Confusion

Posted on May 6, 2015 by jenny

Woke up feeling uncomfortable.  Not depressed, not scared, not contented.  Not satisfied.  I think I was really confused by what Erica said.  We were talking about me starting a women’s writing/support group.  I told her about my conversation with Yvette, how she & a friend wanted to start a group.  The question came up: “What do you want to get out of it?”  Yvette’s friend said “I want to be inspired.”  Yvette decided that’s what she wanted too.  I said what I wanted to get out of it was finding other people who had experiences like me, so I wouldn’t feel so isolated.  Or I would find out that people had different problems but still had pain in their lives.  Erica said something describing what she thought I would get out of it.  I wish I had written it down because it’s completely gone.  I think she was describing the experience of someone much bigger than me, so different from who I think I am — who mother taught me I was — that I just can’t take it in.  Can’t even remember it.

I think about my amnesia for the nasty things mother said to me.  I seem to have a similar mechanism for shutting out the good things people say about me.  But what mother said went deep anyway, whereas the good things seem to bounce off.  What comes to me is that it’s just too painful to accept that I might be — might have been all along — not a “good” person, but an inspiring, exciting, generous one who changes people’s lives…  and I have ignored her, disparaged her, tried to shut her down, been totally unaware of all the good she does in the world.  Now I feel her near me, full of love, she puts her arms around me.  I feel loved.  I don’t feel forgiven, it feels more like it doesn’t matter to her, my thoughts didn’t hurt her.  I think about Nadia saying that God uses not just our gifts, but our faults.

I wonder where Tiny is in all this.  Is it Tiny who’s suddenly bigger than I am?  I think of the Red Woman who expanded out of me in bodywork with Debra all those years ago.

I’m puzzling over “what does all this mean?” and “What am I to do?”

I think of the projects I started, full of inspiration and then ran down.  Well, the box of stories went on for a while and then ran aground.  When?  When I got Damien?  There was my excitement about Rob Bell and Father Greg.  After I read their books, I was inspired for a few days, and then my excitement faded and I was back — not really in depression-land — but in some sort of grey flat place where there’s no color and no life.

No no NO I don’t want to sink back into that lethargy, I want to stretch into this new life, become that person who I don’t know and don’t believe I am.  Erica gives me so much positive feedback.  I feel like I’ve been hungry for this all my life, and then I don’t know what to do with it.

“And he will raise you up on eagles wings, bear you on the breath of dawn, make you to shine like the sun, and hold you in the palm of his hand.”  That’s what’s been singing itself in my mind.  I think how what is scary is the idea of expanding when I don’t feel held.  Maybe it’s the fear of mother attacking me.

This all feels like an enormous confusing tangle.

Posted in Journal, Trauma | Comments Off on Confusion

New Dog!

Posted on April 25, 2015 by jenny

I’ve been searching for a new dog since before Christmas, without success and some painful disappointments.  At first it was too hard to look.  I was going to go to a shelter with a friend and got sick at the last minute.  Eventually I became more able to take on the task.  I bookmarked nearby shelters and the Pet search engines: Petfinder and Adopt-a-pet.  I applied for more than one dog and was told they already had many applications.  I asked about a dog on a poodle rescue site in Massachusetts, and they said they didn’t adopt outside their area because they need to do a home visit.

About three weeks ago I checked Adoptapet and there were no dogs that fit my criteria (female, small, 3-10 years old) within 100 miles.  That really cast me down.  The pet search sites offer a service: you can save your search criteria and they will let you know when a dog comes in, so I did that on both of them.  The first dog that came in I wasn’t interested in.

