Up & Out Or Coffee

What is the sound of one hand putting down the cup of coffee instead of bringing it to lips?

(What is the sound of anguish?)

Coffee has crept into my life and crevices of consciousness since May, when I was asked by The Shift Network and interviewer Tonya Pinkins, to join the national #Me Too conversation. In titrating my visibility and vulnerability during the videoed interview, at first I complied with Tonya’s request to share some simple bodywork techniques for getting back into our bodies when we may be feeling overexposed after speaking aloud something that heretofore was unspeakable. Very little of my personal story came through until late into the thirty-minute conversation. When I did allow that I was molested as an infant, repeatedly so as a young child, and gang raped at eighteen, I began to feel the familiar flushing of cheeks and tremble of limbs.

I spent much of my growing up time circling the field because my body was dangerous territory to inhabit. I believe speaking the truth of my history gives me credentials also to speak about how to get back into one's body. I spent a lot of years healing to make the bod habitable again. It is important to note that it’s OK to lift up and out when need arises. It is as much a grace to dissociate from the body as it is to fight or run away from danger to protect ourselves from a predator. Only babies and young children have no escape except to go deep inside, which looks a lot like up and out.

Around July of this year, when the interview was released on the internet, my coffee consumption increased. I was suddenly selecting darker, tastier brews; buying espresso blends and adding a cup to my cooking oatmeal as well as drinking two to three cups a day.

In September, I was contacted by The Shift Network. They let me know mine was among the top three videos in terms of number of viewers and asked me to write a guest blog. I did so, and shared a bit more about my personal story. Another uptick in the caffeine intake.

I’ve shared in my safe and loving writing groups some of the nitty-gritty of my Adverse Childhood Experiences. Being visible is still a challenge. Out of habit, I cringe while waiting for the other shoe to drop. Therapy helps. Yoga and meditation help. Writing about the writing and the symptoms that sometimes replay when I am recollecting those maladaptive misadventures helps.

Thursday, while in receivership of aware kidney/adrenal listening, thanks to a friend and fellow body-worker, I recognized the kafoogeldieness of my heart-beat and hyper-adrenalized buzz in my system as I lay on the table. That's when I began to trace the recent history of the coffee addiction to the visibility piece.

Alcoholic families have a primary rule, but it’s like water to a fish: Secrecy is so pervasive we don’t see it. We only sense it viscerally as life- sustaining.

Breaking secrecy feels life-threatening.

I can cut myself some slack for being addicted to coffee which keeps me in the familiar sensation of ready. Absent was the default setting of my adolescence. Braced for fight or flight is a preferable sensation to my system than to being dissociated. It’s easier to do life speedily than not to be present for it.  

Plus, I get so much more done in a day that includes coffee!

Good news: Singing my Solstice Song at Saturday's writing group of ten folk made me shake only a little for a few minutes.  Progress!

If coffee gives me embodied presence, I'll take it. Maybe I can cut the caffeine just a little?