Trauma – A Doorway to Divinity

Trauma has been like a close friend of mine since I entered this incarnation. I am no stranger to suffering at the grips of her merciless hands, or to feeling claustrophobic within the self-imposed mental prisons I lock myself behind to seek solace from her infliction. My mind often becomes the dark labyrinth that I must somehow learn to escape without a compass to lead me back to the light. I rely heavily on internal astral navigation to guide me. However, at times I find myself shipwrecked, lost on the shore of the tiny peninsula floating somewhere between the right and left hemispheres of my brain, struggling to make logical sense of my emotions. Mission impossible, if you will. I find myself there today.

Today makes 6 days since I was both physically and mentally battered, and held hostage in my own home by a man who claimed to care about me. You would think under these circumstances that my mental filmstrip would resemble scenes from a Lifetime movie, but all I can think about in this moment is how our entire universe supposedly was created in only 6 days. SIX DAYS! I think perhaps creation and destruction live out the same life span because for me the entire world stopped spinning 6 days ago.

My sun has grown dark and ominous, the sky cries every tear my eyes have yet to shed and it wails in agony, howling like the whipping winds that attempted to uproot me. My majestic moon has lost her glow and even the tides now cease to ebb and flow. I find myself trapped in a state of suspended animation where everything moves around me but my body feels like its hibernating through a frigid winter. And though all my sensory receptors are at their peak, I feel completely dead inside, numb, as if the weight of my own limbs is almost too heavy a load to bear. I have become completely cumbersome.

I find myself weighing my trauma on an unbalanced scale, as if one event is more or less impactful than another. I think of all the possible ways I could have handled this situation differently. I have listened to all the “should’ve, could’ve, would’ve” rants from those who would never even try on my shoes, much less walk in them. I have analyzed the scenario repeatedly from every perspective possible only to conclude that I need to just accept the fact that I handled things the best way I could have. I must also realize that hindsight is 20/20 and while people talk a good game, survival wears a different guise before innocent eyes. Through this experience I am learning that my reaction to external events is not typical, but that is okay. My atypical response to trauma is the very reason I am still here to speak of such an atrocity, and I did not become another statistic.

While my life certainly feels like it is in shambles right now, at least I am still here. I am still fighting to make a positive impact on this wretched world. I am still breathing, and I am still standing on my own two feet trying to pick up my broken pieces and put them back together. My descent is not my demise. I am merely resting, gathering my strength and spiritual arsenal to defeat the demons who dare to test my will. I am truly a Goddess (as I was reminded by my best friend); I don’t just call myself that. I have a divine purpose here. I was given this life to live because I am strong enough to withstand the storms that shower over my soul. So to you most high, beloved Pachamama, I say, let it rain! Come and cleanse me of this pain. Blessed be.
-Dena M. Daigle

Bohemian Bodhisattva

I long to take my wanderlust heart on the journey of a lifetime, visiting all the sacred spaces of the ascended masters and feeling their essence within these vagabond bones. I want to surf turquoise seas and lay awake counting shooting stars, getting lost in the acid-like waves of Aurora Borealis. I want to explore foreign lands and fill the empty cups of suffering souls with love, compassion and kindness along the way. I want to share in their laughter as I stumble upon syllables in my attempt to learn their native tongue. I want to dream big and live out loud while jumping from cloud to technicolor cloud. I just want to live a life destined by divine purpose with the freedom to taste the rainbow of every culture around the world. I want to converse freely in the language of no words with the spirits of my ancestors as I let their footprints be my guide along the off-beaten path. I want to stretch my arms out towards the sapphire sky and twirl about the raindrops void of any reason as to why. And I want to savor the stimulation of every sense so intently that I never again question my soul’s purpose. I just want to be completely free, a sovereign spirit wandering the galaxy; the fearless version of the authentic me.

 

– Dena M. Daigle  2018

Silly Girl

Silly girl, look at you! How weak can you possibly be? Screaming in silence while the world dances on around you. You let them kill your light; just rolled on over and watched the darkness swallow you up without even putting up a fight. You had the entire world right there at your fingertips and were too afraid to grasp it. Far too concerned with labels – the ones sewn on your clothes and shoes, and the ones branded upon your skin; too blind to see that none of it even mattered.