A week ago Tuesday (April 14) my friend Eve came for the day.  I was really glad she came because I didn’t see Erica that Tuesday.  She was determined to find me a dog.  I showed her how to look on my computer.  We looked at lots of dogs (most of them are big and male) and finally I got overwhelmed and backed off.  She kept going, bless her, and found a dog, in northern Vermont, that looked like a possible.  She was a Shih Tzu mix, something I had tried to find.  I looked at the pictures and she certainly looked worth investigating.  Eve said “Let’s call them now.”  I panicked, so she dialed the phone and got them on the line.  After a few sentences she said “It’s really for my friend,” and handed the phone to me.  It turned out that they had only had her for four days.  She was in Orleans VT, which was about 25 minutes from Hardwick VT, where I was going to see my dentist on Friday.  So I made an appointment to see her Friday afternoon.  Her name was Falicia.

falicia

The next time I checked my email there was one from Adoptapet with a picture of Falicia.  Guess the universe was determined I should get her.

The shelter didn’t have an online application.  I had first thought I’d just wait til Friday and fill it out there.  I would have to wait two days after the application was filed before I could take her away.  Then I emailed them to send me a PDF.  I printed it out and filled it out, and was going to take it with me on Friday.  Wednesday morning, I couldn’t wait, so I went to Pam’s and faxed it.  She runs a doggy day care center as well as the Franconia Business Connection.

On Friday I barely felt the cleaning at the dentist.  Driving to Orleans I smiled all the way, with occasional jabs of fear that I wouldn’t “pass” their application.  The first thing I asked was about the application and they said it was fine, I was acceptable.  They put me in a room, and brought her to me.  She backed away from me and shivered.  They gave me the leash that was attached to her harness, and she wiggled out of her harness and ran to her handler.  I asked them to leave me alone with her so they did.  Again she slipped out of her harness.  I ran her into a corner and sat down to block her in.  Then I decided to play Alpha dog and put my hand on her back.  She fairly quickly calmed down.  I asked if I could take her that day and they said yes.  I didn’t know whether to be delighted or terrified.  I got her papers, paid the fee, and we went out to my car.

I opened the door and she jumped right in.  As I drove home, she kept trying to climb in my lap, and I would push her back.  Because we were on the highway, in cruise control, I wasn’t so worried that she would interfere with my driving.  I finally let her stay on my lap and put my hand on her for a while.  Then I dumped her back on the passenger seat where she stayed.  I didn’t think she was a “Falicia” so I  called her “Petunia.”  She’ll probably acquire a number of names.

petunia1A

It hasn’t taken very long — I’ve had her a week and a day — for her to become very comfortable on the couch next to me.  She follows me everywhere, except now she’s started to trust that I’ll come back, so when I get up to make tea she stays on the couch.

What’s been a huge surprise is how quickly I fell in love with her, and how happy I’ve been.  It makes a huge difference having a being constantly around who I love, and who is at least attached to me — I’m not quite ready to accept that she loves me, but being a dog, she probably does.

Posted in Healing, Present Day, Story | Comments Off on New Dog!

Grief Work

Posted on April 14, 2015 by jenny

Friday
Notes from call with Erica:
She can hear from my voice how deep a place I was coming from.
In the last session, being so quiet, allows presence & connection when it’s quiet.  Mother-child dyad, seeing a loving gaze, I was imagining loving Bella and had that loving look on my face.  But I wouldn’t have known how I looked unless Erica told me.  She also said she got to bask in that look.  This quiet is repairing the wound.  It wasn’t safe to be in the presence of mother and be in my truth at the same time.  You are savoring being in your own presence while with me.  Tuesday was our being with our truth.  I thought it was “nothing” — just staying with my truth and being with Erica.  It’s an ongoing process — to be impatient is antithetical to that presence.  How honored I am that you could allow me to be there with you.  It feels sacred.  I am moved by how much your heart loves.

Saturday
The most important thing yesterday was my talk with Erica.  I tried to write down what she said.  I didn’t understand it very well.  I’m not sure what it means to “be with my truth” — actually I’m not sure I know what it feels like to “be with my truth.”  I came out with the sense that what was important was to try to be completely present (this means Tiny too) whenever I’m with someone.
I stopped being sad after I talked with her.  I also realized that there was no point in continuing to mourn for what didn’t happen.  In having a practice of doing what I couldn’t do then, I have action I can take.  That makes a difference.

