Energy Exchange ~ Musical Version

I have talked about this quite a bit, but to catch you up, here’s the general idea.  Music IS a Medium.  In this post I try to relate a common experience people have, which is physically/emotionally/spiritually responding to a piece of music.  I believe you will attune to exactly the right frequency of music that will trigger, and heal you.  I believe the individuals who create this music place an energy signature into it which is easily read by physical mediums.  (*or if you prefer, individuals with a particularly sensitive operating system/biological container).

I have used music, inspirational podcasts, intelligent interviews to shape the way my body responds to energy.  I have immersed it in pleasurable energy signatures, that provide healing information for my physical operating system.  My emotional/spiritual/physical improvement cannot continue until these energy breaches are repaired and new pathways of positive energy are created.  Basically, I am reexperiencing all of the energy systems that have caused me pain in my entire life.  In return, I am providing those systems a chance to clear old hurts, and find new understanding.  The more I tune into music and use it in combination with rhythmic movement like climbing long hills, or walking on ‘auto pilot’, the more my body slips into an automatic work pace which is faster than my normal pace, and engages many more muscular and neural systems together.  I feel the difference in my body.  I feel like a machine that is at optimum working pace.  I am relaxed, deeply focused, and releasing all kinds of energy that has built up over the day.  Lately I have been walking two or three times a day.  Yesterday I logged over 23km.  I know the time will come soon where I am going to start working, and I am really ready to get started.  Until then, I am using up a lot of bored energy walking around town feeling amazing.

Whats coming up the most on my playlist shuffle?  I’m glad you asked.

I accidently sucked my gum into what I thought was my lungs, while skating confidently, and listening to this song in my headphones. (DON’T SKATE AND CHEW GUM, KIDS.) I was quickly reminded that confidence is best displayed in places where one has sure footing and a good sense of balance, when a slight wobble caused what could have been a truly ironic ‘How I Died Today’.  I must reference a woman named Tracey who had the first blog I ever loved, called ‘How I Died Today’.  I loved that blog.  🙂

The next one plays over and over in my head, as well as in my headphones.  I love the way it sounds, and I love the way it makes my body feel.  I love that even though there is some hurt still there (*come on Justin, you know it), he has finally got the message that love can be very blind. Everyone hates to make a mistake, especially with our heart. The things he loves are as KICK ASS AS HE ALWAYS THOUGHT THEY WERE, by the way. Fuck off GIRL WHO WANTS TO CHANGE HIM.  The energy signature is of resignation, old pain, resilience, painful realizations, and moving on.  It also points to some very big missed cues when it comes to choosing to ignore the behavior or attitude of people we decide we are going to love.  I feel this brother.  I feel this.  The good news is, once you find out who you are, the right person will be more able to find you because your energy signature will be authentic, accurate, and finally drawing what is needed into your life experience.  in my opinion.



This one I can’t explain. I can only feel it. It goes in a two-pack with Taylor Swift’s Style.

I suspect there are a lot of people who use music in this way.  I’d love to have more discussion on this.  It has to be a ‘thing’.  How could so many people have similar experiences if it wasn’t a legit phenomena.  It seems so obvious, I’m not even put a question mark at the end of that last sentence.  Grammar Anarchy. I’m a rebel like that.

Music IS a Medium

Music is how I relate to the world. It provides me with the emotional understanding of situation and feelings I don’t know how to handle. The first song that got me was JT and Mirrors.

I know songs have given me The Feels before, but this experience took it to a whole other level. It was like the part of me that wanted me to wake up was singing to me directly. I probably listened to it, bawling, more than 100 times. It moved something that was blocked in me, and the rest of the blocks came tumbling down on top of it.

Another one was Drake’s ‘Hold on we’re going Home”

Similar theme here. Most of the music I was being drawn to was about going ‘home’. I can only assume now that it meant coming home to myself. When I arrived home in my own body, it was a shock to the system. There was so much blockage and false fronts…nothing was real. I had a lot of hard truths coming, but in my heart I knew them all.

One of my favorite musical experiences was the Taylor Swift song “Style”. The intensity of my feelings when I listened to the song surprised and intrigued me.

The smoke in the video made me instantly think of how I feel about marijuana, and how it makes me feel more in my own body, despite how the world around me seemed to think it was terrible. I have real anxiety and guilt about my relationship with pot, and I don’t understand why. I guess it might have something to do with the fact that I am healing some part of myself that has been in charge for a long time, and it isn’t giving up control without a stink. It’s also a clear reference to being The Other Woman, which I have been once in my life. It was not worth the heartache it caused, but it represents the beginning of learning required hard lessons.

