Healing

When experiences occur earlier in life and are not felt and processed, they sit there in the subconscious (an untreated, unhealed wound) until something or someone triggers them. At this point, the person who has experienced and carries a wound from the past has a reaction. It may even be that they are, in a sense, transported back to the event or events of the past. 

Personally, I have had a few experiences with my husband where I felt that he didn't know that it was me with him. I felt that he was talking to someone else; talking to someone who had hurt him long ago. This was a very disturbing situation and I didn't feel I knew what to do. I stayed completely quiet and after the eruption, so did he.

In general, when my husband is triggered by something I have said, I tend to stop talking. This is a technique I decided to use after I realized that it didn't matter what I said, my words were not going to help the situation.

Aware of the trauma that sits in my husband's subconscious, wholly untreated, I have learned to take it into account.

Recently, a member of the extended family to which one of our children married into, was strident, outspoken and inappropriate with my husband when the subject veered onto politics. This was at a children's birthday party and my husband chose to close the conversation down, which the woman in question did not want to do. She was in for the kill and angry he wouldn't fight.

 My husband had no way of knowing, and I didn't know either, that the young couple were supporters of Trump and his politics right across the board. They don't believe the Earth is warming, for example.

Recognizing the quicksand he had landed into (and I have since raised it with a senior member of the family who admitted it is a difficulty being carried in their family), he made the fastest exit he could. But, it was too late. The woman in question, and now her husband, don't engage with my husband at family celebrations.

This is, of course, upsetting. After listening to my husband again recently explain to me what happened, I suggested that he simply engage one or both of them in a totally safe conversation - the weather, the children, football (we support the same team so that's safe, right?).

But, due to this trauma that sits in his subconscious, maybe him feeling that he made a mistake in some way, my making a suggestion wasn't a good idea. I know this but sometimes I see growth and healing in him that suggests we can go a little deeper in our relationship and that I can talk authentically.

It can be useful to make a note of what happens and what is said in these situations between us. In the past, I have been too blindsided by the verbal attack to remember (or even take in) what is said. The value of writing it down is to evaluate how the situation ensued and what the trigger might have been. It may never be helpful to him if we can't discuss it, but it is helpful to me to understand where the trauma sits.

It went like this in a broad brush way:

- He explained the initial event in detail.

- I acknowledged what happened but reminded him this was in the past, couldn't be undone, but maybe engaging one or both of them in a simple, harmless conversation might break the ice.

- He said to me, at least I remember distinctly these particular words, "Don't make things up?"

- I repeated the words 'Don't make things up' in an effort for him to see where his mind had gone - blaming me.

-He then said, 'I don't need your advice' and said between one to two minutes more of which I don't remember anything.

I stayed silent. After he was silent I picked up my phone to check the weather (a signal from me that I was going to start my day) and he got out of bed.

Event over.

I think a great many people understand now that marriage can be about a relatively safe arena in which trauma from the past is played out. I  know that I am married to a man whose soul/heart/Spirit (whatever you want to call it) is good and pure, but who has suffered trauma that he can't necessarily heal without help, which he refuses to access.

At the same time, I also know that I carry trauma from my past, emotional needs unmet. Thankfully, I have a brother and we are each other's witness. Just talking truthfully, whilst keeping it in context of two parents who were doing their best and were also carrying trauma, has helped us both a great deal.

I do also need to acknowledge that my trauma is not entirely in the past. I continue to experience difficulties living with someone who is carrying trauma. It's a juggling act trying to be my authentic self at the same time as I do my best to have my own needs met and to keep myself emotionally safe.

I do not run from the truth. I know that I am capable of being hurt and I know that I am strong. I have much to be grateful for at the same time as I have had much to endure.

I could have run away many times. I could have ended it and found refuge in aloneness; maybe in the arms of a man who felt entirely safe. I would be lying if I said the thought hadn't crossed my mind.

But, even in the darkest of moments, it's the Buddha's words that I hear. They keep me in the game.

'Hatred never ceases by hatred but by love alone is healed.'

Worthy

It's interesting to maintain a dialog with oneself, and I think very beneficial to a person. You find yourself noting changes in mood, patterns of thought, feelings and triggers.

