Rising Strong: A Story Of Resilience And Redemption

Greetings, dear readers and followers of The MHM Magazine!

To say it’s a privilege to be invited to join the phenomenal powerhouse of a team here as your newest Senior Contributor would be an understatement. I am STOKED to be here. You don’t even know!

If you’d asked me if I thought I’d be writing for this truly impactful and important platform and publication even just a few short years ago, the answer would probably have been “No.” With this article and portion of my story, I’ll elaborate:

I’m a (now grown) little biracial girl, old millennial, British-born, 3rd-gen Windrush Grandkid, hailing from impoverished Council Estates in “Small Town, UK,” Often the only one (black resident, not just passing through) in the village.

Council estates bordering the small towns, shires and ‘burbs of little old England made up the bulk of my places to call home in childhood. Then the small towns as an adult a sea of white faces then me. This has been my story, true of my life as a young person going to school and higher education from the early 1990s to the early 2000s. The ratio? HUNDREDS of white children to eventually 3-5 black children, but always starting with one within my family home (except for my one blood sister), raised by my white parent, and unbeknownst to me back then, in an uber-dysfunctional, uber-abusive, uber-alcoholic, uber-racist, and all too often uber-violent bloodline dynamic.

The things you normalise when that is your environment…Oh! Not to mention my all-white, highly male dominated workplaces specialising in sales and marketing, intermittently climbing the soft corporate ladder. At the time (and others), I was ensconced in my own private hell, trapped in an abusive relationship which over time turned violent and a new Mum to my abusers two children.

That wild roller coaster called my life led me to the digital marketing world a little under 10 years ago when I started getting rowdy on the internet. First as a network marketer. “Grrrrr!” Yeah, I know! It was my way in! Then as a social media consultant (still practising), helping other small businesses get seen and heard in all the places it counts online. A digital megaphone, if you will.

Free to find and leverage your purpose in the ashes of your life. And…Free to give yourself permission to thrive.

Kate Pearl

Later, without understanding the impact or even what I was doing other than sharing pieces of my story, I became an authentic, straight-shooting, truth-telling voice for the masses, starting a movement called The Black Woman’s Voice.

A word on that sea of white faces: I never had a problem with theirs, but many, over time, showed they have a problem with mine and have NEVER been subtle about it. Not at all. Across what I consider to be a barely started life, at 38-Earth-Years-Young, one thing’s been profoundly and resoundingly clear: Mine invoked rage, fear, envy, and violence.

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Starting, but by no means ending with my mother. Jump back from there to starting waves on social media….Little did I know at the time, I was still in an abusive situation where the voices of my childhood, the partner violence in my adulthood, alcoholism, and being a recipient of daily micro aggressions, gossip, slander and more general BS were all taking their toll. It hit me like a ton of bricks dropping from an airplane. My mental state, spiritual hygiene, emotional world, and my energetic condition were about as discombobulated as they could get, and I don’t offer that up as a challenge. I didn’t have the words for it back then, but one thing was clear: I was NOT okay.

Who was I to try to help heal other black women when I was distraught, in despair, and really quite unwell? Who was I to lay on the talk while trying to walk the walk, when as a biracial woman, my struggles may have been similar but absolutely NOT the same in many cases as black women who, in my humble opinion, get it way worse? Not forgetting the intricate variations in experience by geography.

In short…,what the f*ck did I know?! I felt like an utter fraud and as part of my ultimate mental, emotional, and spiritual breakdowns, all simultaneous, I vanished from social media. The racing, ravaging, dream-killing, brain-battering negative self-talk was diabolical in hindsight. The unresolved, and more dangerously, unprocessed trauma, reigning supreme. For the record: I would never, repeat, never talk to another being the way I spoke to and about myself back then. Well, not unless my hand (or mouth) is forced and I have to tell someone what time it is, that is.

Hey! Want to know what this all-consuming self-doubt, exposure to the darker side of social media, and increasingly tumultuous set of Matrix Life circumstances brought me to? I’ll tell you…’Therapy’: Some were great, some not so great, and everything in between.

The breakthrough types were therapies that specifically forced me to face my childhood. Yep. Where this lady hadn’t dared to go beyond a surface level. I blanked out 10 years of my life at least. I didn’t want to remember ANY of it.

