The shadow of shame

…the feeling that has tormented me my whole life. Been the shadow behind every act and every decision.

The feeling that drove me almost to subconsciously rather …

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3 weeks since I last  went for my healing combined therapy.

It wasn’t suppose to be this long, but life came in between. Relatives visiting and those type of things. Even now I even overslept…2 whole hours…rescheduled and went 3 hours later.

It was good energy to work with this day she said.

To be on the safe side I arrived 15 min too early and had to sit outside and wait.

From being a very closed person I have cracked. The right word and it takes 5 minutes to have me sit there in all my…let’s be civilized and call it…pain.

This time we talk about shame. The shame of being rejected. Of experience abandonment. The shame of knowing your parent is wrong and you are powerless to do anything about it.

We talk about truth. Betrayal. Distrust. The inner child. The pure innocence we all once were.

As I am suppose to offer comfort to this little girl I feel helpless, unworthy somehow. Who am I to comfort and protect her.

I don’t know if it is her not wanting to be hugged, or me being too uncomfortable to reach out, we silently agree to just sit beside each other. A feeling of complete overwhelm flows over through me. Am I really equipped to take care of her?

I see her innocence and the strength in her purity. It is admirable actually.

We hold hands.

To my surprise it gives me peace and support. All that I wished to give her she is giving me.

I am the weak one.

That is all that is needed – that hand holding me – and that old wise soul looking up at me.

It holds no doubt, no uncertainty – no shame.

Only love, joy and with a shy smile… happiness.

I breathe. I drive home. I fall asleep at my desk.

I wake up early without an alarm. There is a strange peace.

I survived staying in that feeling since my early childhood. The feeling that has tormented me my whole life. Been the shadow behind every act and every decision.

The feeling that drove me almost to subconsciously rather kill myself…

I am saved by my own bell.

I am coming home.

301 signals to go.

Image courtesy to Evgeni Dinev at www.freedigitalphotos.net

Time for surrendering

It is releasing, comforting and grounding at the same time as it is deeply painful. I cry even when…

So here I am, a few weeks later, attending my first facilitated session.

Yep, to really get this, whatever it is out of my system, I figured I couldn’t do it alone. I simply couldn’t see myself for all my selves so to speak.

So this is what I do now every Sunday. Clearing my energy and do facilitated meditation combined with healing conversations.

It is releasing, comforting and grounding at the same time as it is deeply painful. I cry even when meditating. Tears swimming over and very slowly rolling down my face. I don’t even try to catch or stop them.

To me meditation is like bubbles coming down from the sky to greet you. Slowly they surround you to eventually encapsulate you in their safe white light. They become so many suddenly it is like you are sitting in a whole sea of them – bubble bathing.

When I breathe through my heart it bleeds and colours the bubbles pink.

I sit.

Very still.

In the pain.

My intellectual side can’t entirely figure it out. I want it to be obvious and clear and something I can fix. But I can’t. It has been with me almost since my first memories as a very young child. This sorrow my mother hated so much. Or at least that was what I thought she did. Maybe she simply just didn’t know what to do with it…

So we sit.

The pain and I.

“Universal”, the facilitator says.

Still doesn’t clear anything. Like I am my own riddle I can’t crack.

“Trust that you are guided and it will come to you”.

I get that this is the pain that drives me. That I seek it to heal something. That I hide from it when I can’t handle it anymore. It is why I have the life I have. Why I made all those good or less good choices.

When I leave I am very grounded. Cleared. I parked a bit a way, so I would get a natural walk afterwards. The word unity echoes in my head. It was mentioned in a by passing sentence, but it has stayed with me. And I don’t like it. I don’t want it to be unity. It feels trivial and pathetic somehow.

Surrender women. Surrender.

I keep on walking.

When I come home I reflect that it looks like nobody lives here. Somebody sleeps here, but nothing else. I feel a bit bad about it, but encourage myself that I at least reflect over it. That must be a good sign right?

I feel like I am 12 years old and starting all over again. But I am starting.

Everything has a first step.

312 signals to go. On my way home.

Image courtesy to 9comeback at www.freedigitalphotos.net

40 years in the desert

I can’t help of wondering if Moses never had any doubts?..

I think that was what Moses did? Wandering around I assume until he found his promised land.

I can’t help of wondering if he never had any doubts? No one was ever upset with him? Wondering what he was doing? How did he handle that?

And the women what were they doing? Or thinking?

The persistence and the size of faith, that all must have required… so what are my comparably small little problems compared to all that?

Can I find the same strength as his to lead myself out of the suffering? This self-made prison our generation seem to have created around us.

Can I re-fine that set point in myself when I would wake up and get out of bed just for the fun of the day ahead of me? Re-connect with that joy and creativity?

Finding inner sparkle without sugar, caffeine, tobacco or whatever?

This is for me my real question – to trust in myself – in my faith in myself.

Like a small small light far away I can at least see it. No bonfire. But something small that is bright and shines. I know now my path is leading that way. That I eventually will emerge in it.

I can start healing by accepting myself. I don’t need to know anymore. I don’t need to control or protect or differentiate. Or maybe a little bit. The mother in me still wants to protect.

Maybe acceptance is protection? Having somebody’s back when they go out on the arena of life? Shielding anyone would be hindering them even going out there in the first place wouldn’t it?

OK, white flag to myself – both protection and tolerance includes some type separation between good and bad and puts myself in the middle being the ruler…undo.

Long day, but still here – 319 signals to go.

Image courtesy to Stoonn at www.freedigitalphotos.net

 

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