Stupid girl, look at you! Parading around town, displaying your flesh upon the alters of ungodly men; worshiping them while down on your knees bathing in lustful sin. You became everything they said you were, as if you had a point to prove.

Scared girl, look at you! Still stuck on Chapter 16 of a book that your tormented soul may never get to complete; too afraid to turn the page; too fearful of your fate sealed within the epilogue.  When are you going to realize that you are the one who holds the pen? Only you get to decide how your story will end.

Sulky girl, look at you! So much to be grateful for yet you dwell on the pain; afraid to smile; unsure how to hide your misty eyes without the safety of the rain. It is time to feel the warmth of the sun. Bask in its rays; let those tears nourish your roots and bloom beautiful soul! Have mercy on your heart for once sweet girl.

I know I never told you this, but I think it is time for you to know that I forgive you; and you are worth so much more than that which you failed to realize before. Baby girl it is time for you to spread those wings and soar!

Love always,

Your Future Self

Surviving the Void – A Tribute to the Healing of the Womb

I love every aspect of my life and those I share it with, let’s get that straight, but there is still a gut-wrenching ache in the depths of my soul and it just won’t seem to loosen its grip on me. Although every other chamber of my heart is overflowing with love, there is still a chasmic black hole in my heart that all the stars in the universe could not fill. It should be infused with light through self-love, the love reciprocated by those I care for and inner-peace and happiness, yet for some reason I cannot seem to tame the envious beast lurking within. Perhaps because, like most childless women who yearn to cradle precious life within them, I come face to face on a daily basis with subtle reminders of the one ability I lack – in every family photo taken, every school bus stop, playground, grocery store, television screen, doctor’s office and inevitably, every other conversation that seems to flow around me. I am 35 years old, unwed (but engaged) and childless (of my own womb) living in a male dominant society that propagates marriage and children before the age of 40, while subliminally implying that infertile women are somehow inferior… but I digress.

It is every woman’s sacred birthright to bear the fruit of her womb, but sometimes in life things happen that prevent us from doing so. That does not make us any less of a woman, or any less knowledgeable about how to raise children. Allow me to reiterate this to those who say “You don’t have kids, so you don’t understand.” – That does not make us any less of a woman, or any less knowledgeable about how to raise children! (Seriously people, there is nothing comparable to telling an infertile woman those words that could ever make her feel more disconnected from womanhood than she already does. So, please don’t say that.) Motherly instincts come naturally to the human species just as they do in the wild (even though we may want to argue that point after witnessing certain behaviors of some women towards their children). Certainly some of us may choose not to have children, and I’m equally supportive of those women as well, but it is a decision that they have made nonetheless. Then there are those of us childless women who have been physically coerced to forego the idea of bearing children by our bodies who have decided that fate for us. We were stripped of the right and/or ability to choose for ourselves, forcing us to swallow the toxic tincture of emotions that followed, which we then had to learn to digest somehow.

I, like many women, have endured severe sexual trauma, both pre- and post-pubescence, and it has affected me immensely in every way – mind, body and spirit. While navigating the muddy waters of self-healing, I sought shelter in connections with other females who have experienced similar hardships. Despite their experiences or reasons for not having children, there is one common factor linking us together – the wisdom gained by enduring the pain of living without that which our hearts desire most. Because of these goddesses, I now see the intrinsic value of the womb, the captivating beauty of the divine feminine spirit and the essence of all life itself.

The womb is a not just a sexual organ residing within the reproductive system of the female body. It is the sacred seat of power that links all of humanity to The Great Mother. It is the source of infinite abundance embodying the life-force energy that gives birth to the entire universe.

“When we speak of the womb, we are referring to more than a physical organ within a female body – although this sacred site is brimming with creative magic. We refer also in a greater sense to an energetic, multidimensional portal, a bridge between worlds, that lives within us whether we have a physical womb or not.

For women who have had a hysterectomy, the energetic power and blueprint of the womb remains within; for those in menopause, your energetic wise blood still flows in harmony with the cycles of the moon. Women in their crone phase are the spiritual grandmothers of the tribe, the wise wombs. Men also have a spiritual or energetic womb, which we call the hara.”