Tuesday
With Erica:  I cried most of the time.  I told her about the empty dog search (it told me there were no dogs within 100 miles that fit my criteria), about the woman invalidating Lynelle.  Erica was very angry about that.  She said (again) I was brave to be willing to feel that much pain, that deep pain.  I said what’s brave about it?  I can’t stop it.  She said there are lots of ways to stop it.  Of course: drugs, alcohol, sex, shopping…  I said I do my “mindless practices,” but I do them consciously, and they don’t hurt anybody, even me.  I said I was discouraged, felt like I wasn’t getting anywhere, that I would need a lot of patience to take love in in tiny bits.  She said I’ll tell you a difficult truth, it’s excruciating.  Lots of people, when they get to this point, can’t take the pain and quit.  She said it was another big wave of grief, this is part of the process.  She asked if I remembered what we had done last Tuesday.  I said I didn’t know.  She said you allowed yourself to be quiet.  I could see that allowing myself to relax, to be with my truth and with her, could easily open up deeper stuff.  She told me Matt Fox said if people did 15 minutes of grieving a day, enormous energy would be released.  She said she was honored that I’d share that deep pain with her.  She said I would slow down when she asked me to, most people just talk right over her.

Wednesday
The session with Erica helped a lot.  Giving voice to my grief and pain, which I had been making myself wrong for, allowed me to feel it.  She showed me how expressing the grief and pain is the main part of the work.  The process requires it.  I’m not stuck, I’m doing the hardest piece.  And it will come back again and again, so I might as well be ready for it, even welcome it.  I also realized that this grief is not just for the things I personally missed, it’s for the pain and suffering on this planet that I am aware of and can feel.  That is a lot of grief.

Went over to Neskaya and made a list of dances for expressing grief and pain.  I made a CD of my playlist.  I’m going to try to dance it as much as possible, every day if I can.  I want it to be my daily grief work.

Posted in Circle Dance, Healing, Present Day | Comments Off on Grief Work

Grieving

Posted on April 2, 2015 by jenny

Written the same day:

I think the session with Erica was a good one.  I cried a lot, didn’t say very much.  Mostly about wanting a new dog & grieving Bella.  Also grieving that I hadn’t really been able to take in how much she loved me until just before she died.  Erica asked about Tiny.  I checked.  Tiny is grieving too.  Don’t know what about.  (Now that I’m writing it down I suspect it’s grieving because she didn’t know she was loved.)  Sat quietly with her until some little piece nudged “You aren’t doing anything.”  Told Erica.  She said it wasn’t nothing.  I sighed — getting that it was OK to do “nothing.”  Erica said that I needed to slow down to calm my nervous system.  I think this is the first time I haven’t rushed into telling her a story.

Written the next day

Feeling dizzy and lost.  It’s chilly in here and 9° outside.  I just want to lie down with Muffy.  Holding him tightly now.

What happened?  I think it was a good session with Erica, but again I was exhausted when I got home.  This morning I’m feeling bereft and lonely.  Yesterday I told Erica I was doing OK with empty days, but this morning doesn’t feel OK.

So what happened with Erica?  I told her about the pain of spring — the earth waking up and I’m still frozen.  Also told her I was really wanting a dog.  And the grief that I wasn’t able to take in how much Bella loved me until the end.  Here come the tears again.  I guess that’s big.  And Tiny was in grief too, when I went to write about it her grief was also that she didn’t know she was loved.  I guess I have a lot of grieving to do.

Thinking that I was loved and didn’t know it.  So painful.  My heart feels empty and cold the way it felt when I was abandoned again again.

Yes I think the pain and the confusion are because of the realization that many people love me, and have loved me, and I couldn’t take it in.  If I have any regret about my life, that’s it.  And yet, I don’t see that I had much choice.

