Is there a force of magic in this world that we can draw upon, even if it is as simple as the magical turn we can find to change a despairing way of thinking into something full of life, light, joy and hope? I am writing this after reading a comment on another blog in which the writer was exploring the idea that there may be another way of re-visioning the painful trajectory of her past life.
I do not know the life circumstances of the commenter in question, but I got a sense of light and hope after reading it. I had just endured one of those early afternoon attacks that come after I have been out in the world then came home and busied myself with tidying up the ‘mess’ I see about me which was really just some leaves torn to pieces by yesterday’s wild winds after a day of unseasonable heat in which the skies were stained a strange colour and there was an ominous tinge in the air (something my therapist commented on as I was leaving therapy this morning.) and bird shit stains on the outside decking as well a dirty smeared panes of glass on the little segments which make up my balcony doors leading onto the deck outside!
I can not really explain these attacks. They are probably like a panic attack and there seems to be a digestive element involved and I just got home from town after my visit to therapy where I bought a book on the connection between the brain in our gut and the type of food and thoughts we feed ourselves on as to how they affect or drain our brain leading to anxiety.. I know what a penchant I have for some sweet and have noticed too a poor tolerance in my body for certain carbohydrates after I suffered from breast cancer and had radio therapy back in 2016. And yes, I seem to have diverged. But if I can reimagine my diet then I can also re-imagine the types of thoughts I feed and fuel myself with. I had the attack after a wave of busyness trying to clean up which is a constant theme not only in my life but in my therapy, too.
This morning when I dropped some face scrub in the bath this thought came to me…”you dont have to clean up every mess that you see”. My recent poem Blood Stains on White spoke of this need I have which comes out of a home in which compulsive cleanliness played a huge role. There may be a tantrum or an outburst of anxiety provoked energy from my Mum if something got into a mess. I have stopped my Mum in the past mid manic cleaning spree to give her a hug only to have her dissolve in tears on me and today I was thinking of how at a very difficult point I put her through a lot when I was breaking up with my last partner and there was a huge grief component buried underneath that I was in many ways in flight from and still had not processed in therapy. Today it was good to be able to read this poem in therapy and cry as I do often when I read some post to my therapist which touches on emotional neglect which scarred me in such a deep way as to not be fully conscious until at least very recently.
Anyway perhaps this past of mine cannot be reimagined, although, if like the commenter mentioned above I did reimagine my past as a fairy tale I perhaps may have resonated with the fairy tale Cinderella in some way. I am always trying to clean up messes, longed for the missed attention and affection of far older siblings, and the only fairy god mother who has turned up is perhaps my therapist, Kat who I value more than words can say. I dont know how long it is going to take me to become free of this intensely deeply embedded inner critic, perfectionist task master who I choose to call Mr A, (the annihilator), who seems to drive my panic attacks, but at least I have more awareness around this inner psychic force. It seems to appear on the back of a cleaning spree and perhaps I find myself in flashback mode when I am engaged in this way….. often having been locked out of the house when Mum wanted me away to focus on getting everything spick and span. I hope there will come a time when I realise I dont have to be spick and span to be lovable enough, that its okay at times for things to be a mess and that a lot of the inner punishment and accusing isnt really mine, just something I internalised so many years ago.
And today after I spend time introspecting on it all I can find the light that lives inside me when I am not back entrapped in that powerful flashback mode, then I settle into myself and my body in a way that is comfortable for me……I am no longer in the contractive state of flashback but a more open expansive state of present moment awareness free of past triggers….It comes and goes this space. I know enough to know that no flashback lasts and although I pray for a day I will be free of them. Perhaps for now its more realistic to know that I can trust they will come and go, that I will know moments of peace and harmony despite all the terrors and torments of a past that I am working my utmost best to become more conscious of..