In celebration of the end of my every day, every damn day posting, and in honor of my blog’s 3rd birthday, tonight I did a Live Video in which I discussed my feelings about this whole project, my gratitude for those who have supported it/me, and what may happen next. Here it is, below (21 minutes). Sorry it looks like it’s above. It’s not. That’s just a screenshot so this post can have a thumbnail.
Okay, I really am done for now.
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Whatever needs to happen, happens.
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Phew. All day I’ve been tired, sad. And whereas I could blame lack of sleep and a number of other things, the fact is I’ve already begun to grieve the loss of this blog. Including tonight, I only have three more posts to go. I don’t know. It’s weird. Just like when a person dies you go through all those stages–denial, anger, grief, acceptance, bargaining–I’m going through those with this. Denial because, has it really been three years? Anger because of what hasn’t happened, hopes and expectations that haven’t been met. Ugh. All the feelings. The good news being that, so much more than three years ago, I’m open to all the feelings and what they have to teach me. Sweetheart, letting go is never easy.
At times throughout this process I’ve imagined that I’d, I guess, somehow be perfectly healed, or just perfect, on the other side of this thing. And that one of my final posts would be like, here’s how I did it. And how you can too for three easy payments of $127. Alas, if anyone ever pitches you such a deal, run don’t walk away. Because the fact is that no matter what a person learns, they are always and forever still growing. Still a work in progress. As much as people like me may hate it, there is no perfect to get to. If it does exist, perfection is like the casserole I made for dinner tonight. A little bit of everything. One big delicious mess.
With cheese.
This being said, I would like to take this blog as an opportunity to “sum up” what I’ve learned or how I’ve grown as a direct result of this project. My idea being that, although I despise numbered lists and bulleted sub-headings, I’ll go through my blog “categories” one by one and write a few sentences or paragraphs about each one. As these categories became self-evident early on and new ones haven’t been added in maybe a year and a half, I’ve come to see them as themes, or what this time in my life has been all about. The lessons I’ve been learning and doing my best to embody.
So here we go. I’m just going to shoot from the hip. And I’ll try to be brief. (Yeah right, Marcus.)
Ugh. Does this have to be the first one? This has been a toughy for me, since, as a result of my traumas, I grew up believing that if you love something, just wait, it’ll be taken away from you. And yet my therapist, who has a real hard on for abundance, has shoved it down my throat. Yes, things leave, but other things come around. Thankfully, I have made progress. For one thing, money isn’t terrifying to me anymore. Even though I don’t have much of it. Although now I imagine if I did I wouldn’t be scared of it. It’s just paper. The most important thing being, however, that I really do believe deep down that I’ve been given an abundance of talent, love, help, knowledge, wisdom, and resources (both internal and external) with which to make my way through life. Creatively, I’ve been given an abundance of ideas. This is what counts. I know it’s rough when your bank account is strapped, but don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.
A lot of self-help books are huge on affirmations, looking in the mirror and saying, “I’m beautiful, rich, and forgiving.” Or whatever. And whereas I’ve tried this shit more times than I care to admit, it hasn’t been what’s worked for me. Instead, the affirmations that have turned my life around, rather than being forced into me, have come out of me. That’s what this blog has been about. Sweetheart, be patient. I’m here for you. So if you like the idea of affirmations, go for it. But don’t open a book to find them. Open your heart.
More and more I see the world through the lenses of “we’re all different” and “we’re all the same.” And whereas I don’t subscribe to one particular personality system, it’s helped me to be able to label people with archetypes (diva, drama queen, addict, pimp), since it allows me to get impersonal about their behavior. Or even mine. (Of course I’m worried about my outfit; I’m an artist!) Additionally, the more personality systems I study, the more I realize that every archetype and personality type is not only neutral (although it can be animated positively or negatively), but also necessary. God knows we don’t need everyone to an anal-retentive control freak. But God also knows the world would be a much sloppier place without those of us who are. (Wash your damn hands.)
This is a buzz word these days, and one my therapist actually dislikes because it’s so “hip.” To me it equates to being honest, even and especially if that honesty looks like anger, sadness, or confusion. You know, the emotions we hide behind our masks. Alas, it doesn’t seem to be something we can achieve every minute of every day (certain niceties are required in a polite society), but it is something we can strive toward. Being real. Being ourselves. My only other thought about it is that I’ve often been as surprised as anyone else when I’ve been able to be assertive or–here’s another word my therapist hates–vulnerable. Like when I cry in public or admit my faults (which, I agree with my therapist, isn’t being vulnerable, it’s being honest). Meaning we often don’t know what our authentic selves look like until they reveal themselves to us.
Is required and looks different for everyone. How do you know you’re out of balance in any area of your life? Your body will tell you. Learn to listen to its subtle and not-so-subtle messages. Additionally, pay attention to your relationships. If they’re full of drama, contention, or anything but an underlying peace, something is out of whack. Chances are you’ll never be able to hold the center point forever, so just keep your eyes on the middle. The rest will take care of itself.
My therapist calls boundaries the Holy Grail of personal growth. And whereas I used to think I had them, I realized I didn’t. Pro tip: if you can’t say no or if you tell the most personal details of your life to complete strangers (or vice versa), you don’t either. So get some. Learn to not only say no, but hell no. Figure out what you’re worth and don’t settle for less. Get in touch with your soul, do whatever it says, and never, under any circumstances, sell it. For one thing, it’s not yours to sell. For another, you’ll always regret it. How do you do these things? By learning to say no, hell no. And don’t worry if you “mess up.” Life will, without a doubt, give you another opportunity to excel. As with all things, having good boundaries is a process.
These blogs are my personal favorites. Many are already tagged as such, but I’ll be adding others as I work my way through reading all my old posts.
People say they’re not creative, but I’m convinced we all are, even if it’s just in the way we make up a story about how we’re not creative, or what someone did that ruined our lives, or how awful things are (when they’re really not). Of course, creativity is better expressed through writing, dancing, knitting, planting, decorating, or whatever, and I’m certain our souls MUST, somehow, expand themselves through creating. So first stop and notice WHAT you’re creating (dinner, drama, dissent), then think about what you’d LIKE to be creating (an encouraging environment, a business, a hilarious blog). Then CHOOSE something different.
Is good for a hundred reasons. Do it. Even if you don’t like it, consider that you were made to move. Some way, somehow. Your very heart BEATS. Tune into the rhythm of your life. If you ARE willing to give dancing a try, remember what my mentor Maggie tells her students. “Let dancing love you.” If not dancing, then let something, someone. Please, open your heart.
I wish I were a master at this or had some of the experiences the people who write all those books about dreams do. Lucid dreaming, predicting the future, and whatnot. I don’t know, my therapist says I have the “most auspicious dreams,” so maybe it’s just easy to think someone else’s life is better or more fabulous than yours. Regardless, I do believe our subconscious/inner wisdom speaks to us a thousand different ways. Through dreams, synchronicities, hunches, bodily sensations, feelings, emotions, and even thoughts. So it’s whatever floats your boat, whatever you’re willing to listen to. Just know that it’s not all as random as it seems. Know that you can trust yourself. You’re wiser than you realize.
