a purpose and that if I continue to reach out from my fears, and out of my comfort zone to achieve that purpose, doors will be opened and my purpose will become clearer and more possible as I enter each one of those doors, no matter how much I fear change and the unknown...
 
And what's even more surprising to me is that I am proving this theory to be true in my own life... every time I think there can't be anything more I could possibly be capable of... I find out there is... so even though I still have struggles, I have come so far...
 
Now that makes me think... if all this healing and growth was possible... could there still be more?... and so this fuels my will for living even against what I believe are still great odds, because as scared as I am of living sometimes, this journey has been so exciting in recent years, that I don't want to miss any possibilities that might still exist for me.
 
Every day I wake up alive, I feel a sense of rejoicing to know that I have another chance to heal more, discover more and grow more and prove more, not only to myself, but also to all those who never believed in me in my past... all the judges, finger pointer and naysayers who caused my journey to be so much harder and more painful. 
 
I can’t let this potential for further healing discovery be lost in the ever-draining and exhausting whirlpool of my life...
 
I must continue this struggle to stay on the surface and swim upstream no matter how hard it feels and is for me at times.
 
I’ve come too far to let go of this life now...
 
I have to believe there is more and that it is worth fighting for...
 
I must cling to hope...
 
I must go on...
 
I know there are others out there who live in constant fear and inner turmoil each and every day and feel there is just no more hope for their life and maybe they also find that the world just doesn’t understand...
 
Hopefully if you are one of these who are struggling in a similar way to what I have, you realise that many others just can’t understand, because they haven’t been where you’ve been or walked in your shoes, my message to you today and every day that you and I survive to live the next, is that there is definitely hope for “MORE”...
 
You are more powerful than you might possibly believe right now. 
 
Your life does have a unique purpose and this world does need you, even if you can’t see that right now... even if “they” can’t see that right now.
 
Your experience is unique, and there is someone out there waiting to receive your message of healing and hear your voice which although might have been silenced as a result of abuse... it still exists and is just waiting for you to find a way to use it, hear it and believe in it again.
 
I pray that if you cannot find your voice on your own, that mine might somehow help you to find yours.
 
I know that my blog won’t suit everyone, especially those who have never experienced what you and I have, but that’s ok, because this blog is not for them, it is for YOU from me.
 
I know you are there, because I have felt your anguish, your longings and your struggle since I was a little girl.

A poem I wrote about 19 years ago...
 
TO WEAR THE VICTORS CROWN
© All rights reserved ~ www.pattyskeys.co.za
 
To suffer without complaint, now wouldn’t that be grand?
To find a place of inner peace and love, holding another’s reaching hand!
To be kicked when you’re already down, and take your suffering alone!
To rise above real sadness and all the horrors you have known!
Instead of becoming bitter, you choose to get better!
Instead of giving up, you choose to grow!
Wouldn’t that be wonderful, for surely you will know?
There’s a purpose for your trials.  There’s a purpose for your pain,
God is always with you, and your trials are for your gain.
He would never give you burdens more than you could bear,
But when it seems He has, just think, and see, and hear.
For He sends messages and miracles to comfort you when down,
If you could only notice them, you could wear the Victors Crown.
Bad memories won’t have power and as you grow and go the length,
You’ll find many others suffering who would sorely need of your strength.
In a uniquely special way you could uplift them through experiences you’ve had,
Through your love and understanding, their suffering won’t be so bad.
And as you lose yourself in service, you’ll find such longed for peace and love,
For God will smile upon you from His heaven up above.
 
(7th December 1996)
 
~ Pana

Posted 13 September 2015
 
For as long as I can remember, I used to have nightmares about, me as a child, running through a huge building.  Not only was I frantically running away from “the enemy” chasing me, but also in a desperate effort to find and rescue “the mournfully wailing child”.
 
Everything in those nightmares was in black, greys and white.  Many long dark corridors all leading to a maze of more long dark corridors.  There were tall black doors with handles always too high for me to reach no matter how hard I tried. On one side of each corridor were high walls with a thin strip of small windows across the top allowing only dull rays of light to illuminate my way, and on the other side, the row of tall black doors reaching way up to the ceiling which seemed to be so high above.
 
Every now and then there would be a garbage or laundry chute in the walls between the doors which I would sometime have to dive into to hide and protect myself form whoever was chasing me. I’d always fall a long way down when I did this and land on mountains of dirty laundry or garbage. I’d never be hurt doing this.
 