Womb of Light, Mary Rogers and Anjali Devi.

In my quest for closure, I have learned the importance of healing, not only mentally, but physically and spiritually as well. That may sound somewhat strange because well, obviously, those old wounds have healed externally, but internally there is still a mess of unhealed damage that has gone untreated for many decades which requires my attention. You see, our wombs are where the majority of our pain, including the pain that we have inherited from our ancestors, resides. We entomb that toxicity within our bodies and it grows like a cancer attacking otherwise healthy organs and causing all kinds of issues. Additionally, when we harbor that pain within by suppressing our rage and tears, we actually inhibit our growth in all facets of life. Although the process of healing past trauma can be utterly painful, it is vital to our well-being to awaken that slumbering beast, accept the lessons it has taught us, and to then permanently evict and prohibit it from returning to cause any further damage. I know that now.

“Through awakening of the womb we are able to travel back into those places that have disconnected us from our power of gnosis and grounded living. The places that are frozen through trauma of painful experiences can now begin to thaw into rivers of ancient grief. Irrigating our lives with [the] birthright of pleasure, innocent wildness, juiciness, magic and a deeper self-love than any we have ever known.

Self-love is a fertile, pregnant doorway into manifesting true love on the physical realms through relationships. Through our womb imprints we inherit our mother line gifts as well as our pain. When we are cutoff from this power center we cannot access our gifts and instead can stay in loops and replay of generational trauma.”

– Anabel Vizcarra

This process is how we honor our hearts and the blossoming lotus that is the awakened womb. In learning of the power carried within the sacred space of the womb, my purpose has become abundantly clear. I now realize that, while I may not be able to bring forth life in physical form from my womb, I can bring forth life in other ways, equally as beautiful. I carry within me the spiritual strength and creative energy needed to share the life-changing tools I have discovered with my kindred sisters so that I may help them to restore the balance, vitality and essence of life within themselves. I inherited the sacred energy of The Great Mother, and I am a guardian of light protecting the innocence of the children that I love as if they were my own. So I will continue walking gracefully along the path of healing carrying within me the divine torch of light and love. – Dena M. Daigle, Phoenix Ascended

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Sources:
Photo: Pinterest, Artist Unknown.
Mary Rogers – Lotus Gypsy Soul
Anjali Devi – Anjali Devi, Psychic Medium
Anabel Vizcarra

Angels Among Us

I have never considered myself a religious person, but rather a spiritual one. Nevertheless, I have had the pleasure of knowing angels who walk among us. They are the protectors of children, the carriers of light, and like a moth drawn to a flame, we are drawn to them. These earthbound angels offer us healing when we are suffering, patience in times of resistance, guidance when we struggle to find balance, and empathy when we feel misunderstood.  They are the Matriarchs and Patriarchs of our soul family.

However, there is something truly unique about the divine feminine spirit of the Earth. I, myself come from a long line of strong females. We are fierce warrior women who have struggled to overcome conditions that most would crumble beneath. But you will never hear our battle cries, for we fight fearlessly in the valley of darkness with grace and wisdom, rod and staff defunct.

“For the word of God is living and powerful, and sharper than any two-edged sword, piercing even to the division of soul and spirit, and of joints and marrow, and is a discerner of the thoughts and intents of the heart. And there is no creature hidden from His sight, but all things are naked and open to the eyes of Him to whom we must give account” (Hebrews 4:12-13).

My maternal grandmother often spoke of God and all His glorious wisdom. But, I could never wrap my head around her beliefs; therefore I always rebelled and rejected her knowledge about life and divinity. But there was something so profound in her that I was much too blind to see… then. I have never once witnessed my grandmother angered, boastful or envious, or even perturbed. I have never witnessed her in a state of lack, even when her material resources were completely depleted. I have only witnessed her overflowing with radiance, full of joy and hope with unwavering faith. Her calmness, stillness, presence and peaceful nature can all be attributed to her belief that no matter where this life might take her, Spirit would always protect her and guide her pathway. It is such a great honor and blessing to walk this earth, following her footsteps as a guide.