Are not something you primarily think about. They’re something you primarily feel. Also, I hate to break it to you, they’re not something that go away when you shove them down. Like, they just hang out in the shadows. In your shadow. And whereas I wish I had a surefire way for coaxing them out, I’ve learned they come up when they’re ready. The best thing we can do is to listen. Be curious. Love, or at least make space for, whatever arises. Including frustration, anger, grief, sadness, and anything else that gives you snot bubbles. Because that’s your inner wisdom talking. For example, anger often means “get some damn boundaries.” (See above.)
Whatever you’re going through, I promise you’re not alone. Yes, your situation is unique to you and is your cross to bear, but it’s not the first time it’s ever happened. In Alcoholics Anonymous they say, “You’re only as sick as you are isolated.” Meaning that a burden is automatically lifted when you stop trying to carry it yourself. So please know that people love you and are rooting for you. Granted, they don’t always know what to say, but I guarantee there are people who would take a bullet for you in a heartbeat. People who will cry at your funeral and feel that something important, something they liked, is missing from their lives when you’re gone.
This is where I’ve put the few live videos I’ve done and where I’ve read, out loud, other stories I’ve written. Maybe, just maybe, I’ll do at least one more when this is over.
Is often something those self-help books try to force. Don’t worry, be happy. Alas, I’ve found that gratitude, like an affirmation, works best when it springs naturally from the heart. A humbling voice, it says, “Sweetheart, you have everything you could ever need and more.” What’s more, I’m convinced this voice is always there, available even when we are most down. It says, “Life sucks, but we’ve been given this breath, and with this breath we will make it to our next. Or make it home.” So again, listen to your heart. (Not your head.)
Involves letting go of the need to blame, being your own parent most of the time, taking responsibility for your life and choices, and sucks. But is absolutely necessary. Also, it’s natural. Stop fighting it.
As stated in The Shawshank Redemption, “is a good thing, maybe the best of things.” So please, please, please allow as much room as is humanly or even divinely possible that even your most challenging circumstance can turn around for the better. On a dime if heaven so sees fit. Along these lines, pray for miracles and expect them to show up.
Is worth trying or at least taking note of. Because, like life, it requires that you think on your feet, play well with others, and not look back. Audiences may not be forgiving, but improv teaches you to be. So what if the show didn’t go well? It’s over. (Everything in your life is over.) Why is this a good thing? Because now we can play another game.
Is one of the hardest things you’ll ever do. Because we like what we like and we want it last. Our relationships, our stuff, our identities, our stories and judgments about ourselves and others. Our blogs. But nothing lasts. We don’t get to keep a thing. So work on enjoying whatever it is while it’s here, then letting it go. The way the sun sets, the way a storm ceases. With grace.
Aren’t just cute little stories. Rather, within them are embedded the mysteries of life, our personalities, and our struggles. Best thing I ever heard on this topic was that your three favorite movies reveal the path your life is on, and I believe this more and more. Recently through EMDR (Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing) I realized one of my favorite movie characters (for almost twenty years now) was not only hung up on integrity (like I am) but was also embarrassed by his station in life (like I used to be). The idea being that you’re drawn to these characters and their stories for a reason. Your inner wisdom is nudging you forward, giving you a template for what’s possible. Be willing to take the trip.
Is almost harder than letting go. But is one of the most useful traits you could ever hope to develop. Because although the universe is capable of turning on a dime, it rarely does. What’s more, it rarely does what you want it to, when you want it to. Pro tip: the less you insist on having everything your way, the more patient you’ll be. So, in the words of Nancy Byrd Turner, “learn to labor and to wait.” Give yourself the gift of time. To grow. To heal. Nature does not proceed in leaps, and neither do we.
If I could give everyone one gift, it would be the gift of perspective, the gift of being able to perceive whatever it is thats bothering you (including yourself) in a different way. Alas, since I can’t, go see a therapist. This is what they get paid for. But seriously, what if you could put on a pair of mystical glasses that allowed you to see everything in your life, even the rotten stuff, as heaven’s gift to you? What if you could turn your viewpoint upside down and really see that there’s nothing in your life by accident and that–if it’s there–it’s there for a reason? To challenge you, to grow you, to change you, and maybe even the world, for the better? What if you could look at the mountain you’re facing and, rather than asking God to remove it, absolutely know you were meant to climb it? And then put your boots on. This is my encouragement. Pick up a book, go to church, or bang your head against the wall, not until your circumstances shift, but until your perspective does. Because that’s when you will.
Seems to be the medium through which everything happens. The bullshit, the learning, and the healing. So look alive. Like or not, no one is alone. We’re all in this together.
Means coming to love yourself warts and all, not putting up such a damn front, and being gentle with yourself and others. It means accepting every part of you–even the ugly, angry, and sad parts. The weird thing? The more you accept yourself exactly as you are, the more you accept others and the world exactly as they are. And vice versa. This is why Jesus said don’t judge. Because that which you hold against someone else, sooner or later, you’ll hold against yourself. But as you accept That Which Is Unacceptable in yourself or another, That Which Is Unacceptable becomes your teacher. All parts come bearing gifts. Hold out your hands.
Looks different for everyone but is something I’m convinced we all long for and participate in somehow. Maybe one person does it in the kitchen, the way they lovingly prepare the perfect meal to feed their family. Maybe another does it in a chapel. I grew up as a Christian. Last night I prayed the rosary. Now I don’t know what to call myself. More and more, the labels are unimportant. It’s the experience I’m after, the inner knowing that I’m part of something bigger than myself. The conviction that every time I take a breath, God breathes with me. I’m after what the mystics know, the truth that every life, every rock, and every molecule is both sacred and holy.
This could be an entire series of posts. And has been. Suffice it to say that every experience we have on this planet is granted to us through our physical organism. And whereas my personal temptation has been to ignore my body’s signals (information, guidance, wisdom) or be mad it at for hurting or being sick (not good enough), I’ve learned that it is the master and I am its pupil. I am in its classroom, and I must play by its rules. So more and more I’m learning to love, honor, and take care of my body, this gift I’ve been given. Granted, it’s easy to compare yourself to others and find fault with your body, but then you miss The Mystery. Then you miss the wonder that is you.
Is actually a thing. And whereas I could go on and on about different therapies and modalities I’ve tried and succeeded with, really, it all started the day I picked up the phone and called my therapist. One little choice that was really a big choice. “I think I need help,” I said. Thankfully, my therapist was a good fit for me, and her office became a safe place, a sacred place, where I could begin to put myself back together. And whereas I’ve done a lot of work on my own, I think this is a huge part of the process. Having a witness. Not someone that does the work for you, but someone who sees you and believes in you. Maybe more than you do. Someone who is willing to stick with you through it all. Another big part being what my therapist told me that first session. “For this hour we’re going to do two things: sit in truth and not judge ourselves.” So whatever path you choose, I suggest taking these two gems with you. The truth (it will set you free) and non-judgment. I promise, you’ll get further faster if you do.
