Time for surrendering

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

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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

Drowning in a water glass

Falling into a 2m deep hole covered by snow finding Ground Zero…

When I was very young and first started school it was mandatory to learn how to swim and dive.

I remember especially when we suppose to jump from the higher (3m) trampolin. My big worry was when I finally arrived in the water, that I would misunderstand what was up and down, and swim in the wrong direction and consequently die because I would never have enough time to get back up to the surface in time due to my little detour.

So I never dive from from any heights. Not then and not now.

Now I know that if I am confused down there I just blow out some air and it will show me where is up, however now I am concerned if I would hit something I can’t see from the surface on my down.

And die and never come up.

Another time I accidently fell into a 2m deep hole covered by snow, so once in it I had no idea what it was, how deep it was and where safety was. And I was fully winter dressed and it was around 40 cm of snow so no one could hear me mumbling around there.

Eventually I had to give up – I couldn’t stay afloat longer.

So I let myself sink.

And sink.

The layer of snow vanished over my head like icebergs.

Eternally and evergreen and I would just be forever gone.

But.

Then I hit the bottom.

And when I hit the bottom I realized I could jump myself up.

And when I could jump I could explore where there was something to hold on to.

And once I done that I could climb up.

And once up I could walk home.

I almost drowned – in a hole – made for a waterpump on the back side of someone’s summer house, which they left uncovered during the winter – in a water glass it felt like.

The sinking – regardless of if it is air, water or in our minds – is the scary part. Am I dying? what will that be like? Will it happen soon or w ill I experience pain first? How far away is it? Is this the beginning or the end?

Surviving at this stage isn’t always an option. Everything is surrendered and we sink.

Flying through the air. Sinking like stones in water. Lost in our minds.

And then the crash. Hitting rock bottom.

And we wake up. (Hopefully).

Our personal Ground Zero.

343 signals home. Pushing upwards.

Image courtesy of winnond at FreeDigitalPhotos.net

 

 

From anger at self to moving forward

I assume when you come to the point, when everything goes the wrong way, when you actually think twice before starting the blame game, or…

I assume when you come to the point, when everything goes the wrong way, when you actually think twice before starting the blame game, or simply screaming on children, or on the dog – it is a step in the right direction right?

Yet I still have to bite my tongue, but the thought is now faster than the reaction, so I tell myself that is part of the process, and sometime in the future the thought will be gone and I won’t even notice it left – wishful thinking but still. It gives me courage to try again and not give up hope.

So this is surrender – and it drives me insane how frustratingly slow it is. Or how slow I am apparently.

Half the time I feel paralyzed to do anything or overwhelmed just by getting through the daily commitments. In my case my body reacts to stress with a severe desire to sleep and migraine. That is probably the worse combination for anyone – what else would make you stop… – who has been hyper active most of her life and always had at least 10 things in the making at the same time.

Doing my home-work I have now also learned that as a person with a high sensitivity system (HSP) I apparently experience more stress than average, because simply I take in more impressions (and here I thought my whole life this was just a sign of growing up with an addictive person). Now I also know that an over stimulated body and mind, which exist with or under long periods of abnormal stress, eventually can’t take anymore, and to recover you need ca 10h sleep per day plus 2 short naps – or you end up dead – either by some accident you get yourself into – or simply doesn’t wake up one morning.

So the going forward is taking a complete different form than what I had ever thought. So I go by the hour. One at a time. One hour that always starts by asking for strength managing just one more. Keeping calm. Listening. Observing. Doing my little things, I planned before hand and be so present that whatever happens it will be ok.

Doing this – or going through it as some may choose to say – while having children is not entirely easy. The fact that someone depends on you and all you can come up with is “I have to sleep now” is not as encouraging as one would want it to be. On the good side I have now been told “I did that gratitude thing by myself today when I was out” [every evening before we go to sleep we say out loud together the things we been grateful for that day] and now I am very grateful also for this – she got it!

Upwards and onwards. We are on the way. 349 signals to go.

Image courtesy of Stuart Miles at FreeDigitalPhotos.net