I think the most obvious trigger for me is anger. If I become angry I am curious about that. Since it's an experience I loathe, I want to know what instigated that feeling in my body. The answer is that I was triggered - that the thing that was said or done or seen or experienced somehow stepped on a trigger point - a wound - that still sits there deep inside and out of sight.

To put a name to this trigger point, it would be 'unworthiness'. It could be a feeling that I am unworthy of love, or unworthy of attention, or affection, or care.

It's simply not the case that any old person could touch this trigger point. I am not expecting care, or affection from someone I meet casually in the street. Although, I offer that when someone in the street is caring that's a particularly lovely experience.

So, the experience of a difficult emotion such as anger comes hand in hand with expectation, I think. There's an expectation that a few chosen people in your life will take the time and make the effort to provide a sense of attention, affection, care and love.

It's this expectation, or perhaps hope, that one will be cared for by another person that can make some romantic liaisons so sticky. If things started out so beautifully, and then drift into only random moments of care, or words of affection, the memories of the beautiful experiences can lodge into the brain and body and not allow someone to see that the landscape has changed for the good. 

Even then, the body does throw up signals that all is not as it should be - that these are painful experiences that are remarkably like those already experienced in one's youth. Unworthy of love. Unworthy of care. Unworthy of affection. Unworthy of attention.

I used to think that I should fight against these triggers - be the better person, you know? I used to think that if I tried hard enough those triggers would evaporate.

But, I found a thought coming up lately...that maybe those triggers, the anger, was there for a reason, alerting me to the fact that whatever had brought up that trigger need not be tolerated; that the emotion need not be vanquished. Maybe there were just some experiences that should be sidestepped.

So, as an experiment, I tried this side stepping of a situation that led to trigger points for me; a lot of unworthiness; a lot of wishing it was different; a lot of longing involved for something that was out of range. In summary, I took a reality check of what I could control and what I could not control, and I decided to control that which I could - to avoid the triggers.

The result has been, so far anyway, a greater sense of quiet in the body and in the mind, which I like very much.

And...an acknowledgement lodged deep in my mind...that, aside from these trigger points from childhood, there isn't really anything wrong with me at all. 

I am worthy. 

I'm just going to sit and let that thought soak in.

Empty headed

I have heard people talk of spiritual homes and if there is such a thing, mine is on mountains. I thrive in the thin air at the same time as it slows me down. Life up there reduced to its bare essentials seems right to me. Most importantly, what happens to me is that I become like an animal. I just am. Very little thinking goes on.

When we were training back at home for the adventure we went on, I often found that my head was filled with unpleasant thought. I thought  of it at the time as toxicity. Technically, the challenge of the training should have emptied my mind, but it rarely did.

On the adventure, it was a different story. My mind totally emptied such that when people express their admiration for what I did at my age I tell them that it wasn't me that did that trek. I really wasn't there at all.

I have a few specific memories. Perhaps with two, maybe three hours to climb to get to the Summit, having no idea at that stage how much longer it would take, I became aware I was walking alone. A Sherpa wasn't that far behind me and later he was in front of me, so technically I wasn't walking alone, except to say that is how it felt. I had a safety valve but also the feeling that I was in the wilderness alone.

I felt invincible. I felt like a machine that simply has one task: to put one foot in front of the other. I'm not inclined to tell myself 'Good job' but it was at the moment of the rocks being sort of wide and flattish that the thought came into my mind something like, 'Nothing can stop you.'

On the way back to the bus on the final day, maybe 3 hours walk, I purposefully stayed about 30 seconds behind the main group and a minute in front of the final group. In this blessed space I could feel alone but supported; a creature walking through the Andes aware of my feet, the gushing water beside me, the sound of the water rolling over rocks, and the sacredness of being there. I was in my bliss state. So alive!

To change the subject somewhat I just finished eating lunch listening to Shirley MacLaine being interviewed.  She made the statement that her greatest teachers have been the people who hurt her the most. This resonated with me.

I always knew in my bones that when I was exploring the BDSM space that it was a scary place to go. Yet, I felt absolutely compelled; drawn to it like a moth to a flame. When I was deeply hurt in that arena I needed to know why these were such open wounds and why it took so long to heal. I also felt compelled to understand this.

In this way, it was all quite inevitable, necessary and productive. Through the emotional pain I explored the wounds and healed. Without the pain I would have been hurt in some other way, or else I might have had to live with the wounds forever.

