Heart Writing

With the exception of days like today (April fools day in the UK) , I’ve always believed in writing about things that I thought were true. Today is that one day when, over on my other blog I like to do something a little bit light. But it is only for one day. The rest of the time over there on my learning from the streets blog I have shared about what I believed to be true, true about society, about young people, about faith, about church, how my head, how my eyes, how I have seen the world from a particular perspective. It has been true, as truthful as I could be. Maybe not complete, but at least me trying to be authentic, trying to write.

What I didnt use to write about was truth from my wounds.

I tried to to hide it behind advice for others.

I tried to give – with barely anything in my own tank.

I may have written truth to be useful for others

But for myself? I’ll admit, writing for the sometimes the rush of numbers of views or reads, or share, or even nice comments, likes or emails in return, sometimes.

Writing so that I might be important, writing that I might be useful

Writing so that I might be needed, or popular.

Writing as a veiled cry for help.

Sometimes, rarely, I write from just my head.

My head was safe, my head was useful, my head contained all thinking of theory and practice and reading and processes and intelligence, my head was where I existed, true….but not complete.

I notice the difference now.

I notice when I write from my heart, not just my head

As I experienced wounds that caused me to change

As I felt, not thought

As I hurt, not understood

As I worked through, not avoided

As I became open, so my heart became

Theres something about freedom from all that trapped emotional bondage, pain and abuse that causes me to want to write about it, and share, something, so that it might be that something for you, as it has been for me.

A gift that I have already opened, that is for you too.

What is the truth of my heart now?

Honestly? Its a bit tired, but its calm, and after 4 months of high drama, anxiety and worry, its learning how to be still again (see previous blog) . To embrace what might feel like boredom after high emotional tension. Thats the truth. The truth of my wounds is that im pre-wired for emotional tension – Ive been trying to work out and solve the psychological mystery of the damaging others in my life, fear, terror, shame, pain, gaslighting, neglect, emptiness – that calm, can feel like boredom- the adrenaline has ran away.

Writing from the truth of my wounds – that’s what Anne Lamott writes in her book Bird by Bird, writing from the truth of your wounds.

Writing the truth, that gives the opportunity for truth to set others free, from the truth of my own freedom. Write about love, and joy, and childhood and when you felt everything – she says.

But I didnt feel everything.

I closed everything off because thats when it was safe.

I avoided and wanted to hide away.

I didnt feel. I felt so self conscious about feeling anything that I couldn’t – shame and guilt were it all – and I hoped Jesus would take it away. And Jesus did, as well as even more of my emotions.

I gave my testimony aged 14 at an event where I made up ‘feeling suicidal’ as a child, just to try and have a decent testimony, because even then I didnt have a cool testimony of drugs or prison and I knew I didnt. I said something like ‘ I wasn’t very good at committing suicide, and look here I am now’ aged 14 joking about suicide. Aged 14 joking about something I so wanted to do, escape from being alive.

I had experienced that escape before. As a toddler and even up to the age of 4 or 5.

To escape the world, I held my breath.

For as long as I could until I passed out, until I went blue.

I passed out and took myself to the invisible place, the dark place, a place that was away from the present, away from the lights, the pain and the neglect.

And then the world would return. I’d still be on the floor.

Write about your childhood, says Anne Lamott , write from your heart, write about the feelings. I have to try hard to get to mine, they were shut away for so long, I think as I read what she says, feelings need safety to emerge. What feelings did I have as a child?

Feelings of expectation, feelings of responsibility, feelings of where I felt I was having to go through life alone, feelings of deep embarrassment, of blushing severely, having a face that would go red, and ears that would go red, being bullied at school by girls. Theres no surprise, that didnt change. How did girls aged 7 know that this little boy of 5 was easy to embarrass and pick on? They didnt do it to others? Maybe its because there was nothing in me that knew how to stand up for myself, to run away, to ignore, so I would just take it. It took another 38 years for me to actually learn this.

My word, speaking truth is taking me to a whole load of heart wounding places. I didnt even realise or connect all of this, until then. Write from my wounds. It might be interesting for one of you.

But thats not the point, I dont really care if any of this is interesting to you, or any of you, theres truth and fire in my heart that wants to come out and express itself, in different ways, on different days. Its the truth about what happened to me 40 years ago, 20 years ago, or only last week, as a heart that was neglected, hidden away now experiences the joys and challenges of life – and some of the in-between moments too. Healing for men, or healing for me.

Writing from my heart might be messy, silly and playful, the child wanting to be free, that inner child feeling the sun on his face, crushing sand on his feet, and running into the water of writing, loving and living. Perfection is the tool of the oppressor, and the truth of life is messy, silly, loving creative and free.

Write from your heart, your wounds, your life, write authentically, write so that your audience trusts you to be you, dont write to manipulate, or patronise – says Anne Lamott, and maybe this blog is a response to her book that ive just read, as I work through writing truth, and writing about the lost feelings of childhood, trying to dig deep into them. So thank you Christelle for the book for my birthday, and thank you Anne, for encouraging these writing hands and fingers to be, to be real, to be me. That was the point of this blog Healing for Men all along, to help me to write from my heart. I think its starting to happen.