Reading through my old journals I come across stories like this one. \u00a0So painful, so sad. \u00a0At the time I couldn’t see that this was something I learned from how my mother treated me. I also, of course, thought that seeing it would change it. \u00a0No. \u00a0Too deep a belief. \u00a0My fear that sharing something I was excited about was “bragging.” \u00a0My judgement that the whole scene was somehow “childish.” \u00a0The saddest thing of all is that I still see myself as neither loving, nor nurturing, despite feedback that other people have experienced me as both, and I still feel somehow “wrong” to feel good about myself.<\/p>\n
April 9 – 14, 1976\u00a0 \u00a0 <\/span>Women’s Workshop at Biddeford Pool
\nthe core of the weekend for me was Saturday night.\u00a0 <\/span>we had split into two groups, I was in Phyllis’ group.\u00a0 <\/span>She had worked with Nan, with Sandy, with Brooke, with Shiela, and asked for our feelings as a way to close.\u00a0 <\/span>I had felt that I wanted to say something, but could not think what, but now my stomach began to feel very anxious, so finally I said that.\u00a0 <\/span>Phyllis asked if I wanted a body massage like the ones the group had given Shiela and Brooke.\u00a0 <\/span>I was not sure, but said yes \u2014 and was very aggressive about asking for what I wanted.\u00a0 <\/span>But afterward my stomach still felt tight, though i felt very relaxed.\u00a0 <\/span>Phyllis asked me how I felt and I started into a routine about whether or not my anxiety was important enough to deal with.\u00a0 <\/span>She put her hand on my mouth and said ‘I don’t want to listen to your head.’\u00a0 <\/span>Immediately i felt utterly safe.\u00a0 <\/span>I could say whatever came to me, and trust Phyllis to decide if it was important.\u00a0 <\/span>So I just lay there quietly and the word ‘woman’ came swimming up.\u00a0 <\/span>So I said ‘It must have to do with being a woman because thats why I’m here.’\u00a0 <\/span>a long pause.\u00a0 <\/span>‘I don’t feel that I am nurturing and compassionate, and I would like to be.’\u00a0 <\/span>a pause.\u00a0 <\/span>Phyllis ‘why would you like to be nurturing?’\u00a0 <\/span>I thought or said ‘It would make me feel good about myself’ and then started into a routine about how one should be nurturing for the sake of others not to feel good about oneself.\u00a0 <\/span>She stopped me again and suddenly I realized that ‘It makes me feel good about myself ‘ was a perfectly good reason for wanting to be nurturing, I started to voice it but just saying ‘feel good about myself’ brought up all sorts of emotion and tears and I knew we had hit the core.\u00a0 <\/span>Phyllis made me sit up and face her, and I said ‘you mean its all right to feel good about myself?’ and she said yes, and I asked the group and they said yes, and then I asked them if it had been OK with them the first night when I had gotten all enthusiastic about journal keeping and they said things like ‘it inspired me’ and ‘im glad you wanted to share it with us’ and I burst into tears and said ‘you mean it wasn’t bragging?’\u00a0 <\/span>Phyllis said ‘how do you feel now?’ and i said ‘like a little bird that has just broken its shell and is looking around.’\u00a0 <\/span>In some ways a very childish scene on a very childish level, but the very strength of my emotions convinced me of the damning reality of my belief that it was wrong to feel good about myself.\u00a0 <\/span>Now I see the source of my difficulties in trying to feel good about myself, even though I’ve been struggling to do so for the last year and a half, believing that this was the only way to begin to be loving and outgoing to other people.<\/p><\/blockquote>\nNote: the lack of capitals and punctuation is exactly as written.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Reading through my old journals I come across stories like this one. \u00a0So painful, so sad. \u00a0At the time I couldn’t see that this was something I learned from how my mother treated me. I also, of course, thought that … Continue reading