Fortunately, I am strong and not silly, so the pain was contained. I listened to my intuition. I never went further than to investigate the physiological responses and the emotion responses, although there was plenty of looping; repeating the material enough times until the wound had completely healed; almost as if the wound needed to be dressed again and again until the seeping stopped.

I wasn't meant to think much; as little as necessary. This is what makes the mountains so appealing. This is what made the doll state so luxurious.

My confidence in the ability or desire of man to engineer this state is not intact. Possibly, I just didn't have a lot of luck there, but more likely I think is that there are next to no men who are that steady. I don't say that in a critical way entirely. I just think men become overcome with their careers and their place in their world and the state of the world. It's almost an impossible thing to ask, I think. So, I have no expectations and I've made my peace with that.

I engineer those experiences now for myself. I empty myself of the contents of mind and I float in my bubble of bliss, as often as I can. It's finding happiness (happiness? perhaps 'authenticity is a better word), again. It's all good.

Mind/body reading

In the process of helping out a friend I recently volunteered to have my body 'read' to aid a student of mind/body practice. In the course of doing so it was determined that although I have an open 'third eye' and a particularly loving and giving heart - that is to say not all the chakras are blocked -  I have considerable pain stored in my body. Fundamentally, I hide from the world, so the student said.

Whether we are speaking symbolically or literally, I related to the message. I certainly didn't, nor couldn't refute her words. I grew up on the top floor of my parents' business, which they worked seven days a week. They were devoted to the business and to their marriage, so being hid away, out of sight and mind of men who went there to 'drown their sorrows' was central to my life.

This childhood of mine together with being born with a quiet, contemplative disposition was a complete mismatch. I needed nurturing, to be integrated with my parents before I could go out into the world to feel safe. Unfortunately, that didn't happen.

It was decided on the day of the reading that my intuition was high, an openness to new ideas apparent, but that this wisdom could be impeded by intellect. This is rather interesting to me since I am quite happy to become 'lost' in academia at the same time as I believe my value and truth is best explored through story - exploring the universality of being human on this earth, together with the specificity of character.

Also, if someone has been through the rigors of academic training the openness of ideas can only go so far before the mind springs back and asks about a person's qualifications to make certain statements. I will ultimately seek some sort of evidence; use my rational thinking mind to make an assessment about an alternative therapy.

In fact, I am by far the most joyous when I dance. My body craves rhythmic movement. There was no mention of this sort of thing, that this body that they were analyzing to death actually would have loved to move to the music in the background. I guess they were looking for the problems to fix. It's important to remember this when offered a therapy. We are all made up of attributes and deficits and a practitioner, almost by definition, will focus on the 'problem'.

Generalizations are not easy and there are always exceptions to a rule. Generally speaking, writers, particularly of fiction, hide away. That's what they do. Alone, they commune with the world through the process of writing about the world, based on their observations. They watch. They listen. They write. Apparently, I'm a watcher. No surprises there. In fact there were no surprises anywhere. I had to admit that the observations made of my body did line up for me, in one way or another. It was how the observations might be interpreted that was at issue.

I was labelled a 'submissive', not by the student who wouldn't have known that terminology but by the teacher of the student. I wasn't happy with the inference because it implied that in some way I wasn't being honest, part of the hiding. It also implied that I was not being my true self.

It's not straightforward because these sorts of people who bunker down into their modality of choice seem to suggest that there are choices when there are not necessarily choices at all. I didn't bother to say that to him exactly. I did say, 'Well, when you live with someone who insists on the dominant role, what other role is there?' I said it, not really in an open way, but in a 'let's deal with reality here, shall we?' way because two people can be sarcastic. I'm not the pushover he thinks I am.

The pushover thing, that was brought up too. My nose spoke to them, that there is a fire underneath the quiet disposition. Go too far and you'll meet my ire.That is not news to me either.

This 'combat' between the teacher and myself, some sort of effort to get me to react, was compounded in a physical way, a very strange minute. There was some doubt as to what to call my pelvis, a slightly 'tilting' pelvis perhaps. The string came out to better make that judgment until the teacher decided that the best way was to press on my pelvis. He did so, not in a careful doctor/nurse kind of way but with such force that I was in considerable pain and discomfort. An angry red weal formed on my skin. It still hurts as I write this in the middle of the night. Why did he do that?

