In the middle of the difficult emotional work I've been doing, I stopped to write a novel. This is very odd, because I don't write fiction. All of my work has always been non-fiction.
"Oh really"...goodness, my Journal Master is alive and well, not letting me get past one sentence before jumping on my page. My question to my Journal Master, "What's the matter, did you miss me?"
She replies, "I find it odd that you believe your work is all non-fiction, for your live is one big fictional tale." I feel like I've been stung by a bee. I never thought of my life as a piece of fiction. I find that rather insulting. I see myself as an honest person, and never would make up stories about what happened to me or my life experiences.
"Everything is a story, for everything has already past and is a remembrance, not a reality. You remember the parts you want to remember. The other parts are forgotten. You only see or feel things from your point of view, and not from the point of view of others, so this is your story. You tell it with the emphasis on the parts where you want to shine the light. If other people on the stage were given the light controls, they would shine it on something else. You tell your story so you are always right, never wrong, and even if you are willing to admit to something, you provide excuses, so no one, not even you, will feel poorly. Avoiding guilt at all costs. But do know, it doesn't really matter because everything that is past is fiction."
I answer. So, whenever I'm telling or even thinking of something that has already finished, in other words something from the past, even if it was remembering this mornings breakfast, are you telling me that this is fiction?
"Yes, it's not real. It's just a story and it's a story from your point of view. That doesn't make it bad, but it's very important that you come to understand this concept, because if you don't get it, then you will be bound up in your fiction, just like book pages are stuck in their binding."
Well, now I feel like defending books. What's wrong with pages being stuck in their bindings.?
My Journal Master gets cryptic on me. "The last time you looked in the mirror, did you see a human being or a book? I think you already know the answer to this. You're just defending an indefensible point of view. Time to get on to what's really important here. We don't have all day."
You may think I know the point of this whole conversation, but I really don't. My mind is loaded with thoughts, like the traffic in Times Square.
"Be still. Empty mind."
I follow the instructions and go to meditate for a bit. It's true. I'm feeling argumentative. I'm quite wound up from writing my short novel. The main character was a bit autobiographical, not in the story-line, but in her substance. Her husband arranged for her to be murdered. She has to come to terms with loving a man who was capable of wanting her dead. She's an investigative journalist, yet she couldn't see what was really going on in her own life. She was blinded by what she wanted to see and feel. Relax...let go. Breathe.
I come out on the other side. My character waves good-bye. She's delivered useful messages to me, but now I must go forward and use them to benefit myself. To be honest, I never thought that writing fiction could be self-therapeutic.
I now understand that I've been living most of my days in a fictional world. I've actually encouraged my child-selves to stay locked in the library of my mind, only reading past events from their point of view. Not only have I not corrected them, but I haven't explained to them why this isn't a good idea. Everything I've focused on, I've made bigger. So, I've been unfair to the memory of my mother, but living in guilt is not the way out of the library. Yes, I was brought up in a guilt-loaded environment, but now as an adult, I hold the key to the fresh air. I no longer need to breathe in what's unhealthy for me. I'm being given an affirmation now. I have no idea who gave it to me as I'm deep in meditation.
"Guilt is just a word that you can erase at any time." The eraser appears in my hand. I'll take it back with me.
My protagonist has appeared again. "I have things to tell you. Thanks for bringing me to life."
Tuesday, November 16, 2010
Friday, November 05, 2010
Little Girl Lost - Sorting Out Mother
As I continue my journaling, thoughts arise in my conscious mind. These are different from my every day thoughts. My dream states are also changing. The other night I dreamt of my mother. She was in a nursing home. Outside the home I had placed several valentine or "I love you" messages. She also appeared in several other dreams, either in person or in the dream theme. What's interesting is that my mother didn't speak in any of the dreams. She was simply a part of the storyline. I'm smiling as I write this. "Why would she speak in my dreams when she spoke so little when she was alive?"
My mother's game was to keep me guessing about what she was thinking or planned to do. When I was a child this caused me great anxiety. I became a policeman of sorts, always studying her facial expressions and other body language. I lived on "high alert." I'm sure this was a part of my anxiety symptoms, most of which were physical. I also learned not to speak out, especially if I had an opinion about something. "Who doesn't have an opinion?" My mouth and tongue were cemented shut.
As I matured, my fears were realized. There was no disagreeing with my mother. Life remained pleasant, almost fun....as long as there were no deep discussions, especially with a differing opinion. The rules of the game were clear. In my adult years my anger grew during visits home. It's odd for me to observe my memories. Each visit followed the same pattern. First, I couldn't wait to see her. ( my child? ) I could feel the trembling of excitement. The first day of the visit would go without a hitch, but then things would deteriorate on Day 2. My anxiety would kick in, along with my anger. As I repressed all of this, Day 3 had me jumping out of my pants. I would start counting the hours until we left for the airport.
I became free of my mother, or so I thought, two years before her death. I actively disagreed with her and all hell broke loose, not only with her, but with all of my repression. I remember it feeling like a floodgate had opened and someone else was in charge of the faucet. That person did not want to turn it off. It was not a good moment....or was it?
As I view my early children, the ones in the cemetery, it's obvious that problems still exist in their relationship with my mother. I thought these were tempered when the floodgates opened. These still seem to be buried deeply in my subconscious mind. I'm not even sure if I remember all of them, for each day in the lives of each child there was both physical and psychological pain. Clues are most likely in their memory boxes. There are certainly things I remember consciously, but for some reason even those still hinder the cemetery children.
My journal master steps forward. "Just remembering something doesn't heal it."
"Well then, what's to be done about these things? How can I heal the chronic depression IF the exposure or freeing of the memories doesn't help?"
I'm told that the children must come face to face with the mother and speak out. They will not go alone, but with me. They will be safe. After that, they will need to forgive her.
"Each child?" I'm not even sure how many of them there are.
"I suggest you invite a child from each five year period to represent that group. If more than one want to come forward, then that is fine. Sometimes there are children who have experienced things that were very toxic and they need a special hearing. You might have noticed that there were not many teens at the cemetery. Did you question why that was?"
Yes, I did notice that. When I thought about those years I came to the conclusion that during my teen years I was busy with other things. Perhaps I repressed memories or desire to know my father deeper down.
"Perhaps you need to meet with your teen-selves. Remember, these were the years when they were developing relationships with boys. Did you consider that they had no role-model?"
"Yes, but I'll leave that for another day. There is much to do here and I'm feeling over-whelmed."
"Are you sure that you are not just looking to escape?"
Ohhhh....that hit home!
My mother's game was to keep me guessing about what she was thinking or planned to do. When I was a child this caused me great anxiety. I became a policeman of sorts, always studying her facial expressions and other body language. I lived on "high alert." I'm sure this was a part of my anxiety symptoms, most of which were physical. I also learned not to speak out, especially if I had an opinion about something. "Who doesn't have an opinion?" My mouth and tongue were cemented shut.
As I matured, my fears were realized. There was no disagreeing with my mother. Life remained pleasant, almost fun....as long as there were no deep discussions, especially with a differing opinion. The rules of the game were clear. In my adult years my anger grew during visits home. It's odd for me to observe my memories. Each visit followed the same pattern. First, I couldn't wait to see her. ( my child? ) I could feel the trembling of excitement. The first day of the visit would go without a hitch, but then things would deteriorate on Day 2. My anxiety would kick in, along with my anger. As I repressed all of this, Day 3 had me jumping out of my pants. I would start counting the hours until we left for the airport.
I became free of my mother, or so I thought, two years before her death. I actively disagreed with her and all hell broke loose, not only with her, but with all of my repression. I remember it feeling like a floodgate had opened and someone else was in charge of the faucet. That person did not want to turn it off. It was not a good moment....or was it?
As I view my early children, the ones in the cemetery, it's obvious that problems still exist in their relationship with my mother. I thought these were tempered when the floodgates opened. These still seem to be buried deeply in my subconscious mind. I'm not even sure if I remember all of them, for each day in the lives of each child there was both physical and psychological pain. Clues are most likely in their memory boxes. There are certainly things I remember consciously, but for some reason even those still hinder the cemetery children.
My journal master steps forward. "Just remembering something doesn't heal it."
"Well then, what's to be done about these things? How can I heal the chronic depression IF the exposure or freeing of the memories doesn't help?"
I'm told that the children must come face to face with the mother and speak out. They will not go alone, but with me. They will be safe. After that, they will need to forgive her.
"Each child?" I'm not even sure how many of them there are.
"I suggest you invite a child from each five year period to represent that group. If more than one want to come forward, then that is fine. Sometimes there are children who have experienced things that were very toxic and they need a special hearing. You might have noticed that there were not many teens at the cemetery. Did you question why that was?"
Yes, I did notice that. When I thought about those years I came to the conclusion that during my teen years I was busy with other things. Perhaps I repressed memories or desire to know my father deeper down.
"Perhaps you need to meet with your teen-selves. Remember, these were the years when they were developing relationships with boys. Did you consider that they had no role-model?"
"Yes, but I'll leave that for another day. There is much to do here and I'm feeling over-whelmed."
"Are you sure that you are not just looking to escape?"
Ohhhh....that hit home!
Monday, November 01, 2010
Little Girl Lost
I never thought I could be friends with my depression...
I'm learning not to back away from it, for I now understand that there is nothing to fear. Just the opposite. There is much to gain. I now know my depressive experiences hold major keys to both my mental and physical health. I'm showing the willingness to go below the surface. There are so many opportunities, each one separate from the other. That's a problem with labeling. We tend to believe it is one thing, when it really is more like a plate of spaghetti, each strand unto itself.
Yesterday I met up with my very young Self, taking her back into my heart. It was painful to see such a young child already detached and cowling. As we walk further along this path, the children present themselves. The ones younger than three, tend to be rather pensive. Some are sitting in a small rocking chair, but not responding to their surroundings, as if they're in a daydream. These children are congratulated for their silence, for this is what those in charge want. "My aunt told me that I'm able to sit and rock for hours without interrupting anyone. It's bad to bother others."
Elizabeth is busy learning how to be a good girl. She likes being "congratulated"...she interprets this as love. Of course, it is not.
The child learns that interrupting brings it's punishments and so this must be avoided at all costs. She's taken up nail biting and picking as a stress-releaser. It's easier to remain still when biting and picking. No one seems to care that she is engaged in a self-destructive act. Of course, this is just the beginning of her self-destruction. I know that. However, this is the first time I've connected these dots to my chronic depression.
I'm wondering, "Should I stop the child from doing this? If so, what would be the best way. I don't want to inflict further pain."
Journal Master..."This is how the child releases, and so it will be of greater value if she has less need to release. Let's go into this particular area and help the child to be free of whatever is bothering her. Perhaps she will tell you."
I must admit that I'm a bit nervous about approaching this part of me. Yes, she is quite young, but I feel her unhappy energy and it is very strong. Getting closer to her. How did she become so unhappy? I don't remember any abuse...
I'm told to introduce myself. Of course, how would she know who I am. As I approach her, she comes towards me, so I'm thinking that this is a good thing. She's not shy, just very sad. Noticing tear stains on her face. Her nails are well bitten. The ends of her fingers deformed from the constant picking. I take her little hands in mine, stroking them gently. Delivering love and concern. Despite being little, she seems to understand that I'm not here to criticize or punish her in any way. I find myself tracing the outlines of her little fingers, one after the other. I tell her that her fingers have names... I don't know where that idea came from, but it certainly has her attention.
"What are their names?"
10-9-8-7-6 on this hand. 5-4-3-2-1 on this hand.
"The names are silly. Do I have to call them by their names?"
No, but I'm sure you would like to take care of them, just as you take care of your dolls. I noticed that she has many dolls. I was going to say, "you would like to take care of them, just as your Mommy takes care of you", but those words didn't seem appropriate.
Why is that?
Of course. The Mother is a big issue for the little girl. She loves her, but the mother is distant and troubled with depression. Something rises inside of me. I recognize it as pure rage. Rage at the Mother for abandoning this very young child. The child is lost, and no one comes to find her. She is told to sit in the chair, rock and bother no one. The child is abandoned and lost, even though the adults are present. They know nothing of what is inside this little girl, things that can't get out and so the little girl must keep them hidden.
I hear my adult voice speaking to the child. "I want you to come and sit by me whenever you would like to do that. I'm always here for you. I'll help you to take care of your fingers, and then they won't hurt.
"They don't hurt."
Oh my. I look at the fingers again, swollen and infected. The child is so disassociated from them that she doesn't recognize the pain. To do so, would limit her only way to care for herself, for that is what the biting and picking is all about. She is caring for her pain.
I thank my depressed self for bringing me here. I know that this is where my eating issues begin and so, this is where they will begin to end.
I'm learning not to back away from it, for I now understand that there is nothing to fear. Just the opposite. There is much to gain. I now know my depressive experiences hold major keys to both my mental and physical health. I'm showing the willingness to go below the surface. There are so many opportunities, each one separate from the other. That's a problem with labeling. We tend to believe it is one thing, when it really is more like a plate of spaghetti, each strand unto itself.
Yesterday I met up with my very young Self, taking her back into my heart. It was painful to see such a young child already detached and cowling. As we walk further along this path, the children present themselves. The ones younger than three, tend to be rather pensive. Some are sitting in a small rocking chair, but not responding to their surroundings, as if they're in a daydream. These children are congratulated for their silence, for this is what those in charge want. "My aunt told me that I'm able to sit and rock for hours without interrupting anyone. It's bad to bother others."
Elizabeth is busy learning how to be a good girl. She likes being "congratulated"...she interprets this as love. Of course, it is not.
The child learns that interrupting brings it's punishments and so this must be avoided at all costs. She's taken up nail biting and picking as a stress-releaser. It's easier to remain still when biting and picking. No one seems to care that she is engaged in a self-destructive act. Of course, this is just the beginning of her self-destruction. I know that. However, this is the first time I've connected these dots to my chronic depression.
I'm wondering, "Should I stop the child from doing this? If so, what would be the best way. I don't want to inflict further pain."
Journal Master..."This is how the child releases, and so it will be of greater value if she has less need to release. Let's go into this particular area and help the child to be free of whatever is bothering her. Perhaps she will tell you."
I must admit that I'm a bit nervous about approaching this part of me. Yes, she is quite young, but I feel her unhappy energy and it is very strong. Getting closer to her. How did she become so unhappy? I don't remember any abuse...
