I have been hibernating and making art. These pages make 20 completed pages of a work in progress (WIP), which is a 52 page art collage book using last year’s planner cover. 32 more pages to go, and it is flowing out.
Sound on, babes!
Now, I have the 2021 hard back covers to make a new book. I am excited about this one. My friend sent me a pack of photos taken as far back as the 1800s, and I have a plan for them; their stories, who they are.
Collage is my heart’s most joyful expression.
We trauma survivors can have a little habit. Avoidance. I know. I’ve been there. For many years I burrowed myself into every other person and/or project that distracted my mind away from myself.
I was so frightened by what I had to face in myself; the pain, the anger, the memories of a tortured childhood, but the ultimate bi-product of my avoidance was more pain, more volatility in my connections because I was projecting all of my gunk into things outside of myself.
Then I realized that everything I was avoiding inside of myself was eating my from the inside out; emotionally and physically.
I believe without question that the answer to global change starts within individual hearts. I can do my part of contributing to my personal healing.
I’ll tell you something I found out. Facing ourselves really isn’t the horrible journey we expect. Did I cry a lot? Oh, yes. I wept torrents from my body.
It was worth it. I’m further along in my healing than I expected to be by now. I am still working on myself. I’m traveling the strands of my healing into my childhood memories and supporting my inner child as she develops trust and emotional maturity.
Take the journey into yourself, loves. It’s so worth it.
I was so triggered the other day by a neighbor who wanted to talk. I said, “I’m really not up to it. I’m having a down day.” Her response, “Oh, get over it.”
Immediately I wanted to snap on her. Then this calm came over me, and I said,”Never speak to me that way again. My brother just passed in March.” She then tried to back peddle, said she was joking, I said, not funny and went on my way.
I’ve been civil because – neighbor – but it truly bothers me how people forget or don’t care what grief does to us.
My grief over the loss of my brother fired off a horrible inflammation flare in my physical body. I am now on month 5 of fighting it. We experienced a lot of trauma as children. Now I feel like a lone duck on an island of normal people who don’t understand why I am the way I am, not in the way my older brother did.
and I’m processing it as best as I can. It seems the more I am forced into situational normalcy, the more my body screams no.
My brother had a warlock energy. As teenagers we had D&D tournaments that would last for weeks. We talked for hours on the phone at least once or twice a week up to the week he passed.
He created such beautiful necklaces. He special made this one I’m wearing here.
The ache I feel missing him is extremely deep; sitting at the base of my spine, and it has me physically ill. 😢
I know time will heal this hole in my heart. I am processing the stages of grieving. I have relaxed into this slow pace. I cannot fight against this process.
So, I am flowing as best as I can, while focusing on self care, rest and nature feeding.
Sexual abuse, trauma;
Leaves physical scars
Too deep to ever leave.
They etch into the skin
A constant reminder
Of being a victim.
Torn tendons in groins.
Cracked backs,
Hips askew and brains
Wracked from pain,
From the blows you threw,
Sadistic things who,
Found their way to earth,
Soon returning to the dirt
Where they belong,
Fodder for worms,
Leaving behind aftermath
That the apathetic
Want to forget.
We will never let you.
We will be in your mind
With every breath.
We will haunt you into
Your death, and through
All Dimensional darkness
Where you will live.
No, we will never, ever,
let you forget.
We have written books,
Manuals, scrolls that
Your wicked kind can
Never erase. We have
Etched the faces of every
Abuser into the infinite
Portal of history’s data base.
You will always be
Children of rapists,
Sisters to abusers,
Liars and decrepit
Black widows crawling
from low level energies
Slowly melting into nothing.
Our children will
Dance on your graves to
Remind your descendants,
From whence they came.
They will never be safe
From the truth of your abuse.
Your false stories will
Never outweigh the truth.
I let myself hate you.
It’s what you deserve,
Because you had a choice
To make it right,
And you fucked up bad.
You just don’t know yet.
Shoulda kept quiet,
But your eagerness
Left revelations for briefs,
Documents and bullets.
I know how you live.
Every day a thought arrives,
And you pray to justify,
Why children died, and
You stayed quiet.
Innocence was raped,
And you looked away.
You are fodder for every
Curse I set in motion,
And when your final
Few years arrive you
Will beg your god to die.
You will suffer long.
You will suffer slow.
That’s how you’ll go.
See, you don’t know
The power of the Rede,
With your false god
And your head in the fog.
You think you’re a spider,
Bitch, I’m a hawk.
There will never be
A time you’re prepared.
Like lions, we wait
Quietly in our lairs,
Because time is precious
And when we do
Make our move it will
Be with perfect precision.
No mistakes. No hesitation.
We are your Revelation.
𝒱𝑒𝓃𝓃𝒾𝑒 𝒦𝑜𝒸𝓈𝒾𝓈
art by: Vennie Kocsis
So much they don’t know, like:
How I do numeric license plate
Reduction to get through traffic;
How I count my breaths
In grocery store lines to
Stay in control of an
Agoraphobic mind, or
How my ear buzzes when
Sound is too loud, and
I cannot hear my own volume
So my voice elevates and
Irritates the unknowing. She
Is a weird one, that lady who
Doesn’t know enough about
Our world because she grew
Up the odd girl, chained away
From life; and when she emerged
They piled on more hurt;
More pain: more disdain for
The oddity, and now as I
Sit inside my knowing, a
Warning washes over me.
