I'm lying on a couch with a portable keyboard staring at a screen in 30 point font about six feet in front of me. I came up with this brilliant idea after trying to write sitting at the desk and failing miserably to get into it. Not the desk, the writing. My parents have gone to a Shalom retreat, and I'm going through a whole lot of emotion around it right now; I'm imagining all the time what they must be doing at this point in the process. This could change our lives. I have no idea what it will do but I hope my parents come away with it with... a feeling of love and support that at least carries them a bit...
I'm trying to get my voice back. I'm resisting writing so a lot of resistance must be coming up in my speech, too. I'm constantly afraid of saying too much, of going too far, like last night -- it wasn't really a big deal -- when I was Skyping with Christi and we started joking about them chopping off my head for some reason and we joked about negotiating how that would happen, and we just carried the joke on for a couple minutes. They said, "Okay, now this is getting weird." Too weird for Christi is a lot. I don't think it was bad weird, but... I never know how far to take things. "Less is more," I remember LJ teaching me on retreat. Subtlety is key. I keep wanting to play with how far is too far, at the same time I'm scared of it.
I've asked Christi a lot of questions to get to know them and I keep thinking of new ones and it occurs to me that at this point in my life I don't have answers to so many of those questions myself. If there were ever a time when I couldn't figure out who I am, now is it. What are you passionate about? What are your deepest wounds? Whatever the question, for one reason or another, I often can't answer it. If I can't answer it myself, I figure it's not fair to ask it.
I'm in the house alone for days for the first time since I got back to Massachusetts. I don't quite know what to do with myself but part of me wants to try to write my way through it, to try to figure out who I am again, and what matters to me, and give myself a little retreat. I just can't stop imagining them and how they're doing at the retreat. Tomorrow morning they'll be eyegazing and telling stories about their lives, way more intense than the round of questions that set the container tonight. Yeah, what I want is for them to *connect* with people in a way they'd never been able to connect with people before. That gives me hope about healing this family, too. I almost can't believe they're actually doing it.
I talked to Chrissy last night for two hours on messenger after my 2.5 hour Skype chat with Christi. I really like them. I think we connected more this time than we ever had, and I expressed the desire to talk more and get to know each other better and they felt the same way.
I'm just afraid of everything falling apart. Not just the stuff that's already fallen apart, like my business, but... I feel so vulnerable right now, maybe I'm regressing to an earlier age in order to heal the trauma of that age. That's an interesting thought, hmmm, let me check in with myself to see if it feels true... this is definitely old trauma... I just don't want it to get in the way of everything now.
I'm feeling emotional as I write this. I tell myself there isn't anything more to write, that I don't know anything about myself, and I remember times when I felt myself so alive at the core, and I don't know how to get that back. My depression has lifted a lot over the past week. I'm getting excited about things again.
What is this shit inside of me? It's like I'm constantly afraid of being found out. Found out to be what, exactly, I don't know. Not worthy. That's probably the one.
There's all this energy in my body and especially bursting at my root chakra. My nervous system is just messed up. I'm really frustrated with myself because I can't figure out what to say, about this or anything else.
I hate talking about this kind of politics. But Bernie Sanders. That interests me. The possibility that someone like that could win an election just gives me hope that everything's not hopelessly rigged. But I don't get excited about it. I don't have that passion about things that I feel like I used to have. I've been thinking maybe the difficulty getting excited about things might have to do with the Geodon I'm taking. I feel like it numbs me in certain ways to such an extent that I can't do what I usually do -- which is feel into my body, emotions, somatic experience, and from that form words and sentences that express that. I feel like my capacity to form words went quickly downhill after I started taking Geodon. At first it was really nice, being able to sit with people without getting overwhelmed, but pretty soon I found that led to me not wanting to say anything or having anything to say. I'm wondering now if I can just, work on it cognitively, through all the YA fiction I've been reading and trying to write, like now. Maybe I can wake my brain up or something.
The thing is I feel so much trauma. That's what I'll call it unless it's just a doomed and fucked up energy system that I have for no reason I can comprehend. I'm feeling a lot of fear, about death, and I wonder if that also comes out of trauma. I remember my visions in Asheville. I had this insight at the time that we've been taught to fear death, be disgusted by death really, ashamed of death, but -- and I don't really believe this... I want to, but I don't always 'believe' my intuitions -- death is really this innocent thing. And it's some kind of past trauma, cultural trauma, that gets in the way of our seeing it that way. I get this intellectually and I get this intuitively, but I'm so far from actually believing it enough for it to have an effect on my energy system. Which it would, I'm sure, if I did believe it. There's a part of me that does believe it. Can I connect with that part?
I mean, like the ego is an innocent thing... (but then I thought, well, it is actually, but the ego tries damn hard not to let us see it that way when we're trying to get out of it).
So often lately I'm scared but I don't know of what. It's just this energy of fear that pulses through me. I don't know if there's any purpose to it. If I believe in purpose right now even. But that's why I'm writing...
I think it took me a while to realize this medication might be numbing me because I'm still *feeling* lots of stuff, it's just... not clear enough to be able to verbally express it. Which is too numb for me...
- To get myself back