I'm told to introduce myself. Of course, how would she know who I am. As I approach her, she comes towards me, so I'm thinking that this is a good thing. She's not shy, just very sad. Noticing tear stains on her face. Her nails are well bitten. The ends of her fingers deformed from the constant picking. I take her little hands in mine, stroking them gently. Delivering love and concern. Despite being little, she seems to understand that I'm not here to criticize or punish her in any way. I find myself tracing the outlines of her little fingers, one after the other. I tell her that her fingers have names... I don't know where that idea came from, but it certainly has her attention.
"What are their names?"
10-9-8-7-6 on this hand. 5-4-3-2-1 on this hand.
"The names are silly. Do I have to call them by their names?"
No, but I'm sure you would like to take care of them, just as you take care of your dolls. I noticed that she has many dolls. I was going to say, "you would like to take care of them, just as your Mommy takes care of you", but those words didn't seem appropriate.
Why is that?
Of course. The Mother is a big issue for the little girl. She loves her, but the mother is distant and troubled with depression. Something rises inside of me. I recognize it as pure rage. Rage at the Mother for abandoning this very young child. The child is lost, and no one comes to find her. She is told to sit in the chair, rock and bother no one. The child is abandoned and lost, even though the adults are present. They know nothing of what is inside this little girl, things that can't get out and so the little girl must keep them hidden.
I hear my adult voice speaking to the child. "I want you to come and sit by me whenever you would like to do that. I'm always here for you. I'll help you to take care of your fingers, and then they won't hurt.
"They don't hurt."
Oh my. I look at the fingers again, swollen and infected. The child is so disassociated from them that she doesn't recognize the pain. To do so, would limit her only way to care for herself, for that is what the biting and picking is all about. She is caring for her pain.
I thank my depressed self for bringing me here. I know that this is where my eating issues begin and so, this is where they will begin to end.
Saturday, October 30, 2010
Depression....my Friend?
"Make friends with your enemies and they will introduce you to yourself through a different set of eyeglasses."
I know this as truth. My darkest life experiences have been my most extraordinary teachers, but for some reason I've not approached my chronic depression in this way. No, that's not true. I've approached the experiences, but not the actual depressive emotion. I've never thought of them as two separate entities, but I can now understand that they are different.
It would be helpful to know what my "depressive self" knows, because heightened awareness or waking up is key to a higher level of recovery. I'm tired of just dealing with the depression when it surfaces. I never really know when that is going to happen, nor how long it's going to hang out. Usually it's at a very inconvenient time, not that there would be a good time for depression.
So, how do I make friends with it and what can it show me?
My Journal Master is not answering. Sometimes answers come immediately, even before my question is fully formulated and other times, it takes awhile. This used to confuse me, leaving me with the impression that the subconscious mind either didn't hear me or didn't want to reply or was making up some garbage to appease me. Experience taught me that none of this is true. I'm not sure why there is a delay, but I'm now confident that when a question is asked, the answer will be forthcoming. If there is a delay, I'm encouraged to spend more quiet or still time, giving space for the answer to birth itself. I'll do that now.
"You have to be ready and to have an accepting space for important information."
Oh...thank you.
So, after hearing that, I've decided to move away from my Journal and sit "for a spell" in my favorite meditation chair. Certain places or pieces of furniture can act as catalysts for relaxing deeply... entering the creative/healing space. At the very same time I'm making an "accepting space" for the new information. It feels so good down here. I can certainly understand when patients tell me that they want to stay in this area of the mindbody. Unfortunately or fortunately, we have to return to the reality of our day, for this is where we get to work with the new information.
It's interesting to observe the time element in hypnosis, for indeed there is no such thing as time. It simply doesn't exist. On the earth plane, I'm used to things either happening quickly or slowly, but hypnotically it can happen it a fraction of a second, or whatever that is, for there is no such thing as time. Everything is already in it's completed state and all that has to happen is to request it, have the cleared space and it is there. Bang!
I do want to meet my depressed Self. Part of me feels responsible for having created Her, another part of me wants to set Her free, but yet another part of me wants to know what She knows. I'm hardly finished "thinking" this when She appears, looking nothing like I thought she'd look like. Truly, I expected a Self with a low-hanging head, perhaps a pocket full of used tissues, OR an angry Self, ready to take me on. She is none of those.
She smiles, extending Her hand, welcoming me to Her world. There is no labeling of depression, just an original Self with clear experience and Knowledge. She is serious and worldly, perhaps someone I'd actually want to hang out with. I'm attracted to her. Yes, truth be know, I'm attracted to my Depressive Self. Why is this?
"There is a part of you that is very deep and introspective. There are parts of life that are difficult, sad and complex. The emotions that hang out in these regions are not pleasant, but they are real. If you look around your world, you don't have to look far to find them. The world can be seen as a "crying game". It's addictive and can feel familiar and comfortable, being very uncomfortable. It's like being tired, but falling into a comfortable sleep on a bed of thorns."
My depressed Self wants to walk my past path with me. It already knows that I want to find out about my eating issues....the addictions, compulsions, secret eating and great sadness. I want to know why I have such fights in this area of my life. What's underneath all of this? Will I ever be free? Can this part of me help?
We walk back further than I thought. It's strange to be in this area. I'm very young...sitting in my high chair in the kitchen. I'm distracted by my desire to sob. I have no idea why this is happening to me.
"The child is very sensitive. She reads the energy of the mother who is displeased with many things. The child doesn't know how to discern, but as she reads the energy, she replicates it inside of herSelf. She is not a happy child, but is frightened to express it, for she is fearful. If you have ever seen a puppy who cowls down in the presence of someone, you can imagine the feelings inside the very young child. She has already learned to detach herself. She slips inside the imaginary hood of a monk. Look at her. Can you see it?"
This image is very uncomfortable for me. I've lived inside the "monk's hood" for most of my life, wanting to be invisible, but also wanting someone to rescue me. This is a seminal image for my depression and I'm grateful for being brought to the image.
"Yes, I am your depressed Self, but I am willing to open the door for you. This is only one door. I was actually formed as a self-protection for you. I'm not the enemy, but your long-time protector. I'm happy to retire....it's been a long time coming. First change your energy. You must go to the baby and other images I provide to you with an energy of relaxed, but assertive power. Your energy is transferred to the images, for this is how you heal. Ready? Go now into this image, very gently move the monk's hood back from the baby, for she is a baby. Sense your energy as it moves from you to the baby. Pick her up. Always gently, but with no trepidation, for you are the Master. Hold her to your heart. Press her inward....more....more....until she is absorbed. Now, turn away from the image, for there is nothing more to do here. Come back out of the scene....I'm waiting for you. We have many places to visit."
I thank you dear friend. I am grateful for you.
I know this as truth. My darkest life experiences have been my most extraordinary teachers, but for some reason I've not approached my chronic depression in this way. No, that's not true. I've approached the experiences, but not the actual depressive emotion. I've never thought of them as two separate entities, but I can now understand that they are different.
It would be helpful to know what my "depressive self" knows, because heightened awareness or waking up is key to a higher level of recovery. I'm tired of just dealing with the depression when it surfaces. I never really know when that is going to happen, nor how long it's going to hang out. Usually it's at a very inconvenient time, not that there would be a good time for depression.
So, how do I make friends with it and what can it show me?
My Journal Master is not answering. Sometimes answers come immediately, even before my question is fully formulated and other times, it takes awhile. This used to confuse me, leaving me with the impression that the subconscious mind either didn't hear me or didn't want to reply or was making up some garbage to appease me. Experience taught me that none of this is true. I'm not sure why there is a delay, but I'm now confident that when a question is asked, the answer will be forthcoming. If there is a delay, I'm encouraged to spend more quiet or still time, giving space for the answer to birth itself. I'll do that now.
"You have to be ready and to have an accepting space for important information."
Oh...thank you.
So, after hearing that, I've decided to move away from my Journal and sit "for a spell" in my favorite meditation chair. Certain places or pieces of furniture can act as catalysts for relaxing deeply... entering the creative/healing space. At the very same time I'm making an "accepting space" for the new information. It feels so good down here. I can certainly understand when patients tell me that they want to stay in this area of the mindbody. Unfortunately or fortunately, we have to return to the reality of our day, for this is where we get to work with the new information.
It's interesting to observe the time element in hypnosis, for indeed there is no such thing as time. It simply doesn't exist. On the earth plane, I'm used to things either happening quickly or slowly, but hypnotically it can happen it a fraction of a second, or whatever that is, for there is no such thing as time. Everything is already in it's completed state and all that has to happen is to request it, have the cleared space and it is there. Bang!
I do want to meet my depressed Self. Part of me feels responsible for having created Her, another part of me wants to set Her free, but yet another part of me wants to know what She knows. I'm hardly finished "thinking" this when She appears, looking nothing like I thought she'd look like. Truly, I expected a Self with a low-hanging head, perhaps a pocket full of used tissues, OR an angry Self, ready to take me on. She is none of those.
She smiles, extending Her hand, welcoming me to Her world. There is no labeling of depression, just an original Self with clear experience and Knowledge. She is serious and worldly, perhaps someone I'd actually want to hang out with. I'm attracted to her. Yes, truth be know, I'm attracted to my Depressive Self. Why is this?
"There is a part of you that is very deep and introspective. There are parts of life that are difficult, sad and complex. The emotions that hang out in these regions are not pleasant, but they are real. If you look around your world, you don't have to look far to find them. The world can be seen as a "crying game". It's addictive and can feel familiar and comfortable, being very uncomfortable. It's like being tired, but falling into a comfortable sleep on a bed of thorns."
My depressed Self wants to walk my past path with me. It already knows that I want to find out about my eating issues....the addictions, compulsions, secret eating and great sadness. I want to know why I have such fights in this area of my life. What's underneath all of this? Will I ever be free? Can this part of me help?
We walk back further than I thought. It's strange to be in this area. I'm very young...sitting in my high chair in the kitchen. I'm distracted by my desire to sob. I have no idea why this is happening to me.
"The child is very sensitive. She reads the energy of the mother who is displeased with many things. The child doesn't know how to discern, but as she reads the energy, she replicates it inside of herSelf. She is not a happy child, but is frightened to express it, for she is fearful. If you have ever seen a puppy who cowls down in the presence of someone, you can imagine the feelings inside the very young child. She has already learned to detach herself. She slips inside the imaginary hood of a monk. Look at her. Can you see it?"
This image is very uncomfortable for me. I've lived inside the "monk's hood" for most of my life, wanting to be invisible, but also wanting someone to rescue me. This is a seminal image for my depression and I'm grateful for being brought to the image.
"Yes, I am your depressed Self, but I am willing to open the door for you. This is only one door. I was actually formed as a self-protection for you. I'm not the enemy, but your long-time protector. I'm happy to retire....it's been a long time coming. First change your energy. You must go to the baby and other images I provide to you with an energy of relaxed, but assertive power. Your energy is transferred to the images, for this is how you heal. Ready? Go now into this image, very gently move the monk's hood back from the baby, for she is a baby. Sense your energy as it moves from you to the baby. Pick her up. Always gently, but with no trepidation, for you are the Master. Hold her to your heart. Press her inward....more....more....until she is absorbed. Now, turn away from the image, for there is nothing more to do here. Come back out of the scene....I'm waiting for you. We have many places to visit."
I thank you dear friend. I am grateful for you.
Tuesday, October 26, 2010
The Forgiveness Exercise
My Journal Master is ready to take me through the "forgiveness" exercise. Only this time, it's for the purpose of a full release. I'm a bit unsettled about this...
Leaving chronic depression seems next to impossible. I've left other "life jail cells" before, but for some reason, low-level depression defines me. I've never considered this a bad thing, and I don't want to see myself in that light. It would mean dishonoring the person who I've been for so many decades.
"You are not your mood."
Oh...usually my Journal Master doesn't jump in so early in my writing. This must be a pivotal moment.
Some "lessons" appear small, but are very big. I do know this lesson, but sometimes despite knowing, I can slip and fall back into old ways. Or, I don't interpret the lesson in the particular area of life. I think this is the case here. I've never really seen my lower level depressive states as anything negative. I've always been somewhat passive, looking inward...always thinking or exploring some other dimension. But, there are times when I'm totally different, liking changing a coat. I notice it, as do others. I'm focused, totally tuned in and fully participating. It's like a light comes on in the room. So, I'm wondering, is the light switch the issue here. Is the light always to be on? Won't the bulb burn out after awhile? Am I really blocking my creativity with my low level depression or this just some side-trip of mine?
"Stop the investigation." Journal Master again.
OK
"Please sit comfortably in your tree-chair, allowing nature to pull you gently down. Sense the power of nature as you go down, feeling gratitude for this moment in time. Take your time with this for there is no need to rush. Take a deep yawn breath through the bottom of your feet, inviting it to travel up through your body, emptying each cell as it passes through. Sense yourself deflating like a balloon at the end of a party."
Noticing people standing in a line over to the right...recognizing some. A chair has found it's way, positioning itself in front of me. Thinking this is for the guests. The first guest comes forward. It is my mother. I'm surprised that I'm so relaxed in her presence. Our relationship, a mixture of extreme love and hate. Instructions come forth. A small pile of hearts appear on my lap. I give her one, telling her that I love her and forgive her for anything she might have done to hurt or offend me during my life. I ask her to forgive me as well.
Nothing major is happening. No big moments, no revelations, absolutely nothing, or so I think. I'm told to continue. My mother leaves and my father appears. The ritual remains the same. Once again, nothing much to report.
Next come my brothers, one by one. Then a representative of my aunts, uncles, cousins. Same ritual. Next in line are my children, one by one. Michael laughs. I'm not surprised, but I keep my composure and continue the ritual. Representatives for my daughter's-in-law, colleagues, friends, and someone representing who ever I left out.
Feeling something now, but can't define it. It's some sort of shift. I look before me, finding my husband. Oh... a difficult moment for me, but the ritual takes over. Noticing black drops exiting my finger tips. I look at my husband and find the same thing happening. Not completely sure what this means, but I'm not looking for meaning. Remember....stop the investigation!
My husband exits, surprising unto itself. Receiving a look from my Journal Master. Guess it will take more time for me to balance that part of my life. So...now?
Yes now.
Myself enters, sitting across from me. This is rather unexpected. Not sure what to do. It's odd looking at myself in this way. "Follow the ritual." Giving myself the last heart on my lap, giving forgiveness and now asking for the same.
I'm rather lightheaded, wondering if I can continue or if I bit off too much. "Stop the investigation and just BE." The "me" leaves and first I feel drained, but then normality returns.
Am I finished?
"No, you are just beginning."
