Hello you (yes you!) :) How's it going? I feel like I've not really been present here lately, though I have of course. When things get stirred up and haven't yet settled in my mind and heart I normally retreat from the world but I've been challenging myself recently. So in a way, I've been here but not completely. I've been living stuff that didn't have words so I wrote about the things that did.
Before Christmas I had two extraordinary acupuncture treatments that turned me upside down like one of those snow globes, and for a while I couldn't see and I was so afraid, and it felt like I had finally broken down. The thing is, I've for as long as I can remember wanted to break down. I was one of those kids who grow up a bit too fast I think, take on too much too soon. My parents loved me, I was the apple of my mum's eye, her quiet little helper. And I was ever so happy to do it, I took care of my younger brother when the second brother took all my mum's time, helped in any way I could. Including becoming invisible.
I can't remember crying, running to my parents with feelings too big to handle, complaining about being abandoned at daycare though I hated it or allowing myself to be weak or small. My favourite response to most things was and still is: I know. I've got it under control, leave me alone, I can do this! Inside I was getting tired though. I had no stable ground in me, no safe place to run back to when the world was overwhelming, which was most of time. Terrified of being alone with the fear, terrified of surrendering to someone else. I had never learnt how to be a 'mum' to myself, only to other people. Soldiering on stubbornly, angrily realising that I had missed out on something and I couldn't really blame anyone. Circumstances came about as they do and I chose to do what I did.
I wanted to break down, be helpless, for someone to scoop me up - you've done enough. But I couldn't. In the meantime I refused to give myself what I needed, slipping down the martyr route, waiting for life to become fair. The anger was so strong, holding me together, refusing to abandon that little girl who couldn't cry. My life couldn't be reconciled, torn in two.
The treatment I had is used for letting go, letting go of whatever it is that possesses you, devours you. I had come to a place where I was ready to let go, but I couldn't. I still don't know if I've completely let go, but I do know that there is a voice in my head that wasn't there before. When I throw my hands up in the air and want to crawl back to the only safe places I know, the places that ultimately hurt and steal your time, she comforts me. I broke down, on the inside, in the quietest little heap, but I broke down enough for that little girl to feel supported. She can deal with all the little things that used to be overwhelming now. And when we can't deal with it, we take it one small step at a time. There's a hand to hold and a voice to say, it's ok, honey. you're doing fine.
Be helpless, dumbfounded
Unable to say yes or no.
Then a stretcher will come from grace
to gather us up.
We are too dull-eyed to see that beauty.
If we say we can, we're lying.
If we say No, we don't see it,
that No will behead us
And shut tight our window onto spirit.
So let us rather not be sure of anything,
Beside ourselves, and only that, so
Miraculous beings come running to help.
Crazed, lying in a zero circle, mute,
We shall be saying finally,
With tremendous eloquence, Lead us.
When we have totally surrendered to that beauty,
We shall be a mighty kindness.
Zero Circle, Rumi
I'm so glad you liked my doors. It was part of my therapy to draw the imagery I had been asked to create in our session as homework, so this drawing is from then. That's what came up when I was asked to see three doors so they are part of my reality, not part of the exercise. I didn't make that clear, so really, your doors might not look anything like it! For me of course I was drawn to the little blue one on the left, I thought this is my future. And it was.
The beauty of that therapy was that it lasts though, and those doors keep taking on different meanings. I still don't know what it all meant. I love the rainforest and for a long time abhorred the dead parking lot and meaningless crowd in the kitchen. But maybe those doors were just as important? Maybe I just needed to make them mine? I wanted to take down that wooden door heavy with obligation, respectability and rules and make that empty space a peaceful haven to retreat into. A safe place with only myself, the silence and possibility to cradle me.
The kitchen had always both terrified me and enthralled me - I couldn't stand being with people and I couldn't stand not being with them. That place is still hectic and a scary place, but it's far more colourful and that shabby white door is really quite beautiful now. I've realised I'm welcome there as far as everybody else is concerned but the panic lies in me, I can only stay for as long as that little girl is comfortable. And that's ok. :)
Thank you for understanding and sharing your stories. It makes me so grateful to know you are out there, wonderful people creating your lives, making them yours. Wishing you clarity and colourful paths.