As I listen to mindfulness tapes on YouTube, I am inundated with pain, waves and waves on pain, for hours. Then there is a pause and I can imagine life without the omnipotent triggers that have effectively paralyzed me completely these past 5 months and partially my entire life. In these omens of relief there is hope and I am reminded that this practice is healing, increasing the insula and gaining resilience.
For years I told my therapist that I was without the emotional cartilage so that small stings knocked me over. And now, this week I have learned about the part of my brain that isy cartilage and about a practice which restores it - without surgery.
Along the way however, the medicine is quite bitter but worth it. This time the prognosis is good. Before it was hope against hope with only hope to lean on and no record of hope ever coming through. That is powerlessness.
It tooke decades to connect with, understand and accept that's father had sabotaged me in any ways throughout my life, that he truly, not only did not wish well for me or sorry in my struggles or even care but that he gloated in my failings and at times actually undermined me. That is a pain that is indescribable. He also trained my brothers to do the same. It is indescribable. But it helps me understand why I struggle and suffer so now.
I have repressed south for so long. Not the least of which was the fear of the triggers. That fear (aside from the triggers themselves) has had a powerful paralyzingly effect. Last night when I had a nice period of freedom got triggers I thought, "I'll try to clean a bit. " and I felt myself slammed back down into the abyss and my knees grow weak and my stomach almost wretch. I couldn't move and in that instant I saw the power of the fear, the anticipation of the triggers which is wholly separate from the triggers themselves.
As painful as these meditation sessions are, they are also lifegiving - even though I would still prefer to dabble in avoidance, distraction activities.
Though interestingly the distraction activities I have been using are less and less appealing, leaving me only the meditations to do. I look forward to the time when I am drawn to the media ration like sustenance rather than having to overcome an aversion to do them.
Why would I have an aversion? It is the "not good enough," " don't deserve" message woven into my fabric overtly (and in ways not yet clear, probably also covertly) by my father. If something is good for my I have an aversion to it, I feel kicked in the stomach when faced with doing something for myself. There is so much work to do on this. I wonder if this will emerge after plumbing the seemingly endless depths of rejection.
So helpful to be able to share these horrific feelings. I am feeling such sorrow and sadness AND rejection that my mother never cared to hear about my pain and struggles. It is all beginning to surface and pour out. Finally I have a way to process it and it is pouring out. It could not before. It was too much. I need to get to the other side but I must be patient and diligent. This will be the first time that it will pay off. Can I do it? Yes. Believe. Do not fear. Do not give up. But I am thrown back into memory of my father giving a litany of why I will fail. It is like when Dr. Phil says the best predictor of the future is past behavior. That is such a graceless philosophy that locks people into hopelessness. My father looked for signs of future failure and pointed them out and rubbed my nose in it relentlessly. He never missed an opportunity to remind me of past failings big and small and encouraged my brothers to tease me relentlessly about trying and failing. And when I complained he lashed out at me saying that I needed to learn to handle the teasing, that had I succeeded there wouldn't be any teasing.
All of this is pouring out of my memories, resurrecting the pain and the shame which I came to identify with, unable to function in a way that was not shaming, always longing for help, feeling utterly incompetent and in need of assistance from someone more capable. This stuff is agony. I have been waiting for a savior all of my life. This is part of the learned helplessness.
As these memories and this understandind emerge with healing and freedom be far behind?
No longer will I replace the old tapes with"positive" new ones. The years I tried that not only kept me stuck but set me back - way back. Now I am learning to be mindful of the old tapes and the crippling pain associated with them but I am learning that with awareness rather than repression or distraction, I can work around the corners of the pain and become functional in spite of it.
There is some freedom in giving up on the hope (and fear of failure) of beating the pain and the triggers. Freedom in finding a practice that allows me to coexist and function in spite of. It feels so good just to have that thought and to express it. I touch it And feel it to test it out. It doesn't tie my stomach in knots. I can hardly imagine life without those knots which have been come with every thought of the future or every thought of obligation or chore or every thought of going out in society and participating, showing up. All of that has given me a stomach ache for as long as I can remember.
But as I write about being functional coexisting with the emotional pain of humiliation and shame I feel ok, no gut wrenching hopelessness or shame check. Please have some duration.
Fear, shame, stomach knots are beginning to trigger awareness. I will check in to see if this progresses.