Leaving chronic depression seems next to impossible. I've left other "life jail cells" before, but for some reason, low-level depression defines me. I've never considered this a bad thing, and I don't want to see myself in that light. It would mean dishonoring the person who I've been for so many decades.
"You are not your mood."
Oh...usually my Journal Master doesn't jump in so early in my writing. This must be a pivotal moment.
Some "lessons" appear small, but are very big. I do know this lesson, but sometimes despite knowing, I can slip and fall back into old ways. Or, I don't interpret the lesson in the particular area of life. I think this is the case here. I've never really seen my lower level depressive states as anything negative. I've always been somewhat passive, looking inward...always thinking or exploring some other dimension. But, there are times when I'm totally different, liking changing a coat. I notice it, as do others. I'm focused, totally tuned in and fully participating. It's like a light comes on in the room. So, I'm wondering, is the light switch the issue here. Is the light always to be on? Won't the bulb burn out after awhile? Am I really blocking my creativity with my low level depression or this just some side-trip of mine?
"Stop the investigation." Journal Master again.
OK
"Please sit comfortably in your tree-chair, allowing nature to pull you gently down. Sense the power of nature as you go down, feeling gratitude for this moment in time. Take your time with this for there is no need to rush. Take a deep yawn breath through the bottom of your feet, inviting it to travel up through your body, emptying each cell as it passes through. Sense yourself deflating like a balloon at the end of a party."
Noticing people standing in a line over to the right...recognizing some. A chair has found it's way, positioning itself in front of me. Thinking this is for the guests. The first guest comes forward. It is my mother. I'm surprised that I'm so relaxed in her presence. Our relationship, a mixture of extreme love and hate. Instructions come forth. A small pile of hearts appear on my lap. I give her one, telling her that I love her and forgive her for anything she might have done to hurt or offend me during my life. I ask her to forgive me as well.
Nothing major is happening. No big moments, no revelations, absolutely nothing, or so I think. I'm told to continue. My mother leaves and my father appears. The ritual remains the same. Once again, nothing much to report.
Next come my brothers, one by one. Then a representative of my aunts, uncles, cousins. Same ritual. Next in line are my children, one by one. Michael laughs. I'm not surprised, but I keep my composure and continue the ritual. Representatives for my daughter's-in-law, colleagues, friends, and someone representing who ever I left out.
Feeling something now, but can't define it. It's some sort of shift. I look before me, finding my husband. Oh... a difficult moment for me, but the ritual takes over. Noticing black drops exiting my finger tips. I look at my husband and find the same thing happening. Not completely sure what this means, but I'm not looking for meaning. Remember....stop the investigation!
My husband exits, surprising unto itself. Receiving a look from my Journal Master. Guess it will take more time for me to balance that part of my life. So...now?
Yes now.
Myself enters, sitting across from me. This is rather unexpected. Not sure what to do. It's odd looking at myself in this way. "Follow the ritual." Giving myself the last heart on my lap, giving forgiveness and now asking for the same.
I'm rather lightheaded, wondering if I can continue or if I bit off too much. "Stop the investigation and just BE." The "me" leaves and first I feel drained, but then normality returns.
Am I finished?
"No, you are just beginning."
The Eye-Witness
Since my "forgiveness exercise" I feel like I'm riding bumper cars. For some reason I thought that my life experience would be peaceful and smooth, like living on a heavenly plane, but instead I get this.
"The anger is releasing and it often bumps as it exits. Are you noticing the different varieties that you tend to store. They are quite different from each other."
My Journal Master is already on the end of my pen. This is happening more frequently now. We must be having a closer relationship. In the beginning She was like a date who didn't call back very often, but now I breathe a question to myself, and find the answer before the question is completed. A bit unnerving, but obviously this is part of the process and I do want to disassemble my chronic depression for good. It's like a 5000 piece puzzle, but one I want to do.
I explained my project to someone the other day. "Does this mean that you'll NEVER be angered or depressed again? Goodness, that sounds terrible. What will we talk about? Can we still be friends?!" Remembering the Venus fly-trap metaphor and the "depressed five". Yes, it's all true.
I'm eager to know how my disorderly eating and sugar addiction is connected to my repressed anger. I do know there is a connection to both that and my cuticle picking. Why do I have to wait so long for an answer to this? I'm reminded of a woman who called me yesterday for an appointment to stop smoking. "I want it done quickly. Boom, bang, boom." I remember thinking, "My dear, you are going to have to unravel this, to find and dismantle the crux. That, unfortunately, is not a boom, bang, boom job." And, so it is with me...
"Well now. You are paying attention. Remember that your teachers come from all directions and your lessons are carefully embedded. This time you were awake. Congratulations."
It's true. Usually I would have been totally exasperated with a client like that, but I remember my feelings in that moment were those of compassion and also excitement for her. She is awakening to the need to stop smoking and most likely is frightened by what she knows she is doing and has done to her body. She is on the brink of awareness that will transform the rest of her life. Addiction is not about the substance, but what is underneath....the crux. Yes, some substances are a bit ratty to get out of the body system, but if the crux is opened and cleared, then one can get through the release of toxins. I've seen it thousands of times and have experienced this personally.
So, my disorderly eating is not about the food or drink. It's about the crux. I thought I had cleaned it before, but there are many levels, some going back to infancy. Certain people can trigger the deep responses, even if those people weren't around at the time the crux was infected in some way. I can also trigger them, even though I may have no recollection of what started the crux infection.
The "forgiveness exercise" touched these. Finding people in my life more difficult to forgive or to ask for forgiveness. I'm not surprised at the "big players", but a few of the less connected did awaken me. I'm thinking that they hold the keys because my involvement with them is less, so it should be easier to figure out the puzzle, especially with the help of my Journal Master.
"It's important to do your own work, because the digging builds muscle."
I sense myself in one of my mind gardens. Several emotional children are at work there. Some are helpful, others are not. It's easy to see who is who. Their names are on their tee shirts, helping to specifically define them. It's here I notice the "garden variety of anger", much of it repressed....pushed into the soil of my life. There are special tools for repressing. I'm noticing one "garden variety" called Righteous working with great angst. Reminds me of a funeral burial. So much sadness combined with anger. As She depresses the issue it's clear where "depression" originates. It's all about the pressing, depressing into the soil of my life. I'm reminded that this will fester under the surface for years to come unless it is released.
But releasing is not enough. These depressing activities need to stop if I am to live in a different life environment. Several children are coming up from my "past path." They are pushing wheelbarrows full of things that have dug up from their individual gardens. These things have been depressed. No wonder I've been feeling the bumping.
Overwhelmed. What am I supposed to do with these?
Then, I realize the children are not walking towards me, but instead, towards the light of my Higher Intelligence.
"Everything has power. Everything can be transmuted or changed for the better. There is nothing you have to do, except to witness this. Then, you can start to reorganize your gardens."
Eyewitness.
"The anger is releasing and it often bumps as it exits. Are you noticing the different varieties that you tend to store. They are quite different from each other."
My Journal Master is already on the end of my pen. This is happening more frequently now. We must be having a closer relationship. In the beginning She was like a date who didn't call back very often, but now I breathe a question to myself, and find the answer before the question is completed. A bit unnerving, but obviously this is part of the process and I do want to disassemble my chronic depression for good. It's like a 5000 piece puzzle, but one I want to do.
I explained my project to someone the other day. "Does this mean that you'll NEVER be angered or depressed again? Goodness, that sounds terrible. What will we talk about? Can we still be friends?!" Remembering the Venus fly-trap metaphor and the "depressed five". Yes, it's all true.
I'm eager to know how my disorderly eating and sugar addiction is connected to my repressed anger. I do know there is a connection to both that and my cuticle picking. Why do I have to wait so long for an answer to this? I'm reminded of a woman who called me yesterday for an appointment to stop smoking. "I want it done quickly. Boom, bang, boom." I remember thinking, "My dear, you are going to have to unravel this, to find and dismantle the crux. That, unfortunately, is not a boom, bang, boom job." And, so it is with me...
"Well now. You are paying attention. Remember that your teachers come from all directions and your lessons are carefully embedded. This time you were awake. Congratulations."
It's true. Usually I would have been totally exasperated with a client like that, but I remember my feelings in that moment were those of compassion and also excitement for her. She is awakening to the need to stop smoking and most likely is frightened by what she knows she is doing and has done to her body. She is on the brink of awareness that will transform the rest of her life. Addiction is not about the substance, but what is underneath....the crux. Yes, some substances are a bit ratty to get out of the body system, but if the crux is opened and cleared, then one can get through the release of toxins. I've seen it thousands of times and have experienced this personally.
So, my disorderly eating is not about the food or drink. It's about the crux. I thought I had cleaned it before, but there are many levels, some going back to infancy. Certain people can trigger the deep responses, even if those people weren't around at the time the crux was infected in some way. I can also trigger them, even though I may have no recollection of what started the crux infection.
The "forgiveness exercise" touched these. Finding people in my life more difficult to forgive or to ask for forgiveness. I'm not surprised at the "big players", but a few of the less connected did awaken me. I'm thinking that they hold the keys because my involvement with them is less, so it should be easier to figure out the puzzle, especially with the help of my Journal Master.
"It's important to do your own work, because the digging builds muscle."
I sense myself in one of my mind gardens. Several emotional children are at work there. Some are helpful, others are not. It's easy to see who is who. Their names are on their tee shirts, helping to specifically define them. It's here I notice the "garden variety of anger", much of it repressed....pushed into the soil of my life. There are special tools for repressing. I'm noticing one "garden variety" called Righteous working with great angst. Reminds me of a funeral burial. So much sadness combined with anger. As She depresses the issue it's clear where "depression" originates. It's all about the pressing, depressing into the soil of my life. I'm reminded that this will fester under the surface for years to come unless it is released.
But releasing is not enough. These depressing activities need to stop if I am to live in a different life environment. Several children are coming up from my "past path." They are pushing wheelbarrows full of things that have dug up from their individual gardens. These things have been depressed. No wonder I've been feeling the bumping.
Overwhelmed. What am I supposed to do with these?
Then, I realize the children are not walking towards me, but instead, towards the light of my Higher Intelligence.
"Everything has power. Everything can be transmuted or changed for the better. There is nothing you have to do, except to witness this. Then, you can start to reorganize your gardens."
Eyewitness.
Friday, October 22, 2010
Arguing with Depression is Useless
Arguing with depression is useless. Saying I don't want something just brings more of it. Of course, this is the Law of Attraction and even though I know this, the knowing is not enough. It tends to make me angrier at myself. How can I know something and then not adhere to it? What is wrong with me?
Some would say that medication is the answer, but I don't want to take that road. I've been in and out of depression from childhood. Should I have been on medications all of my life? I don't think so.
I was watching Project Runway last night. It was the semi-finals with a lot on the line for these four designers. Only three of them would get to show their collections at Lincoln Center. The most intense moment had nothing to do with the fashion, but with the reaction of the one designer who was eliminated. When he realized it was him, his head hung low, his body immobile. His intense pain was palpable. When he was finally able to mumble some words, the problem was obvious. He was a failure, not only in designing, but in all his life choices including his sexual preference. "My parents will want me to return home, live with them, give up my dreams and expect me to marry a woman." Goodness...he couldn't see any of his success. Worse, he gave himself and his life choices to his parents.
As I watched Michael, my heart went out to him, but more importantly, my brain literally vibrated. Here was a living example of a depressive low, made intolerable by the attitudes and demands of others. Earlier this week I watched "Prayers for Bobby." Once again, this lesson underlined. I don't believe medications would have changed anything for either Michael or Bobby. These are self-image and esteem issues. Letting go issues. Stopping co-dependency and the need to please. Taking and living your own life.
Will others be hurt? Oh, that question. There are so many ways to answer it, some rougher than others. While hurting is never the goal, sometimes it can't be avoided. Sometimes we have to let go in order to save our own lives. Some "letting go's" are more difficult than others, often leaving depression behind. If one has a depressive personality, these become more burdensome, like quicksand holding you in place. I'm standing in some of that now.
There are no coincidences. My desire to open and look inside my own depression has been Universally supported by what's been placed in my line of vision. We get the lessons we ask for.
Why would anyone ask for the toughest lessons? For the same reason that students want to take the toughest courses in college. They want to excel and achieve at something bigger than themselves. Asking for tough self-development lessons is the same. Giving up smoking, alcohol, over-eating, emotional imbalance, co-dependency, nail biting and the list grows, is a testimonial to the true strength of the Self. It's a "yes I can" moment that continues through the lessons and beyond.
It takes great strength to walk towards that heavy weight, deciding to pick it up and hold it over one's head, but this is the way of healing. Once the decision is made and action is implemented, the lessons proceed on their own. It's that old adage, "be careful what you wish for." My answer to this is, "yes, difficult things are challenging, but what is life without challenges? Are we meant to just hang out in the quicksand?"
I want to write this particular book about emotional eating. I know I've been blocked because of my personal issues with the subject matter and the connected depression. Writing the book means that I have to give up many things. Perhaps this is what I saw in Michael and Bobby. It takes a lot to move away from what you don't want, but there is still a part of you that wants that very thing. For me, that is my eating disorder. I've not been ready to "seal the deal". I've not been ready to walk towards that heavy weight and pick it up. I've not been ready to finally say, "I'm finished with all of this."
But now...I am getting ready by releasing the tight core around me. Finally letting go.
Some would say that medication is the answer, but I don't want to take that road. I've been in and out of depression from childhood. Should I have been on medications all of my life? I don't think so.
I was watching Project Runway last night. It was the semi-finals with a lot on the line for these four designers. Only three of them would get to show their collections at Lincoln Center. The most intense moment had nothing to do with the fashion, but with the reaction of the one designer who was eliminated. When he realized it was him, his head hung low, his body immobile. His intense pain was palpable. When he was finally able to mumble some words, the problem was obvious. He was a failure, not only in designing, but in all his life choices including his sexual preference. "My parents will want me to return home, live with them, give up my dreams and expect me to marry a woman." Goodness...he couldn't see any of his success. Worse, he gave himself and his life choices to his parents.
As I watched Michael, my heart went out to him, but more importantly, my brain literally vibrated. Here was a living example of a depressive low, made intolerable by the attitudes and demands of others. Earlier this week I watched "Prayers for Bobby." Once again, this lesson underlined. I don't believe medications would have changed anything for either Michael or Bobby. These are self-image and esteem issues. Letting go issues. Stopping co-dependency and the need to please. Taking and living your own life.
