A Little While

It's been a couple weeks since I last updated my adventures in being shrunk.

It has been a good experience. Though I have to say that some of the early assessments into the depths of my soul were not correct. I am happy that these assessments are incorrect and that I know that. When some people were telling me that the reason that I am the way that I am because I am 'self-centered and in love with myself', not only was I confused, because I didn't feel that love for myself, but I felt like that much bigger of a jerk for being so self-absorbed that could even see it.

It turns out, that self-absorbsion is the furthest thing from where I am. In fact, I am terrified to let myself be heard, or seen for who I really am. In my mind, I know that I am pretty loved by you, but I am afraid to show you how good that makes me feel, because I don't feel love-able.

This may not make a lot of sense to you, because on the outside I look cool, calm and collected, but if you only knew. I have plenty of places to hide. But, I am trying not too. Talk to me about it, I want you too.

I touched it.

My session today was interesting.  While waiting in the lobby, I was trying to think of something to talk about.  I figured, "today will probably be a bit of a waste."  I almost fell asleep.  The door opened, and I walked into her office and took my usual seat by the window.  The first 20 minutes were small talk...well, actually no...I was beating around the bush.  But today she wasn't going to take it.  She chased.

She called me a flip flopper.

She said that on one hand I claim to be an open book to people...on the other hand I am terrified with people.  She said there is a gap.

I could feel myself getting cornered.  Time to run...but their was nowhere to go.  An emotion was coming...must run...must hide...

Then I felt like a bad person...I was cornered.  I don't know exactly what made me feel like a bad person, but it was a mixture of anger, shame, anxiety... I felt bad.

I need to run...but where.  She had me. Wait...stop...don't run...grab it...

"I feel bad. I feel like a bad person."

She asked, "Why?"

"I don't know."

She replied, "Was it hard for you to tell me that?"

"Yes...no...yes...no"

"What happened in there?" she asked, "How were you able to tell what you were feeling?"

"I stopped running, and I got on top of it.  I trapped it."

"How do you feel now."

"Better."

Walking Up to the Line

Action is what is required of me next.
I stand at the edge of breakthrough everytime I look someone in the eyes and smile.
Every time I laugh without looking away.
Every time I walk into a room and have the opportunity to walk up to a table and speak.
Every time I don't have a microphone to hide behind.

I am exposed. I am me.

Oh...what a hypocricy my fear drags me into.
I teach the love of a Father that has no conditions.
I teach of an acceptance that is blind.
But I continue to see myself through a lens that blinds me from the truth.

Regardless of all of this...I will continue to walk up to the line.

Still Running

'So she woke up.  She woke up from where she was, lying still.  She said I've gotta do something, about where I'm going.'

That is pretty much how I am feeling after this weeks session in Muskegon.  

Still Running

Still:
My fear has me paralyzed.  Blogging about my internal paralysis still keeps dealing with it at arms length.  In fact, if you are reading this, you may question whether or not you should reach out.  I would love to approach you, because it is not you I am afraid of.  It is me.  What would happen if I did let the flood of emotion that I long to let out find even the smallest crack in the dam to trickle out of.  I am not even talking about a burst, I'm just talking one of those annoying drips.  Rarely in my life have my emotions been given any credit.  And so I have learned to survive with them locked up.

Running:
I know how to skirt around this issue.  I know how to retreat into a cerebral mode of coping with all of this inside of me.  I can stand before 900 people and appear to have it all together, as I hide behind the mic and the confidence of pc.  I am able to stand with others in the middle of their pain and translate into words and action an empathy which brings others comfort.  I can take all that I have learned from others pain, and my pain and 'undertsand' the things that I feel.  But there is one thing I am lacking.  To actually feel and experience my own pain.  I can say that a personal retreat, alone with God out in the woods of northern Michigan would help me to 'get in touch' with this pain.  And that my help.  My relationship with God as Father is more crystal everday.  It is not Him that I am afraid to be free with.  It is you... No, it is me.  I am afraid at what I will feel I'll look like in your eyes.

Do you believe that I loved you?

Robbed of Love

I've just had my second session of therapy. It's all a bit surreal to me that it is even happening. I hurt so bad over the fact that I don't feel like I deserve to have this opportunity.

I don't know what to call the fact that people seem to take advantage of me. Am I that naive to think that people should actually operate on a level playing ground of decency. And then when I do try to stand up and be heard, on the inside I feel like a child again, hoping that someone will just believe in me enough to hear what I am saying.

I'm 32 now. I shouldn't have to feel this way...but I do.

Every time I see a picture of a father holding a child's hand recently I get all choked up. Sing in church, I've put my soul in a place where I am looking up to my Father, and then I can only get out two words before I bow my head and run from the eruption of emotion that I feel welling up. At least I know that something is there.

I contemplate whether or not I want this healing for me, or for my family and friends. Of course, my initial reaction is to do it for them, because of course, there is no point in doing it for myself.

I was molested as a child. It was chalked up as, "That's just the way she is..." I wasn't traumatized by the abuse, but what happened to me was given any weight either. I think I've just gotten used to that.

I've been robbed of love.