The Part of Myself That Loves Myself Is Backpacking Across One of My Inner Continents and Has No Cell Phone Reception or My First Day of Therapy
My appointment with Lady Charon went really well...I think. I mean how do you know if these things go well or not? What's the scale here? There were tears and snot involved and I gave her a pretty scattered but good general map of my "inner world", kind of skipping from "continent" to "continent" and back again; her metaphor, not mine. I guess we must've had access to my inner Concorde at the speed we were touring.
It was really interesting, towards the end of the appointment my tiny bladder took over (as usual) and I excused myself to use the facilities; when I returned she immediately asked me what I was thinking about in the bathroom. I kind of stopped short like a inexperienced thief caught in the act and turned a few different shades of red I'm sure. I confessed that I was thinking how I'd done this all wrong and how scattered and frenzied and all over the place I was. She asked if this was truly the way I felt about the session, and when I replied yes, she then directed me to say something else I felt about the session, something on the oposite end of the spectrum. This was oddly some kind of herculean task for me, and finally I hesitantly said "well, I'm really proud of myself for opening up and telling you all of my major fucked up 'stuff'..." She said "great! Go on...say more..." I looked at her as if she were a stage manager and I wanted to call line, but couldn't. I said "Well, umm...I'm proud of myself for even coming because I was so scared and.." At this point the damn in my tear ducts burst yet again, and I was surprised to find my face flooded with the salty wet evidence blatantly pointing me to a conclusion I did not necessarily want to face. So I blubbered "And why does that make me cry when I say something nice about myself?" Yeah, nice side stepping of that realization huh? Smooth as lava...when its cooled.
Lady Charon told me that the part of myself that loves myself wasn't murdered or damaged or ruined by the litany of fucked up after school specials that I was never allowed to see on TV but was able to see and live up close and personal. She said it wasn't missing or hiding and it had not run away. It was there the whole while, waiting for me to come and claim it. I just didn't recognize it because its been a long time wince we've seen eachother. I just nodded and blubbered and looked at her with gargantuan child eyes, unable to utter a single word. I want to believe that, but what if I never recognize it? I have an awful memory for faces and names. I bet I saw it at a party and was rude and didn't introduce it to my friends because I couldn't remember its name.
So my homework is that every time I have a self reproaching, self blaming, self hating thought I am then to say to myself, "Okay. Now what's something on the other side of the spectrum?"
Okay, ummmm....well, I bet I probably made out with the part of myself that loves me...maybe even went home with it, even though I couldn't remember its name. Ummm...and I bet I was really good.
It was really interesting, towards the end of the appointment my tiny bladder took over (as usual) and I excused myself to use the facilities; when I returned she immediately asked me what I was thinking about in the bathroom. I kind of stopped short like a inexperienced thief caught in the act and turned a few different shades of red I'm sure. I confessed that I was thinking how I'd done this all wrong and how scattered and frenzied and all over the place I was. She asked if this was truly the way I felt about the session, and when I replied yes, she then directed me to say something else I felt about the session, something on the oposite end of the spectrum. This was oddly some kind of herculean task for me, and finally I hesitantly said "well, I'm really proud of myself for opening up and telling you all of my major fucked up 'stuff'..." She said "great! Go on...say more..." I looked at her as if she were a stage manager and I wanted to call line, but couldn't. I said "Well, umm...I'm proud of myself for even coming because I was so scared and.." At this point the damn in my tear ducts burst yet again, and I was surprised to find my face flooded with the salty wet evidence blatantly pointing me to a conclusion I did not necessarily want to face. So I blubbered "And why does that make me cry when I say something nice about myself?" Yeah, nice side stepping of that realization huh? Smooth as lava...when its cooled.
Lady Charon told me that the part of myself that loves myself wasn't murdered or damaged or ruined by the litany of fucked up after school specials that I was never allowed to see on TV but was able to see and live up close and personal. She said it wasn't missing or hiding and it had not run away. It was there the whole while, waiting for me to come and claim it. I just didn't recognize it because its been a long time wince we've seen eachother. I just nodded and blubbered and looked at her with gargantuan child eyes, unable to utter a single word. I want to believe that, but what if I never recognize it? I have an awful memory for faces and names. I bet I saw it at a party and was rude and didn't introduce it to my friends because I couldn't remember its name.
So my homework is that every time I have a self reproaching, self blaming, self hating thought I am then to say to myself, "Okay. Now what's something on the other side of the spectrum?"
Okay, ummmm....well, I bet I probably made out with the part of myself that loves me...maybe even went home with it, even though I couldn't remember its name. Ummm...and I bet I was really good.
posted by Le Synge Bleu at 6:20 PM
5 Comments:
Synge-
Not sure if I say this enough but I truly love reading your blog. You allow us to take a peek inside your world on a daily basis and you put yourself out there w/out fear of judgement and that's pretty cool. I feel honored to be able to read it. You'll always have a supporter here and perhaps one day our paths will actually cross. Live Strong!
i am very very very very very very very very proud of you for going across that river. congratualtions my friend, you have put your feet on the path, and it's only forward motion from here. you'll find that person you're looking for, she's sitting right here with me and the rest of your friends, waiting for you, and she's very patient, just like us.
Synge, I too am so very proud of you. AIn't nothing harder than navigating that territory, but it sounds like you've got a pretty good Sacajawea to help you find your way. I think we would probably all be served well to practice the homework she gave you.
--sarachkah
Amazing how those therapist types so quickly become authority figures/surrogate parents/godheads. Hey, how was that?
I still think a magic blue pill every once in a while wouldn't hurt. I get mine on the street now...isn't that smart.
A Return to Love, to that which you truly are, to the oneness of being. Enjoy the journey, it is your legacy as a child of the universe, of the infinite, the eternal, and Babe, you deserve it!
A brave voyage it is, to the shores of your long forgotten self. And when the going gets rough, remember that old southern mantra that we shared before, and repeat it with a smile(smirk if you wish)and good humor and love for you.
All is well.....
Namaste!
Fjord Boy
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