I have seen my Mother endure some of the toughest hardships I have ever witnessed in my life. There have even been times that those circumstances seemed to get the best of her. Times when her spirit was drowning in depths of despair, but somehow, she always resurfaced, even if battered and bruised. She is resilient and strong in ways that I can only hope to have inherited. And even when she questions her own tenacity, I see the strength of her soul shining from beneath the rubble she feels buried under.

Perhaps one of the deepest blows my mother has suffered was the loss of my grandmother. I can still sense the tragic sadness in my Mother’s heart, her longing to see that sweet smile once more, to hear her laughter and loving encouragement, to feel the warmth of her embrace one last time. I’m not sure that anything could ever prepare us for losing the ones who gave us life itself.

My heart bleeds for her! Seeing the pain residing in her deep brown eyes has spawned a hankering in me to show her the world through the brown eyes she has gifted to me, and I will try with everything in me to do so. For I perceive this chaotic world through the rose-tinted lenses I inherited from the soul of an angel, my grandmother. And I feel I need to remind my mother that I was created from the very best parts of two of the most amazing women ever to have existed in this realm. I have never viewed my grandmother’s absence of form as a loss. How can I when I can feel her spirit in the fragmented energy that surrounds me, and in the warmth of the light that illuminates my world, and even within the very essence of all that I am? She walks with me always, Just as she does with all of the women in my family. She is our angel.

Dena M. Daigle

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From Junkie to Juggernaut

So, let me just tell you a little something about that “Junkie” you sit back and judge from that saddle you ride so high. That “Junkie” is someone’s child, someone’s sibling, someone’s parent, someone’s lover; that “Junkie” is SOMEONE WHO MATTERS! That word “Junkie” churns the very pits of my soul.

When I hear that term I can literally feel, all over again, the emotions I felt the first time I was called that disgusting word. Shamed, degraded, dirty, discarded, abandoned, unloved…all felt simultaneously, but I guess those are the feelings that were intentionally invoked by calling me that vile word. And perhaps what cut the deepest was hearing that word slip so loosely from the lips of the person I admired most. You see, at that point in my life, I was at my very lowest. Broken, beaten, hopeless, alone… completely shattered!  And when you’re already in fetal position with your face buried in shame behind your palms, the last thing you need is to be kicked while you’re down.

People will look at you and see the monster you have become, but never do they stop to question, “why?” “Why did you turn to drugs? What happened to you?” I have been sober for 14 years now, and to this day no one has EVER asked me those questions. Frankly, I’m not sure that anyone cared to know. Hell, they probably still don’t. But you know what? I DO! I care because I want to heal. I care because I know that in recognizing those triggers within myself, I can assure that I never make the same mistake again. I care because I’m tired of watching those I love become statistics. I care because I want to help others who are lost on that lonely road just as I once was.  I care because I live and love from my heart, in all of its purity! I care because I LOVE those misunderstood souls that this twisted, self-righteous, judgmental world calls “Junkies” because I see myself in them. And do you know what else? For once in my life I finally love ME! I have worked very hard to overcome many obstacles in my life. I have grown from a weak-minded “Junkie” to a fucking Juggernaut, and I dare anyone to try to stop my shine!

Within the process of self-healing, I have learned the importance of allowing ourselves the time needed to reflect on our personal growth and progress. Take time to appreciate your victories, for in those moments, you may find additional healing in ways least expected. Learn to appreciate the small steps you have taken equally as much as you admire your greatest leaps and bounds. Understand that there is absolutely nothing wrong with self-love and being proud of your accomplishments. SELF-LOVE DOES NOT EQUAL SELFISH, and taking the necessary time to reflect within will allow you to learn your strengths and weaknesses in order to see where you still need to focus on improvement.

If you want to know what you are really made of, stand beneath the light in front of a mirror, and rather than looking at the image portrayed before you, stare into the shadow instead. What do you see behind the mask you wear? I will tell you that it is within that very darkness that you will find the key to unlocking the chains that imprison your soul, but you must first have the courage to face the demons of your past. You must be braver than your fears in order to free yourself from the attachments that hold you hostage. Self-reflection allows you to grow, to find solace, love, acceptance and healing, for your purpose is often found within your pain.  Your journey is yours and yours alone! Although soul work is not easy, it is detrimental to our well-being.