It took me awhile after the session to really get how sad I am that I wasn’t able to take in the love that was there for me.  I think this is only possible now that I’m starting to be able to see myself as lovable.  It makes me so so sad.  How different my life would have been.  But the first thing I learned from mother was that I wasn’t lovable.  I tried and tried to do the right thing to make her happy, but she was never happy with me.  Finally, the youngest part of myself, who needed to be aware of being loved in order to be aware of herself at all, had to split off and close herself up so nothing could get in.  Mother’s poisonous energy was too toxic for her to take in, so she had to block out everything.

Posted in Present Day, Trauma | Comments Off on Grieving

I Can’t See Who I Am

Posted on March 28, 2015 by jenny

I told Erica about seeing the wounded animal by the road.  It’s one of my worst nightmares, to see an animal so wounded that it can’t live, and not being able to do anything about it. I think it’s because I completely identify with being so wounded that I can’t have a life.  I told her how I dealt with my shock and pain by avoiding something so re-traumatizing, and then doing mindless practices.  She thought I handled it — took care of myself — really well.  I let the activation settle before I thought about the incident.  Then I could write, and tell the story.  We talked about the disconnect that happens when I get excited about something.  It’s as though I can either have my excitement or have the relationship.  I learned this from my mother who didn’t like my enthusiasm, so I had to choose between being enthusiastic and the relationship with someone my security depended on.  Of course I gave up my enthusiasm.  I’ve thought of it as having to lose my self-consciousness before I can share my enthusiasm.  Now I see that it’s not self-consciousness which usually means fearing criticism, it’s consciousness of myself in a good sense, being aware of who I am while I move through my life.  The result of this has been that other people see who I am, and the gifts I have to share, but I don’t see it at all, and don’t get to feel any satisfaction or pleasure.  (O gosh that makes me ANGRY — my SELF was stolen from me before I knew what was going on, before I could do anything about it.)  It always surprises me when someone gives me positive feedback about myself.  Erica said the old pattern of pushing myself and collapsing into depression was because I was disconnected from Tiny.  She said I was learning how to move through my life staying connected to Tiny.  It looks like the work I need to do is practice being aware of Tiny.

Posted in Depression, Healing, Present Day | Comments Off on I Can’t See Who I Am

Why It Takes So Long

Posted on March 16, 2015 by jenny

I’m thinking of the many times I’ve come to an exciting new understanding of myself, and then on re-reading my journal I discover that I’ve made the same discovery several years ago, and a few years before that, with apparent amnesia in between.  It used to make me very discouraged.  Recently I was talking to my sister about spiritual matters, maybe I asked her a question about what she believed and she said “But Jenny, everything I know about Spirit I learned from you.”  That blew me away.  When had that happened?  The year we lived together in Portland I was badly depressed and had no sense of spirit.  Maybe it was earlier, on vacations from college, and I talked about what I had learned in Bible class.  I didn’t believe in God at all at that time, so I can’t imagine what I might have said to her that meant so much to her.  Baffled by this, I told my therapist Karen, and she said “You weren’t safe enough to have more than intellectual knowing.”

Recently I went back to read part of my journal for the late 80’s.  I knew it was a period, before medication, during which I was having a very bad time, and was severely depressed.  From the present I looked back at my life then and saw it as a grey blur.  But when I started reading, I was astonished to see how hard I was working to understand what was going on with me.  I was working with a therapist in the Jungian tradition, I was recording my dreams and working with them meticulously.  I was working hard, but now I can see that it was all intellectual.

I think it wasn’t until I started working with Karen in the early 90’s that I began to deal with more emotional parts of the psyche.  Finally, when I began Somatic Experiencing around 2001, I began to pay attention to my body.