Is not only possible, but necessary. Just like a caterpillar can’t stay a caterpillar forever, we as humans can’t stay our old selves forever. Indeed, we’ve been designed to grow, change, transform, evolve. To forget that which is behind and press forward toward the mark. To be burned in the ashes and rise again. To die on the cross and ascend three days (or three years) later. This is written in our stories, and this is written in our cells. So just find a way to accept it. Then get on with the process. Set your foot upon The Path. Entertain the idea that you are more (insert positive adjective here) than you ever thought possible.
Hasn’t been a huge part of my journey or this blog but is still worth mentioning. One lesson from traveling being that, just like that, the universe can take you on a trip, put someone on your path, or put you on someone else’s. Just like that, you can be in a whole new world. With a whole new perspective. JRR Tolkein said, “Still round the corner there may wait, a new road or secret gate.” Believe in this magic. Trust that as one journey ends, another is beginning.
Isn’t for everyone, but is for everyone. At least, words are for everyone. Personally, these words, these hundreds of thousands of words, have changed my life. Once a writer friend pointed out that I was literally writing into existence the life I wanted to live. Sweetheart, hang on for one more day. Things will get better. Lately I’ve been hashtagging all my posts #healing. And whereas I’ve thought of these statements and labels as simply my way of hoping or just description, well, in the beginning was the word. Seriously. Think of the world you create when you say something is “possible” versus the world you create when you say something is “impossible.” Notice how your thoughts, feelings, emotions, attitude, and actions change depending on which world you decide to inhabit. Crazy, I know. And that’s just one little word. Now, have the words I’ve written these last three years MADE my life change? I could never prove that. But my life has changed, and surely it’s at least partly due to the fact that at some point I started telling myself a different story. A story I wanted to hear. One of healing, forgiveness, self-acceptance, hope, transformation, and transcendence. A story in which I was the hero and there was a happy ending.
And surely anyone can do this.
"I believe we're all courageous, and I believe that no one is alone."
Well shit. The end of this blog is getting real. After tonight, I only have three more posts. Granted, something could happen. I could get sick or die first. But it looks like I’m going to make it. That feels good. At the time time, it’s terrifying. I’ve said it a lot lately, but this blog has been such an anchor for me, the idea of letting go of it feels like cutting all strings. Like I’m about to be drifting at sea. And whereas that’s exciting–I’m free, I can go where the wind blows–it’s like, gosh, I hope I learned how to sail.
I guess that’s it. I’ve gotten into a certain rhythm with this blog, there’s a predictability, a stability in the routine. Granted, it’s not always what I want to be doing, especially when I’m worn out and don’t feel like writing, or when no one pats me on the back for it (I’m big on words of affirmation), but there’s always a comfort, a safety in knowing “I wrote today.” But starting on Tuesday of next week, I won’t have that. Even if I continue writing regularly, I won’t have it in such a public, real-time way. That’s what they say about writing. It’s like telling a joke and having to wait three years to find out if it’s funny. Especially if you’re writing a book, you don’t get that immediate response.
Response is something that’s been on my mind lately. Because although a respectable number of people read my blog every day, Ellen Degeneres still gets more likes when she posts a single picture of a cat than I’ve ever gotten from all my posts combined. Ugh. This is one of the challenges to doing something creative. You can’t compare yourself to others. Well, you can, but it doesn’t do much good. Plus, the truth is that you never know what kind of an impact you’re having on people unless they tell you. And sometimes not even then. The point being that a post that’s read, liked, and taken to heart by one person could do more to change the course of that person’s life for the better than a meme that goes viral.
God works in mysterious way.
One thing I almost never do is plan out my posts. In the beginning I’d think about them all day, looking for that one idea, that one spark. I’d see a mailbox and try to make a life lesson out of it. Eventually all of that went on autopilot. A part of me just knew we needed something to say before the day was over, so it became always on the lookout. Like a radar. But subconsciously. So now it’s to the point where I can almost always sit down, open my laptop, and it–just happens.
All this being said, I have on a number of occasions thought, I really need to talk about THAT before this whole thing is over. Most recently this happened with respect to EMDR (Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing). Since it’s been a big part of my healing, I just wouldn’t have felt right if I’d left it undiscussed. So this week, despite the fact that my therapist says that by this point I’ve put in my dues and could talk about nothing else but farts if I wanted to, I’ve been thinking, What’s left to say? And whereas I have a rough outline for the next three days (sum up what I’ve learned, address my readers, address myself), the only thing I could come up with for tonight was–discuss the process.
The process being what it’s been like to put out and sort through (most) of my baggage in front of others, to talk about where I struggle and what I’m learning in front of God and everybody. Well, it hasn’t been the worst thing. In fact, it’s one of the best things I’ve ever done. Largely because it’s given me a sense of freedom that I didn’t have before. Not because I feel like I’ve vomited on the internet (sorry about your shoes, but, gosh, do I feel better), but because I feel like I’ve been honest. Like, this is who I am as a person. And when you’re honest and upfront about who you are–warts and all–well, you can walk into anywhere and be comfortable. Because you don’t have to worry about being found out. Because you’ve got nothing to hide. Not that you tell everyone everything, but the charade is finally over.
First on the inside, then on the outside.
I would encourage anyone to do this. Drop the charade. Not that you have to start a blog and spill your guts, since I recognize not everyone is comfortable with the attention that comes with posting on the world wide web. Plus, you don’t have to share your journey with hundreds or thousands in order to to have a successful one. But do share your journey with someone. Because nobody gets through life alone. If they try, they suffer. Lately I’ve really been working on this. Letting others help me, hold me. Taking the weight of the world off my shoulders. Letting the world hold its own weight. Indeed, letting go of this blog is one step in this direction for me. Someone else can write every day. I can turn my attention to other projects.
Or just take a damn nap.
In terms of its reception, this blog has been a good experience for me. Meaning I haven’t caught a lot of flack for it, the way some people do on the internet. Granted, I’ve been told what to wear, what not to wear, what to do in my photos, what to say, and what not to say, but these criticisms have been few and far between. And, I think, largely well-intentioned. Even if they weren’t received as such. Either way, oh well. They haven’t changed me. I regularly get crappy comments on some of my dance videos, and I’m still forever glad they’re out there. (The videos, not the comments.) That I’m out there. When you do something creative, when you share yourself with the world, people are going to have SOMETHING to say about it. Because people ALWAYS have something to say. (It’s what we do.) So this is my encouragement to you–
Let them say whatever the hell they want. Just don’t let them stop you from sharing yourself. Your real self. Because however big, however small, the world needs your voice. Your one unique voice that refuses to hide any longer. (Why, Marcus?) Because when one of us stops hiding, it means we all can.
