Dark Days.

I’ve been told I must write so I’ll try. Hopefully this’ll make sense.

So far I’ve written 11 posts for this blog. This is my 12th. Most of the 11 have been written some time after whatever it is I’ve been working through. Many are reflections, and none are too precise as I suppose I’ve not felt brave enough to share the gory details. I also have aspirations to maybe write a book one day. That said, there must be a moment when this blog becomes real, unapologetic, visceral, and offer the reality of what I’m living now, so that the words themselves carry as much meaning and truth as possible.

My ‘work’, in my case, lasts from Monday to Thursday. After dinner each evening, I sit down to write. I have around two to three good hours of journal work. It’s my routine, my structure that I follow. I need structure to operate, I don’t do well with disorganisation or inefficiency. I sort my routines out and I stick to them. Funny, I hated the rigidness of school, and this was part of the reason I was such a troublesome student, though no doubt it was also down to my behaviour being the way I connected with adult role models, who, with my case at home – where there was no connection – bad behaviour was my way of being ‘seen’. More on that in a future post and how that need moulded my young adult days.

So, routines. That’s my routine. Sometimes I’ll sit down at the weekend. It all comes down to how I feel. I’m always observing what’s going on inside of me and then I take it from there. It’s taken me years to hone in to my emotions. At first it seemed like such an abstract idea – what I think isn’t necessarily what I feel….

What? Can you repeat that? I was clueless.

I began to learn the difference between feeling (the body) and thinking (the mind). You see, the majority of us think they are one and the same thing. They’re not. It’s taken me years to figure out what I’m feeling, and, as a sensitive person, and a bit of an empath, well, I’ve got lots to play with, and now it’s just a case of pausing, tuning into my heart and acknowledging that there’s something there. After a short while I can normally I name it: ‘grief’, ‘anxiety’, ‘happiness’, ‘love’, ‘sadness’, ‘anger’, etc.

I’m constantly doing this. This is what could be referred to as awareness.

That’s what I do. My structured work is via the journals I’ve mentioned in previous posts, workbooks of around 80-90 exercises focused on each element. Self-Love comes first. Inner-Child second, and then Shadow Work. I’ve come to learn, however, that just because a certain exercise is next, it doesn’t mean it’s the next step for me. I stop, I feel, I see what emotions come up during the day, and I take note of what my sub-conscious, my body, and my nervous system are all trying to tell me.

That’s the gold, that’s the program code showing itself, allowing me to dive in and purge. Re-write. Re-learn.  

Many times within, a voice is needing to be heard. My Inner-Child, as I’ve learnt, has many voices, has many wounds and traumas, each with their own distinct set of feelings, emotions and thought patterns. Some are stronger than others. Some, I’ve kept at bay (not on purpose) until now.

It’s been a fucking hard few days. I feel quite broken and fragile. I’ve opened a Pandora’s Box in me, maybe one of the biggest and most powerful ‘selves’ I contain within. The tears bubble just under the surface right now as I type, my voice is hoarse and weak from all the crying. I’m exhausted, and in various places in my body there is a physical heaviness that I constantly have to get rid of either through crying (the way we fully let go, harder the better), or by swinging my arms which is my way of dissipating anger energy in me.

As a child, teenager and young adult I would destroy things and hurt people around me when angry. Swinging my arms is my way of getting rid of that very volatile energy that only anger can bring. My sleep has been affected, I wake up with my heart pounding, with thought-induced dreams full of anxiety, and while awake, just tonight I noticed that my heart rate hasn’t slowed at all from the worst moments in recent days. I feel broken. Weak. Sad.

To heal, I’ve learnt we have to break ourselves down, confront and feel through the layers of shit, of pain, of traumas…..only by giving it life do we set it free.  

How does it sound? I share this because I’m not the only one who suffers which such things. That said, I don’t know many who are actually looking to wake the beast within like I am. This is what it’s all about. And, for the second time (Mirrors being my only other ‘in-the-moment’ post), I’m sitting here in the midst of turmoil that has brought me quite low, possibly to one of the lowest moments I’ve had since I began this work. Yesterday, I nearly didn’t get out of bed, I stayed pretty immobile in front of the TV for the whole day (not like me at all), with negative thought patterns bringing me down, spiralling me into dark alleyways and holes as the cycle gained strength, whilst my thoughts and emotions fed off one another.

Eckhart Tolle describes it succinctly in his book, The Power of Now:

“By dwelling mentally on the situation or event, or person that is the perceived cause of the emotion, the thought feeds energy to the emotion, which in turn energizes the thought pattern, and so on.”

So how did this come about? Well, the journal exercises offer a number of tools that I’ve identified as being very powerful for me. So I use them as I see fit, as and when I feel the need.  

This particular tool that I used on Thursday night was letter writing.

A Letter to Self.

I’ve written many letters to wounded parts of myself over the past year or so. I feel I’m now truly getting the hang of it. If how I’m feeling now (fucked) is anything to go by, I think I’ve smashed a hornet’s nest within me with my most recent letter.

