My heart hurts. It hurt a lot yesterday as I drove down to Hanover. I was hurting for the people of Puerto Rico, and the ones in Las Vegas. I say nothing about the hideous denial by Drumpf and his cohorts of people’s pain and need for help.
When I got to Erica I just cried and cried. Erica made soothing noises. I finally managed to say “what can I do with this pain?” I said something about the vigil after Orlando, how it was comforting to be with people who felt the same way I did. Driving down I thought I wanted to be in Kendal right away. I wanted to find other people who were angry about what’s going on and be with them. Erica talked about things I could do to help strengthen myself. She said something about a “joy practice.” I said I can’t do that. I don’t feel joy. The best I can do is a sense of contentment, of being OK just as I am. Erica said “You need other people, you can’t do it alone.” I think I finally got it. Usually I get angry at myself for being “weak.”
I took the Tough Little Drip I had made from clay. Erica was really impressed. Said she was very strong and determined. She said she could tell that what she was fighting her way through was no small thing. I think that was something I found out only from the work with Erica.
It was something I got briefly as I started each new therapy: Children of Alcoholics, clinical depression and medication, possible sexual abuse, PTSD, and then finally getting how trauma in infancy is far more devastating than when it happens to someone whose brain and nervous system have fully matured. Each time, I would welcome each new explanation for why I was so dysfunctional and unhappy. I would start working with a new therapist, work hard, and then work hard, and then work hard. After years of hard work I would feel like I hadn’t got anywhere. At this same place I would intuit that we still hadn’t gotten to the bottom, but I didn’t trust my intuition. Other people could see that I was doing better, but for me the struggle was still very difficult. What’s the matter with me that with this fine new understanding, and years of work, I still don’t have a life? Now, finally, I get how deeply established the tentacles of trauma are in my body and my brain. It’s still hard for me to stop blaming myself for not working hard enough. It’s still easy for me to trivialize what I’m up against.
The work with Erica has brought me enormous pain and despair. I know we are working at the core and the foundation of my being. When the work is so painful I wish I hadn’t started it, I am forced to acknowledge that there is no way I could stop trying to get down to the truth. But I am not at all sure it’s possible for me to heal enough to be able to have a life. On the other hand, with enough support, who knows what I might be able to do?
“Drumpf” is not a misprint. I refuse to call that jerk by a name. I call him “thump” and “tweet” and the best is “Drumpf” from Daily Kos.