It has taken me a very long time to realize that. I have had to do a lot of soul-searching to come to the understanding that the only way to truly heal is to own my life experiences. So own your truth! We have all been through something traumatic at some point in our lives that changed us. But being victimized does not make you unworthy of love, nor does it mean you have to BE a victim forever. Thinking of yourself in that manner is more harmful than helpful to your personal growth and mindset.  That weakened state of mind is what led me to making some of the most horrible decisions I have ever made in my life.  But, we ALL make mistakes, and those who say they have not, well, I say they haven’t done much living. Sure, some of us make bigger mistakes than others, but it does not mean we have to live the rest of our lives hiding in embarrassment of our choices. Accepting who I really am has taught me that the only person I need to impress is ME, and I am extremely proud of myself! Stand proud in your truth and the lessons you have learned along your journey. Do not be afraid to share your story because you never know who you may be helping by doing so. No one is perfect, but we are perfect in every imperfection.

Haunting Recollections

syn·chro·nic·i·ty
ˌsiNGkrəˈnisədē/
noun
  1. the simultaneous occurrence of events that appear significantly related but have no discernible causal connection.

“Synchronicity . . . consists of two factors: a) An unconscious image comes into consciousness either directly (i.e., literally) or indirectly (symbolized or suggested) in the form of a dream, idea, or premonition. b) An objective situation coincides with this content. The one is as puzzling as the other.” [“Synchronicity: An Acausal Connecting Principle,” ibid., par. 858. – Carl G. Jung]

With that said, today’s synchronistic events highlighting Addiction have brought up some mixed emotions from my past.  14 years sober and I should be proud of myself…at least that’s what I’m being told today. But I’m not “proud” of anything. I don’t feel like I did anything special or profound to be proud of. It was my choice to start using in the first place, just as it was my choice to decide that life was much more beautiful without heroin.

Instead of feeling “proud of myself,” I’m reminded how and why my addiction began. I’m reminded of the man that supposedly loved me, yet left me there overdosing, and how he eventually lost his life. I’m reminded that I could’ve been laying there in cold blood beside him had I continued my path of self-destruction.  I’m reminded of the dwindling list of faces I call “friends” who have lost their lives due to the poison coursing through their veins.  I’m reminded of the countless families suffering the loss of mothers, fathers, sons, daughters, brothers and sisters.  I’m reminded that an innocent child will never know what it’s like to have her mother because she chooses her next fix over the starry-eyed beauty she created.  I’m reminded of a Mother with declining health who, not only has a daughter in jail, but now raises her grandchild while enduring her own battles. I’m reminded of the darkness and how it almost snuffed my flame.

These haunting recollections are kept locked away in the basement where very few visitors get the opportunity to enter.  You see, I keep people behind the red ropes of the museum that is my mind and only show them the exhibits I want them to see.  But I’m tired of being silenced by fear. I’m tired of hiding my past in fear of judgment. I’m tired of seeing those I care about losing their lives because their addiction is hidden from the world by the very people who “love” them.  And I’m tired of carrying the weight of my shame on these shoulders.

So, no, I’m not proud of myself…but I am grateful for all the lessons I’ve learned, for the driving forces pushing me to continue writing, for the beautiful souls I have met along this journey, and for the shunned addicts whom my voice is now an advocate for. I’m thankful for finding my life’s purpose! – Dena Daigle, Phoenix Ascended

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Astral Navigation

I am a traveler amongst the galaxies, a wanderer on the path obscured,

a bohemian spirit who’s lost her way in the twilight a time or two.

But you see, my dear, darkness is not a place that we should fear.

It is in that desolate place we bury our broken bones

and strengthen our weary hearts for the journey.

Solace is found in the darkest hours by recognizing the light within ourselves.

The winding road that leads to enlightenment is not paved,

nor is it outlined on a map guiding us to the celestial heavens we seek.

Our souls come equipped with internal astral navigation,

but we must silence the mind in order to follow its directions.

-Dena Daigle/Phoenix Ascended

Birth of a Phoenix

I am not that petrified little girl I once was.

I have picked up my sword to slay the beast more times than I care to admit.

And although he may have won a round or two, the final victory is mine.

A fiery-souled Goddess was forged from those expiating flames,

and I will never surrender before defeat

for it is impossible to kill that which burns to live.

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