Will others be hurt? Oh, that question. There are so many ways to answer it, some rougher than others. While hurting is never the goal, sometimes it can't be avoided. Sometimes we have to let go in order to save our own lives. Some "letting go's" are more difficult than others, often leaving depression behind. If one has a depressive personality, these become more burdensome, like quicksand holding you in place. I'm standing in some of that now.
There are no coincidences. My desire to open and look inside my own depression has been Universally supported by what's been placed in my line of vision. We get the lessons we ask for.
Why would anyone ask for the toughest lessons? For the same reason that students want to take the toughest courses in college. They want to excel and achieve at something bigger than themselves. Asking for tough self-development lessons is the same. Giving up smoking, alcohol, over-eating, emotional imbalance, co-dependency, nail biting and the list grows, is a testimonial to the true strength of the Self. It's a "yes I can" moment that continues through the lessons and beyond.
It takes great strength to walk towards that heavy weight, deciding to pick it up and hold it over one's head, but this is the way of healing. Once the decision is made and action is implemented, the lessons proceed on their own. It's that old adage, "be careful what you wish for." My answer to this is, "yes, difficult things are challenging, but what is life without challenges? Are we meant to just hang out in the quicksand?"
I want to write this particular book about emotional eating. I know I've been blocked because of my personal issues with the subject matter and the connected depression. Writing the book means that I have to give up many things. Perhaps this is what I saw in Michael and Bobby. It takes a lot to move away from what you don't want, but there is still a part of you that wants that very thing. For me, that is my eating disorder. I've not been ready to "seal the deal". I've not been ready to walk towards that heavy weight and pick it up. I've not been ready to finally say, "I'm finished with all of this."
But now...I am getting ready by releasing the tight core around me. Finally letting go.
Thursday, October 21, 2010
The Depressive Jail Term
The presence of depression has given me access to a deeper place in mind where my creativity & healing abounds. This doesn't mean that I choose to be depressed, but it is good to know that I can release the depression, no matter the level, and quickly enter my creative place. Depression is not my jail, and I'm not obligated to serve a jail term, no matter who else might like to deliver a count of shame or guilt on my behalf. Forget that...
Good news...The release of negative energy can be very swift, for I believe the body and mind choose to be free of all depressants. The body seeks homeostasis or balance. The mind seeks love. As for the body, I've seen this in the Emergency Room when a patient is admitted following a suspected heart attack, accident or other medical emergency. Stress and accompanying fear can be so overwhelming, but when techniques for emotional release are applied, the patient moves swiftly into the creative healing place. Heart beat slows, blood pressure normalizes, even bleeding stops....just through deep relaxation and release of stress chemicals. Yes, the body knows what to do.
As goes the body, so goes the mind. Exiting the jail, entering the love-containing light. We often call this the quiet or still place, the place of peace and love. Even if we didn't receive love as a child, or in our adult years, we are all capable of love-producing. Love images abound and they are ours to take and internalize. Even small, insignificant images can play out powerfully in our mind-body, changing physical outcomes and leading us into our creative space.
It's good to know that we do not have to depend on others for love deliveries. While it's good to have others who do so in our lives, we can succeed without it. There have been times in my life when this knowledge was extremely useful, changing the tides for me. Sometimes when we go through difficult periods, love deliveries tend to lessen. This is, of course, just the opposite of what it should be, but we might even notice ourselves rejecting love when we need it the most. I know that during some of my most difficult periods all I wanted was to be "left alone." I've seen this in my nursing career, as well as when working with addiction patients or even with students who were struggling. It's common in relationship difficulties, and when in an uphill fight of any kind.
I've been invited to enter one of my creative endeavors. The one I've chosen is one that I've been fighting for a very long time. It involves writing a particular book that has to do with eating disorders and is very personal. It's also one where I want to be left alone, rejecting love and support from others. I simply want to be left alone in my private misery. For some reason I resent the intrusion in this area of pain. It tends to block my ability to think clearly. I ask my Journal Master, "Does this make sense? I would really like to understand this. Perhaps then, I can explain it to those I love and who are offended by my outbursts."
"When creating anything, one needs to be alone in their own creative space. The deeper you go, the easier it is to work with your own subconscious mind. This is not the time or place for socialization. But, this does not mean that others cannot give you love and support, but not in these particular moments. I've observed you with this project and notice that you do not set up your boundaries very well. There are times when others are welcome and times when they are not. There is no need for great explanation, just for boundary setting.
Then there is the issue of the content of your work. This is yours and yours alone, unless others are co-writing with you. You are not obligated to anyone when writing your book. You have always had a tendency towards co-dependence and the need to please. This is where a good part of your rage comes from. Of course, a good percentage of your rage is suppressed and here is the connection to depression. The more you try to work through this project, the more rage you encounter, both from subject matter and from the interference of others who are connected to your eating issues, past and present. It's like experiencing a difficult birth.
So, you know what to do. Own and love your project. It is yours and yours alone. Set up your boundaries, releasing others from your life and work. Walk inside your completed book. Meet up with your "internal writers" who live inside the completed book. They have already written the book and you are the receiver of the "gift." Play amongst the pages, the words engaging you as you heal."
Good news...The release of negative energy can be very swift, for I believe the body and mind choose to be free of all depressants. The body seeks homeostasis or balance. The mind seeks love. As for the body, I've seen this in the Emergency Room when a patient is admitted following a suspected heart attack, accident or other medical emergency. Stress and accompanying fear can be so overwhelming, but when techniques for emotional release are applied, the patient moves swiftly into the creative healing place. Heart beat slows, blood pressure normalizes, even bleeding stops....just through deep relaxation and release of stress chemicals. Yes, the body knows what to do.
As goes the body, so goes the mind. Exiting the jail, entering the love-containing light. We often call this the quiet or still place, the place of peace and love. Even if we didn't receive love as a child, or in our adult years, we are all capable of love-producing. Love images abound and they are ours to take and internalize. Even small, insignificant images can play out powerfully in our mind-body, changing physical outcomes and leading us into our creative space.
It's good to know that we do not have to depend on others for love deliveries. While it's good to have others who do so in our lives, we can succeed without it. There have been times in my life when this knowledge was extremely useful, changing the tides for me. Sometimes when we go through difficult periods, love deliveries tend to lessen. This is, of course, just the opposite of what it should be, but we might even notice ourselves rejecting love when we need it the most. I know that during some of my most difficult periods all I wanted was to be "left alone." I've seen this in my nursing career, as well as when working with addiction patients or even with students who were struggling. It's common in relationship difficulties, and when in an uphill fight of any kind.
I've been invited to enter one of my creative endeavors. The one I've chosen is one that I've been fighting for a very long time. It involves writing a particular book that has to do with eating disorders and is very personal. It's also one where I want to be left alone, rejecting love and support from others. I simply want to be left alone in my private misery. For some reason I resent the intrusion in this area of pain. It tends to block my ability to think clearly. I ask my Journal Master, "Does this make sense? I would really like to understand this. Perhaps then, I can explain it to those I love and who are offended by my outbursts."
"When creating anything, one needs to be alone in their own creative space. The deeper you go, the easier it is to work with your own subconscious mind. This is not the time or place for socialization. But, this does not mean that others cannot give you love and support, but not in these particular moments. I've observed you with this project and notice that you do not set up your boundaries very well. There are times when others are welcome and times when they are not. There is no need for great explanation, just for boundary setting.
Then there is the issue of the content of your work. This is yours and yours alone, unless others are co-writing with you. You are not obligated to anyone when writing your book. You have always had a tendency towards co-dependence and the need to please. This is where a good part of your rage comes from. Of course, a good percentage of your rage is suppressed and here is the connection to depression. The more you try to work through this project, the more rage you encounter, both from subject matter and from the interference of others who are connected to your eating issues, past and present. It's like experiencing a difficult birth.
So, you know what to do. Own and love your project. It is yours and yours alone. Set up your boundaries, releasing others from your life and work. Walk inside your completed book. Meet up with your "internal writers" who live inside the completed book. They have already written the book and you are the receiver of the "gift." Play amongst the pages, the words engaging you as you heal."
Sunday, October 17, 2010
Exiting Depression Hypnotically
A great benefit of working hypnotically is the ability to "time-travel." One doesn't have to be journaling or working with a hypnotherapist to do this. In fact, most of us do it all day long and are quite good at it. We call that "being lost in thought." Sometimes ( most of the time ) we're in the past, but other times we do visit the future. This is called "future pacing."
I'm feeling ready to do some "time-traveling" and that is good news for me. It takes a certain amount of energy to do this, and so....
Been resting in my "creative-healing space" for several days now. The depression and burnout I've been through have been exhausting, necessitating deep rest. Lots of body texting and emotional releasing. My emotional childSelf has been sitting by my side for the past few days. My exhaustion was so great upon arrival that she didn't show herself, so her presence tells me that I'm healing. She's out of hiding.
My automatic journaling has been very useful, opening some things, but mainly giving me a place to settle. One of the issues I experience when going through depression is my inability to focus on anything. Sometimes I'm so detached that it's necessary to write reminder notes to eat and wash my hair. Even then I don't want to move. Completely lost inside myself. Wandering around, but not moving. That's how bad it can be for me. I'm grateful to my journal for helping me through this. In the past, I often just sat waiting for it to finish, or at least to break open, so I could push through. Now doors present themselves with keys already in the locks. This is the joy of automatic journaling.
Feeling energized in the "creative healing space" is different than feeling hurried or pushed in the "circus of the world." It's like the energy here is clean, removed from the pollution of life activities. The "to-do twins" are not here to interfere with their head-spinning chatter and line-up of all the things fighting for my time and energy, polluting it further.
However...even though I'm in a different place, I notice a certain fear arising from the rebirth of energy, for it reminds me of how I got to my burnout-depressive state in the first place. I'm reminded by my Journal Master that this energy is different and so I relax into it. When fearful, I hold back...when relaxed I bend forward, greeting whatever is in front of me. It's rather like skiing...lean back and down you go....right on your head. Lean forward and speed comfortably over the ruts and ice. This time I can recognize the new, clean energy.
I look to the keys already in the locks, one opening by itself, revealing a mystery journey for me. All of these doors are "time-line travel" related. I know I'll either be going back in time or forward into the future, but I won't know until I allow myself to float into the space. Floating offers a wonderful sensation, similar to flying dreams, only with floating one can choose to do it whenever ...
It's easy to prepare to float. The sensation is already known, therefore the mind file is always ready to be activated. I take an entrance breath, bring forth the floating sensation, stepping into it. No need for a seat belt, just lifting off, rising above everything, then finding my desired altitude. Inside the sensation that moves itself with me in it. Having no idea where I'm headed and enjoying that. In conscious life I tend to be an over-planner, and while that can be a good thing, it is also wearing. Deciding to rest in the floating for awhile. Be back to my journal in just a bit.
Back....the floating deepened my trance state allowing me to feel very centered. I've landed in a particular area, not chosen by me or so I believe. Rather like getting on a plane, not knowing your destination, but feeling that you're in the right place. That's where I am now.
Exiting the floating bubble I sense happiness and love all around me. I know these feelings, but they have a foreign twist. I ask my Journal Master about this.
"They seem foreign because you've been away for quite awhile. Depression is like living on a different planet. Life is meant to be a loving place. You design your own environment, no matter what else goes on around you. This is the major lesson of why you are here. This is your purpose. The rest of life's "things" simply entertain your ego, but are also catalysts for attracting love. You haven't been utilizing them in this way. Instead, you have bought the sad, depression package and it's no bargain."
Seeing this in the morning light awakens me. Of course, I already know this, but knowing is not the key to staying in the light. There are things to be done on a moment to moment basis. I breathe in the air in this old, but new environment, understanding that this is always available to me.
I am free to choose.......in each moment!
I'm feeling ready to do some "time-traveling" and that is good news for me. It takes a certain amount of energy to do this, and so....
Been resting in my "creative-healing space" for several days now. The depression and burnout I've been through have been exhausting, necessitating deep rest. Lots of body texting and emotional releasing. My emotional childSelf has been sitting by my side for the past few days. My exhaustion was so great upon arrival that she didn't show herself, so her presence tells me that I'm healing. She's out of hiding.
My automatic journaling has been very useful, opening some things, but mainly giving me a place to settle. One of the issues I experience when going through depression is my inability to focus on anything. Sometimes I'm so detached that it's necessary to write reminder notes to eat and wash my hair. Even then I don't want to move. Completely lost inside myself. Wandering around, but not moving. That's how bad it can be for me. I'm grateful to my journal for helping me through this. In the past, I often just sat waiting for it to finish, or at least to break open, so I could push through. Now doors present themselves with keys already in the locks. This is the joy of automatic journaling.
Feeling energized in the "creative healing space" is different than feeling hurried or pushed in the "circus of the world." It's like the energy here is clean, removed from the pollution of life activities. The "to-do twins" are not here to interfere with their head-spinning chatter and line-up of all the things fighting for my time and energy, polluting it further.
However...even though I'm in a different place, I notice a certain fear arising from the rebirth of energy, for it reminds me of how I got to my burnout-depressive state in the first place. I'm reminded by my Journal Master that this energy is different and so I relax into it. When fearful, I hold back...when relaxed I bend forward, greeting whatever is in front of me. It's rather like skiing...lean back and down you go....right on your head. Lean forward and speed comfortably over the ruts and ice. This time I can recognize the new, clean energy.
I look to the keys already in the locks, one opening by itself, revealing a mystery journey for me. All of these doors are "time-line travel" related. I know I'll either be going back in time or forward into the future, but I won't know until I allow myself to float into the space. Floating offers a wonderful sensation, similar to flying dreams, only with floating one can choose to do it whenever ...
It's easy to prepare to float. The sensation is already known, therefore the mind file is always ready to be activated. I take an entrance breath, bring forth the floating sensation, stepping into it. No need for a seat belt, just lifting off, rising above everything, then finding my desired altitude. Inside the sensation that moves itself with me in it. Having no idea where I'm headed and enjoying that. In conscious life I tend to be an over-planner, and while that can be a good thing, it is also wearing. Deciding to rest in the floating for awhile. Be back to my journal in just a bit.
Back....the floating deepened my trance state allowing me to feel very centered. I've landed in a particular area, not chosen by me or so I believe. Rather like getting on a plane, not knowing your destination, but feeling that you're in the right place. That's where I am now.
Exiting the floating bubble I sense happiness and love all around me. I know these feelings, but they have a foreign twist. I ask my Journal Master about this.