Finally.
" Beautiful isn’t something that comes in a particular package. Beautiful is simply being yourself.
Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)
This afternoon I finished reading What’s in Your Web: Stories of Fascial Freedom by Phil Tavolacci and started and finished Tapping In: A Step-by-Step Guide to Activating Your Healing Resources by Laurel Parnell. And whereas it may sound like a big deal to start and finish an entire book in one day, I mostly skimmed it. Not that it wasn’t full of good information. It’s just that the meaty stuff, the technique for using bilateral stimulation to calm yourself and “lock in” positive and beneficial states of being, was up front; the rest of the book was about how to use that technique in, oh, seventy-five different scenarios.
I’ve talked a lot about EMDR (Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing) lately, thus my interest in bilateral stimulation. And whereas Tapping In is different from EMDR, it’s based on the same idea. That by gently stimulating your body in a back and forth (left, right, left, right) fashion, you somehow encourage your brain to process trauma, self-soothe, and achieve peak performance. In it’s most basic form, Tapping In looks like tapping your feet right-left-right, using your hands to do the same thing on your thighs, or crossing your arms and using your hands to tap your chest or shoulders. This can be done without a topic in mind, and, according to the book, some people say it works because it reminds our bodies of centuries of tribal drumming or just simply being rocked and soothed by our mothers. Others claim it works because it connects both sides of the brain by “crossing the midline.”
With a topic in mind, Tapping In can be used when you’re nervous or recalling or anticipating a stressful or traumatic event. In this case, you’re basically acting like your own mother. There, there, Sweetheart, it’s okay. It’s over. However, the book recommends saving the “major stuff” for your (EMDR) therapist and instead using the tapping technique to make your positive memories “stick” and your best states of being last longer. For example, you could recall a time when you felt on top of the world, or safe, or in love, and then, once you really felt that all over your body, go to tapping. Thus “locking in” that positive feeling and bringing your past fully into the present.
One of my takeaways from from Tapping In was the idea that we all have an entire host of inner resources that are always available to us. For example, my dreams and daydreams are often full of strong animals or even celebrities. And it’s not that these characters with all their power and abilities are out there, in a book or on a movie screen. Rather, they are in here, inside of me. Waiting to be tapped into, waiting to help, waiting to save the day. They say that when you first begin therapy you imagine that your therapist is some sort of superhero. Perhaps this is true. Hell, I created a blog about mine (sort of). But they also say that eventually you realize your therapist is just another flawed human being. Also true. Sooner or later you conclude that all the magical powers you ascribed to your therapist actually reside in you.
Oh, I’m the strong one. I’m the badass. I’m the one who knows how to solve my problems.
Something I’ve been grateful for lately are all the people in my life who’ve supported me throughout my healing journey. The people with whom it would not have been or continue to be possible. Because what they say is true. People harm us, but they also heal us. This has been my experience. For all the crap that some people have directly or indirectly brought into my life (sometimes on a silver platter), an equal amount of healing has been brought to me by others–my therapist, my EMDR therapist, my myofascial release therapist, my upper cervical care doctor, my regular doctor(s). And yes, I know I have a lot of therapists and doctors. It takes a damn village.
Additionally, I’ve been supported sometimes vocally and sometimes non-vocally by my family, friends, and a host of acquaintances and strangers who have witnessed my journey through this blog. And whereas I’m grateful for all my professional and non-professional help, I’d like to point out that those who help you heal and those who support your healing are, often, not the ones you expect to or wish would. Indeed, many times when I’ve wanted the support of specific people, I’ve gotten crickets. And yet support has always come from somewhere, from someone. More and more I believe we get what we need from whom we need it. Having been held and cared for by total strangers while crying and falling apart (and at the same time coming back together), I’ve come to believe that this kind of care is the most profound anyway. Because it says, “I haven’t known you forever, but I’m here for you in this moment. If only for a moment, I’m willing to walk with you and be a cocoon for your metamorphosis. I’m willing to accept and love you as you are.”
Caroline Myss talks about something called a sacred wound, a pain or suffering that cuts so deep that it has the power to not only set you on the path of true healing, but also at the the same time launch your personal transformation. And whereas this may sound lovely, it sucks. Why? Because someone has to deliver the wound, and if you’re not careful you could spend the rest of your life hating that person (or persons). More and more I believe life is like a giant drama in which we all play many–necessary–parts. Meaning that sometimes we’re the wounded, sometimes we’re the wound-er. (This is an ugly job, but someone’s got to do it. Where would Jesus be without Judas?) Likewise, sometimes we’re the healer, sometimes we’re the healed. Deep down, there’s a peace about all this, a knowing that all parts must be played. A knowing that all parts are sacred.
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It’s okay to ask for help.
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Doing my small part to #flattenthecurve and slow the spread of COVID-19, I stayed home today, as I plan to do tomorrow and for the foreseeable future, with a few exceptions (therapy appointments, etc.). This morning I slept in then gradually got going with some do-it-yourself myofascial release exercises. Then I ate breakfast and spent the entire afternoon reading. First I finished a book about continuous bilateral stimulation (The Art of BART: Bilateral Affective Reprocessing of Thoughts as a Dynamic Model for Psychotherapy by Arthur G. O’Malley), the technique my EMDR therapist uses during my EMDR (Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing) treatments, although he uses a different protocol than the author of the book does. (There’s more than one way to skin a cat.) Then I read a book (God-Man: The Word Made Flesh by George W. Carey) about how, at least according to the author, the stories in the Bible are actually allegories meant to explain the inner workings of the human body and, among other things, its endocrine and nervous systems.
Then my eyeballs fell out of my head.
This evening I finally finished a 1,000-piece puzzle I’ve been now-and-then working on for months. I can’t tell you how good this feels. Especially since the last puzzle I finished was missing a piece. (We can’t all be perfect.) Anyway, I plan to bask in the glory of this finished project before jumping right into another. Hell, maybe I’ll even have this one framed, you know, once I feel comfortable letting someone else touch my things with their bare hands.
Along these lines, in a lecture I listened to while working on the puzzle, Caroline Myss says that although it’s the physical nature of viruses to spread organically, it’s the energetic nature of epidemic viruses to spread among those who are most tribally, rather than individually, oriented. “There’s a physical weakness, and there’s a vibrational weakness,” she says. “Both are true.” What I personally find interesting about this statement, and about COVID-19 in general, is that an epidemic forces us to become more individually oriented because it strongly encourages us to set boundaries (as in, don’t shake my hand, or, as Sting said, don’t stand so close to me) and take care of ourselves (hands off, that’s MY toilet paper).
