You will cry
You will cry
You will cry.
Tears in the eyes.
A wailing in the mouth.
I'm not sure what's going on, but I've been crumbling, crumbling lately. A kind of emotional/structural weakening is the only way to describe it. These days, my response to much of life is, "Oh no, I just couldn't."
Every little thing is so expensive--seeing people, doing work, returning calls. So what is this thing? How did I get here? How long have I been here?
A week or so ago [I'm wanting to go to bed right now as I'm writing about this] I wrote a response to a friend's post about disordered attachments and being in her self and body, especially her hips and belly.
In my response, I mentioned some questions her post sparked for me, especially about the qualities of these feelings of lack.
You will cry
You will cry.
Tears in the eyes.
A wailing in the mouth.
I'm not sure what's going on, but I've been crumbling, crumbling lately. A kind of emotional/structural weakening is the only way to describe it. These days, my response to much of life is, "Oh no, I just couldn't."
Every little thing is so expensive--seeing people, doing work, returning calls. So what is this thing? How did I get here? How long have I been here?
A week or so ago [I'm wanting to go to bed right now as I'm writing about this] I wrote a response to a friend's post about disordered attachments and being in her self and body, especially her hips and belly.
In my response, I mentioned some questions her post sparked for me, especially about the qualities of these feelings of lack.
I ended my short list with, "I suppose I could start with the most basic of questions: What can my belly, my hips tell me?"
After finishing my response to Jill's post, I asked my belly, "What can you tell me?" (I had eaten before writing my response and while writing it.) The answer: "Why are you killing me like this? Why are you smothering me, always smothering me?"
Now, I don't know what I was expecting to hear back, but this wasn't it. And the felt sense of long-term despair that echoed back to me--I wasn't expecting that, either. It's as if I've been crying in my belly for years and years.
So. This is not "bad" news, merely information (albeit of the difficult-to-accept-right-now type). I am pretty clear, though, that there is much I can learn from my body if I can allow myself to ask the right questions, have the willingness to hear the answers, and accept the information without shame, or judgement.
I'm also interested in doing this work with others, finding out what paths are already available for this type of inquiry.
Re: Paths available for inquiry about the body and emotions. I am trained as a Rosen Method bodywork practitioner. It’s something that I found extremely helpful. Rosen Method teaches that many of our experiences, especially traumatic ones from childhood, are held in the body. They could be held as chronic muscle tension or as a physical layer of protection or in some other form. Some feelings in childhood are so overwhelming that we need to keep them unconscious. The body remembers and stores them, however. The body continues to hold these feelings until it feels safe to experience them. Then the body can begin to let go of them.
ReplyDeleteThis is not scientific, of course. Rosen Method is a compassionate practice with a broadly spiritual core. Here is something I wrote about it: http://bit.ly/s6hWaF
I can easily imagine that this might not seem like a very appealing thing to do. I recommend a book called Bodywork by Thomas Claire (I found it in my local library). It has a chapter on Rosen Method. When I read the first paragraph of that chapter about 15 years ago, I knew I had to find out more. I found the practice so helpful that I went on to become a practitioner. There are also some other books about Rosen Method listed on this page: http://bit.ly/uF5gYp
I don’t mean to push this. It has to be right for you, and it has to be the right time. Let me know if there’s anything more you’d like to know from me. We could discuss offline.