It's been a long while since I've been inside my own library. Rather like the cobbler who walks around with holes in his shoes.
It's interesting how we choose careers based on our own needs. The medical profession is famous for this. Always looking to fix others. I'm reminded of our professor of psychiatry who had a special handkerchief for opening doors. I entered the field of nursing through a back door. Fear of blood, accidents and death. The automobile accident that killed my father. My early child negatively impressed with the image of the "jaws of life" that extricated him from the car. Big bear teeth compressed on my daddy's body.
I've always been impressed with pain and death. Pain, both physical and emotional. The fear drawing me closer, while the child wanting to run, hide and just peak from around the corner. A sick enjoyment of feeling frightened, even wanting to vomit. Living life on the edge, an early indication of the addictive tendencies that would shadow my life.
I don't cry about my life. My father's death and all that followed did pave the way for an interesting life and career choices. I know how to enter dark places and learned how to exit them as well. For all of this, I'm grateful. Would it have been better not to have had these experiences? One could argue that, but as an observer of life and it's inherent difficulties, I know that I prefer knowing what my experiences have given me. How many people find themselves in pain, but stay stuck? My career choice is more than obvious.
However, fixing others is not the same as fixing oneself. This is what I want to discuss with my "journal master." I understand my attraction to my career, but I'd like to be able to place myself first without having to think about it. Growing up bathed in guilt and shame, a chambermaid of sorts, it's been difficult for me to make an easy slide from that awareness into placing myself first. Yes, I can do it, but placing "me first" on auto-pilot is still an awkward maneuver and I'd like to change that. My current auto-pilot goes something like this:
"Take care of everyone else first, then you can take care of yourself. If there is no time left, then wait for the next day....or the next....or the one after that, for indeed, it really doesn't matter." One day, when my children were young, I remember looking in the mirror and being shocked at what was reflected back at me. "When did I wash my hair last?"
"Cook what other people like, for their desires are more important. It doesn't really matter what you eat. You like everything anyway." I believe that the early seedlings of my "secret bingeing" are housed in this department. I'd certainly like to place these in some protective box, where I can see them, but they are without power. I still feel their presence on occasion.
"It's OK to purchase things for yourself, but always bring something for the others, for if not, you will appear selfish." Other seedlings live in this place. Purchasing, hiding and then bringing things out "pretending" that they aren't new. Games we play.
Oh...this looks terrible on paper. Me, a therapist, thinking like this? Or...I could also say, "me a mother" thinking like this? Or, "me a wife" thinking like this? Or, "me a friend or colleague" thinking like this?
My "journal master" stands by my side, hand on my shoulder, telling me that "while these truths are uncomfortable, shedding light on them will bring me to a higher balance." It's time to go to the library and make some choices.
Relaxing deeply and going down the spiral staircase is easy for me. I'm energized by my self-work. Taking special time only for myself is something I've always craved. Making the decision to be present daily is already showing it's value in my daily life. I am grateful for the guidance of Spirit. Now realizing that I am spirit, everything becomes easier. Noticing that I carry my two birth books. What I've come to learn and what I've come to teach.
Finding myself already inside my library. On the shelves in front of me are all of the articles, books, patient care plans, family care plans, folders of notes, years of day-timers and every audio program I've ever written or recorded. I'm stunned at the accumulation of accomplishments over the decades. Like most people, tending to forget what's been achieved, only choosing to see what has been left undone....dreams, etc. Realizing that "yes, these were also once dreams, but now they simply sit, unnoticed." I'm asked to give gratitude for all of these things, including the ones that appear partially finished, for these are seeds of pure creativity, ready to teach as well.
So, nothing is really unfinished? Everything is "finished unto itself." Realizing how cruel and hateful I've been to these dimensions of my life. Asking for forgiveness and honoring the creative undertaking.
Scanning the self-hypnotic audio programs. Looking into the written scripts, all reading like new. Remembering writing these, often wondering where the words came from, but now I know. My spiritual self residing in my human body. Of course. No wonder it was so easy to write these, but now comes the question, "if Spirit wrote these and I am Spirit in a human body, then why do I still find myself buried in old issues?"
Everything is "finished unto itself." "Are you telling me that I'm NOT buried in old issues? Then, what are these things that I'm experiencing?" I'm eager to gather information about my disorderly eating and "ego" disruptions. Waiting for the pen to flow the answer onto my paper.
As per the pen, "You are never in the same place. Even if you have been to a place before, it is not the same place. Everything changes. Your issues, environment and even you are in continuous change. Every time you address an issue it is different. Different time, place and individual. Each time you read something you have already learned, researched or written, it comes with a brand new message. Spirit brings what is needed in that moment. All you need to do is to be in a receptive state with a willingness to change."
I'm filled with new excitement about what's on the library shelves. Where to begin...again? "Why not start at the beginning," suggests the pen.
"The beginning of what?"
"The beginning of anything."