Alas, this is often the case, that we have to either get scared, sick, cheated on, or walked all over before we stand up for ourselves. All too often, we need an excuse (or we think we do), something others will understand, in order for us to set a boundary. I used to have a student that liked to hug people without their permission. And whereas I didn’t always mind being hugged by this person, there were plenty of times I did mind and let them do it anyway. If the old me were here today, he would say, “I would, but, you know, Corona,” the whole time thinking, Thank God. I can finally be left alone. Thankfully, now I don’t need an excuse. If I really don’t want to touch someone or let them touch me, I don’t. It’s that simple. Explanations be damned.
Although sometimes I do say, “I’d rather not.”
And whereas for years I thought it would be terrible–the worst thing ever–to stand up for myself and set boundaries with people, it hasn’t been. Granted, at times it’s taken a lot of courage and therapeutic support, but the world has yet to stop spinning. Granted, people have gotten upset and even cried (what can I say, I’m a heartbreaker), but, for the most part, the boundaries I’ve set have been–accepted. Once I quit a job and thought the person was going to get ever so mad, but they said, “Okay.” Now, did it sort of suck to find out that I was that-fast replaceable? Sure. But it felt even better to walk away from shit-paying work and have all kinds of time back to myself.
As this daily writing project is getting close to “the end,” one thing I’d like to make clear is exactly what I’ve done to grow as a person, improve my relationships, and heal. Not that I consider myself or any these things “complete,” but I do consider that I’ve come a long way over the last several years. And sometimes when I look at people who have improved their lives, I get the feeling that they’re leaving something out. Or at least making a long, difficult journey sound easy. Like, you can do it too in 8 easy steps! Hell, in an afternoon. This is why I’ve said repeatedly that The Path takes time and patience. It takes commitment. YOU take commitment (and you’re are worth it, by golly). This is also why I’ve done my best to share the specific titles of books I read, the teachers I listen to, and the therapies I try (the ones I both fail and succeed with). Not because I think the formula I’ve used will work for everyone, but because I want everyone to understand that 1) you have to work things out for yourself and 2) sometimes you’ve gotta kiss a lot frogs before you find a prince.
And then again, sometimes you don’t.
This being said, I will always and forever promote 1) remaining curious and hopeful, 2) educating yourself, 3) setting boundaries and being your own best advocate, 4) having both a personal and professional support network, 4) learning to trust yourself and your intuition, 5) having a spiritual practice, and 6) working with body-based practices and therapies (as opposed to cognitive-only ones) in order to heal. Having tried a hundred things, lately I’ve gotten a lot of mileage out of upper cervical care, myofascial release, and EMDR. (I could talk your ear off about any of these things if you’d let me.) I DID NOT get a lot of mileage out of iridology, although that post is consistently one of my most read. But I do believe there’s more than one way to skin a cat, and if another approach or combination of approaches works for you, fabulous. Truly, I’d love to hear about what you’ve tried and what’s worked and what hasn’t. (Drop me a line.) THIS is one of the benefits to breaking away from the tribe and individuating. Afterwards, you can COME BACK to the tribe and share what you’ve learned. Then we can all grow and be stronger, together.
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Patting yourself on the back is better than beating yourself over the head.
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What a long day. Yesterday I spoke about, upon my sister’s recommendation, stocking up on food and supplies for my family. For the next month. Because of COVID-19. Well, today was more of the same, since Walmart didn’t have many of the things on our list last night. This afternoon my dad and I went to Sam’s (which, incidentally, was seriously picked over in terms of chicken, beef, and paper products), Aldi’s (where we found chicken thighs at one location and dog food at another), and Walmart (where we finally found chicken breasts, ground beef, ground turkey, and pot roast). This after I went to Walmart (for a prescription), the health food store (for elderberries), and Target (for distilled water) this morning.
In the midst of my running around, I had an hour-long discussion about COVID-19 with my best friend Justin. I always call Justin whenever I want to know something because he’s super smart, well-informed, and level-headed. And whereas I don’t have time and it’s outside the purview of this blog to relay everything he said, Justin basically said, yes, stock up so that you can comfortably survive a quarantine, limit exposure, and avoid the madness. “The last thing you want is to be standing in line at the pharmacy waiting on your blood pressure medication with everyone coughing on you,” he said.
This makes sense to me. So thanks to my sister and Justin, I’ve now spent the last two days preparing. Granted some people refer to preparing as panicking, but there’s a distinct difference. There’s a lot of middle ground, room for common sense. Because I’ve been to half a dozen grocery stores in the last two days, my common sense tells me it’s smart to take this seriously. Pandemics don’t fuck around, especially if you’re in certain age and/or health categories, and neither do scared/worried/concerned citizens who want to be able to wipe their butts during a pandemic.
I’m trying to tell you that toilet paper is almost impossible to find.
But don’t worry. “French people have been living without toilet paper for centuries,” Justin said. “It’s called a bidet.”
As Crocodile Dundee said, “To wash your backside, right?!”
This evening my parents and I spent a couple hours rearranging our refrigerator and freezer and getting everything we bought today put on shelves in our pantry. Of course, my mom has already started a list of things we forgot. Ugh, you don’t realize how much stuff you use and depend upon until you start thinking that stuff may soon be difficult to come by. Anyway, I’m worn out. It’s been a full day of go, go, go, and I’m spent. At the same time, I’m still wired, thinking, What else do we need to do? Alas, at some point, after all our hand washing, all we can do is wait. Yes, we can be prepare, take good care of ourselves. (“Getting good sleep is essential to a strong immune system,” Justin reminded me.) But we can’t control everything, certainly not a virus. (They don’t historically take orders from well.) At some point we have to surrender. At some point we have to admit that we’re human. Vulnerable. Temporary.
Even if it’s not from this, sooner or later, we all have to go.
This being said, more and more I’m believing in our bodies’ phenomenal capacity to not only adapt but also to heal. Earlier this week I did EMDR (Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing) on a major car accident I was in when I was fourteen, which for over twenty-five years has left me feeling “vulnerable.” Well, the major message I got from my body during the EMDR treatment was, “We know what to do.” I wish I could adequately convey how deeply I felt and heard this, that my physical organism wanted me to know, “We have good instincts, we’re smart, we know how to survive, we know how to get through things and be better after the worst has happened.”
Of course, I was like, “Who, me?”
This really has been the longest journey, coming to trust myself, coming to believe that I’ve come equipped with everything I need to “make it” on earth. And yet I am coming to believe this. Not just because I read it in a book somewhere a long time ago or because my therapist says, but because I’ve experienced it in my being. And whereas I know the path I’ve taken isn’t the path for everyone (or even anyone) else, I do wish everyone this same knowing. Even if, in the beginning, it’s just a hoping. The conviction that no matter what happens, no matter how ugly things get, we’re going to be okay.
At least in our souls, if not in our bodies.
"No one comes into this life knowing how to dance, always moving with grace."