I’ve written a number of letters to:

My Problematic Self

My Attached Self

My Guilty Self (various, pertaining to different moments that have caused me guilt in my life)

My Overwhelmed Self

My Future Self

My Past Self

……and the list goes on….

As you can see there are many sides to someone (anyone). This particular letter was borne from uncomfortable emotions I had identified during Thursday. Writing as a tool for healing has become so important to me that the urge to write and purge what I have within has almost become like a physical need. My body, nervous system and sub-conscious now see writing as the way by which I release and heal what’s going on inside.

Does this sound crazy? Anyway – that’s how it is now with me.

Letter to Distrustful Self

When I start writing a letter now, I immediately reach out to my inner-child. It’s like from the moment I put pencil to paper my inner child connects to my consciousness and starts taking over. The words, emotions, feelings and memories just flow out of me. There are two sides. On one side is my present-self, the inner parent who is there to offer unconditional love, understanding, protection, care, compassion, support and all of the things that my inner-child didn’t receive. On the other side, it’s like I’m 7 years old again. I’m there, I’m living, breathing, experiencing the pain, the trauma, the profound grief and sadness, the loneliness, the frustration and anger and all that I experienced from this phase of my life. It’s like I’m purging 40 years of pain in one night.

I break down, over and over and over until I am done, until I, my inner-child’s parent, has shown, through my words, how I’m never going to let this happen to him again, and that he can trust in me, that I am not going anywhere, ever, and that I’ll be there until my dying day for him, no matter what, no matter what he does, no matter what he thinks. No matter how much he doesn’t believe it.

Showing up, being there, being love. Unconditional.  Just typing these words brings out grief in me. It fills me with sorrow.

Why did this particular letter have such a massive effect on me?

When the people who are supposed to care for you and love you unconditionally hurt you as a child, in my case through emotional neglect, emotional shaming and blaming, physical abuse and so on, a child will not be able to trust anyone or anything around them.

“Those that are meant to love and care for you in your life will hurt you.”

That core belief has caused me, I think, the most pain in my life, and has ruined my relationships before they’ve even started. When I think of myself, this poor defenceless child it breaks my heart, it’s so strange feeling the sadness from both sides, but I do, grief for living it, grief for seeing it in my beautiful boy. Through the letter I am literally giving life and voice to my inner child.

The letter goes on, a conversation between the child and parent continues until love, pure love is felt between the two and then it ends. It’s beautiful, as painful as it can be, as it’s nothing less than a child finding the parent he has always wanted.

The purge, at least for now, is done.

The work, however, has only just started.

You see, this distrustful self has been my protector my whole life, infused into my ego, fearful of betrayal, testing in nature, distrustful of others, suspicious, analysing everyone and everything for signs of imminent danger and hurt; it’s a visceral entity, and one, that up until now, I’ve been trying to silence and have hated within me. I’ve also allowed my partners to hate that part of me too – because I haven’t been able to accept it in myself.

And then the cloak of guilt, blame and shame take over. Sealing the cycle.

The key to it is acceptance. With acceptance I open the door to love. When I see this being, this child inside of me for who he is, I can never hate him, I can never reject him. He’s me! I heal him by accepting him into me, by showing him the love and trust he’s never had, by being the parent he never had.

Note that when we reject part of ourselves it’ll only show up somewhere else in our lives as a negative manifestation.

So I’ve woken him up, I’ve given him a voice and he is powerful. For the past two days I’ve been battling against an overwhelming tidal wave of thought patterns and emotions, as this part of my ego desperately fights to remain relevant and needed.

It’s the beginning of the end.

No part of us can withstand love.

And love I will give him, until his defences are no longer required for me to live my life. It’s time for him to rest, to trust, and to be vulnerable to love.

Every day I will show him that he can trust me, that I care for him now and I will never, ever let anyone hurt him again.

The heavy energies that are created I cleanse through salt baths, sage baths and crystals. I rest when I can and don’t do anything if I don’t want to do it. I’m always checking in with myself asking what I want to do.

And how do I lift myself back up?

Little actions. Small wins.

Getting up. Doing some exercise. Cleaning the flat. Making some food, ideally something healthy. Having a good day at work. Treating myself. Anything and everything should be celebrated because believe me, just taking basic care of myself while walking this path is a massive victory in itself.

And that’s it.

Every day. Bravery. Confront. Feel. Self-love. Self-care. Rest. Recuperate. Carry on.

Every day. Until it’s done.

House music is a massive part of my life. One of my favourite songs ever is ‘Where Love Lives’ by Alison Limerick, a timeless classic by Frankie Knuckles.

It came to me today that it’s in vulnerability. Love lives in vulnerability. The more vulnerable we can be (which takes bravery), the deeper the connection and the more profound the love we can live. Amen.

You have no idea how much I appreciate you taking the time to read this. For being here with me. May your day and life be blessed.

J