"They seem foreign because you've been away for quite awhile. Depression is like living on a different planet. Life is meant to be a loving place. You design your own environment, no matter what else goes on around you. This is the major lesson of why you are here. This is your purpose. The rest of life's "things" simply entertain your ego, but are also catalysts for attracting love. You haven't been utilizing them in this way. Instead, you have bought the sad, depression package and it's no bargain."
Seeing this in the morning light awakens me. Of course, I already know this, but knowing is not the key to staying in the light. There are things to be done on a moment to moment basis. I breathe in the air in this old, but new environment, understanding that this is always available to me.
I am free to choose.......in each moment!
Tuesday, October 12, 2010
The "No" Word
It's amazing how a two letter word can evoke so much emotion. Why is it that the word "no" cannot live alone, but needs to be accompanied by so much explanation. Then comes the contest....can the "no" stand up to the arguing and scrutiny thrown at it? Perhaps this is why it's easier to say "yes."
I've grown tired of this whole thing. Endless discussions about why I don't want to do something, to the point of exhaustion. I finally decided that my "no" will stand on it's own and from now on forward there will be no further discussion. The "no" will be wear a coat of respect, honoring both myself and the recipient. It will have an air of assertiveness, but free of aggression. No anger, no reproach, simply....."no".
Of course, there's nothing wrong with the explanations of why I've decided on "no", but it's like anything else. When redecorating a room, it's best to remove everything and then start fresh. I find this works well with emotion and direct language. Long explanations can become habitual, almost addictive, seeming to feed the fodder for inviting debate.
It's an interesting experiment to play around with this, not only with other people, but also with one's own mind chatter.
I've decided to do some "automatic hypnotic journaling" on this subject because although it may seem like a small thing, I know that it is not. If I can be comfortable with speaking the "no word", I believe many things will change in my life.
Relaxing into the moment, now deciding to go deeper than before. Wondering "why" the suggestion has come forward to go to this lower level, but learning to trust the "journal master" and internal suggestions is very important. Thinking that I'm deep enough, but being told to go even deeper. Oh....am I going to visit some of the roots of my uncomfortable feelings about expressing myself in this regard?
The answer comes forward as "yes." So, yes and no. Two very important words in my vocabulary that open totally different avenues of adventure and especially respect for myself. I'm learning through intuition that this a crux. Self-respect! Yes, I'm entitled to say "no" and the blocking to this goes very, very deep.
Sensing that I'm almost there now and surprised to find my deceased mother very much alive and waiting for me. I find myself in the body of a young child, about the age of three or four. My adult self is trembling as I continue to write. Why is this so frightening for me?
My mother picks me up, positioning me on her lap and picking up a basket of blocks that I'm asked to hold on my lap. There are letters on the blocks....only the letters N and O. My mother strokes my head gently, pushing my hair back from my eyes, now positioning her hand under my chin, directing my eyes to meet hers.
"I'm sorry."
The child is sobbing, releasing her repressed sadness. "So many "no's" in the basket, many of them painted with harsh colors. This simple word taking on the personality of anger, even hatred, but what does this have to do with the child? Absolutely nothing. The mother is depressed and seeks control of her own life by keeping the child repressed "in her place." The child represents the mother's sadness and despair. The father has died unexpectedly coming home to give the child her birthday present, or so the mother says.
The child learns that the basket of blocks does not belong to her. She is not allowed to say "no." Only the mother can say it. If the child says it, she will be "put in her place." The child learns to be still and not to express her needs or desires because the father died coming home to celebrate her birthday and she is guilty. Three years old and very guilty, never to murmur a "no" because these belong to the mother.
The mother apologizes again to the child, holding her close, but gently this time. This is new for the child, for the mother never held the child in this way before. The mother returns the basket to the child, but the blocks are new and refined with pretty pictures mingling with the letters N and O. The pictures represent what the child wants and needs, for it is her right to speak out, letting these be known.
I return to the light of day finding my husband asking me if I would make some coffee. "No, not now." The words were enough to express my needs in this moment. The husband understands intuitively, smiles and goes towards the coffee pot to make it for himself.
I've grown tired of this whole thing. Endless discussions about why I don't want to do something, to the point of exhaustion. I finally decided that my "no" will stand on it's own and from now on forward there will be no further discussion. The "no" will be wear a coat of respect, honoring both myself and the recipient. It will have an air of assertiveness, but free of aggression. No anger, no reproach, simply....."no".
Of course, there's nothing wrong with the explanations of why I've decided on "no", but it's like anything else. When redecorating a room, it's best to remove everything and then start fresh. I find this works well with emotion and direct language. Long explanations can become habitual, almost addictive, seeming to feed the fodder for inviting debate.
It's an interesting experiment to play around with this, not only with other people, but also with one's own mind chatter.
I've decided to do some "automatic hypnotic journaling" on this subject because although it may seem like a small thing, I know that it is not. If I can be comfortable with speaking the "no word", I believe many things will change in my life.
Relaxing into the moment, now deciding to go deeper than before. Wondering "why" the suggestion has come forward to go to this lower level, but learning to trust the "journal master" and internal suggestions is very important. Thinking that I'm deep enough, but being told to go even deeper. Oh....am I going to visit some of the roots of my uncomfortable feelings about expressing myself in this regard?
The answer comes forward as "yes." So, yes and no. Two very important words in my vocabulary that open totally different avenues of adventure and especially respect for myself. I'm learning through intuition that this a crux. Self-respect! Yes, I'm entitled to say "no" and the blocking to this goes very, very deep.
Sensing that I'm almost there now and surprised to find my deceased mother very much alive and waiting for me. I find myself in the body of a young child, about the age of three or four. My adult self is trembling as I continue to write. Why is this so frightening for me?
My mother picks me up, positioning me on her lap and picking up a basket of blocks that I'm asked to hold on my lap. There are letters on the blocks....only the letters N and O. My mother strokes my head gently, pushing my hair back from my eyes, now positioning her hand under my chin, directing my eyes to meet hers.
"I'm sorry."
The child is sobbing, releasing her repressed sadness. "So many "no's" in the basket, many of them painted with harsh colors. This simple word taking on the personality of anger, even hatred, but what does this have to do with the child? Absolutely nothing. The mother is depressed and seeks control of her own life by keeping the child repressed "in her place." The child represents the mother's sadness and despair. The father has died unexpectedly coming home to give the child her birthday present, or so the mother says.
The child learns that the basket of blocks does not belong to her. She is not allowed to say "no." Only the mother can say it. If the child says it, she will be "put in her place." The child learns to be still and not to express her needs or desires because the father died coming home to celebrate her birthday and she is guilty. Three years old and very guilty, never to murmur a "no" because these belong to the mother.
The mother apologizes again to the child, holding her close, but gently this time. This is new for the child, for the mother never held the child in this way before. The mother returns the basket to the child, but the blocks are new and refined with pretty pictures mingling with the letters N and O. The pictures represent what the child wants and needs, for it is her right to speak out, letting these be known.
I return to the light of day finding my husband asking me if I would make some coffee. "No, not now." The words were enough to express my needs in this moment. The husband understands intuitively, smiles and goes towards the coffee pot to make it for himself.
Saturday, October 09, 2010
Death by Dog !@#$%^&
OK...so the body is tight and yes, I can open it. Over the years I've gotten pretty good at releasing the body, especially if I remember. Of course, remembering gets easier when the pain is acute, like not being able to turn my head while driving. That's a wake-up!
Then there's this business of cuticle picking and becoming lost in my own mind, not hearing the conversation that's right before me. It's easier to turn off certain people. Not surprising, my husband often heads that list. I've heard those critiques before, so why plug into them again. Is that rude or just plain self-preservation? Questions to myself.
Is it really necessary to keep hanging out in the same boxing ring? What's to be gained, other than feeling lower than when I willingly agreed to face my opponent? Why do I always take that lower road? Where do these behavioral traits come from?
Yesterday I found myself ushered into the boxing ring. It was so automatic, but this time I woke up as I climbed over the ropes. "No, I'm not going to do engage in this. I do have a choice and I choose not to spar with my partner." Of course, partners don't like being left alone in the ring without their opponent. So, a different sort of battle presents itself outside the ring, but it's much easier to escape these if one's plans are in place.
I remember once reading something that set a new pattern into motion. It's funny how certain things just resonate and come with their own sticky glue. On my "mind wall" there is this reminder. "Your rear end is not glued to the seat, nor are your feet glued to the floor." Interesting concept. I remember the very first time I employed this. I was sitting down listening to my husband and decided I'd had quite enough. So, I simply stood up and walked normally out of the room. No words, no rushing, no anything. Kept thinking about the absence of the glue. I remember him asking me where I was going. A part of me said "upstairs." That was it. If there were other words I didn't hear them. It was like my body transported me to a different time and a different place. The next thing I knew I was upstairs in my office reading a magazine. Since this behavior was new for me, my husband was caught off guard, like a boxer who doesn't see the punch coming and wakes up on the floor.
Of course there are some stressors that need to be handled differently, as well as some that will always be present, but new rules can be applied. Stress kills, so it's best to pay attention and know that stress does not rule unless you choose to allow it to do so. I know that I rule. And, it doesn't matter WHO delivers the stress...husband, child, colleague, friend or stranger. They only deliver and it's always my choice as to what to accept. Can you imagine someone ringing your doorbell with a box of dog @#$%^? Would you take it and then say "thank you" ? We've all done this in the past, but now it's time to utilize some new imagery and plans to take care of yourself in new way.
Stress kills and I'll never accept the "reason for death being dog %^&*" to be written on my death certificate.
Then there's this business of cuticle picking and becoming lost in my own mind, not hearing the conversation that's right before me. It's easier to turn off certain people. Not surprising, my husband often heads that list. I've heard those critiques before, so why plug into them again. Is that rude or just plain self-preservation? Questions to myself.
Is it really necessary to keep hanging out in the same boxing ring? What's to be gained, other than feeling lower than when I willingly agreed to face my opponent? Why do I always take that lower road? Where do these behavioral traits come from?
Yesterday I found myself ushered into the boxing ring. It was so automatic, but this time I woke up as I climbed over the ropes. "No, I'm not going to do engage in this. I do have a choice and I choose not to spar with my partner." Of course, partners don't like being left alone in the ring without their opponent. So, a different sort of battle presents itself outside the ring, but it's much easier to escape these if one's plans are in place.
I remember once reading something that set a new pattern into motion. It's funny how certain things just resonate and come with their own sticky glue. On my "mind wall" there is this reminder. "Your rear end is not glued to the seat, nor are your feet glued to the floor." Interesting concept. I remember the very first time I employed this. I was sitting down listening to my husband and decided I'd had quite enough. So, I simply stood up and walked normally out of the room. No words, no rushing, no anything. Kept thinking about the absence of the glue. I remember him asking me where I was going. A part of me said "upstairs." That was it. If there were other words I didn't hear them. It was like my body transported me to a different time and a different place. The next thing I knew I was upstairs in my office reading a magazine. Since this behavior was new for me, my husband was caught off guard, like a boxer who doesn't see the punch coming and wakes up on the floor.
Of course there are some stressors that need to be handled differently, as well as some that will always be present, but new rules can be applied. Stress kills, so it's best to pay attention and know that stress does not rule unless you choose to allow it to do so. I know that I rule. And, it doesn't matter WHO delivers the stress...husband, child, colleague, friend or stranger. They only deliver and it's always my choice as to what to accept. Can you imagine someone ringing your doorbell with a box of dog @#$%^? Would you take it and then say "thank you" ? We've all done this in the past, but now it's time to utilize some new imagery and plans to take care of yourself in new way.
Stress kills and I'll never accept the "reason for death being dog %^&*" to be written on my death certificate.
Friday, October 08, 2010
Body Texting
Body Texting is a metaphor for how the body sensations communicate...stress, tension, pain, rigidity...just to name a few automatic responses. But, in order to receive messages, the phone needs to be charged and on.
Hanging out in my "creative-healing space", thinking of nothing in particular. Just waiting for light bulbs to go off in my head as I continue to relax and release. Goodness, I need so much deep relaxation. It's amazing how quickly my body returns into a tense state. It's difficult to notice this when I'm in the "circus of the world". It's such a hypnotizing space with so many distractions. The "hurry-up twins" are always hyperactive and the amount of stress they deliver to my body is incredible. If I was a cracker, I would break in half with no difficulty. Yes...breakable is a good metaphor for how my body feels. Anxiety and depression simply represent a higher end of my tension spectrum.
It's difficult for me to let go. Compulsive by nature and by "in-house" training. Needing to control something...anything. Hanging on to those things as if they were life-preservers. All of this may seem funny to onlookers, but trust me, it's not funny to feel like you're drowning in life.
I fill my life with activity like people fill shopping carts, closets and any other containment including their bodies with candy, cake and chips. If I were a drinker, I'd consume bottles. If I was a smoker, it would two packs a day. But instead, I'm a "doer" and this can be just as deadly. My body texting goes wild, but....if I'm tuned in, then it's like having my cell phone turned off. Not a good thing and this is how I ended up in my breakable condition.
The truth is that like most people, I look pretty good from the outside, but it's the inside that's at issue here. I've been ignoring my body messages and therefore paying the price. A mental body scan reveals the truth. Tension announcing itself in my jaw, behind my eyes, believe it or not in my right earlobe, shoulders screaming out, middle abdomen not particularly happy and even my knees are sounding the bell. Now before I scanned, I felt nothing in particular. That's the crux of the matter. When one doesn't look for the texting, the body appears to be fine, but on second glance there is a barrage of communication, all of it producing and storing itself as stress chemical accumulation.
So when does the body release? Last night I woke up around three in the morning with both of my legs in incredible spasms. This time the spasms found their way up to the middle of my thighs. I'd be lying if I told you that I wasn't freaked out. This was new for me. I hobbled around for awhile and then had to correct my breathing back to a relaxed state. My heart was pumping furiously from the fear of the new kind of spasms. I sat wondering why these had appeared, my inner body texting answering my questions with quite a few exclamation points. Of course....I get it, but while I was accumulating the stress, I was living in complete unawareness, just expecting my body to "deal with it." Well, it was dealing with it, but not in the way that pleased me.
I'm sitting here now, opening each body part even though some are not communicating. This is not only a powerful prevention method, but at the very same time, my creative space opens revealing positive aspects of things that are truly unseen gifts.
Time to recharge my i-phone!