A couple things that have been on my mind today:
Last night a friend and I discussed the human tendency to shove down emotions, this after my blog post yesterday about how we so often keep our dramas and traumas unresolved by hitting the pause button on them instead of letting them play out by fully feeling and learning from them. I always think of my shoved-down emotions as being in a jar (an emotions jar), but that makes it sound like, you know, whenever you want you can take the jar down off the shelf and–to put it bluntly–deal with your shit. I told my friend, “I don’t mean to make it sound that simple.” It’s not. Well, my friend said they picture their shoved-down emotions as coins that have been dropped into a locked piggy bank. The problem? We don’t always know what key opens the bank.
Personally and fortunately, I’ve had some success lately with “opening the bank.” Through traditional talk therapy and this blog, of course, but especially through EMDR (Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing) and myofascial release. Still, although EMDR allows you to choose a topic or emotion that you want processed, both therapies are nonetheless a crap shoot. That is, I have little control over what ultimately happens each session. Or, better said, what emotions come up. Sometimes I cry, sometimes I laugh, sometimes I get angry. In this sense, playing around with these therapies (or any healing strategy that gets results) is a bit like opening Pandora’s Box, or, in keeping with my friend’s way of seeing things, Pandora’s Piggy Bank of Emotions. Like, once you find a key that unlocks what you once locked up, good. Use that sucker. But look out. Because you don’t get to decide what comes flying out or in what order.
In my experience reliving past emotions (through therapy, writing, body work, and EMDR), there’s ALWAYS a discomfort (the emotion and often its accompanying story or message that’s been ignored or put on hold) followed by a comfort (a relief, a re-cognition of thoughts and beliefs, or a recognition that it’s over or of a lesson learned). This is the good news. Buried emotions that are resurrected never do us permanent harm. Rather, they rise again as our teachers. They come bearing gifts. What’s more, once they are felt and fully experienced, they return to our system and become a source of vitality. Think of your shoved down emotions like the characters in The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe that are turned into statues by the White Witch. They’re literally frozen in time. But they’re also reading, willing, and able to come back to life, to help you and others, if you can simply break the spell they’re under.
I told my friend that I think a huge part of the “unfreezing your emotions” picture is to simply be willing, to let your body know that, whenever it’s ready, you’re willing to hear what it has to say. Of course, this involves being willing to feel all kinds of terrible and wonderful emotions, and, chances are, investing in some Kleenex. Also, it involves a willingness to be wrong. Because, guaranteed, what your body thinks and what you think (or would like to think) are two different things, and when you open Pandora’s Piggy Bank of Emotions, your body is going to have the last say. This is ultimately a good thing, but you gotta be ready to have your world turned upside down. Because as soon as you FEEL different, you WILL think, believe, act, and interact different. In short, everything in your life will LOOK different.
This, of course, is scary as shit and probably why most of us do our best to keep the lid on.
Still, I recommend being willing to change, being willing to heal.
Tonight I went grocery shopping for my parents. And whereas I found everything on their list, I had to look long and hard to find toilet paper, which we actually needed. Ugh. This virus is becoming A THING, a problem. Tonight I learned that, in addition to international travel being severely restricted by the federal government, several major large gatherings (dances, meetings, etc.) are being postponed or canceled voluntarily by their organizers. Part of me is taking all of this in stride. Part of me is freaking out. (I’m never leaving the house again. Except to buy toilet paper.) It’s a fine line.
Tying this conversation to the previous one, I will say that the more I deal with and process my childhood and adolescent dramas and traumas, the less REACTIVE I am to, well, anything. Like, I’m not scared as easily. I don’t sweat as much (metaphorically speaking). Free of my past crap, I can think more clearly and be RESPONSIVE. This applies not only to COVID-19, but to everything. Last night my friend and I saw a play and stood by the stage door afterwards so they could get autographs from a few of the cast. Years ago I would have been trembling, shaking in my boots, intimidated. Last night I was like, I’m standing outside on a warm night. Oh look, there are some lovely and talented people. Just like me.
Along these lines, my main and foremost thought about COVID-19 is that I think one of the reasons people are going nuts is because the virus is demonstrating a fact that we all know deep down, and may even say out loud, but certainly don’t act like is true. What fact? The fact that we are all not only connected to each other, but also dependent upon each other. Why do we freak out when one person hundreds of miles away has the virus? Because, for one thing, what if THAT PERSON works in a toilet paper factory! For another, we intuitively know that a virus can spread just like that. Because we are all inextricably woven together like a spider’s web, and what affects one of us affects the whole.
We get this when it comes to COVID-19. Alas, we forget that our individual thoughts, emotions, and beliefs affect our WHOLE body. And not only our whole body, but the world’s whole body. We think it’s not a big deal to carry around ancient baggage or false perceptions, and yet we all know entire families that are made miserable by one person who refuses to deal with their shit. We all know communities and nations that have been paralyzed by gossip–gossip!–that’s traveled faster than a virus. Now, I don’t like this any more than you do, the fact that we’re all connected. Because it means that what you do or don’t do affects me. Because it means that people I don’t like are not only influencing the world I live in but are, in fact, necessary to it.
John Donne said, “No man is an Island, entire of itself; every man is a piece of the Continent, a part of the main; if a clod be washed away by the sea, Europe is the less, as well as if a promontory were, as well as if a manor of thy friends or of thine own were; any man’s death diminishes me, because I am involved in Mankind; And therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls; It tolls for thee.” These are the facts. No thought, emotion, belief, or person is unimportant.
So let’s start acting like it.
And, of course, washing our hands.
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Your life is a mystery. But you can relax. It’s not your job to solve it.
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Currently it’s 10:39 at night, and I’m uncomfortable in my body. For the last few days I’ve been fighting either a sinus infection or just a good old fashioned cold, and it’s left me feeling ever so slightly achy. Like I’ve been run over by a car. Not a big car, mind you. More like a Power Wheels. You know, the kind toddlers drive. But still, definitely a big Power Wheels. Like a truck, not a sedan. A Power Wheels truck driven by a very large toddler who’s actually the size and weight of a teenager. In other words, my back hurts. Probably from lying in bed too much. Plus, my right eye’s been twitching, and my right elbow’s been itching. “And you’ve been bitching,” my dad added when I told him all this earlier.
Everyone’s a comedian.
All this being said, and thankfully, I’m feeling better than I was yesterday. I’ve had more energy today, less congestion. I haven’t sneezed as much. This evening, for the first time in almost a week, I took a shower. That helped. Granted, fifteen minutes later I blew snot into the inside of my clean tank top, but whatever. My hair is clean.
That’s really something.
Yesterday I mentioned a book I started reading a couple days ago, What’s in Your Web? Stories of Fascial Freedom by Phil Tavolacci. This evening I read more of it, and a quote that stood out was, “What if it were easy?” Like, we make healing out to be this huge thing, almost impossible, but what if it weren’t? Personally I know that I’ve tried for years to get certain parts of my body to relax with little success until recently. Now, thanks to myofascial release, seemingly solid structures within me have begun to melt like butter. Not that my successes have been overnight or “one and done”–healing is always a process–but my strides have been much simpler than I previously imagined.
