content warning: intimate partner violence, carceral legal systems

Last night I couldn't sleep. It was similar to the last time I had to go to court to ask for protection from my estranged soon to be ex (stbx) husband and his family.

Previously fear had kept me awake preparing my case for days in advance. I wrote down every detail of the abuse I could remember, and his family secrets around abuse of women and children, and organized hundreds of pages of evidence over and over again until I felt empty. During this time I felt numb to an extent, but I knew I would pay for the overexertion afterwards. That morning of my first court date I was so tired, I accidentally spilled my hot mug of cacao on my MacBook Pro, destroying it. I had made the cacao to help me stay awake and alert because I had been so sleep deprived for about a week before the court date. But I felt I had to do this to protect myself. I was terrified of him and his family, and I knew how the legal systems require perfect victims to be seen as worthy of protection. As a black woman and an immigrant, I knew those were already two strikes against me given my stbx is a white man. When I arrived in family court with all my documents ready to prove my need for a protection order, both times the court date was moved ahead and all the sleep I had lost felt like it had been for no reason.

In the aftermath of those first two court dates just weeks apart, my body crashed. My inflammation markers were up, I was in intense pain all over. I was having an acute autoimmune flare, and I had to be put on a round of corticosteroids. Steroids work short term to calm the immune system down, but they are not a sustainable long-term solution. What they are doing is tamping down a raging fire while leaving the embers burning to blaze back once the course of medication is tapered.

What I Did The Third Time

So when the third court date approached, I made different choices. I did not prepare for court at all. Some of this was aided indirectly by my attorney who was too busy to communicate with me much beforehand. I gave her all my evidence and asked the ancestors to work behind the scenes. Instead of preparing and going over the evidence of my abusive relationship repeatedly, I decided to focus instead on taking really good care of my body: getting a lot of rest and sleep, staying hydrated, eating anti-inflammatory foods, and managing my pain well with pharmaceutical medication so that chronic pain didn't contribute more to my unavoidable stress. I diligently attended two weekly chorale practices, singing songs about Belize in Garifuna, Creole, Spanish, and English. I made the most art I have made in years. I did all this with almost no income at all besides money donated to me by friends in the US because I am not allowed to work in Belize yet, and the spousal maintenance payments that were court ordered were delayed by bureaucracy for more than two months. I ate one meal a day and supplemented my meals with popcorn and edible leaves from my yard.

In the end, I did feel very well for about two months. I checked my inflammation markers and they held steady at the high end of normal. Then about a month before the trial date, I had a couple of intense weeks of choral performances, arts exhibitions, and online trainings. These were all activities I was excited to do, but it was too much for this particular moment in my life.

About a week after my last performance, and 25 days before the trial date, I woke up in intense nerve pain all over my body. That week I could not wake up or get out of bed. I would wake early morning in a state of suspended consciousness where my mind awoke but my body was asleep and paralyzed. I later discovered this to be hypoglycemia. I made an appointment with my internist who prescribed a regimen of a longer-acting steroid, high dose B12, and strong NSAIDs for 20 days around the court date when the most intense stress and dread were sure to peak. I spoke with another friend who has autoimmunity about managing hypoglycemia and created a protocol to eat complex carbs right before bed to stop my blood sugar from crashing so severely overnight.

I also vulnerably shared what was happening in my personal life and health in many of the spaces I frequent so that people would understand why I might seem out of sorts. I basically "came out" as disabled survivor to my chorale and art community. I accepted any offers of support and community care.

I prioritized my ancestral spiritual practices by sitting with my ancestral altar daily. I planted, tended, and harvested holy basil, lemon basil, and purslane in my garden. I made a moringa and a basil flower essence from plants in my garden. I asked people within my spiritual community to pray for me. I received a limpia from a local traditional healer. I started another somatic training course and attended virtual somatics practice spaces 4 days a week. I practiced QiGong almost every day. I still am doing most of these things.

The day of court came, and I endured it. But it felt different. I did not feel the same desperation. Fear yes, concern yes, anger and even rage at the deep injustice of having to negotiate my basic needs with the man who abused me for years with no remorse or attempt at amends because of a colonial legal system. But I felt grounded in my body most of the time, and I had awareness that whatever happened would offer me clarity about what to do next. I made my peace that if the family court completely failed me, I would be glad to know what my ex had said about there being no accountability for men like him in Belize was true. Yes, that would be devastating, but isn't it better to know than be fooled into believing something false? In the end I believe he feared the exposure of a trial and the possibility of a legal finding of domestic violence on his record so his attorney likely suggested to settle by accepting an undertaking protection and occupation order while denying the abuse ever happened, which he did. I chose to settle because what I need is to be left alone with stable housing and income for a time so that I can rebuild my life here without him, and it felt like the kinder thing to give myself rather than having to relive all the trauma of the abuse in detail in a room full of critical strangers.