I used to be discouraged by how many times I made a discovery, only to have it sink into amnesia, and then it would seem brand new when I discovered it again.  Now I see how much work it takes to really “get” something, to ground it solidly and deeply enough that it will hold through a bad time.  I have this image of layers and layers of the psyche.  The top layer is intellectual, the bottom layer is grounded in the body, and the layers in between are the stages from one to the other.  As I rediscover the same thing over and over again, I’m also moving it down to deeper layers.  Most of that work, I suspect, goes on in my subconscious.

I also discovered that after the recent time of happiness, thoughts about Lynelle’s difficulty with EMFs didn’t bring me down.  Usually it doesn’t take much to bring me down.  And I remind myself that of course I will continue to lose and find these things, and I hope that the faith that they will come back will be strong enough to carry me through the bad times.

Posted in Healing, Journal, Present Day | Comments Off on Why It Takes So Long

Working with the Conflict

Posted on March 15, 2015 by jenny

From my journal, continued:

Thursday, March 12
There’s a temptation to believe that I don’t enjoy my life, either because I’m not really making a contribution or because I’m refusing to enjoy my life as it is.  That makes me a worthless, ungrateful, selfish person who doesn’t deserve good things.  But that’s what I learned from mother about who I was.  I think of the time I went out of my way to pick up some medication for her on the way home from Aunt Betty’s, and instead of thanking me she said “They weren’t going to deliver it, were they,” in a snide tone of voice.  No wonder I find it hard to believe that I can do anything good.  I guess it’s the collision between these two opposed versions of me that is making me feel so confused.  I don’t know which to believe.  Actually it’s more that the idea that I’m worthless is encoded in my cells, the possibility that I do make a contribution I get with my intellect, but to be able to take it in emotionally requires dismantling the mother voice in me that says “Don’t think you’re so great.”

The other difficulty is the struggle with PTSD.  There’s nothing visible, like a brace on my leg, and there’s so little understanding in the culture of what trauma really means.  I remember the time at the Circlework training, I was struggling with terror through the roof, and I must have said something about fear and this woman told me “fear is a choice.”  That made it all worse.  If fear is a choice, then I should be able to choose not to be afraid, and I can’t.  It was only much later, after considerable thought, I saw that fear is not a choice unless you are scaring yourself with a story you believe.  Otherwise, fear is triggered by something external, and then your only choice is how to deal with it.

I noticed driving to town, that I don’t feel like I have to prove I deserve to live right now, and I don’t care if I’m a “good person” or not.  So I still have those two healings.  Checking for God — he/she/it/they seemed distant, indifferent.  Tiny One is curled tightly in a ball — I get a message that it’s too many bad things: a friend having a hard time, the constant war, the unnecessary poverty, etc.

Friday, March 13
I felt better yesterday than I did the day before, but I still didn’t feel energetic enough to drive to Montpelier.  So I talked to Karen on the phone.  She was a big help.  I read her all that I had written yesterday morning.  I see that I was so confused because the new story — that I’m just what God/Universe wanted — has grown to be as strong as the old story — I don’t deserve to live.  Karen helped me see that perhaps I don’t have to choose between them.  I told her about seeing that the inner ones who hold me down are trying to protect me from Mom.  I’ve always felt frustrated that the good times are so short — I told Karen about the day the Christmas Tree fell down — and then I lose them again.  Karen helped me get that it’s just how the process works.  Slowly the good days come more often and last longer.  I’m thinking now that the good days show that I have the capacity for happiness.  She pointed out that when I complain about how long I’ve been working to heal, I’m judging myself for taking so long.  “It takes as long as it takes.”  It’s also true, I see now, that it’s taken so long because of the size of what I was up against.  I also thought about that long piece I wrote about denial, and realizing that it wasn’t denial at all, it was lack of information.  Even my resistance to the diagnosis of PTSD was because 1) the Doctor prescribed medication that traumatized me 2) I thought it was me trying to make myself important which was mother’s idea 3) I thought “trauma” meant violence, and though my parents were mean and confusing alcoholics, they were never violent.  It wasn’t until I got to the place in Waking the Tiger where Peter Levine says: “an infant can be traumatized by being left alone in a cold room,” that I finally realized what I was up against.