At the time, this song made me feel breathless and excited and full of anticipation. This part of me is a part that makes me feel things that might make me very self-destructive, so no wonder it’s been under lock and key until the rest of me grew up enough not to let it rule the show. The song still makes my heart beat faster every time. EVERY. SINGLE.TIME.

Lately it’s been this song that resonates strongly with me.

I used to cry every time I heard it, and now it just makes me feel happy. It’s a long journey from hating yourself to loving yourself, but it’s worth all of the bumps along the way. I couldn’t have imagined how beautiful life would look like from this perspective. I’m glad I didn’t give up.

I love the lyrics:

Hang on, just hang on for a minute
I’ve got something to say
I’m not asking you to move on or forget it
But these are better days
To be wrong all along and admit it, is not amazing grace
But to be loved like a song you remember
Even when you’ve changed

Tell me, did I go on a tangent?
Did I lie through my teeth?
Did I cause you to stumble on your feet?
Did I bring shame on my family?
Did it show when I was weak?
Whatever you’ve seen, that wasn’t me
That wasn’t me, oh that wasn’t me

When you’re lost you will toss every lucky coin you’ll ever trust
And you’ll hide from your God like he ever turns his back on us
And you will fall all the way to the bottom and land on your own knife
And you’ll learn who you are even if it doesn’t take your life

Tell me, did I go on a tangent?
Did I lie through my teeth?
Did I cause you to stumble on your feet?
Did I bring shame on my family?
Did it show when I was weak?
Whatever you’ve seen, that wasn’t me
That wasn’t me, oh that wasn’t me

But I want you to know that you’ll never be alone
I wanna believe, do I make myself a blessing to everyone I meet
When you fall I will get you on your feet
Do I spend time with my family?
Did it show when I was weak?
When that’s what you’ve seen, that will be me
That will be me, that will be me
That will be me

I really could do the musical game all day, but this is probably enough. You get the picture. Music is the medium. It soothes the savage beast, and I can think of no beast more savage than the human heart. The things we do to protect it, or share it, can be beautiful and terrible. When music plays it reaches inside our frequency, and takes us on a roller coaster ride of a feeling we have felt, but perhaps have never allowed ourselves to feel. The more we connect with music, the more we are healing our hearts, and changing our frequencies. Up, up up!

From The Notebook 2

I began to write while I sat at the beach.


It was really beautiful and magical, and I wanted to write some thoughts about what I want for myself for the new year, and in life.  I began writing, and immediately I could see that it wasn’t my handwriting.  This has been the first look at the youngest of my alters that I am aware of.

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December 31, 2014

I would like to open my heart and feel love.

I would like to not be afraid of being happy

I am happy now.

i love you ❤

The angrier you make me, the more you are blessed (and I am blessed too)

I would like us to work together but I am sared . Scared.

I want to be together inside.  But i want it to happen when I am ready.

I am afraid it will make my brain crap out.  and I will be in an alzheimers state.

I am afraid of losing some of the best parts of us.

I am worried   {awake & mildly noting}  about whether I would go insane.  I don’t think so.  Emotions feel like some kind of parasite.  I think you either have to agree to live with the parasite in a co-existance, or make attempts to disarm it with drugs or alcohol or psych meds and therapy.

{song lyrics follow:}

We been calling for years & years & years ///  and you never left no messages, never sent me no letters. you got some kind of nerve, taking all I every loved.

lost & insecure. you found me.

you found me.

lying on the floor.

you found me.  you found me.

where were you….?

Just a little late.  you found me.

Merry Christmas (AKA Celebrating the House of Lies)

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I’m definitely going to get hostile.

Christmas is not one of my favorite times.  It reminds me of the one time of the year when my family pulled its secretive, punitive, nauseating bullshit together to welcome the out of town family members that we only saw once a year.  We put on quite a show.

For a few days each year, ours was a bustling house filled with laughter and alcohol.  I was seduced by the merry-making, and all of the laughter and fun.  I believed these people loved us, and couldn’t wait to spend time with us each year.   I was hypnotized by my fathers magnetic family, and they did a wonderful job of keeping up the mirage of ‘family’.  In truth, these people rarely saw each other.  When I asked one of my 2 cousins what they remembered of our sadistic uncle, I found out that their mother had never even introduced them to him, even though they all lived in the same city.   How lucky for them.

Most of my life I thought these people were the best of friends and closest of families.  When I became an adult I realized I couldn’t have been further from the truth.  My whole life was littered with lies.

I feel a bit sick when I think of how much I put these people on a pedestal.  The same people who had to have realized there was something very wrong in our family.  More people in my life who pretended to love and care about me, but really only cared about keeping up appearances, and not rocking the boat.