Hanging out in my "creative-healing space", thinking of nothing in particular. Just waiting for light bulbs to go off in my head as I continue to relax and release. Goodness, I need so much deep relaxation. It's amazing how quickly my body returns into a tense state. It's difficult to notice this when I'm in the "circus of the world". It's such a hypnotizing space with so many distractions. The "hurry-up twins" are always hyperactive and the amount of stress they deliver to my body is incredible. If I was a cracker, I would break in half with no difficulty. Yes...breakable is a good metaphor for how my body feels. Anxiety and depression simply represent a higher end of my tension spectrum.
It's difficult for me to let go. Compulsive by nature and by "in-house" training. Needing to control something...anything. Hanging on to those things as if they were life-preservers. All of this may seem funny to onlookers, but trust me, it's not funny to feel like you're drowning in life.
I fill my life with activity like people fill shopping carts, closets and any other containment including their bodies with candy, cake and chips. If I were a drinker, I'd consume bottles. If I was a smoker, it would two packs a day. But instead, I'm a "doer" and this can be just as deadly. My body texting goes wild, but....if I'm tuned in, then it's like having my cell phone turned off. Not a good thing and this is how I ended up in my breakable condition.
The truth is that like most people, I look pretty good from the outside, but it's the inside that's at issue here. I've been ignoring my body messages and therefore paying the price. A mental body scan reveals the truth. Tension announcing itself in my jaw, behind my eyes, believe it or not in my right earlobe, shoulders screaming out, middle abdomen not particularly happy and even my knees are sounding the bell. Now before I scanned, I felt nothing in particular. That's the crux of the matter. When one doesn't look for the texting, the body appears to be fine, but on second glance there is a barrage of communication, all of it producing and storing itself as stress chemical accumulation.
So when does the body release? Last night I woke up around three in the morning with both of my legs in incredible spasms. This time the spasms found their way up to the middle of my thighs. I'd be lying if I told you that I wasn't freaked out. This was new for me. I hobbled around for awhile and then had to correct my breathing back to a relaxed state. My heart was pumping furiously from the fear of the new kind of spasms. I sat wondering why these had appeared, my inner body texting answering my questions with quite a few exclamation points. Of course....I get it, but while I was accumulating the stress, I was living in complete unawareness, just expecting my body to "deal with it." Well, it was dealing with it, but not in the way that pleased me.
I'm sitting here now, opening each body part even though some are not communicating. This is not only a powerful prevention method, but at the very same time, my creative space opens revealing positive aspects of things that are truly unseen gifts.
Time to recharge my i-phone!
Tuesday, October 05, 2010
Entering the Creative Space
Opening a creative-healing space brings a gigantic flow of things wanting to fill this newly acquired void. Here's the catch...some of the things are the same as what filled the space before, many of which are unwanted. Others are new and open for review. Some are keepers, while others are not. It's like cleaning out your closet, then going shopping...often bringing back the same things that were dropped off at Goodwill.
For me, because my depressive state is so finely etched in my subconscious mind, the very same offenders simply see this as an opportunity to take up residence. In the past, this has been on auto-pilot, but not this time around. The depression has been going on too long and it's been far too disruptive, even frightening to me. The body texting has been intense and this can be very dangerous because stress-related diseases are often killer diseases.
What comes into the new creative-healing space is my choice. When we wake up to something, it seems to be scattered all over the place. The mess is seen in a new light and this time the light is very bright. My mess seems to have legs, walking back into my new space. Shutting the door is not the best option. Whenever we lock something up or lock it out, it becomes more powerful. This is what I've been doing over the past months. Just dancing around the issues without moving into the position of power and decisiveness.
I slept through most of this afternoon. This is common when releasing heavy body texting. My body is exhausted and I've given it permission to be deeply relaxed. When depressed or in a state of high tension, we are often unaware of how tired the body and mind can be.
Sitting in my favorite recliner, my breath becomes deeper without even thinking. My body sinking into the chair. The "hurry up twins" seem to know that they have no power over me when I'm in this chair. I smile at this because they are unrelentless, usually appearing before I get out of bed in the morning. Images arise of patients in psychiatric clinics who have been sent away to recover their sanity. This is how my subconscious mind reads the stress level where I find myself. This is helpful because the inner mind is a powerful resource for healing. Since it understands my needs on the deepest levels, then I know I can count on it to assist in what I need. This is a form of automatic programming, for the mind works backwards. The plan will be forthcoming.
Once relaxed and inside my creative space, I'm invited to walk around and assess the scene. No emotions are present, just me and my Higher Self. I often call this part of myself, my Therapeutic Self. Right now that is very appropriate! I've decided to position my recliner in this special space. As I sit there, the blue light surrounds me. I'm accepting that I need much more blue light than before. I feel like I've been through some sort of battle and while I want to fully recover, rushing it is not an option this time.
A blue light application and then continue to view the creative space. New ideas are asking to be admitted for review. I'm interested in seeing a few choices, but not too many. I'm sure this is a result of my need to recover slowly. I'm aware that it isn't necessary to do everything at once. As a major multi-tasker this would have been a challenge, but for some reason it isn't any longer. Perhaps the result of the battle. Anyway, it feels good to take this approach.
A gentle "suggestor" enters. It's so refreshing to have someone gentle and peaceful in my presence. Someone who doesn't want me to hurry and spin on a dime. The suggestion is to "open the windows" and let in some fresh air." Ohhh... how I love self-hypnosis! The indirect suggestion....open the windows....fresh air. I'd like that. I think of new people to bring into my creative circle, realizing that some have already found me. Gentle people with wonderful, creative ideas who have offered me an opportunity to join their endeavor. Like choosing a piece of candy, I help myself to "one." Outside of my creative space my compulsive self would have dumped the whole candy dish into my purse. Taking "one" feels so good. One new person and one new project.
The mind works backwards. The suggestion having been accepted, it moves into my creative space with the plan and project already completed. As I return to my recliner, it performs for me. I'm invited to enter the images, sensing the level of comfort and satisfaction. A little bit of tweaking on my part, but things rearrange themselves to meet my slight changes. I ask to enter the final outcome and then.....to open the door to what this leads to down the path. Just a peak.... after all, I'm still in recovery.
For me, because my depressive state is so finely etched in my subconscious mind, the very same offenders simply see this as an opportunity to take up residence. In the past, this has been on auto-pilot, but not this time around. The depression has been going on too long and it's been far too disruptive, even frightening to me. The body texting has been intense and this can be very dangerous because stress-related diseases are often killer diseases.
What comes into the new creative-healing space is my choice. When we wake up to something, it seems to be scattered all over the place. The mess is seen in a new light and this time the light is very bright. My mess seems to have legs, walking back into my new space. Shutting the door is not the best option. Whenever we lock something up or lock it out, it becomes more powerful. This is what I've been doing over the past months. Just dancing around the issues without moving into the position of power and decisiveness.
I slept through most of this afternoon. This is common when releasing heavy body texting. My body is exhausted and I've given it permission to be deeply relaxed. When depressed or in a state of high tension, we are often unaware of how tired the body and mind can be.
Sitting in my favorite recliner, my breath becomes deeper without even thinking. My body sinking into the chair. The "hurry up twins" seem to know that they have no power over me when I'm in this chair. I smile at this because they are unrelentless, usually appearing before I get out of bed in the morning. Images arise of patients in psychiatric clinics who have been sent away to recover their sanity. This is how my subconscious mind reads the stress level where I find myself. This is helpful because the inner mind is a powerful resource for healing. Since it understands my needs on the deepest levels, then I know I can count on it to assist in what I need. This is a form of automatic programming, for the mind works backwards. The plan will be forthcoming.
Once relaxed and inside my creative space, I'm invited to walk around and assess the scene. No emotions are present, just me and my Higher Self. I often call this part of myself, my Therapeutic Self. Right now that is very appropriate! I've decided to position my recliner in this special space. As I sit there, the blue light surrounds me. I'm accepting that I need much more blue light than before. I feel like I've been through some sort of battle and while I want to fully recover, rushing it is not an option this time.
A blue light application and then continue to view the creative space. New ideas are asking to be admitted for review. I'm interested in seeing a few choices, but not too many. I'm sure this is a result of my need to recover slowly. I'm aware that it isn't necessary to do everything at once. As a major multi-tasker this would have been a challenge, but for some reason it isn't any longer. Perhaps the result of the battle. Anyway, it feels good to take this approach.
A gentle "suggestor" enters. It's so refreshing to have someone gentle and peaceful in my presence. Someone who doesn't want me to hurry and spin on a dime. The suggestion is to "open the windows" and let in some fresh air." Ohhh... how I love self-hypnosis! The indirect suggestion....open the windows....fresh air. I'd like that. I think of new people to bring into my creative circle, realizing that some have already found me. Gentle people with wonderful, creative ideas who have offered me an opportunity to join their endeavor. Like choosing a piece of candy, I help myself to "one." Outside of my creative space my compulsive self would have dumped the whole candy dish into my purse. Taking "one" feels so good. One new person and one new project.
The mind works backwards. The suggestion having been accepted, it moves into my creative space with the plan and project already completed. As I return to my recliner, it performs for me. I'm invited to enter the images, sensing the level of comfort and satisfaction. A little bit of tweaking on my part, but things rearrange themselves to meet my slight changes. I ask to enter the final outcome and then.....to open the door to what this leads to down the path. Just a peak.... after all, I'm still in recovery.
Monday, October 04, 2010
Releasing Depression
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.
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.
Depression Camps
Following the release of my depression, I fell into a deep sleep...one that gifted me with some very colorful dreams. Next to flying dreams, colorful ones are my favorite. Dream-color tends to be more vivid that eyeball-color. Orange speaks orange out loud. Green invites me into gardens with plants conversing in foreign tongues, and as for red....well red is only second to blue. Blue absorbs and entering it, I can feel a gentle throbbing healing taking place.
Depression is a word to describe certain symptoms experienced by the body and mind. While all depressions are different, each depression changes unto itself as it moves through experiences. Each thought, image or happening produces it's own chemical marinade, each multiplying itself, so it's easy to understand how depression accelerates when it owns the car and the gas pedal.
Depression entered my life during early childhood, reinforced through parenting, and then through my desire for it....allowing me to play the power role of victim as I looked for love and acceptance. In those years I was not aware of what I was doing, but even now that it is recognizable, it calls out to me. We tend to flow towards the familiar. Most of the time I keep the details to myself as I continue to reside in this secret, lonely world.
Automatic writing or inner journaling gives me an opening for release. Sometimes the release comes quickly. This time it didn't happen that way. Instead, I nibbled around the outside of it, like eating the colored candy off an M&M before delving into the chocolate. This time the pain was both outer and inner, my body screaming with the tension, at night refusing to sink into the mattress, almost afraid to release it for fear of falling off the Universe. At first review, the mind revealed nothing out of the ordinary list of stressors, but a closer look turned up some mind games that probably pushed me over the edge. Selling our home in a down market, always working, never giving myself release time, aging, anxiety producing physical manifestations and a bundle of fears lined up to display themselves holding signs that told me there were more.
Sometimes releasing such a gambit is even more difficult that diminishing something bigger. There are so many camps to visit, change and then maintain.
I have some questions for my "Journal Master." I mentioned earlier that once the debris is removed, then there is space for creativity, in this instance creative questioning and investigation. I'm looking for growth, for once the nut is cracked, depression holds powerful and valuable gifts. Yes, the cracking was frightening and painful, but not as much as the thoughts that surrounded the idea of it. Once I stopped trying to control the bleeding, everything went smoothly, so...
"Will I ever learn to care for my tendency towards depression?"
My pen responds, "Look at your question and then you tell me the answer."
Oh, it's clear to me now. I've claimed ownership of the tendency towards depression by calling it "mine." Owning something reinforces it unto itself. During the past months...no, actually years, I've certainly claimed this ownership, donating lots of time and attention to it, actually befriending it. No...becoming it.
"Now I've created some space through release, but wondering what to put into that space, especially since all the things that brought me down still exist."
I know the answer before it hits the paper, for this is the way of "automatic journaling." My mind, open and receptive, already knows what I need to know. I've just been blocking with all the tightening.
This is life and life needs care. The body is always text messaging, so tune in. Right now my jaw is aching it's message to me. My compulsions are right outside the door, waiting for me to stop writing so they can take over. The "hurry-up twins" are pushing their way to the front of the queue, trying to bother me even during this special time for myself. I've found them at the gym and even in my meditation...pushing me around. A new breath enters my body. It's very deep and cleansing....the color blue. A healing breath holding a reminder image. My body absorbs both. I'm not alone in this and that is good to know.
Depression is a word to describe certain symptoms experienced by the body and mind. While all depressions are different, each depression changes unto itself as it moves through experiences. Each thought, image or happening produces it's own chemical marinade, each multiplying itself, so it's easy to understand how depression accelerates when it owns the car and the gas pedal.
Depression entered my life during early childhood, reinforced through parenting, and then through my desire for it....allowing me to play the power role of victim as I looked for love and acceptance. In those years I was not aware of what I was doing, but even now that it is recognizable, it calls out to me. We tend to flow towards the familiar. Most of the time I keep the details to myself as I continue to reside in this secret, lonely world.
Automatic writing or inner journaling gives me an opening for release. Sometimes the release comes quickly. This time it didn't happen that way. Instead, I nibbled around the outside of it, like eating the colored candy off an M&M before delving into the chocolate. This time the pain was both outer and inner, my body screaming with the tension, at night refusing to sink into the mattress, almost afraid to release it for fear of falling off the Universe. At first review, the mind revealed nothing out of the ordinary list of stressors, but a closer look turned up some mind games that probably pushed me over the edge. Selling our home in a down market, always working, never giving myself release time, aging, anxiety producing physical manifestations and a bundle of fears lined up to display themselves holding signs that told me there were more.
Sometimes releasing such a gambit is even more difficult that diminishing something bigger. There are so many camps to visit, change and then maintain.
I have some questions for my "Journal Master." I mentioned earlier that once the debris is removed, then there is space for creativity, in this instance creative questioning and investigation. I'm looking for growth, for once the nut is cracked, depression holds powerful and valuable gifts. Yes, the cracking was frightening and painful, but not as much as the thoughts that surrounded the idea of it. Once I stopped trying to control the bleeding, everything went smoothly, so...
"Will I ever learn to care for my tendency towards depression?"
My pen responds, "Look at your question and then you tell me the answer."
Oh, it's clear to me now. I've claimed ownership of the tendency towards depression by calling it "mine." Owning something reinforces it unto itself. During the past months...no, actually years, I've certainly claimed this ownership, donating lots of time and attention to it, actually befriending it. No...becoming it.