Likewise, I’ve made a lot of progress through upper cervical care and EMDR (eye movement desensitization and reprocessing). And whereas there is work involved–I have to drive to my respective doctors and pay them–the actual methods and techniques used are simple. Emotional at times, sure, especially with EMDR, but anything but complicated. What’s more, they’re working faster than years of traditional chiropractic or talk therapy.
What if it were easy?
Last night I had a series of dreams in which I was working closely or intimately involved with a couple recurring characters I normally avoid (in my dreams). To me this means that I’m changing on a conscious and subconscious level and that I’m accepting and integrating previous “cast off” parts of myself. In other words, both my historic and recent efforts are paying off. This is one benefit to keeping a dream journal, even if you only occasionally write down “the biggies” or note certain themes–you can see how you’re evolving over time.
Alas, had I not been paying attention to the fact that I used to run from certain people in my dreams, I may not have realized the significance of the fact that I’m now embracing them. Likewise, I’m glad I have this blog, which, among other things, is a written record of the majority of my inner and outer struggles. Because so often when I’m in the throws of something difficult it’s easy to imagine that I haven’t made any progress at all. And yet looking back I can see that I have. This is everything, knowing that you’re growing as a person. Knowing that you’re not only capable of healing, but that you are healing. Even if, in the moment, you can’t stop sneezing.
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You can be weird here. You can be yourself.
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For the last month I’ve been meaning and wanting to talk about something but haven’t. Granted, I’ve hinted at it, most specifically by saying that I’ve been seeing a different therapist lately for trauma resolution. What I haven’t said is exactly how this therapist has been and is helping me. Sure, I’ve told my friends and family, but I haven’t written about it. Until now. Ugh. It’s not really something I want to do. Not because I don’t want to share my experiences (I do), but because I’m quite sure I’m not going to be able to adequately describe them. And I want to be able to adequately describe them. Because I think a lot of people could benefit from the knowledge.
So I’m going to try.
Let’s start here. Two years ago I read a book called Getting Past Your Past by Francine Shapiro, the founder of EMDR, Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing, a fairly well-known therapy that’s often used for the resolution of various types of trauma, including PTSD (Post Traumatic Stress Disorder). According to Shapiro and from what I can remember, our past, unresolved stressful and traumatic experiences often and regularly negatively affect our current reactions and responses. For example, I’ve mentioned a number of times that I have a lot of money hangups, most likely because I was handed the family checkbook when I was fourteen and my dad went to prison. The idea being that early on my nervous system linked the feeling of “overwhelming” to finances, so that’s the way it’s responded to money ever since. Like, We can’t handle this.
Back to EMDR, the book recommended a number of self-help techniques, including creating a “safe” space for processing memories and crossing your arms across your chest and tapping in alternation to self-soothe. This “bilateral stimulation” is the crux of EMDR and is traditionally done by a therapist who moves their finger back and forth across your field of vision (eye movement) or taps one of your knees and then the other as you think about whatever it is that bothers you. The theory being that this back-and-forth activates and connects both sides of your brain and allows it to reframe stress and trauma in such a way that, instead of seeing past threats as ongoing, it sees them as finally over (desensitization and reprocessing). This brain connection can also be achieved with a moving light (light bar) instead of a therapist’s finger, or with little vibrating buzzers or pulsers (that you hold in your hands) in place of the taps. Or with headphones and audio tones that “ping pong” from one ear to the other.
You know, there’s more than one way to skin a cat.
Other than the self-help exercises in the book, I didn’t actually try EMDR two years ago. I did discuss it with my therapist, but she didn’t know too much about it. Eventually, the whole thing got shelved. Well, a couple months ago I got (another) sinus infection and felt totally defeated. This is often the case when I get sinus infections. They are “that thing” for me, the thing that causes me to go down the rabbit hole of “I’m not good enough, I can’t take care care of myself, things will never get better, God hates me, and I’m doing everything I can but failing.” Anyway, I thought of EMDR. First because I realized that a handful of distressing emotions had long ago been lumped together with my sinus issues, and second because I remembered the book saying that EMDR can help with chronic pain. Later when I talked to an out-of-state friend who’s an EMDR practitioner, they said, “EMDR didn’t make my chronic health condition go away, but it did help it be not so overwhelming. After I went through the process, I stopped being paralyzed and started thinking, I can handle this. I can take care of myself.”
With that, and upon my friend’s recommendation to find an EMDR practitioner listed on the EMDR.com or EMDRIA.org website (because EMDR isn’t a trademarked process and, therefore, comes in many different flavors), I began my search, finally settling on a gentleman who “just felt right.”
My first appointment (out of four thus far) with him was a month ago, and it lasted two hours. For the first hour, we mainly talked. “Tell me why you’re here,” he said, and I told him basically what I just told you. Then we went through a lot of paperwork. Office stuff, but also a variety of tests, including ones on adverse childhood experiences (ACEs), social anxiety, borderline personality disorder, depression in its numerous forms, and PTSD. “In order to bill your insurance, I have to have a diagnosis,” he said. And whereas I tested high for traumatic events, the only diagnosis he could offer was “generalized stress.”
“That sounds right,” I said. “I live with my parents.”
The second hour is when things got interesting, and this is the part of the process (the actual EMDR process) I’m worried about being able to describe. Again, I’m going to try. However, before I do I’d like to say this, just incase you’ve had an EMDR experience or in the future have an EMDR experience that’s different from what I’m about to describe. Before we even began my EMDR therapist said, “I used the standard EMDR protocol for years. It’s good, it works, and it gets things done. But now I use a modified protocol that–in my experience–is better and gets things done faster.”
“I’m all for fast,” I said.
“Well, I think you’ll be amazed at how quickly your brain can work,” he said. Then he explained that in ideal circumstances whenever something stressful or traumatic happens, the brain “moves” the information or event from the emotional right side of the brain to the non-emotional left side of the brain. This is what happens during REM (Rapid Eye Movement) sleep, when you dream, and is why you can go to bed upset about something and wake up the next morning just fine, thinking, What was I so pissed off about in the first place? Well, it’s not that you didn’t have reason to be pissed off. It’s just that your brain PROCESSED the affair and, in so doing, took the charge, the zing, out of the equation. Like, yeah, shit happened, but so what?
I’m over it now.
Alas, sometimes our brain is unable to process our dramas and traumas because of something called “nodes.” Think of a street that has a road bump on it and how that keeps traffic from flowing smoothly across. Well, nodes are the road bumps in your brain that keep information from moving out of something called “a channel” in the right side of your brain to one in your left. EMDR removes the nodes.
Your brain does the rest.