Trinity

The most heartbreaking part of the settlement was his insistence on removing our cat Trinity who has spent most of her life with me, simply because he knew it would hurt me. Previously he had promised that if we separated, she could stay with me because we two had a special bond, and because he found her lack of affection towards him irritating. So I understood this choice on his part was just cruelty for the sake of inflicting whatever pain he is able to within the bounds of the protection order. By court order Trinity will be taken away, and I doubt I will ever see her again. I am obviously and rightfully devastated. However, I did not fight this, but surrendered to it, treasuring our last days together: recording her purrs on my phone and giving myself permission to wail and grieve any time and for as long as I need to. And I have noted to myself that not having to care for any pets also gives me freedom to travel without needing to find and pay a pet-sitter, and I intend to do this since my stbx has prevented me from traveling outside Belize without him since 2023. Feeling the grief of losing her is actually the very first time since I left the US that I had a sudden urge to return. I love Belize and feel I belong in Belize longer-term. What that urge comes from is a desire for comfort, a cry out to the land of my ancestors in the Virginia woods, and the spiritual community who I know will literally hold me through this grief in Seattle. So I am planning to go back soon to spend time with people who have loved me for a long time, and to begin grad school and see the Autumn leaves again.

Cooling the Smoldering Coals

Since my court date, in periodic waves almost daily I can feel the heat and fire building back up in me, especially when I think about how unjust the whole situation is to me, the victim of domestic violence and coercive control. The rainy season has started but my solar plexus and joints are full of hot coals radiating from my center. So, I began daily consulting many of my most reliable cooling plant allies for support -- okra, motherwort, lemongrass, coconut water, lavender, coleus, purslane, moringa. These cooling allies help calm inflammation that rises in my body from the smoldering rage of injustice and prolonged abuse. I created a health protocol with herbal tinctures and teas, began a daily five element QiGong practice to balance my organ systems, designed a liver and gallbladder cleansing oxymel made with my own homemade vinegar and local honey, and herbs in my garden, and committed to eating anti-inflammatory, nutrient rich soups and stews like Pho and mung bean curries that are cheap and easy to prepare. I began sprouting mung beans to eat in pho and salads. I have been crying, wailing and groaning with grief copiously and without shame.

Underneath anger, which is sometimes called a secondary emotion, I often locate grief. Grief over the pain and suffering brought into my life by the unresolved intergenerational trauma of my stbx and his family who refuse to confront their patrilineal legacy of gender-based violence and oppression. Grief over a country like Belize who has been so thoroughly colonized by the British that they still cling to those legal systems despite the fact that femicide is an epidemic and domestic violence has not and cannot ever be solved with carceral solutions. Grief that I left my home country wounded seeking healing and recovery from a life-time of harm, yet still open-hearted and empathetic, and stumbled into the arms of a virtue signaling predator* who love-bombed me to lower my defenses and then when he gained my trust, proceeded to try to destroy me, the person he performed loving, instead of exorcizing his own demons.

Baba

Our chorale group is currently learning the Garifuna spiritual "Baba" written by Antonio Martinez, and performed by Andy Palacio and the Garifuna Collective. We will be performing it accompanied by Newani Martinez later this summer. Even though we did not discuss the meaning of the song, and I do not know what the words mean yet, I feel emotion welling up in me every time I sing it with the group. I feel a deep desire to sing it out with all my heart even though for the purposes of performance, there are specific instructions about how to sing each portion of the song. So for dual purposes of practice and emotional release, I have started pulling up the song online and singing my alto part along with it. I can feel my body holding onto emotions in a different way when I sing alone. The urge to cry out and sing with all my heart is there, but I have not been able to release whatever is bracing inside me right around my solar plexus and heart to actually sing out the way my felt urge demands. However, my intuition tells me that if I keep singing it, I will eventually get there. Sometimes I cry during or after singing it alone in a way that would feel too vulnerable to do in our practices. Although one day I hope our community might be a place where mourning while singing a Garifuna spiritual is normalized. When I did some searching online about the lyrics, what I learned is that it is a plea to god and ancestors, and a song about fate. It feels like a song intended for releasing. I've learned the English translation is available in the original Watina CD booklet and hope to acquire it to read the lyrics in English.