"Now I've created some space through release, but wondering what to put into that space, especially since all the things that brought me down still exist."
I know the answer before it hits the paper, for this is the way of "automatic journaling." My mind, open and receptive, already knows what I need to know. I've just been blocking with all the tightening.
This is life and life needs care. The body is always text messaging, so tune in. Right now my jaw is aching it's message to me. My compulsions are right outside the door, waiting for me to stop writing so they can take over. The "hurry-up twins" are pushing their way to the front of the queue, trying to bother me even during this special time for myself. I've found them at the gym and even in my meditation...pushing me around. A new breath enters my body. It's very deep and cleansing....the color blue. A healing breath holding a reminder image. My body absorbs both. I'm not alone in this and that is good to know.
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
Who Owns Who?
This business of "self-ownership" came up again today. A good point of reference for journaling because it is much more important than it seems on the surface...
OK....where to start? I'll just let my pen make that decision.
We go through life owning all sorts of things. Even as little children we can remember owning our toys, clothes, even people. "My Mommy" comes to mind. Yes, she was MINE and when I held her hand, I remember doing so with pride of ownership. Of course, I knew that my mother had other kids, but in my little egotistical mind that was of no importance. She was mine and mine alone. As a teenager, there was MY boyfriend and MY best girlfriend. Again, pride in ownership, until the day when the boy wandered over to another "property" and my girlfriend made the cheering squad, finding new friends that didn't include me. Those were painful days.
Not learning the lesson, I carried my Ownership Manual into my marriage. My husband also had a manual, so according to the rules, I owned him and he owned me. Even our marriage vows sounded a bit like the manual. In my defense, I never quite cared for the way these vows were written, but in those years no one even thought to write their own version.
Looking back at our history of arguing, it truly all boiled down to the conflicting Ownership Manuals. "Do this because I say so." "You are mine." "Who do you think you are?" "I'm running this ship and I set the rules." "I don't remember giving you permission to buy that." "When are you going to grow up?" Just a few examples.
It's easy to understand how resentment grows when one's personal Manual is simply thrown aside as if it has no value. Then there's that feeling of being held captive, hands tied behind the back.... no escape in sight. Here are the choices...give up, please the other or fight back. It seems to me there needs to be more choices. What am I missing?
The pen scrawls, "You were born alone and you will die alone."
Silence.
And then, "the space in-between those two Events belongs to you. Spend it as you choose."
Being brought to the realization that no one can own another, I put my Manual away. I could dispose of it, but I want to keep it as a reminder of what is my truth. I am free to live my life as I see fit, with the understanding that I must not harm others, but instead help them to grow and experience their own freedom.
I can't help but ask, "Will this be a hard sell?" After all, I've been married for decades. This new position of mine will not be very welcomed.
"There is nothing to sell. Just position yourself between your birth and death, imaging yourself taking care of yourSelf first, then extending your hand to help others. The rest will take care of itself. Perhaps a few bumps, but before long the road will become smoother. While it's true that you might hit other bumps, just drive your own car, for this is the only car you have. How you care for it will determine it's longevity, both emotionally and physically."
In the middle of writing this, I hit a bump. Needing to say "no" when my partner was definitely looking for a "yes." A few insults following...like cow dung being thrown my way. His childSelf obviously not happy with my response, but it is the best thing for me and I deserve to be respected. Therefore, I deliver the respect to mySelf. This means that I'm not needy, nor will I ever be needy because I provide what I need to mySelf. Of course, it would be wonderful if he would also provide it, but since I don't "need" it, then my resentment is lessened. It's easier to shift over to a feel-good position. In the past, the pothole would have prevailed. Another day spent angry and resentful.
I admit to feeling the compulsion to go back and explain my position, but my Higher Self says "no need." Over-explaining is a co-dependent behavior, meaning that I give the keys of my car to someone else. Not the way to drive forward...
OK....where to start? I'll just let my pen make that decision.
We go through life owning all sorts of things. Even as little children we can remember owning our toys, clothes, even people. "My Mommy" comes to mind. Yes, she was MINE and when I held her hand, I remember doing so with pride of ownership. Of course, I knew that my mother had other kids, but in my little egotistical mind that was of no importance. She was mine and mine alone. As a teenager, there was MY boyfriend and MY best girlfriend. Again, pride in ownership, until the day when the boy wandered over to another "property" and my girlfriend made the cheering squad, finding new friends that didn't include me. Those were painful days.
Not learning the lesson, I carried my Ownership Manual into my marriage. My husband also had a manual, so according to the rules, I owned him and he owned me. Even our marriage vows sounded a bit like the manual. In my defense, I never quite cared for the way these vows were written, but in those years no one even thought to write their own version.
Looking back at our history of arguing, it truly all boiled down to the conflicting Ownership Manuals. "Do this because I say so." "You are mine." "Who do you think you are?" "I'm running this ship and I set the rules." "I don't remember giving you permission to buy that." "When are you going to grow up?" Just a few examples.
It's easy to understand how resentment grows when one's personal Manual is simply thrown aside as if it has no value. Then there's that feeling of being held captive, hands tied behind the back.... no escape in sight. Here are the choices...give up, please the other or fight back. It seems to me there needs to be more choices. What am I missing?
The pen scrawls, "You were born alone and you will die alone."
Silence.
And then, "the space in-between those two Events belongs to you. Spend it as you choose."
Being brought to the realization that no one can own another, I put my Manual away. I could dispose of it, but I want to keep it as a reminder of what is my truth. I am free to live my life as I see fit, with the understanding that I must not harm others, but instead help them to grow and experience their own freedom.
I can't help but ask, "Will this be a hard sell?" After all, I've been married for decades. This new position of mine will not be very welcomed.
"There is nothing to sell. Just position yourself between your birth and death, imaging yourself taking care of yourSelf first, then extending your hand to help others. The rest will take care of itself. Perhaps a few bumps, but before long the road will become smoother. While it's true that you might hit other bumps, just drive your own car, for this is the only car you have. How you care for it will determine it's longevity, both emotionally and physically."
In the middle of writing this, I hit a bump. Needing to say "no" when my partner was definitely looking for a "yes." A few insults following...like cow dung being thrown my way. His childSelf obviously not happy with my response, but it is the best thing for me and I deserve to be respected. Therefore, I deliver the respect to mySelf. This means that I'm not needy, nor will I ever be needy because I provide what I need to mySelf. Of course, it would be wonderful if he would also provide it, but since I don't "need" it, then my resentment is lessened. It's easier to shift over to a feel-good position. In the past, the pothole would have prevailed. Another day spent angry and resentful.
I admit to feeling the compulsion to go back and explain my position, but my Higher Self says "no need." Over-explaining is a co-dependent behavior, meaning that I give the keys of my car to someone else. Not the way to drive forward...
What's Inside? The Big Green Garbage Dumpster
Some days when I sit down with my journal in front of me, I haven't a clue as to what to write. My life seems to be going on an even keel, and part of me prefers not to shake the boat. Obviously there are always going to be things that I'd like to change, but isn't this the way life unfolds? Won't there always be dust in the corners and dirt under the carpet?'
My pen hits the journal "running."
"Is this what you think this journaling project is about? Do you really believe it's about surface dirt??"
Whoops...I guess not.
Getting past the surface crud has always been an issue for me. Yes, it's true. I tend to accept it because sometimes "life just sucks." So, the issue isn't the crud, but what is waiting for me underneath....the gifts of creativity. I know I want them, but getting to them takes a special type of cleaning and clearing.
Long ago, I learned that there is value in garbage. I actually took a course in garbage collecting on the streets of New York. It was given by a "professional" garbage expert who showed us how to shop for garbage and best of all, how to evaluate and then climb into those great big green dumpsters. My heart still beats fast when I pass one of them...wondering what sort of treasures are hidden there. Yes, I want to climb up and in even though it isn't politically correct. I remember my husband telling me NEVER to tell anyone about my "hobby". One evening I found myself at a dinner party sitting next to a professor of pediatrics. When he asked me what I did for fun, I did bite my tongue and gave some easy answer like cooking...reading...you get the idea. Then, I asked him about his hobbies. "Oh...I collect garbage at the local dump." My childSelf sat up straight..."how do you manage that?" He proudly took out his "dump pass." That part of me was mesmerized and so yes, I shared some of my green dumpster experiences with him. It was a great evening.
I like remembering that story, but for different reasons. Garbage has great metaphorical meaning and there is value in all of it, but it does take courage to climb into the dumpster of the mind, because that's where the garbage is located.
Here are some good ground rules...
Handle garbage with care. While it may be dirty and have nails or other things that can cut you, it also has great value. Sometimes the dirtiest garbage harbors the biggest secrets.
If you respect the garbage, it will respect you. The garbage is not out to get you. As you examine it, feel free to ask "opening questions." A couple of examples, "What can you tell me about yourself?" or... "What lessons can you teach me?" If you are working hypnotically or in automatic journaling, those answers will come quickly into your mind as thoughts or will flow off the end of your pen.
Work with imaginology. Ask the garbage image to open and ask to see the creative insides. You may be surprised at what comes forth for you. You might ask permission to "gift" it with a positive affirmation or a respectful visit, perhaps a healing of forgiveness, compassion or deep understanding for any part you played.
All experiences, garbage included, have a variety of suggestions or plans for making your life better than before. If they are not forthcoming, ask for them. Remember, the mind works backwards and all plans flow from the end to the beginning.
Always remember to show gratitude and never trash it...you will always be rewarded!
My pen hits the journal "running."
"Is this what you think this journaling project is about? Do you really believe it's about surface dirt??"
Whoops...I guess not.
Getting past the surface crud has always been an issue for me. Yes, it's true. I tend to accept it because sometimes "life just sucks." So, the issue isn't the crud, but what is waiting for me underneath....the gifts of creativity. I know I want them, but getting to them takes a special type of cleaning and clearing.
Long ago, I learned that there is value in garbage. I actually took a course in garbage collecting on the streets of New York. It was given by a "professional" garbage expert who showed us how to shop for garbage and best of all, how to evaluate and then climb into those great big green dumpsters. My heart still beats fast when I pass one of them...wondering what sort of treasures are hidden there. Yes, I want to climb up and in even though it isn't politically correct. I remember my husband telling me NEVER to tell anyone about my "hobby". One evening I found myself at a dinner party sitting next to a professor of pediatrics. When he asked me what I did for fun, I did bite my tongue and gave some easy answer like cooking...reading...you get the idea. Then, I asked him about his hobbies. "Oh...I collect garbage at the local dump." My childSelf sat up straight..."how do you manage that?" He proudly took out his "dump pass." That part of me was mesmerized and so yes, I shared some of my green dumpster experiences with him. It was a great evening.
I like remembering that story, but for different reasons. Garbage has great metaphorical meaning and there is value in all of it, but it does take courage to climb into the dumpster of the mind, because that's where the garbage is located.
Here are some good ground rules...
Handle garbage with care. While it may be dirty and have nails or other things that can cut you, it also has great value. Sometimes the dirtiest garbage harbors the biggest secrets.
If you respect the garbage, it will respect you. The garbage is not out to get you. As you examine it, feel free to ask "opening questions." A couple of examples, "What can you tell me about yourself?" or... "What lessons can you teach me?" If you are working hypnotically or in automatic journaling, those answers will come quickly into your mind as thoughts or will flow off the end of your pen.
Work with imaginology. Ask the garbage image to open and ask to see the creative insides. You may be surprised at what comes forth for you. You might ask permission to "gift" it with a positive affirmation or a respectful visit, perhaps a healing of forgiveness, compassion or deep understanding for any part you played.
All experiences, garbage included, have a variety of suggestions or plans for making your life better than before. If they are not forthcoming, ask for them. Remember, the mind works backwards and all plans flow from the end to the beginning.
Always remember to show gratitude and never trash it...you will always be rewarded!
Wednesday, September 22, 2010
Subway Rush Hour!
Relax. Let go. Breathe. Meditate. Stop the pushing. Where do I get off?
Living in my body/mind is like riding the NYC subway at rush hour. This morning I explained to my journal that it's always been like this, so what is the purpose of changing? Well, according to my pen, just because something "has always been" doesn't mean that it "needs to remain," nor does it necessarily mean that it is a "good thing."
I hate being woken up in this way. It's much more comfortable to just stay asleep. But, comfort isn't why I came back to inner journaling. Another example of thinking something is a good idea and then waking up in the middle of the pain. Like the last time we tiled the bathroom. The pictures of the finished project looking great in my head, but the tiles slipped into their own version of the truth. Now, once again, questioning my moments of insanity, expecting things to be the way my mind perceives.
The last weeks have been filled with continuous "subway travel." The doors never opening. No respite....just pushing and shaking my body back and forth. A meditation unto itself?
The other passengers appear hypnotized, locked in their own world. Thinking that if someone were to shove a knife into my side, no one would notice my blood dripping on the floor. Leaves me with the belief that we're all very alone on this train ride, going towards destinations that either exist or not.
Lots of chit chat about choices and road maps and decision making and the rest of the usual mind garbage. It's amazing how we can repeat all of this day after day, then sleep and get up for more of it. Yes, we do get to some destinations, but for most of us we sleep through our arrival or don't even enjoy it when we get there.
"Sounding depressed today?" Ahhh...the pen flowing "therapist ink."
Thinking about this and wondering if all days are filled with some level of depression. Can hardly remember a fully sunny day. Are there such days? Have to ask around, but first have to find someone who might actually know about these. Off the top of my head, I can't think of who to ask. Certainly no one in my immediate environment. I could go to the playground and ask a child, but then again, children rarely know how happy they are because they are so much "in the moment."
Oh that damn phrase..."in the moment." The place to go. The place to be. And, if one doesn't go there, then the chances of meeting one's true Self is next to slim. But where is this place and does this train go there?? How do I know when or where to get off this dang thing?
Now, I'm not saying that I've never been "in the moment", because I have been there. The problem is that I don't know how I got there or how to get back. I question the number of people who talk about this place. My feelings are that if they live "in the moment", then why are they talking about it as a place to go, instead of a place where they actually reside? To my mind, if you are "in the moment", you are too absorbed to pay attention to anyone or anything else. The focus is far too grand to give your attention to me.
So...can I be "in the moment" while riding this subway?