Not the verbal and physical attacks. Not the othering. Not the isolation. Not the multiple sexual assaults. Not the very violent rape. Not homelessness. Not the near-miss with prostitution. Not the alcoholism (active alcoholic before I hit double figures) Not the name-calling. Not the violence…NONE OF IT! Nor did I have the foggiest idea how I was going to heal or what steps to take to even start.

I lost myself on my way back to me for want of a better statement, and in all of that, I had never once considered who I even was and what was important to me. I felt barren. Numb, even.

When the UK Lockdowns were officially in full swing, some of my prayers were heard and answered with the emergence of a specialist in healing racialized trauma. Wow! Did THAT feel like the world opened doors I hadn’t seen before?! No, not immediately. It felt catastrophic and excruciating, in all truthfulness, my internal world felt like it had spun clean off of its axis and now, in my mind, I’d finally and officially gone crazy.

I’d never even heard the term “racialised trauma” much less: consider the impact that racism alone had had on my life, my state, my world view, the way I saw myself and others. To boot, I was at least low-key furious at my previous counsellors and therapists, for not even thinking of it, but I’ve learned much, respectfully, about the way the more mainstream mental health field is structured.

And there’s a LOT left to be desired despite the undeniable strengths and absolute angels within it for people of colour or whatever tag you choose. I know MILLIONS of us, if we’re being transparent with ourselves, can say that we have been traumatised via racism, and there’s no shame in admitting it. In fact, it’s VITAL that we not only admit it, but address it on a much larger scale. Racism mercilessly impacted, hurt, and destroyed so much of my life. I honestly didn’t know which way was up, and I’d internalised it, so very deeply.

That’s not my story now, but it’s a big part of it, and the story that shapes me and brings me here. My trauma is no longer my identity, but it sure felt like it then. When my first therapist broke down that out of the then 7 clinically recognized Adverse Childhood Experiences (ACES), I’d been the victim repeatedly of 6 over decades, I was still in a state of denial, confusion, and utter despair, and what’s more: physically surrounded by a good number of my tormentors and abusers, hindering my progress, who I am now thankfully free of.

In conclusion to this introductory article and for full transparency: I am not a licensed therapist or clinical practitioner. What I am though is a born healer, proud tree hugging, animal loving, nature obsessed lightworker… A singer, writer, dancer, activist, Mum, marketeer and a voice for the voiceless. My personal journey of actively healing from the multiple adverse events in my life dating back to the age of 4 has been a near daily endeavour for the last 7 years total.

While sharing my message, methods, practices, and principles with those a few steps behind me or who are just in fact waking up to the fact that they need to be seen, heard, and healed! I believe healing is daily work, a mindset, and a WHOLE MOOD. To that end, I, to this day, utilise therapists, practitioners, and healers and highly recommend them for those struggling with their mental health. I realised that not only did I NEED to heal, but I also DESERVED to.

I made it a point to remain ten-toes-down-serious in my pursuit of rebuilding my life, breaking generational cycles, and setting not only myself but those to follow me on the path to healthier, happier, more whole life experiences. Bluntly put: I refuse to put my worth (or sanity) behind or last ever again.

I do the deep, dark, filthy, and often frankly quite exhausting work on myself, daily so that I maintain my pride (and my specialities) in bringing love, positive vibes, inspiration, and light to others. And crucially… ME! One thing’s for sure in a world that is anything but in these volatile times: When you glow inside, nurture yourself, love on you, you serve yourself better, making way for EPIC service to others and the wider collective, needing so much of your light to raise the vibrations of the planet. There is so much more to me than my trauma, and it took me so long to see it.

Sound like anything you can relate to? Sound like you at any point in your time on this rock? If it does: chances are it’s time to break free. Free from the shackles of your mind. Free to reinvigorate your spirit. And last but not least…free to find and face the root cause of your blocks so you can finally win. Free to find and leverage your purpose in the ashes of your life. And…Free to give yourself permission to thrive.

You can and will. I’m a walking testimony but ALWAYS a work in progress! I have a book coming out for pre-order and a podcast upcoming for those who wish to join me on this journey so watch out for future announcements https://snipfeed.co/katepearl. Meanwhile, you can come message me on LinkedIn. My inbox is open and you’d be most welcome!