When I started my blog, I was excited to have my voice heard.  I felt like I had found my platform to say what I needed to say.  I had finally found a way to get past the obstacles to put my story out there.  At the same time, I was nervous.  After I posted my first blog, I was paranoid about the fallout.  I was sure someone was going to come and take me out.  I spent weeks in fear about the consequences of my actions.  I felt it was only a matter of time before they would stop me permanently.  My abusers had always threatened a swift and violent response to any of my attempts to speak the truth.  My silence was my only guarantee of survival.  My inner defenders were sure of it.

In the end, that didn’t happen.  My abusers ran for the hills.  They sent a few disguised emails from phony people.  They tried to attack me on Facebook with fake profiles.  I knew it was them.  I think we always know it’s them.  It just sounds too familiar.  I clapped back and started to gain some confidence in my fight against them.  Confidence is the one thing they never wanted me to have.  It is the ultimate rebellion to be confident.  I loved writing my blogs.  It came naturally to me.  I am not saying I am the best writer to come around, but I realized I wasn’t terrible at putting down 750 to 1000 words which fit together into a somewhat cohesive and helpful message.  I had a friend ask me how I did that.  I didn’t understand the question.  I just write and then I finish writing.  That’s when it occurred to me this was probably a gift.  It didn’t come naturally to others.

For these reasons, I stayed committed to my blog even as it became a part of a bigger purpose.  As my coaching business developed, I created other programs from workshops to Survivor’s Guide, but the blog was like my favorite child (other than the twins of course).  It always felt like such a relief to get those words out on the internet.  I knew more people could access the blog than anything else I offered, and I loved that.  To be honest, it healed me too.  You will not be surprised to hear that I believe written words are healing.  Even my controller started to jump on board but with a business focus of course.  “I will stay consistent.  The key is consistency.  I won’t let them down.  I will never fail to deliver.”  It was a bit like the postal service slogan running through my head every Wednesday.  With that level of propaganda coming from the controller, I should have known what was to come, but the unconscious is funny like that.  We don’t see it until we see it, and that’s usually after it has knocked us down.

Two years ago, I moved.  Honestly, I never thought there would be a big impact to my business.  I work from home.  I can work from anywhere.  I thought the biggest obstacle would be finding my kids’ school.  I was wrong.  There was a bigger problem.  I moved into a beautiful house on a stunning lake with the most amazing wildlife.  I bought décor items I liked for the first time.  I found the best school for my kids.  Not to mention, I was now many states away from my mother.  You might be thinking this doesn’t sound like a problem.  I thought so too.  To my unconscious inner parts, this was a huge problem.  I broke 15 contracts at one time.  I had done everything my mother warned me not to do.  I had taken my life back on such a massive scale and that meant only one thing.  My inner backlash would be just as massive.

For two years, I have dealt with intense inner turmoil regarding these inner contracts.  I had broken them and they would be released, but the process was incredibly difficult.  My karma kids, my contract-abiding parts, went on a full attack.  The futility, fear and shame were intense.  I heard the shame, and I expressed it as often as I could.  “I was not deserving of this house.  I was not deserving of the inner quiet and calm it could provide.  I was not deserving of the amazing school my kids had been accepted to.  I was not deserving of this new life I had created.”  It had been something I had dreamed of since I was a little girl.  It had consumed me at times, but it was not allowed.

Futility is a defensive emotion, but it is also a protective emotion.  It tells us there is no point, but it has a very good reason for it.  The karma kid believes breaking the contracts is far worse than ruining a life.  They will choose the later every single time.  I had done the unthinkable.  I had attempted to “have it all”.  Now, the fall had to be massive.  I had to experience a collapse of everything I just built or I would not survive.  The contract had to hold.  Total sabotage was the only way.  Paralysis was the only way.  Taking the productivity to minimal levels and making a bunch of questionable financial decisions should have been enough.  In many cases, it would have worked, but I was watching the karma kid.  I saw it coming and I was ready.  The crash didn’t come, but I had to use tons of duct tape to hold things together this last two years.

The fear is a core emotion, and it can devastate us on so many levels.  It says, “Don’t put yourself out there.”  It says we better hide away and avoid visibility.  It says we are in too much trouble to continue to embrace life.  You might not be surprised to hear this isn’t good for an entrepreneurial endeavor.  Visibility is key.  While some visible offerings remained intact (and I still don’t fully understand why), others were burned to the ground as the fear blocked my efforts to the contrary.  Consistency went out the window.  I became the unreliable blogger my controller had always judged in others.  In case you were wondering, that is the point of this blog.  There are thousands of coaches and trainers out there talking about the power of our will.  I don’t doubt this power one bit.  It is always a player in the success of our ventures, but there is something far more important when it comes to our growth as humans.

I could have stayed enmeshed with my controller and pushed my consistent blog.  That would have meant staying in Virginia.  My controller didn’t see the point in moving.  They are too practical.  It would have meant staying within a stone’s throw of my horrific mother.  While distance from abusers doesn’t solve everything, it does allow for more awareness.  I could not see the way she was still involved in my life until I left.  So many chains would have remained if I had stayed, but I would have been free enough to write a pretty good blog probably.  I would have remained driven by will because I would not have challenged those contracts and released the backlash of emotions.  I would have continued to shove all the trauma beneath the surface in the unconscious.  I would have been able to move forward to a point.  Willpower is a controller job, and it works to a point.  After that point, we must step into the emotional blocks.  If we don’t, we may have some successes.  To others, they might even look like big successes, but they are limited by what we don’t process.  We might remain consistent for a while, but the emotions show up in some way eventually.

I have learned that the emotional, grounded, non-controller journey is not always a consistent journey.  It is unpredictable and takes patience I didn’t think I had.  I have been sitting here staring at my pile of ideas for two years now, and I’ve been angry about it.  Sometimes, I’ve been a bit of a toddler about it, but whatever.  I also knew from previous experience that it would shift at some point.  That’s the only thing that kept me going through the muck of these emotions and the memories driving them: hundreds of traumatic memories.  I can now see a crack in the wall, a part in the clouds.  I am writing again on a huge scale for me.  I am writing better than I have in the past.  I am more connected to my creativity.  All that said, I won’t promise you consistency on my blog.  I can promise you I’ll never give up.  That is a promise I am willing to make.

Thank you for standing by me all this time.  Maybe I’m back.