Attending my own ‘family’ Christmas is a bitter pill.  Every time I spend time with the other members of the war I lived through in that house, I am reminded of the hypocrisy that surrounds us like a stink.  As long as everyone sticks to the agreed-upon topics of polite conversation, and paves a thick layer of sugary frosting over the reality of our ‘family’, I am furthering the duplicity, and choking on the bile of every polite word.   I am sick of the lies, and the tip-toe love that lives there.  The past is long gone, and for everyone else, it seems to have barely left a scratch.  For me, it remains a gaping, pus-filled wound.  I am just not okay with the bullshit anymore.

I have been IMPLODING for a year.  I have been in serious need of emotional support and my family has been completely MIA.  I did not end up with a dissociative identity disorder by accident.  I didn’t do it to myself.  It’s real fucking old, and it’s real fucking serious, and I would like to know why no one is the least bit concerned about HOW IT FUCKING HAPPENED?  I feel like I am living in the fucking twilight zone.

I know I am supposed to forgive and forget, but I am not feeling very forgiving this Christmas.  I don’t know if this is just part of the healing process, but it feels very angry and raw.  I feel let down and disappointed by so many people in my life.  I am happy to leave them in my past when I move from this province later next year, but for now, a part of me wants to feel this anger and fury.


My cheese slipped off my cracker a bit today

Maybe it’s because of all the blogging in the past few days, dredging up the shitstorm of the past 12 months.  Maybe it’s because it snowed a lot last night, and the blanket of white viscerally took me back to the fear and confusion of last winter.  Maybe it’s because I am finally starting to address the fact that after 12 months of fighting, this isn’t getting any fucking better, and I am tired of waiting to see a specialist and get some fucking help.   Or perhaps it’s just my minds way of celebrating a year of hell with a real emotional bang.

I had a break with my usual consciousness today, and met a couple of alters head-on.  While I was experiencing the break, I was consciously aware of the differences in their physical posture, their ability to withstand stress, and what it felt like to be inside of them.  When it was over, and I was back to my usual ‘self’, I knew that I had just experienced altered states, and not just a bad mood, or a difficult time.

I see now that today had a few triggers.   Winter had arrived with a flourish, and I was feeling uneasy in general.  I was stressing over money before I left to drive a friend to pick up a rental car.  By the time I was at her house, I had already experienced several fits of unexpected tears.   I cut our lunch plans out completely, and decided to head back home after I dropped her off.  She is my friend who has had her share of difficulty with mental illness earlier in her life, and she was very understanding.

As I drove home it was increasingly difficult to control my emotion, which is not usually a problem for me.  It’s actually one of my specialties.  I felt pressure in my head, all over my throat and neck, and my hands had retracted into odd, pincer-like shapes.  They felt stiff, old and foreign to me.  Somewhere in the back of my head I wondered if I was having a stroke or something, but it didn’t feel like it was serious.  It felt like a very weird version of me.

I’m not sure who was at the wheel.  She wasn’t a child, but she wasn’t much of an adult either.  She was consumed by sadness, was physically distraught, and was unable to remain calm and lucid.  My thoughts centered on trying to pull my shit together before we got home.  The two distinct thought processes were happening simultaneously.  I was of two minds; a crisis oriented mind, and a mind that was losing its shit.

Without me ‘standing on top of her’ inside, and forcing her to breathe slowly, she would have had us hyperventilate.   I found her fairly easy to stay on top of up to this point.

About this time, a train that was traveling alongside the road let out a whistle and I had one of the worst startle responses I have ever experienced.  She cried out, and moaned like she was in deep pain.

Shortly after that, I encountered a fragment that was new to me.

I will call it DeadInside.

It was not completely new in theory, but this was the first time I consciously spent time in its space.  It wasn’t pretty, but it was controlled and it got me home safely.

It was literally dead inside.  There is no other way to describe what it was like to see life from inside this alter.  It had no emotion, only apathy.  It was completely depressed physically and spiritually.  There was no life behind its eyes.  I could feel how dead it was.

No matter what I thought about, there was no reaction, just emptiness.   It was calm and empty, but it was much safer than the fragment that preceded it.

I had plans to visit a good friend at her home later in the afternoon, who insisted on coming to my home to sit with me and help me process the situation.  It was so good to have someone to hold that space with me.  Loving, supportive and non-judgmental friendship got me through the afternoon, and by the time she left, I felt completely normal, with no trace of the earlier hysterics.

I have not consciously shared space with my alters before that I am aware of.  I have certainly seen how they react to things,  and remembered the experience from a 3rd party perspective, but never before have I seen through their eyes, and felt completely untethered from my own usual state.   It was scary and out of control, but not as bad as I thought it would be.