Posted in Healing, Journal, Present Day, Writing | Comments Off on Working with the Conflict

Confusion and Conflict

Posted on March 14, 2015 by jenny

This post is put together from a series of journal entries.  It shows how writing in my journal helps me process information.

Tuesday, March 10
Erica’s waiting room.  Feeling sad & discouraged.  Trying to understand what caused this.

I told her about my struggle with PETA — not liking their method but supporting their cause.  I told her about the statement that dogs were being skinned while they were still alive to make clothing.  I can’t bear the image.  I don’t want to pretend that such things don’t happen, but hearing about them is too much.  Erica said no, I shouldn’t give out of that energy.
She suggested: “I don’t want to hear any more” and I added: “Your manipulative strategy wrecks me.  I’m re-traumatized and I can’t do anything for you from that energy.”
I realized I was feeling guilty and wrong for not wanting to give to PETA even though I support their cause.  It looks like that’s the major reason for me feeling so bad.

Thursday, March 12
Went to the Church book group.  We are discussing “Eager to Love,” by Richard Rohr, which is about St. Francis.
We talked about the sentence: Francis and Clare “died into the life they loved” and so were not afraid to die.  I said I didn’t understand how you could die into a life you loved.  They started talking about fear of death.  I said I’d wanted to die so many times, that I looked forward to it.  Barry said death represents the end of suffering.  I agreed.  Someone asked What was I afraid of?  I said “never getting better” and burst into tears.  I didn’t think about it at the time but “die into the life they loved” means that they had a life they loved.  Most of the time I don’t love my life, it’s been so full of pain and struggle.  Every now and then I see it as wounded and feel compassion, to “love my poor wounded life because it needs love.”

Last night I said I was afraid of “not getting better.”  What I meant was being able to get to a place where I could enjoy my life, or at least feel some contentment and satisfaction.  I know that having more money, or a flashy car, or fashionable clothing would not bring me contentment and satisfaction.  Even an honors degree from Wellesley, the writing and publishing of a book, the development of the “slide show,” creating the “Dancing the Sacred Calendar” workshop, being part of Journey into Courage, building Neskaya, do not make me feel contented or satisfied.  Looking at my list, I see that, except for the Wellesley Degree, my achievements are “counter-cultural.”  But that doesn’t matter to me.  I could feel good about contributing to the betterment of the earth, strengthening the souls of a few people (or a lot of people?), and being in some ways way out in front of the culture in the direction of peace, equality and soul, if I really believed it.  If I could really “get it” that I have made a big contribution, that would help me feel that my life hasn’t been wasted.  On the other hand, if I could really get it that just as I am, without any of those contributions, I am just what god wanted, if I could trust that God, Spirit, the process of the universe, is moving in a good and meaningful direction, even if I don’t know what it is, then I could relax and be OK with how I am.  I suppose I would go on trying to heal, I do still see that as my vocation at the moment.

Posted in Healing, Journal, Present Day, Trauma, Writing | Comments Off on Confusion and Conflict

Turnaround

Posted on March 8, 2015 by jenny

Wow.  What a turnaround.  I don’t feel any of the pain or confusion I felt two days ago.  One part of me was really beginning to get it that things are still there even when I get disconnected from them: God, Erica, Tiny One.  When I first looked for Tiny One just now she was in my heart!  The other thing was really getting it that the down was just a down in the process, the good place of feeling whole wasn’t lost, was a place I could get back to.  I think accepting that, letting go of anger at myself for “falling back” again, letting go of fear that I won’t get “back there,” letting go of the struggle to get “back there,” allowed me to relax and be happy again.  I don’t think I really saw this until I started writing it down.  The rest of Tuesday was sort of a fog.  Lynelle helped me see that seeing Erica with her next client was a big deal, though now it doesn’t matter.  (It’s a big deal because when you’re working on the level of infancy, you can’t handle your therapist having another baby.)  In this secure place, in touch with Tiny One and my heart and my wholeness and God, it doesn’t matter at all.