My pen smiles. Of course. Think of yourself as living and participating in the "circus of the world." This is a highly emotional place where everyone is lost in the acting out of their own personal drama. The stories are repeated over and over, each time etching them further into the subconscious mind. All drama is fiction. It's not happening "in the moment", so even IF it truly happened before, it's not happening now and so it's fiction. When you repeat a story, either out load or in your mind, you are busy re-telling a fictional account of something. And, you cannot be in your fictional story and "in the moment" at the same time. In addition, others are always inviting, even pushing others into their drama, almost like going into the audience and pulling someone onto the stage of a play. Experience this OR ELSE!
Living in the "circus of the world" keeps you there. In order to "live in the moment" you must choose to leave the circus. Yes, you can do this at any moment and it's really quite simple. First, you must know the difference between the circus and the non-circus. It helps to have an image for the latter. I like the image of a "golden egg." Let's go ahead and feel what it feels like to be inside that "golden egg." You reach that destination with a simple awareness that you are in the circus and choose to leave and then....notice your next breath and ride it inside the golden egg. It will open to greet you.
Once inside, sense the stillness. Looking out, notice that the circus is outside and you are not a part of it. You can observe it, but you are in a quiet place. Other images can greet you, enhancing your "golden egg experience." I like to sense the gold filling my body, part by part, almost elevating me or inviting me to float inside the egg. Free, light and airy. So relaxed, but able to observe the actions and behaviors of others. Just like being in the audience of a theater, but this time, you are not up on the stage in the drama, but instead just observing or witnessing. As you become more skilled, you can add more images to expand your experience, but for today, this is just fine.
"So, where does my depression go?" The pen is used to my questioning, respecting my desire to know even more.
Depression, anxiety, high level emotions....all live in the circus of the world. When you enter the egg, they simply leave. Now I know what you are going to ask. "Will they find me when I find myself back in the circus?" They might, especially if they are well-conditioned like old shoes, but then, it's up to you to disengage from them...."in the moment." Big Pen Smile!!
Living in my body/mind is like riding the NYC subway at rush hour. This morning I explained to my journal that it's always been like this, so what is the purpose of changing? Well, according to my pen, just because something "has always been" doesn't mean that it "needs to remain," nor does it necessarily mean that it is a "good thing."
I hate being woken up in this way. It's much more comfortable to just stay asleep. But, comfort isn't why I came back to inner journaling. Another example of thinking something is a good idea and then waking up in the middle of the pain. Like the last time we tiled the bathroom. The pictures of the finished project looking great in my head, but the tiles slipped into their own version of the truth. Now, once again, questioning my moments of insanity, expecting things to be the way my mind perceives.
The last weeks have been filled with continuous "subway travel." The doors never opening. No respite....just pushing and shaking my body back and forth. A meditation unto itself?
The other passengers appear hypnotized, locked in their own world. Thinking that if someone were to shove a knife into my side, no one would notice my blood dripping on the floor. Leaves me with the belief that we're all very alone on this train ride, going towards destinations that either exist or not.
Lots of chit chat about choices and road maps and decision making and the rest of the usual mind garbage. It's amazing how we can repeat all of this day after day, then sleep and get up for more of it. Yes, we do get to some destinations, but for most of us we sleep through our arrival or don't even enjoy it when we get there.
"Sounding depressed today?" Ahhh...the pen flowing "therapist ink."
Thinking about this and wondering if all days are filled with some level of depression. Can hardly remember a fully sunny day. Are there such days? Have to ask around, but first have to find someone who might actually know about these. Off the top of my head, I can't think of who to ask. Certainly no one in my immediate environment. I could go to the playground and ask a child, but then again, children rarely know how happy they are because they are so much "in the moment."
Oh that damn phrase..."in the moment." The place to go. The place to be. And, if one doesn't go there, then the chances of meeting one's true Self is next to slim. But where is this place and does this train go there?? How do I know when or where to get off this dang thing?
Now, I'm not saying that I've never been "in the moment", because I have been there. The problem is that I don't know how I got there or how to get back. I question the number of people who talk about this place. My feelings are that if they live "in the moment", then why are they talking about it as a place to go, instead of a place where they actually reside? To my mind, if you are "in the moment", you are too absorbed to pay attention to anyone or anything else. The focus is far too grand to give your attention to me.
So...can I be "in the moment" while riding this subway?
My pen smiles. Of course. Think of yourself as living and participating in the "circus of the world." This is a highly emotional place where everyone is lost in the acting out of their own personal drama. The stories are repeated over and over, each time etching them further into the subconscious mind. All drama is fiction. It's not happening "in the moment", so even IF it truly happened before, it's not happening now and so it's fiction. When you repeat a story, either out load or in your mind, you are busy re-telling a fictional account of something. And, you cannot be in your fictional story and "in the moment" at the same time. In addition, others are always inviting, even pushing others into their drama, almost like going into the audience and pulling someone onto the stage of a play. Experience this OR ELSE!
Living in the "circus of the world" keeps you there. In order to "live in the moment" you must choose to leave the circus. Yes, you can do this at any moment and it's really quite simple. First, you must know the difference between the circus and the non-circus. It helps to have an image for the latter. I like the image of a "golden egg." Let's go ahead and feel what it feels like to be inside that "golden egg." You reach that destination with a simple awareness that you are in the circus and choose to leave and then....notice your next breath and ride it inside the golden egg. It will open to greet you.
Once inside, sense the stillness. Looking out, notice that the circus is outside and you are not a part of it. You can observe it, but you are in a quiet place. Other images can greet you, enhancing your "golden egg experience." I like to sense the gold filling my body, part by part, almost elevating me or inviting me to float inside the egg. Free, light and airy. So relaxed, but able to observe the actions and behaviors of others. Just like being in the audience of a theater, but this time, you are not up on the stage in the drama, but instead just observing or witnessing. As you become more skilled, you can add more images to expand your experience, but for today, this is just fine.
"So, where does my depression go?" The pen is used to my questioning, respecting my desire to know even more.
Depression, anxiety, high level emotions....all live in the circus of the world. When you enter the egg, they simply leave. Now I know what you are going to ask. "Will they find me when I find myself back in the circus?" They might, especially if they are well-conditioned like old shoes, but then, it's up to you to disengage from them...."in the moment." Big Pen Smile!!
Sunday, September 19, 2010
Oh....that Sugar!
In the practice of hypnotherapy, or in this instance "inner journaling", images are utilized to evoke change in the subconscious mind. The work involves cleaning and clearing, also looked upon as releasing and then planting new mind programs that will build upon themselves. It's important to know that the mind works backwards. Once an image or program is planted, it will take on it's own life which includes making a plan and then working it forward. For example, today I'm going to work in the area of my eating issues. I've had these most of my life and while I've made lots of progress over the years, when stress is high, some of these find new ways of inching into my life. If you have any kind of disorderly eating, which most of us do, then you will recognize this as your own.
Nothing is perfect and perfection is never the goal. Sigh of relief!
Journaling early in the morning works best for me. My inner mind and my "journal master" like to know that there will be no interruptions. As we enter the creative center of the subconscious mind, it's easy to understand why this is the choice environment. There is power in stillness. Just sitting in the center of quiet opens the mind to what wants to show itself. Sometimes negative programs come forward, so this is the opportunity to release them. The subconscious mind doesn't judge, so it doesn't know if you want to keep the negative programs. The more frequently these are played without being released, the more conditioned they become.
Lately I've let some negative eating programs play out. Obviously, this is not what I want, but in the moment they are playing, the obstructionists are ever present skillfully pushing their desires, making up fantastic stories. Foods mysteriously appearing in my shopping cart and fridge. The obstructionists are the parts of me that are highly conditioned to wanting the addictive behavior. We all have these and in certain areas of life, especially addiction, it's important, even vital for survival, to know how to dismiss or manage them.
In this blog I'm working directly in my own subconscious mind and inviting you to sit with me and follow the process. It's not complicated, but it does take a special discipline. You might believe that discipline is something you can't do, especially if you are disorderly, but in truth, most disorder is actually disciplined or conditioned. Addictions are conditioned. Today I'm going to address some very old conditioned or negatively disciplined mind programs that need releasing.
Mind programs are in layers. That is why they can re-occur. Some layers are easier to remove than others. Some are partially removed, while others sit and hide, waiting for a good stressful moment to re-appear. This is what I'm dealing with right now.
It's time to take out my journal and give power to my pen. Just their appearance on my desk acts as a catalyst for deepening my trance state. When stress is high, it's actually easier to release or deepen. I can sense my body's happiness at seeing the journal and pen. It's anticipating release and that is reason to rejoice. Imagine being a tense body and then finally someone arrives and loosens you. See what I mean?
Deeper down, I'm in the area of my eating issues. I have an area already assigned to these. The image is delightful....warm and serene. A beautifully appointed condo...walking around now, enjoying the interior decoration and design. I'm setting the scene for what comes next. There is no point in fighting, punching or attacking any negative behavior for that only etches or conditions it further. Entering the kitchen. Opening the refrigerator and cupboards. Healthy foods present. Admiring them, tasting some and feeling the joy of healthy eating. In the past, my eating was far from healthy, and so I have new conditioned mind programs in this area.
As I look to the back of the fridge, I see some foods that are usually not present. Most are chocolate or sugary. While some are allowed, I'm not happy that these are placed in the back. That is a hiding behavior, set up to deceive. I know this part of me. It's programs are very old and very dangerous. If not cleaned and cleared, they can attach themselves to other parts of my life. Not something I want.
Moving those objects forward. Noticing there are too many. Reading the thought programs attached to the objects....the reasoning, excuses, etc. Calling in the responsible "childSelf." Using a gentle, but firm voice. My Higher or Therapeutic Self is in charge. I'm the writer, director and producer of my life and not the childSelf. Obviously, I could have just removed the items, but it's important to discipline the part of me that slipped up. There is no discussion. Nothing. No words. No thoughts. Just action. Removal of what needs to go and celebration of what can stay. Standing back and admiring the "job well done." Another person enters. This is an "older Self." Thanking the child for giving her health and for being an important part of the "health team."
I'm taking this subject a bit further, because the undesirable food did come into the house and so that must be addressed as well. I don't like throwing things away, so the behavior needs to be managed where it originated....in the supermarket.
Mind travel is very quick!! Off to the market with the child and the older Self. Sensing the shopping cart, feeling the cool metal under my hands, brings me further down into the trance. Touching the child's hair...holding the hand of my elder and now walking down the aisles, passing items that aren't needed in our "high level health program." Breathing and relaxing. Feeling the freedom from compulsion...
There are two types of motivation....negative and positive. While I use both, the positive motivator or freedom from compulsion is my favorite. Each time I remember to feel the feeling, the sense of freedom is re-etched in my mind, becoming stronger and more powerful. It makes me smile inwardly...
Nothing is perfect and perfection is never the goal. Sigh of relief!
Journaling early in the morning works best for me. My inner mind and my "journal master" like to know that there will be no interruptions. As we enter the creative center of the subconscious mind, it's easy to understand why this is the choice environment. There is power in stillness. Just sitting in the center of quiet opens the mind to what wants to show itself. Sometimes negative programs come forward, so this is the opportunity to release them. The subconscious mind doesn't judge, so it doesn't know if you want to keep the negative programs. The more frequently these are played without being released, the more conditioned they become.
Lately I've let some negative eating programs play out. Obviously, this is not what I want, but in the moment they are playing, the obstructionists are ever present skillfully pushing their desires, making up fantastic stories. Foods mysteriously appearing in my shopping cart and fridge. The obstructionists are the parts of me that are highly conditioned to wanting the addictive behavior. We all have these and in certain areas of life, especially addiction, it's important, even vital for survival, to know how to dismiss or manage them.
In this blog I'm working directly in my own subconscious mind and inviting you to sit with me and follow the process. It's not complicated, but it does take a special discipline. You might believe that discipline is something you can't do, especially if you are disorderly, but in truth, most disorder is actually disciplined or conditioned. Addictions are conditioned. Today I'm going to address some very old conditioned or negatively disciplined mind programs that need releasing.
Mind programs are in layers. That is why they can re-occur. Some layers are easier to remove than others. Some are partially removed, while others sit and hide, waiting for a good stressful moment to re-appear. This is what I'm dealing with right now.
It's time to take out my journal and give power to my pen. Just their appearance on my desk acts as a catalyst for deepening my trance state. When stress is high, it's actually easier to release or deepen. I can sense my body's happiness at seeing the journal and pen. It's anticipating release and that is reason to rejoice. Imagine being a tense body and then finally someone arrives and loosens you. See what I mean?
Deeper down, I'm in the area of my eating issues. I have an area already assigned to these. The image is delightful....warm and serene. A beautifully appointed condo...walking around now, enjoying the interior decoration and design. I'm setting the scene for what comes next. There is no point in fighting, punching or attacking any negative behavior for that only etches or conditions it further. Entering the kitchen. Opening the refrigerator and cupboards. Healthy foods present. Admiring them, tasting some and feeling the joy of healthy eating. In the past, my eating was far from healthy, and so I have new conditioned mind programs in this area.
As I look to the back of the fridge, I see some foods that are usually not present. Most are chocolate or sugary. While some are allowed, I'm not happy that these are placed in the back. That is a hiding behavior, set up to deceive. I know this part of me. It's programs are very old and very dangerous. If not cleaned and cleared, they can attach themselves to other parts of my life. Not something I want.
Moving those objects forward. Noticing there are too many. Reading the thought programs attached to the objects....the reasoning, excuses, etc. Calling in the responsible "childSelf." Using a gentle, but firm voice. My Higher or Therapeutic Self is in charge. I'm the writer, director and producer of my life and not the childSelf. Obviously, I could have just removed the items, but it's important to discipline the part of me that slipped up. There is no discussion. Nothing. No words. No thoughts. Just action. Removal of what needs to go and celebration of what can stay. Standing back and admiring the "job well done." Another person enters. This is an "older Self." Thanking the child for giving her health and for being an important part of the "health team."
I'm taking this subject a bit further, because the undesirable food did come into the house and so that must be addressed as well. I don't like throwing things away, so the behavior needs to be managed where it originated....in the supermarket.
Mind travel is very quick!! Off to the market with the child and the older Self. Sensing the shopping cart, feeling the cool metal under my hands, brings me further down into the trance. Touching the child's hair...holding the hand of my elder and now walking down the aisles, passing items that aren't needed in our "high level health program." Breathing and relaxing. Feeling the freedom from compulsion...
There are two types of motivation....negative and positive. While I use both, the positive motivator or freedom from compulsion is my favorite. Each time I remember to feel the feeling, the sense of freedom is re-etched in my mind, becoming stronger and more powerful. It makes me smile inwardly...
Friday, September 17, 2010
Library Visit
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."
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."
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