My Story

I was the child who noticed everything, constantly asked 'why' and pointed out the pink elephant in the room. I was the truth-teller, highly sensitive and very observant. It's a crap job but someone has to do it. I was also the middle child and oldest girl and my mother was one of the few women in the 60's who worked full-time. I could and was required to cook, clean and take care of my dad and siblings from the age of  9. It wasn't uncommon in those years but it wasn't great either. Most mothers then were homemakers and latch key kids were still a generation into the future but that's what we were and I was parentisized.  As author Richard Glover reflects in his book 'Flesh Wounds', parents in Australia in the 50's and 60's were often self-absorbed, children were still expected to be seen and not heard and fit into their parents lives. Spare the rod and spoil the child was the catch phrase of good parenting and there was no getting tucked into bed with a story and a cuddle to balance these harsh child-rearing rules.  As a highly sensitive person who craved cuddles and affirmation, I was a depressed and unhappy child. I grew up in an environment marked by alcoholism and mental illness which nobody acknowledged or talked about then.

My older brother escaped at 16 to join the navy and I escaped to Sydney on my own at 17. I was  unbelievably naive about the ways of the world but I faked an interest in becoming a nurse, gaining my mother's approval by cunningly pursuing her dream for herself.  I went to Sydney alone and never returned home again except for short stays and even shorter fantasies of the kind of love and approval I craved but never found.  The cruel truth was I don't believe that my parents had the ability to know me at all.  My mother had narcissistic personality disorder and I was just a projection of her distorted inner world. My brother was her golden child and I was her unconscious scapegoat.  We all walked on eggshells around her moods and rages. She loved us all in her own way but it was a toxic love that trauma bonded us all to her and even before I went to university to study psychology I realised she believed I was an extension of her not a separate being. My gentle, emotionally absent, alcoholic dad was her enabler, it was everyone's job to fix her to keep the peace. My parents married while they were still teenagers, they were passionately in love and affectionate with each other, in between the constant fights and drama but rarely touched us and there were no hugs or storytime.

I got married at 19 and had my first child at 21, desperate to create the warmth of the loving family I craved. Unfortunately, I married a narcissist and alcoholic who I now know was experiencing psychotic episodes. It was my family of origin all over again but I had been raised to believe that my mother's behaaviour was not only normal but that she was perfect. She had all the entitlement of the grandiose narcissist mixed with the neuroticism of the vulnerable narcissist.  I divorced  at 24 with two small children to support after having been physically assaulted while pregnant on my 23rd birthday.  I learnt the hard way that women are most at risk from their partners while they're pregnant, a little known and horrible fact about relationships. I spent my life trying to please men to get love. I was attracted to narcissists, alcoholics and psychopaths who could publicly fool the world into believing they were normal while in private their demons ruled. Their private vulnerabilities hooked me. I had been well trained as a narcissists handmaid.  As I look back now I find it bizarre the lengths I went to, constantly improving myself, starving, pruning and shaping myself, paying for everything and working my butt off just so I could finally feel loved.   

I was not good at staying in these bad relationships because I was smart, independant, resourceful and resilient, something I could thank my mother for.  I would escape with my children, make a new life and sigh with the relief of reprieve from the alcoholic abuse, anger, madness, control and moodiness of my partners. I was physically abused by more than one partner; strangled, spat on, raped, threatened with firearms and bashed.  I was never a wilting violet but I was a 'good girl' and my mother's response to this abuse was to victim blame and demand to know what I had done. Afterall,  I was the scapegoat and everything was always my fault.  After one beating my mother told me that my life was over, my future would be only for my children, that I had made my bed and had to lay in it. I didn't find out until more than 30 years later that my mother had never told my father about any of this abuse and for years I'd felt hurt by my fathers lack of response to the violence I endured.  It's part of the narcisists toolkit of manipulation to keep secrets when it suits them and common for narcissistic mothers to be jealous of their daughter's relationship with their father.

I was good at working, providing a home and taking care of others so I kept the wheels of life turning for myself and my children.  I'd learnt that lesson well and there is much to be said for the ability to keep putting one foot in front of the other and getting the next meal on the table.  This is why women are such great survivors and outlive men consistently. Women stay busy, putting others needs before their own, taking care of homes in the same simple ways that women have done for generations.

I was no dummy I realized in my 20's after the breakdown of my 2nd relationship that I was the common denominator and I began a lifetime of seeking and therapy. The problem was that even when I studied psychology in the late 80's little was known about narcissism or what makes you attracted to certain people.  I could do all the work in the world on myself but if I couldn't recognize a narcissist when I saw one I was doomed.  I can now spot one within minutes and I am relieved to tell you I have zero attraction to them.  

 My early career was spent working in health, beauty, law and education. I worked my way through university, studying psychology and history and eventually found my way into the education system. I had no desire to be a teacher but it paid well, had long holidays and short working hours and I could be there for my kids. I hated most of it and frequently cried on the way to school, knowing that 8Z would make mince meat out of me but I spent more than 23 years as a high school with 17 years as a Careers Advisor. For a long time I was obsessed and devoured every book I could find on psychology, philosophy, mysticism, consciousness, awakening, metaphysics, quantum science, healing, meditation, channeling and spirituality.  Eventually, I began working for myself as a psychotherapist and life coach and teaching part-time until I retired from teaching in 2013.

In the school of hard knocks my wisdom and skills developed.  Having dragged myself out of the pity pit at the bottom of the pond, I became focused on helping others do the same. Childhood trauma and dysfunctional families are the story of most therapists and lightworkers. I also realized that I am what psychology calls a 'highly sensitive person'.  I was born sensitive to energy, aware of subtleties in my environment and could read the people around me. My childhood and young adult life made me hypervigelent, my safety depended on it but it also heightened my empathic intuitive gifts. In effect, I had been in narcissistic training camp, learning to discern light from dark, truth from lies and good from evil my entire life.

I worked to develop my psychic abilities, inherited from a long line of very gutsy, strong women. My mother and her sisters were psychic, they had premonitions, precognitive dreams, saw dead people and 'just knew' things. None of them gave psychic readings or earned money from their skills but I have no doubt they could have. After a dark night of  the Soul experience that broke me into a million pieces and a spontaneous past life regression, I became aware of a tapping in my right ear when I was meditating and  an energy coming into the right side of my head and shoulders. It took many years for me to realise that it was my Guide, Goddess Maat, who had always been around me and waiting until I was ready, blending her energy with mine.  It took many more years of practice until I was able to tune into her energy and bring through answers that were wise and loving. Eventually, I began to channel for others.

We are all a constantly changing work of Art. I don't believe we ever get to the end of our capacity to grow and expand our consciousness in this lifetime. Our task is to heal ourselves, do our own inner work, seek truth as our compass and to help save the World one Soul at a time. My journey continues.....