What I have noticed somatically in my approach to this plutonian burning time in my life is that I can feel this intense heat rise up in my core, near my solar plexus and heart space when I remember what was done and continues to be done to me by my stbx and his family, and I can feel the choices I am making now cooling these fires from turning into inflammation in my body by allowing me to release and grieve. Whether with steroids, which are helpful for acute flares of heat, or with the diligent daily relational and devotional work of consulting my cooling plant allies and ancestors to support my sustained physical wellbeing--this is my current practice of self-care.

Astrological Signposts: Saturn and Neptune in Aries

My astrological 6th house is Aries, the sign of the warrior, the trailblazer, and the one who breaks new ground from instinct --often alone. Right now Saturn the hard teacher, and builder of things that last is conjunct Neptune a planet of spiritual connection between worlds. I see that combination of astrological energies showing up in this area of my life: the devotion and determination of Saturn to focus and the support of Neptune to communicate more easily with the plant kingdom and ancestral realms. The 6th house represents our health and routines, and also as it happens, small animals like pets. Even though I feel the injustice of this and an urge to fight back against the loss of my kitty Trinity, Saturn is teaching me to hold back and focus on taking care of myself and building a foundation from which I can fight strategically when the time is ready. Pluto, the phoenix-like planet of death, rebirth and transformation is in Aquarius, my 4th house, and is in a supportive sextile Saturn, aiding my surrender as this time is burning away anything that isn't serving me in my 4th astrological house of home, family and ancestors. Because Pluto is conjunct my Ascendant, I have learned to surrender to whatever Pluto sets ablaze, as from these ashes, Saturn will support me building a new home life that will be able to withstand future trials of life, and I desperately need a stable home base. That would never have been possible with my abusive stbx in my home, and truthfully in this particular house his father gave to us last year. Perhaps I will write about the metaphorical plutonian signs from my garden another time. So as hard as it is to let go and surrender to any of these injustices inflicted on me, I know that right now, the self-kindest thing for me is to choose my battles. Saturn is helping me to do that wisely, to cool the fires strategically and not burn myself out engaging in every single fight, to support my long-term wellbeing. This doesn't mean that I will surrender to everything, and I haven't. But it does mean that I am able to slow down and think about what it is I really want and need, and what supports sustainable wellness for me, and then to selectively bring my fire into the battles that will achieve those longer-term goals. Neptune is helping me release the very justified anger and rage from having someone I allowed to get close to me treat me like his prey over and over again.

I am still learning. Saturn will be in Aries for about 2 years, and Neptune for 8. I suspect the healing from having Neptune eventually conjunct my natal Jupiter in Aries--the planet of good health, expansion, higher education, courts and gifted wisdom--will be profound. I'm looking forward to that transit. And I believe Saturn is supporting me in planning for that time.

The Burning Times

It feels important to document these things because burning times are facing many of us right now. Burning times are here for our planet in the El Nino currently bringing oppressive heat to the Caribbean and Central America. I'm grateful to be able to feel this synchronicity between the earth and my own fleshly body. None of us are enjoying this, but I do believe the medicine is here and the resilient wisdom practices live in our somas via transmitted ancestral wisdom. I know I will survive and ultimately thrive after this season of my life ends, not because of the harm being done to me, but because I get to decide if that is the outcome I want. Survivors get to write our own stories of recovery and thriving. We get to make meaning from the ashes of our pain and suffering. And I have so much celestial and spiritual support to make that choice to thrive a physical reality.

I am not grateful for this suffering, and I do not believe "what doesn't kill you makes you stronger" is true. However, I do know that my ancestors have survived much worse, and I have taken on bigger foes in the past and won, and all of that strategy and wisdom lives inside my bones and blood, and it is showing up for me now. And eventually, I will pass this earned wisdom from my own experience on and add it to the embodied wisdom in my lineage. So the next time a predator comes to me seeking willing prey, I will recognize that energy having integrated the lessons from this experience somatically. My heart will remain open, and soft. My connections to mother earth are stronger than ever. And the love and beloved community, the firm foundation I am seeking are all seeking me too, and we will find each other when I decide that I am ready.

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* I am sharing this public post from 2019 because the person named in it—my estranged husband—is now continuing to create and guide retreats with vulnerable young people. I believe people have a right to know this history before deciding whether to enter spaces he facilitates. This is not my allegation. It is a public statement by an organization he was part of.

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