Somatic Experiencing

(Written in July 2010)
Went down to see Caryn.  The drive down was beautiful, blue sky, white clouds, wind & trees.  It was good to see her tho she looked a little harassed and hot, she’d been seeing people all day.  I went to my corner & we set up the cushions.  I told her about noticing at one point that I was sitting straighter in the car, but now I’ve lost it a little.  It feels more comfortable when I straighten up, but I don’t stay there.  So we worked on that.  She brought over a bench and had me put my hands on it, and imagine I was a quadruped.  Then curve my back up & down — it was a little like dog & cat stretch except that there was an emphasis on letting the shoulderblades meet when my belly was down.  Then Caryn had me press with my hands — use both hands and legs — to curl & uncurl my back while she pressed each vertebra so I would move them one by one.  She asked me to walk around.  I didn’t feel much different — I always feel self-conscious — but she said my spine was more flexible.  I came back & sat down feeling tired.  Caryn said I had just done a lot of work.  I bent over until the top of my head was on the floor.  When I straightened up, my stomach ached, so I hunched down again & comforted that part of me.  Caryn said I had just done a very big piece of work opening the front of the spine, and it made sense that part of me would feel vulnerable.  Once that part of me was comfortable, I could sit up & feel how the triangle of my knees & butt was very solid and supporting/grounding me and my upper half could move around freely.  The phrase came up “wiggling around” and I remembered mother’s scathing remark “that’s disgusting” as the 5-year-old daughter of a friend of Jo’s was wiggling around.  I was horrified & saw myself as bland, narrow, sexless, I was living at the Arlington Zen house and trying to be completely subdued and colorless.  Caryn asked if I could bring together both parts of me, the Zen straight and the wiggly child.  At first I thought I couldn’t, they were each ashamed of the other.  But I imagined holding them and loving them, and started to cry and cry.  At one point I felt so much grief that the wiggly one had been able to be present for so little of my life.  Caryn kept having me open my eyes so I wouldn’t get lost in the grief.  When that was over, I sat up straight again and felt how heavy the base was and how light the upper body.  I told Caryn about the time in the training when a battle between being weighed down & trying to pull up against it resolved itself into many tiny helium balloons, each holding up a package of heaviness.