It just came to my mind that I've been "tinkering" for several weeks now. Just playing around with things....in this case emotional things. This is a common behavior, mainly used to avoid pain. Just the thought of having these feelings can be frightening and overwhelming. And yes, the thought is usually worse than the actual experience, but this is a hard sell to the emotional childSelf who will do just about anything to stay in a safe place.
But, deep healing does not happen in this safe place and so I must step out of this place and then into the deeper space, or the depression that is holding me hostage. I know from experience that I will be able to move it from the inside position. For some reason I can't seem to budge it from the outside. It simply won't move. Tinkering isn't working. It needs a massive shove. It's rather like putting up with a smoldering toothache, trying to avoid that trip to the dentist, knowing well that the tooth needs to be pulled out. That's what the depression is like this time. It's been smoldering for many months now. I've tinkered and avoided. Now it's time to open the dreaded door, go deeper down and in.
It's not that I don't know what's down there. There's really nothing very new, but there are times or passages in my life when those dregs become more toxic. The door is cracking open as I write this. I know because I'm tearing and that is a good thing. The worse part of depression is the non-feeling or numbness. Disassociating from the pain. My mind knows the pain is huge and so it protects me through the depression. Holding the pain down....way down...like a thumb pressing hard on a little cut. Trying to stop the bleeding. But emotional pain and blood clotting are not the same. And so, the thumb must be removed, so the pain can flow. Only then will there be relief and a place for healing.
Removing the thumb now....gently, nothing abrupt. There is no need to hurry. Just the action matters, giving permission for the opening to occur. Sensing my breathing changing....each breath longer and more steady, just the opposite of what one would imagine. When the thumb is pressed, the breath lives higher in the chest, obstructing and tightening, but now it opens gently, welcoming the release. Like a pimple pressing against the skin, now open and flowing it's pus.
The stairs are before me, black transmuting into white. Going down deliberately but once again in no big hurry. Enjoying the deepening and the body opening. There is a complete absence of fear, as if it were left outside in the fantasy of it, for all fear is fantasy. My fear of the depression is big, for it was my mother who first introduced it to me when I was an impressionable child. Accepting that my childSelf is always with me, but understanding that I am now the motherSelf, caring for the child in ways that my own mother could not. I look for that child in me, wanting to lead her in the deepening, so in the future she will be more mature, opening areas by herSelf with no angst. I locate her and take her by the hand, again gently...no forcing, just leading. Deeper down now...
Images of addictions from the past step to the side. They have no power on the white steps. Their only power is in the fear that lives outside of the deepening steps. Remembering to remember this, for addictions hold me hostage, especially when my child is weak and vulnerable. This has been so over the last few months.
Images in balloons being lifted up and out. Some I can see, but others go far too quickly for my eyes. I sense them slightly, but prefer to let them go. Focusing only slows them down and that is not why I'm here. Remembering the pimple and the flowing pus. There is no need to over-examine the pus for pus is simply pus.
I'm in a deep place now, completely detached from my mind and body, for they are only conveyers or containments for my spiritual Self. This is the place where re-connecting happens. Noticing the plug has been pulled completely. Placing the plug into my Source. The depression sitting like a sad, empty sac by it's side, having no power. I approach the sac, gently folding it up and placing it on the shelf with it's other remnants from the past, reminders of my growth through the years. Honoring what they have taught me, but knowing they are not in charge. Touching them with light. Realizing that I have the power of the light when connected to my Source. My own inner healer released to travel forward with me through my life journey. Reminding me to stay in touch frequently, for it is easy to get lost in life and forget one's origins. Yes....for "I am."
Slowly opening my eyes and re-acclimating to the room. Pen dangling from my fingers, an extension of who I am. A gift from my Source.