Take cover. They are
Closing in with surface
Love again; the reel in, so
There can be a target
For the knife throwing game.
I pack my bags for the
Faithful woods where
Trees accept me for me, and
Flowers smile, even on
Rainy days, because in these
Breakable moments, I have
Paid atonement for graven
Mistakes made from a mind
Riddled with bullet holes, and
When they want you to fold in
Like a tiny infant, and they
Want your voice low, if not
Silent, it’s time to go; into the
Hills where nature embraces
And erases wounds with care.
I can’t force understanding or
Even acceptance. Rejection
Leaves glass shards in the heart.
I process sadness, that there are
Chains some humans will refuse to break,
And they’ll create more aching and hate
In forward generations, leaving
More and more separation.
Healing is a decision, one made
With such precision, the path
Cannot be altered. So when the
Truth sinks in and the fodder
Isn’t enough for an empty belly,
Sorrow searches for a home,
And sometimes that means
Choosing a life of being alone.
𝒱𝑒𝓃𝓃𝒾𝑒 𝒦𝑜𝒸𝓈𝒾𝓈
Today, I am feeling great sadness as I reflect and do some personal journal writing. Human rejection began in my life at just three years of age. I was ripped from my father and rejected by my own mother who literally handed me over to horrific abusers.
Understand that from ages 3-7 years old, I was not ALLOWED to even speak to my mother. Just sit quiet for a moment and imagine this life. Imagine my brother and sister who were made to do the same. Imagine seeing your mother across a dining hall and not being allowed to speak to her, touch her, be held, loved or even acknowledged. Imagine every day being filled only with being beaten and labored. Zero love. No kisses. Not allowed to laugh.
If you cannot image it, READ MY BOOK.
I was rejected by the people around me as I grew up, forced to sit in silence and disallowed any identity development. As a young adult I became abused and rejected by men. My family has rejected me. They find me weird. They are uncomfortable with my advocacy work and won’t tell me why. I am flawed and the weird white lady unworthy of being in their presence. I don’t say the right things. I don’t believe the right way. I’m this. I’m that. I’m never enough no matter what. I should never have an opinion and if I do, it shouldn’t be different than theirs or I’m a bad person.
I’m exhausted of living this type of life.
If I choose to be silent, comply and never have my own voice, allow myself to be the target for blame, then I might be allowed back around my family. Welcome to my childhood, being treated like a piece of dirt, a beast, a thing, an irrelevant child only worthy of abuse, having every action and behavior analyzed and turned on me.
I believe the only way to break this pattern of being in the target position of shunning and blame, is to disconnect from anyone who believes it to be ok to treat me this way. Anyone who thinks shunning a human, who is a decent person deserving of love, is an okay practice, is not in a positive place in life.
Anyone who wants to put me in a position of having to fold myself inward and become invisible in order to be accepted does not have my well being in mind at all and hasn’t taken the time to understand how abusive this behavior is. I will always be walking on eggshells around them, waiting to be accused again without any care to understand me.
Anyone who doesn’t care about the grave damage that shunning a person and dissecting families does to the spirit is not emotionally safe. I cannot allow myself to be attached to these energies anymore.
So, today I have made the heart breaking decision to do just that; not allow anyone back into my life who has enacted shunning or dissection on me. In order to continue healing my own deep wounding and keep growing as an individual, I have to continue building some very high boundaries. This decision comes with the knowing that it is alright to put my well being first.
Self love does not make us selfish.
I spent 2020 grieving extreme pain on many levels. I will not spend any more days of my life in pain. I am exhausted of it. I am officially moving on to new ventures intended to let me experience this life being surrounded by those who don’t have the intention of using me, targeting me or beating me down. I have to stay connected to individuals who are safe for my emotional well being.
I’m done with ever being belittled, abused or treated indifferently ever again. I share this for those who experience the same and understand how messy the practice of shunning is.
I’m traveling The Feeling Wheel.
Last night, I lay awake in my bed unable to fall into sleep. My body said “Ha!” to sleep aids. I finally drifted off around 4am and awoke around 10 am.
As I had my coffee this morning, I realized that last night my mind kept wandering to food, flashing urges to get up and go to the kitchen. Then my reasoning mind took over and reminded me there is nothing in there that doesn’t have to be prepared. There is no sugar to soothe whatever haunts me in the night. This mental battle kept me awake.
I am in a full blown battle with food addiction.
I feel competitive; like naw; nothing is going to beat me down ever again. I’m done. I feel bitchy and intolerant of all of this low-level bullshit. I feel exceedingly hyper focused. Righteously angry. My sword is unsheathed.
So many of us are fighting mental programming infused into us as children. We are in a battle with our own minds.
I’ve decided to both demolish and make peace with this wicked remnant, then infusing it into my self love to evaporate it into nothingness.