Reading in November 2014 I found a place where I’m able to accept that I’m a good person, and then I felt very sad that I have treated this good person so badly.  I was looking at the page where I talk about myself as a “good” person.  I worked so hard last fall to “get” that I am a good person.  And now it doesn’t matter any more!!  I don’t care if I’m a good person or not!  What a liberation!  My job is just to be the best Jenny I can, and my work on healing myself is part of it.

Posted in Healing, Journal, Present Day, Trauma | Comments Off on Turnaround

Tough Session

Posted on March 7, 2015 by jenny

Yesterday was really tough.  I got to Erica and just cried.  I told her I was confused, had no sense of priority, and lost the sense of a solid core, did not feel connected to her.  She said all those things were still here, it was just that I wasn’t connected.  I knew that was true and that’s a step forward: not no god, not no Jesus, not no Erica, not no Tiny One — just having lost the connection to them.  Erica asked what had happened.  I said a lot of small disappointments and a big one.  I told her about Barry telling me my ideas for discussion groups would not work in his congregation.  She asked me to feel my feelings, she said I must be hurt.  Yes, when I paid attention my heart hurt so bad.  I cried some more.  (Yes, I disconnect from my own feelings the same way I disconnect from Erica and god.)  I was curled up and hunched over.  She asked what that was about and I said I was trying to hide.  She said she thought I was angry, that being coiled up tight was preparation for striking out.  At that point I lost the ability to feel my body.  Suddenly there was no information coming from my body.  I stayed with it, feeling confused, then I saw or made up an explosion and then it was immediately doused by fire hoses.  Erica had said the anger was the anger of protest.  I could get in touch with the idea that this shouldn’t have happened to me.  Accepting that I might be angry: “I tried so many times to get something started and nobody wanted it.”  She told me about a woman who tried to get some classes going at AVA Gallery in Lebanon, and too few people signed up.  That just made me feel more discouraged, ready to give up.  O yes, trying to feel my anger (or protest) at Barry I saw it wasn’t about Barry but about all my defeats.

Thinking back over the last weeks, I see that when I connected with Tiny One and my love for her, and then when my heart made a solid connection with Tiny One — I had my usual thought — “I’ve arrived, I’ve healed.”  Then when I lost it, it seemed a little like it was gone forever, but at the same time I suspected that this “down” was just part of the process.  This morning, looking back at how unhappy and desperate I was yesterday, I can see very clearly that it is part of the process, that the happiness and wholeness were showing me what was possible, I will get there again.  This all feels a lot like “object constancy” but on a different level.  Learning that things are still there even though I can’t feel them.  Learning that even when I’m depressed, or confused and lost, I haven’t gone down into the same old pit.  Instead of seeing myself as climbing a mountain, and when I fall I go all the way back to the bottom, I’m seeing my life as a pilgrimage through a difficult landscape, a “down” is just a valley and if I go on, I’ll find another “up.”

I’m also wondering if part of my anger/protest was at Erica.  Stop telling me these things that can’t possibly be true.  I noticed that was when I lost touch with my body.  It was too scary for Tiny One to be angry at Erica.  Erica thought that part of me pushing outward was a wake up call — “Can’t you see that I’m hurting?  Wake up!”

I got food to go at the Co-op instead of eating there and writing.  My eyes were so red that I wore my sunglasses to hide that I had been crying.

When I got home I realized that I’m able to get angry on behalf of bees, and whales, and the downtrodden, poor, and sick, but I’m not able to get angry on my own behalf.

Posted in Healing, Journal, Present Day, Trauma | Comments Off on Tough Session