There were always people chasing me.  I never saw them, I just knew that they were somewhere in the maize and the darkness and if I didn’t keep running, and taking new directions, they would soon find me and kill me.
 
All the time I was running, desperately trying to open doors along the way because I could hear that constant, muffled and mournful wailing of a child somewhere in the building... the sound mostly seemed to be coming from far away.  Sometimes I thought I’d found a door that would lead me to the wailing child, but once I reached the door, the wailing would suddenly seem to be coming from somewhere else down the corridors and my quest to save the suffering child and avoid being caught would have to continue. 
 
It was a never ending, desperate race against time... always in danger... always running... escaping the enemy in that horrible cold, hard and scary place, but I never gave up on trying to find and save that grief-stricken child.
 
............................................................................................................................................
 
To this day, I can honestly not tell you if my dream was a night-time sleeping dream or a daydream that I dissociated into when I was feeling sad or for whatever reason I may have needed to find myself back in that place over and over again.
 
During therapy in my 50’s whilst working on this dream which still haunted me from some far distant place in the past where the abuse occurred, my therapist and I could not decide on exactly who the grief-stricken child was. 
 
Was she a haunting memory from that real-life nightmare time in my childhood? 
 
~ ~ ~ After having just been raped by my stepfather... flashbacks in therapy of him bathing me straight after the rape to make sure there was no evidence left when I woke in the morning.  While he is washing his evidence off, I am in a very dissociated state... falling-falling-falling down the rabbit hole in Alice in Wonderlands story... a nowhere place of protection created by my own mind to block out what had just happened to me... what was still happening to me and what might have been happening to my little sister ~ ~ ~
 
I have wondered if the mournful wailing of the child was my own crying voice which I could hear whilst in this dissociative state... or was that mournful wailing voice my inner child’s... as a part of me that became detached from another part of me... or other parts of me... (see my previous letter about this in a blog post I wrote on the 7th September, called, “Dissociation and Dissociative Identity Disorder”  Also known as DID.
 
And as mentioned briefly in that same post, could the wailing child have been my little sister’s crying voice which was all I might have still been able to desperately stay connected with as I drifted away to that awful place where I spent so much time running and searching to save her, while I was left lost and alone in the bath so that he could then have his pleasure with her.
 
My sister has no memory of having ever been raped by him... but she does remember vividly being raped by his younger brother, who was slightly older than us.  She remembers the horrors of a spidery, damp smelly drain pipe where he forced her into on more than one occasion, to have his pleasure and his way with her.
 
............................................................................................................................................
 
Well... I do believe that it was because of this time in my life and the dreams I had of the long dark corridors and tall black doors, that I subconsciously became obsessed with collecting keys.  I think I may have been more aware of my key collecting habit when I was younger, but I was not consciously aware of the extent of it at all later on in life. 
 
In the last house I lived in for around 30 years, I had a load of hoarded “STUFF” suffocating us and cluttering up our entire house, but especially two rooms at the end of our house.  Dealing with “The Hoarding Monster” as I called it when we were moving in 2012, was the hardest thing ever for me.  I might talk more about it sometime or just leave it for my book which is now in the editing phases and still needs some work, but taking forever, because I am just too busy to get to it.  I ended up with quite a number of boxes filled with paper work, materials, and household items that I felt I needed to bring with us to our new home.  (When I speak about us, I refer to myself and my youngest son who struggles with “Asperger Syndrome”.) 
 
As we unpacked our boxes in our new home, I was astounded as hidden in among our all the contents, I kept finding keys.  I was not even aware that I had packed them at the time I was working on “The Hoarding Monster” and threw out so much “STUFF”.  It must have been done subconsciously. 
 
Once we had unpacked everything we decided to count the keys we had found... there were 266 of them! 
 
Don’t ask... I have no clue!  The mysteries of the mind are often something to be reckoned with.  Unbelievable!!!
 
............................................................................................................................................
 
Today I feel I have come so far in my healing, that I would very much love for someone to weld all those keys together for me to make one large key to hang on a plaque on my wall, to represent my epiphany of my victory over suffering... That the one key made up of all those other keys, will represent the key to all those past doors and most importantly, the key to the door of my healing... my future... my coming to the true understanding and meaning of my life... the reason for my being... and a key I now hope to use to help unlock the many doors of suffering hearts out there to help others find their way to their freedom from suffering also. 
 