Some of the material they wrote in their conclusions, I had offered to them, and they concurred. I told them that I had only recently played with the notion of self-love and was working on generating those feelings in myself. I was working on being a separate person, not enmeshed, not responsible for the decisions made without my input and with any desire for my input. Though, I was angry about that, the lack of input and I said that, but in a controlled way. I decided to remain controlled in a day of stupidity really.

In fact at times I actually chose to disassociate from what was happening to me. I chose not to listen as they said confronting things about me as if I wasn't there. I only really got angry when I left. I said my goodbyes hastily and rushed for my getaway car only to find the garage locked. Back in again to get the code and as the gates slowly drew open the thought of leaving prison entered my mind, how that's how it must feel, free from the clutches of people who could taunt and taint you.

I felt stuck, they concluded, not an unreasonable conclusion. I have a need for safety and that feeling hasn't been available to me for some time, and yet is leaving this place a safer place? To their credit there was no suggestion of this sort of thing, no attempt was made to 'solve' my dilemma outside of certain recommendations that related to deep tissue work and emotional release work to get at the locked emotional pain in my body.

As I sit here I ask of myself, 'are there negative emotions' stuck in the body?  I feel it in my throat quite regularly now and I could release it onto my mother but I don't and I won't. The constriction in my throat troubles me but it's not trapped either. It's just sitting there under the banner of 'frustration'. I see it for what it is. I work with it. I talk about it even but not to the person in question, that's all. That's reasonable, since she couldn't cope with any dissent or suggestion that her behavior hasn't been good enough.

In thinking more about this, that feeling in my throat, the constriction which they identified as 'soft tissue' also relates to my understanding over time that only intensified as we aged, that any idea I expressed to my husband would receive an immediate response. That is to say, his strong tendency towards verbal impulsivity meant that conversations could often be compromised. In the past few months, I had, I admit, given up trying.

I think my truth, something they seem to think I am keeping hidden, might actually be twofold. I'm a person trying to break free of the past, coming to terms with my past and unmet needs. I'm a person trying to break free of roles designated, putting other peoples' needs ahead of my own, such that it looks like I have no needs. I want my needs to be taken seriously. I want to feel nurtured in the same way that I have nurtured.

However, and this is the twofold aspect, there can be no doubt and there is no doubt in my own mind, that I revel in the submissive/feminine role. I feel most instinctively and naturally joyous when my heart, mind and nature is free to be me. I feel more naturally me in a dress or skirt, soft, light, free, content. This sense of abundance is felt in the submissive frame of mind which means, as I search for words that explain this feeling, that there is a dominant presence somewhere in my life, if only on the periphery.

There is the case for someone who is responsible or protective being identified as a dominant presence, but this isn't exactly what I mean. I acknowledge that no-one is rational all the time, or reasonable all the time, or even available or nurturing more than occasionally, due to their own needs and demands, or preoccupations. I take this into allowance because I must. But, acting dominant - responsible and protective - is not the quality that allows me a sense of freedom leading to a sense of submissive joy. A lawyer could be responsible and protective, or a doctor. There must be more.

To feel happy and content I need to feel safe. To feel safe, there must be calm, some element of steadiness as well as some acknowledgement of my presence. The truth is that if left to my own devices I would create the environment for myself and the life that felt most innately, creatively and aesthetically pleasing for myself and my loved ones. I really could do a better job of this than anyone else that I know. That I don't do this speaks to my submissive nature wherein I continue to allow sub-optimal outcomes to please other people's sensibilities above my own.

When I was in my late teens I was working as a part time waitress when a couple approached the Menu written on a blackboard. He was attentive to her, touching her and smiling at her. I thought, 'That's what I want, that attention and interest in my pleasure. I want to feel cherished.'

It's not having the spotlight on me, or needing someone to be there endlessly. Introverts don't want anyone there all the time. They feel they can't breathe when that happens. But, they do need regular little reminders of their worth. They do need to allow their light side to be given freedom to play; to levitate even. When the world is relatively calm such there is a sense of safety in this way, the path is cut for entry into the submissive space where I can glow on even the gloomiest day. All the body reading in the world won't pick up that subtle truth of mine. I'm not going to waste my time trying to explain to them what they don't want to learn. You on the other hand might just get it.