I have been so disconnected from my own body for so long, that I could not feel where I ended and they began.   Today I felt the edges of both of them, and I felt the differences in how they reacted, and what it was like to BE them and not me.

I’m glad I have an appointment with my therapist tomorrow.

Uncharted indeed.




Art Imitates Life

I realized in  early January 2014 that I could easily trigger a PTSD flashbacks. You might wonder why I would do that.  I am an artist at heart, and probably an emotional junkie.  I was attracted to the intensity of the feelings.  I LIKED FEELING THINGS, even if they were sad. I wanted to see for myself what was happening, and decided to set up a self-portrait set at my studio.  I used a piece of music that had consistently, and inexplicably made me cry when I heard it. For nearly an hour after I shot the first episode, I couldn’t look at these photos.  I paced nervously.   I knew whatever I captured was important to me, but I didn’t know why.  The feelings in my body were highly manic, excited, anxious, and agitated.  My heart was pounding. I was  worried that my measurements for the self timer would not be accurate, and the images would be out of focus.  Which they all were.  I was devastated that my first real art experiment was a bust. Failure was feedback.  I could not be both the observer and observed in this situation. I asked a close colleague to shoot my self portrait.  When I viewed the images from the second attempt, I was moved beyond words.  They painted a heartbreaking tale of sadness, betrayal and pain.  Each image showed a different emotion.  They give a face and an expression to a terrible experience.  Seeing her, made her real. cropped-multiplemeheader.jpg I even made a video of the images, and invited my clients and friends (over 2000 Facebook contacts) to ask for the link to view it.  I didn’t understand what was happening to me, and I was afraid.  It was a personal ‘art project’ that was really a cry for help.   No one asked me what the hell I was thinking, why I was crying, and what possessed me to show it to the world.  I was single-minded in my belief that this project was important.  The reality is that it was only important to me.  I vomited my mental health crisis onto the internet, and not surprisingly, no one knew how to react. At first it was really disconcerting, to show a part of myself that was so raw and unpleasant.  Soon, it became liberating.  It was a very unusual vantage point of life, and one that I found I curiously empowering.  I scared people with my pain.  I triggered their own fear.  Gone was the happy, smiling, complacent Jane they had been accustomed to.  In her place was a falling-apart woman who was not doing a good job of tucking in her crazy. There was a part of me that saw how much pain I was experiencing without really causing any real alarm bells to go off.  I was having a spiritual emergency, and the community response was mostly silence. So of course I did it again. I asked a different friend to shoot my 3rd attempt.  The  story was even darker.  The images were frightening, sickening, and painful to look at.  I viewed them with shock and  nausea. Screen Shot 2014-12-08 at 12.20.50 PMScreen Shot 2014-12-08 at 12.19.54 PM I didn’t shoot any more images of myself, and my PTSD flashbacks.  I had seen quite enough. The Artist and The Professor conspired together to allow me a way to see The Scared Child that was hiding in my mind.  She must have been very relieved to finally be surfacing.  She was the driving force behind my need to heal. I am not sure how many people I hurt in this process.  I pursued this project like it was my only job in life.  I blew up my life in public, caused my business to tank, and began the slide into a deep depression that I wouldn’t begin to shake until the end  of May.  On the bright side, I had proof that there was really something wrong, and I needed help. I ended up in my doctors office, crying uncontrollably, and begging for medication to relieve the live-wire stick person that was living inside of my body.   I left with prescriptions for Effexor,  Zopiclone, and a referral to province-funded therapy.

Guts over Fear

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I was…

Afraid to make a single sound
Afraid I would never find a way out
Afraid I’d never be found
I don’t wanna go another round
An angry man’s power will shut you up
Trip wires fill this house with tip-toe love
Run out of excuses for everyone
So here I am and I will not run
Guts over fear (the time is near)
Guts over fear (I shed a tear)
For all the times I let you push me around
And let you keep me down
Now I got guts over fear, guts over fear

(Eminem ft Sia)

When I first heard this song, the hair on the back of my neck stood up.  I felt like my entire body had the feeling of pins and needles at the skin level.  It was like a rush of icy cold prickles.

This song was my battle cry.  I used to gather strength and courage when I heard it.  I sang, and I cried.  It was like a part of me reconnecting with myself.  It was the part of me that was afraid I would never wake up and find her.

The fear I felt as I neared another reunification was difficult to fight.  I felt like I needed power and fury to absorb the next part of myself.  I was a phoenix rising from the ashes.  The part that survived the burn was one tough motherfucker.  I wasn’t sure how we would be able to share the same space.  I was afraid of what was coming.

As it turns out, it was the best part of me to return yet.