Gratefully I no longer have that awful nightmare of the past and I no longer hear the mournful crying of that lost child.
 
I believe now that my dream represented that every one of those doors that could not be opened before had a crying child behind it, and that maybe I can reach those children now if only they will give me a chance to in my own small way, be there for them.
 
Yes, I do still struggle each and every day as a result of my own past of abuses, but nothing like I used to.  Every day I grow stronger and closer to, and more into my own unique potential for greatness, and I now know it can be the same for other also.
 
You are not alone in this world.  If you too have tried many keys and they have not yet worked, then maybe, just maybe mine will work for you and that is why I would love to share my key made up of the many keys of my past with you...
 
Hence the name I chose for my blog... “Patty’s Keys”
 
~ Pana

THE RACE
 
“Quit!” “Give up, you’re beaten!” they shout at me and plead.
“There’s just too much against you now, this time you can’t succeed.”
And as I started to hang my head in front of failure’s face,
My downward fall is broken by the memory of a race.
And hope refills my weakened will as I recall that scene,
For just the thought of that short race rejuvenates my being.
A children’s race, young boys young men; now I remember well.
Excitement, sure, but also fear; It wasn’t hard to tell.
They all lined up so full of hope.  Each thought to win that race
Or tie for first, or if not that, at least take second place.
And fathers watched from off the side, each cheering for his son,
And each boy hoped to show his dad that he would be the one.
The whistle blew and off they sped, as if they were on fire
To win, to be the hero there, was each young boy’s desire.
And one boy in particular, his dad was in the crowd,
Was running near the lead and thought, “My dad will be so proud.”
But as he speeded down the field across a shallow dip,
The little boy who thought to win, lost his step and slipped.
Trying hard to catch himself, his hands flew out to brace,
And mid the laughter of the crowd he fell flat on his face.
So, down he fell and with him hope.  He couldn’t win it now,
Embarrassed, sad, he only wished to disappear somehow.
But, as he fell his dad stood up and showed his anxious face
Which to the boy so clearly said, “Get up and win the race!”
He quickly rose, no damage done, behind a bit that’s all.
And ran with all his mind and might to make up for his fall.
So anxious to restore himself, to catch up and to win,
His mind went faster than his legs.  He slipped and fell again.
He wished that he had quit before with only one disgrace.
“I’m hopeless as a runner now, I shouldn’t try to race.”
But, in the laughing crowd he searched and found his father’s face;
That steady look that said again, “Get up and win the race.”
So, he jumped up to try again.  Ten yards behind the last,
“If I’m to gain those yards,” he thought, “I’ve got to run real fast.”
Exceeding everything he had, he regained eight or ten
But trying so hard to catch the lead, he slipped and fell again.
Defeat!  He lay there silently, a tear dropped from his eye.
“There’s no sense running anymore.  Three strikes, I’m out…why try?
The will to rise had disappeared, all hope had fled away.
So far behind, so error prone, closer all the way.
“I’ve lost so what’s the use?” he thought, “I’ll live with my disgrace,”
But then he thought about his dad, who soon he’d have to face.
“Get up,” an echo sounded low.  “Get up and take your place.
You weren’t meant for failure here, get up and win the race.”
With borrowed will, “Get up,” It said.  “You haven’t lost at all,
For winning is no more than this … to rise each time you fall.”
So up he rose to win once more.  And with a new commit,
He resolved that win or lose, at least he wouldn’t quit.
So far behind the others now, the most he’d ever been.
Still he gave it all he had and ran as though to win.
Three times he’d fallen stumbling, three times he rose again.
Too far behind to hope to win, he still ran to the end.
They cheered the winning runner as he crossed the line, first place.
Head high and proud and happy: no falling, no disgrace.
But, when the fallen crossed the finish line, last place
The crowd gave him the greater cheer for finishing the race.
And even though he came in last, with head bowed low, unproud;
You would have thought he won the race, to listen to the crowd.
An to his dad he sadly said, “I didn’t do so well.”
“To me you won,” his father said, “you rose each time you fell.”
And now when things seem dark and hard and difficult to face,
The memory of that little boy helps me in my race.
For all of life is like that race, with ups and downs and all,
And all you have to do to win is rise each time you fall.
“Quit!” “Give up, you’re beaten!” They still shout in my face.
But, another voice within me says, “Get up and win that race.”
 
~ By Dee Groberg