As I understand it, traditional EMDR involves eight phases, including (but not limited to) creating a safe space, uninstalling old beliefs or cognitions, and reinstalling new ones. “Usually there’s a fair amount of talking,” my EMDR therapist said, “but you don’t even have to tell me what you want to process if you don’t want to. All you have to do is hold these little buzzers [one in each hand], close your eyes, and think of AN EVENT or FEELING that’s troublesome to you.” That’s the thing, he explained, our brains don’t store information based on time; they store or group information based on feeling (in a channel). So whenever something stressful or traumatic happens, the brain says, “When have we felt THIS WAY before?” and it subconsciously (out of your conscious awareness) brings up all the times in the past you’ve felt frightened, scared, intimidated, or whatever. “This is why you can be anxious or nervous or panicked or depressed and not know why,” he said. “Because you’re responding in the moment with the full weight of your UNPROCESSED past.”
Think about THAT.
Holding the buzzers that first session, I closed my eyes and focused on the fire that burned our family house down when I was four. It’s the earliest trauma and formative event (game changer) I can think of, I reasoned. Well, immediately I began to cry. Not just a little, but a lot. Full body kind of stuff. At the same time I felt overwhelmed, scared, frightened, and alone. Then–and this is the weird part–I started getting images of the dozens, if not hundreds, of times in my life I’ve felt these emotions. Once I heard a man with a photographic memory say that when he sees an oak tree he remembers EVERY TIME he’s ever seen an oak tree. The way you’d flip through the pages of a photo album. Well, it was like that. And then there was this time, and there there was that time.
This went on for thirty to forty-five minutes. Every ten to fifteen minutes we stopped for break, either after so many buzzes or when I was breathing too hard. That’s the thing, while holding the buzzers (that were continually going buzz, buzz, buzz) and thinking about my past, not only did I release emotions, but I also breathed heavily and, perhaps because I was getting too much oxygen, tingled throughout my hands, stomach, chest, throat, and head. Later I read that when being continuously bilaterally stimulated, some people “itch” inside their brains, theoretically because the brain is creating new neural pathways or “channels.” Getting back to our discussion about rapid eye movement, this new neural pathway creation is what happens during REM sleep and is what EMDR simulates. “But because you’re awake when it happens,” my EMDR therapist said, “you can CONSCIOUSLY CHOOSE what you want to process.”
Talk about amazing.
I just said I was thinking about my past, but that’s not really accurate. I started thinking about my past, and then my brain took over. Honestly, it was like I was watching a two-part movie. The first part being called Here’s Why You Used to Believe and Feel the Way You Did, and the second part being called Here’s What We Believe and Feel Now (Better). That is, while I was breathing hard and feeling all kinds of emotions (“The key to healing is feeling,” my EMDR therapist said), I was getting image after image of everything that had contributed to, among other things, my belief that the world was a scary place or that something bad (like a fire and total loss) was going to happen. And whereas I wish I could tell you all of those memories, 1) I already have on this blog over the course of three years, and 2) it happened too fast for me to keep track of. You know how a hockey puck gets bounced around on the ice from player to player?
It was that quick, too quick to hold on to.
It was like a life review, the kind they say you get when you die. Your life in fast-motion. But more than being a review, it was a revelation. Like, Oh! That’s the burden I’ve been carrying. That piece was heavy, and that piece was heavy. Then my breath slowed down, and there was an unloading, a cognition that, Sweetheart, it’s over now. And here’s what we learned from all that crap. This cognition, my EMDR therapist says, is what happens when your brain truly processes something. There’s a peace to it, a resolution, an over-ness. “Personally, I think Shapiro got the name wrong,” he said. “Instead of re-processing, it should simply be processing.”
According to my EMDR therapist, my brain processed–for the first time–the event I focused on that that day (the fire) and all the emotions associated with it. “We opened and ‘cleaned out’ that channel,” he said, adding that the channel would stay open until I fell asleep that night, at which point it would close. For-ev-er. “So don’t think or talk about anything related to it,” he said, “not until tomorrow. If something comes up–and it will–don’t focus on it. Distract yourself.” Which is part of the reason I haven’t discussed this until now. One the days I have EMDR, I’m sentenced to silence.
Since that first session, I’ve worked on 1) my feeling of powerlessness related to my sinus issues, 2) my feeling of hopelessness around other health problems, and 3) my issues on the topic of money. And whereas I’ll spare you all the (even longer) details, I will say that each session has been just as weird and helpful as the first. On each topic, my brain has zinged and hockey-pucked around and has shown me in pictures and feelings all the dots that have connected over the years to form my life, beliefs, emotional responses, and actions up until now. Every time, there’s been a huge emotional release. I’ve cried, heaved, sweated, stomped my feet, clenched my fists, snarled, twitched, and hissed, all things my body WANTED to do when, for example, I was a teenager and my dad was arrested (sinus issues/feeling powerless). After the release, there’s been the cognition, which usually shows up in archetypal or movie images. (I don’t know if this is typical or because I often think of my life as a story.) The prisoner being set free. The hero returning home after a long journey. The child being embraced by their family.
A deep knowing that “it wasn’t your fault.”
The result of my four EMDR sessions is that–on every topic–I feel better. In general, I wake up happier, lighter. I went to a dance last night and didn’t compare myself to other people, like I usually do. At times, I’m euphoric for no reason. It’s like a weight has been lifted. In terms of money, I literally walked into my EMDR therapist’s office nervous and afraid about the topic and walked out feeling on top of the world, unintimidated. One week my regular therapist brought up money and I squirmed, and the next week I brought it up on my own accord. “LET’S TALK ABOUT MONEY!” I said. I know it’s hard to believe, but it’s like I’m a different person. Or like I’m the same person with different wiring. Painful circuits have been unplugged. Other, more useful ones, have been plugged in. “If you put all your beliefs about yourself in a jar and then removed all the bad ones, what would be left?” my EMDR therapist says.
“All the good ones.”
One of the reasons I’ve spent so much time writing about this is that, quite frankly, I never knew my brain (and body) could process and resolve trauma so quickly. (Has anyone ever told you that?) I think of it like owning a luxury car that can do zero to sixty in three seconds but never being informed, “Hey, you’ve got something powerful there.” And so you treat your car (yourself) like an old jalopy, never taking it (yourself) out of second gear. There’s a scene in Disney’s The Sword in the Stone in which Merlin the wizard “packs up” his entire cottage with a spell. “Higitus Figitus,” he starts singing, and every book, table, chair, tea cup, and sugar bowl begins to shrink, shrink, shrink and dance itself into his small carpet bag. (Mary Poppins pulled a similar trick in reverse.) By the end of his chant, what used to weigh a ton is as light as a feather. This is what processing really does, takes something huge and shrinks it down to size. THIS is what my experience with EMDR has been like. That fast, that magical. This is what we’re truly capable of. Healing in the blink of an eye.
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Love stands at the front door and says, “You don’t have to change a thing about yourself to come inside.”
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