I’ve spent my life either abusing, ignoring or putting my body into the “associates” group. Now, I am making it my very best friend. I protect my friends. I fight for them. I support them and the healing journey.
I am becoming even more one with my inner self. It’s an extremely painful merging, because everything shifts and adjusts. It makes the bones ache. I picture it as a literal physical shapeshifting, because it is. We are morphing our bodies, our minds, who we allow in our lives, and many of us, even rearranging our living spaces as we emerge through this change.
I have had the pleasure of experiencing how powerful the mind is. Over the years, I have spent a lot of time working on re-wiring my brain to operate as it is supposed to, in a fashion which serves my best and most healthy life.
Living with childhood brain trauma, my physiology was always scattered and chaotic. I had to untangle the wires and re-plug them back into their proper inputs. I am untangling the final knot, living in the depth of the spaces which hurt the most, the sexually abused child who was given sugar to soothe the pain and keep her quiet.
Some people will tell you that your self care is selfishness. Be willing to be “selfish” (you’re not). Anyone who says this to you, either does not understand the need that trauma survivors have to rest and heal or they simply don’t care. Either way, ignore your critics.
These self-talk affirmations help me remind my mind of how powerful I am. If you aren’t at a place where your brain will correct itself, then write them down and paste them on your walls. Put them on the bathroom mirror; anywhere that you frequent in your day and evening. Speak these to your body.
Our body loves when we praise it. It beams and glows like a happy child.
“I congratulate you for your strength.”
“You are a mighty being.”
“I refuse to feed my self-hate emotions.”
“That which does not fuel my health may not enter me.”
My friend, Cathy O’Brien, speaks of conscious eating. This has been an important skill for me to develop. Instead of blindly eating in front of the television or subconsciously munching, I focus my mind into a deep awareness of the grade of food fuel I put into my mighty ship, aka, my body.
I hope you will turn to your inner child and embrace them. They are waiting, eager, for your love. Don’t ignore the child. Take time for them. Treat them with the loving kindness you were not given as a child.
I was not taught healthy eating patterns. Food was also used to punish us in Sam Fife’s Move of God cult. It was not uncommon to be or see a child not being allowed a meal, in public humiliation, hands folded on the table as everyone else ate. The worst one was to have dinner taken away as a punishment. This meant the child would go at least 16-18 hours until getting any food.
Have you ever tried to sleep with a growling stomach? It’s haunting.
This is the subconscious pain of night eating. It is about finally having control of our food. Our minds are attempting to figure out how to rebalance. Subconsciously my brain is saying that I GET to have food at night now. Subconsciously my sexually abused brain is whispering for sugar. My conscious brain is calling them to a meeting of the minds, a permanent agreement that they’ll leave or integrate into a healthy thought pattern.
I am feeling gangster inside. I feel resolved. The door is shut on angst, regret, guilt, self ignoring and/or giving away of energy to anyone or anything which is not a positive influence in my life, true, authentic and supportive.
Create your comfortable space for you. Those who support you will understand and cheer you on for finally taking care of you. Those who wish to abuse you will tell you how selfish you are, how you always make everything about you, and every negative thing they can to keep beating you down. Those are not your people. Not right now.
Your people will cheer you on for choosing peace in your life. They will contribute to that peace by also choosing healing over hate. Your people are the ones who are dedicated to mending brokenness within themselves and their bonds, letting go of past pain and bitterness, grudges and rumination, and being generally happy in life. If that is the goal you have for yourself, prepare to fly.
For now, I choose my body over everything else in life. As I move into my 52nd year on this planet, there is no more holding on. I have fought and conquered many battles thus far. My final strand to rip apart is the connection that being a sexually abused child created with the comfort of food.
Reading my book, Cult Child, will help you understand how a sexually abused child makes an invisible friend out of the sweets given to me by one of the men who sexually abused me. Food is often used to groom children for sexual abuse; especially sweets.
It is important for us to truly take pause of how we speak of ourselves in general, around children and most importantly to our own mind.
Reading: How Speaking In Catastrophic Language Harms Our Mental Health
I chatted with Matt Pappas of “Beyond Your Past” about my battle with food addiction, which has been the most difficult programming of my mind to cure. I share in this interview some of the tools I have used to get to where I am today.
Food addiction is like any other addiction. It continually calls. It is something the food addict cannot escape. Food is all around us and a staple we need to live. Instead of fighting the food itself, the battle is deep in the mind.
Listen: How Trauma Manifests Itself In Adulthood: Food Addiction
Food addicts will always have moments where the food drug calls us. The key to being healed is when we love ourselves so much, we refuse to give into the echoes of that abuse. We refuse to partake in beating ourselves down, in self-depreciation, and instead, we fight the haunting voices taunting for us to hate our bodies.
I am worthy of my health. I am worthy of healing. I am worthy of my strength. I go forth valiantly into this life, putting my self-healing and my needs first.
As above, so below.
𝒱𝑒𝓃𝓃𝒾𝑒 𝒦𝑜𝒸𝓈𝒾𝓈
Vennie Kocsis 
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