I hope you don’t mind me asking, but where do you think happiness comes from? What makes you happy?
(Hector, Hector and the search for Happiness, 2014)
It might be a running theme this, after last weeks date night movie with my beautiful fiancé Christelle, and the piece she wrote about it, here : `The Day we Sang’ (whilst you’re there do read more of her story, of play, power and healing) , but yesterday evening (uk time) we joking said to each other ; ‘Well it won’t be as good as last weeks movie’ . It wasn’t, not for me anyway, but, it only wasnt quite. I guess Amazon Prime really does know what films we like, they must involve British eccentricity, quirkiness, life journey, discovery, love and a surprising, though maybe not surprising, moment of inner child – and that is all in ‘Hector and the search for Happiness’ – and a whole lot more besides – and it was funny, painful, despairing, violent, and contained bundles of colour and joy.
Hectors journey to discover happiness, starts when he starts to make the journey. It starts when he starts, not when he finds. The realisation of disconnection between what he says and what he lives takes him to a place of personal angst. He gets Angry. He uncomfortably makes a change happen. He moves. In the persuit of others life coping as a psychiatrist he has forgotten someone, himself. The child that played airplanes and dreamed of adventures.
I ask myself – what kind of happy was I wanting other people to have – if I want happy? What kind of life was I setting other people up for – if I couldn’t feel my own feelings and in self denial?
On his journey, he observes, he writes, he lives- eventually … he feels happy. But he had to feel through the other feelings first.
Ill not write too much more, as its so worth a watch for yourself. Should I give away the ending here.. Well no I won’t.
What he discovers too, is that Happiness is a threatening question. Happiness is a question in a currency the world cannot cope with. Happiness could be discovered when he let his inhibitions go, through taking risks, through community, through following his instinct. Happiness is a dream sold, but is never found that way.
It was another reminder to me, trying to control and inhibit emotions is such an easy default for me too. I dissociated from them, and my body, from an early age, survived by growing up fast and my ‘little professor‘ ruled – the adult/child. I gave up being curious and feelings – and played everything safe, stone cold safe – feelings in shutdown mode, hiding myself to be safe. What did Hector learn? What have I had to learn? That its ok to feel emotions. That its ok to feel them. Yes, it needed safety, care, love, and space. But like a car without an engine, life doesn’t work without making use of them. I was running and avoiding, not only the painful things, but also the feelings associated with the painful things – understandably so.
Things keep unravelling for me, day by day, week by week, unravelling, not in the psychotic way, but giving myself permission to feel, having space to feel, and digging deep into the parts of me that were meant to feel anger, meant to feel love, meant to be nurtured, meant to feel grief. Only small moments cut through, the playing of Danny Boy at my grandfathers funeral, still gets me every time, that was in 2000. The rest of the time I was in survival mode, stone cold mode, avoid, or intellectualise my feelings away.
Happiness, couldn’t be bought ..in the movie…..- it had to be felt – it was…..all of it.
Im just reading The Hobbit to Christelle; and was reminded of this:
Thank you for reading. Maybe its time to keep discovering what makes us happy – and not just what makes us less sick, or soothes our pain – me included.
Although I might have considered myself a ‘not very judgemental’ type of person, borne out, mostly of a combination of people pleasing, empathic behaviour from an early age, and also adopting youth and community work values, stemming from human values that were of this nature from my studies. Strong empathy on one hand maybe, maybe even non judgemental at times too – I definitely did judge though, often as a form of a projection, this could be to organisations, or people groups. A classic one would be to say that a group of young people were ‘hard to reach’ – from an organisation point of view – but that was more likely a reflection on my own practice in engaging – rather than their responsibility.
That was from an organisational point of view – project outwards to hide personal defects or deficits. Many projections I made came from what I did not have, critical of what others had.
Im just reading ‘Born to Win’ by Muriel James and Dorothy Jongeward, in it they very succinctly describe the process of as an adult learning from projections saying:
A projection is a trait, attitude, feeling or bit of behaviour which actually belongs to your own personality but is not experienced as such, instead it is attributed to object or persons in the environment and then experienced as directed towards you instead of the other way around
Perls, in James/Jongeward
So its something that is in my own personality – that I might either be aware or unaware of, or in denial of – that I communicate outwards, yet it resides in something of my own more than it does others. Most insults are projections. Most of what I heard by my abusive mother was projections. One was;
‘Look at _______, they are spoiling that child’
When this translating as, I am actually neglecting my children, and justifying this as ‘not spoiling’
So what about mine.
In the above book they share another example:
‘The picture of being rejected – by first his (or her) parents and now his (or her) friends is one the neurotic goes at great lengths to establish and maintain. Whilst some claims might be true , what is also true is that the person has failed to live up to ideal expectations or standard he imposed on them. Once he (she) has projected his/her rejecting onto the other situation, regard themself as the passive object of all kinds of unwarranted hardship, unkind treatment or even victimisation’
It was only when I became aware of what I did not have that I realised I was projecting. In a twist of irony, where my parents projected that other parents were spoiling their children, and emotionally damaging us, my own projections focussed on the luxuries of others, whilst not being aware of how I was in denial of myself. I dont need self -care, I can manage without…. or ‘look at them going to get their fix’ , what I understand now is that I can use my projections to listen and learn to myself and see what it is that might be part of my own personality. I wince at some of my blogs on my other site, or even here.
Whats also clear is that unsurprisingly, my childhood family communicated in the language of projection. It was what Sunday Lunchtime was, complain and project about everyone in church that morning, its what conversations were after seeing family members – ‘everyone else is damaging/toxic’ . Everyone else is the problem… so as I grew up its no wonder I can see how it was easy to fall into the same cynical critical stand point. As a child there was no way of knowing or realising what was going on. I had learned a way of hiding what was deficit in myself by projecting outwards.
On reflection, can I continue to be brave and courageous to realise where my current tendencies to project outwards might reveal personal deficiencies in my own personality?
What might it mean, like to quote says above – to read the lines of projection in insults?
What do I – what do you accuse other of – that might be self-lesson waiting to be had?
This is a brilliant article on exploring projections further, do give it a read – on why we use projections as defence mechanisms, instead of owning and expressing ourselves.
Over the last few weeks I have, again, through a combination of therapy and personal reading, began to identify more about the ways in which I survived – or were guided towards surviving as a child in the midst of emotionally immature parenting (from both parents).
I had some favourite toys as a child, many of which – except for board games- were ones in which I played alone, I was the older child. Some of those favourite toys were train sets, lego and less so mechano – they all involved building, making a route, a building and then playing with them. The constructing was more fun than the playing. In the 1980’s Video games were non existent, for me, though there was at least one racing game I remember – but these kind of games were seen as a waste of time by the parents. (sudden realisation here…. something frivolous was a ‘waste of time’ – play wasn’t worth spending money on….most of my toys had some education purpose….or they were quiet) (I’ve talked about fun elsewhere..)
I read a lot of books, and at this time of the year I am reminded of the very long summer nights as a child and how I would read late into the night, books by Roald Dahl mostly, though also Beano Annuals, Comics and other books I cant remember- my bedroom window had a western facing window and so it was so light until late I wouldn’t need the light on.
There were a few electronic games, educational ones obviously, that I did have, one was a kind of colour coded game in which I had to copy the sequence of colours/lights in a row , and the sequence would get longer and longer. From about the age of 10, as I had learned to play chess by then, I had a computer chess game, so that I could play chess by myself, and move the pieces and follow the coordinates on the red lights, this was great as I could play in the room and listen to adult chat or could hide away somewhere. Other times I remembered playing and making up games to myself, even playing against myself in games like naughts and crosses or one of the children TV quiz shows.
However, the one toy that summed up the child that I was, in the main, was a small yellow electronic calculator, called ‘The Little Professor’ . I was given one at the age of about 5 I think.
The 1980’s Little Professor
I learned quickly that I had to be clever. I wasnt going to be happy, neither felt in any way physically tough or handsome, and as I have said before, I was having to adapt to the systems around me, and also try and understand in it all. Words like conscientious on a good school report or ‘don’t try and be a clever clogs’ on a bad parent reaction day – were common. I learned to find safety in learning. I learned that I was going to have to try and work things out. Try and work out how to do well, how to survive, and even, as I said in this piece, how to work out how to get what I needed, without getting caught…
The little professors, the thinker, perceptive to have to work things out.
Some of it paid off, 4 years of home based little professor and my maths grades at Primary school were the very top. I was intelligent but utterly messy with it, untidy – I didn’t present what I knew well, but I knew things. Oh and I also worked out how to win the Little Bowden School story cup, by copying Martyn Buzzards story, he won by having a dog go on an adventure, I won the next month by having a cat do the same. Teachers couldn’t believe that I would cheat? I didnt cheat, I copied the good idea and turned it into my own. Clever. And maybe sweet and innocent too.
Little James had a very strong little professor – always thinking, trying to work things out, and in the case of this..
I was able to self learn all the times tables, all the sums, and began to memorise complicated sums like 27*37 which is 999 because the display on the little professor only had went up to 999 and so I wanted to work out what sum went to the highest number. There were many games on it, and most of the time I was doing very quick multiplication of double figures, the kind that id only learn to do properly in school many years later.
The ironic thing about the little professor in me, is that numbers was safe. I had no life experience aged 5,6,7,8,9 to fit with the things I was trying to find out, my mind was exploring, and wanting to know answers to questions, but id end up being seriously naive at times. It makes sense in another way too though, because I had to already know intuitively how to navigate eggshells, I had to be perceptive, always. Its no wonder I wanted to do psychology at the age of 16, its as if I knew something about reading other people. Sometimes that Little Professor was creative and innovative – sometimes it still is, and so I am very grateful for my little professor childhood survival strategy, going into my head and valuing learning and intelligence was what I needed to do to survive. Both to do well at school and thrive, and also to understand how to get what I needed, even if was devious.
I may come back to my ‘little professor’ childhood again, but there’s no doubt that in the midst of emotional neglect and abuse, the one thing that did develop , maybe too much, and detrimentally in later life – was that little professor part of my childhood development.
I had no experience of light Life Days for a very long time
Because, everything was trapped away
Hiding, in a cupboard
Hiding away, Heavy, very heavy
But gradually, with safety, I began to take a few things out
And look at them
And give them light
What I noticed was though there was alot of processing being done, something even 3-4 years ago felt lighter
I felt lighter
I carried less
Today has been a light Life day
Yesterday was a processing day
A writing day of listening to my inner voices, anxieties, questions, emotions, feelings, and getting them down
Body still keeping the score
The day after facing something, processing it, feeling it, I can feel light, it’s as if my soul, my inner child, my self rewards itself with blissful feelings of achievement
New bits of shedding to be done as it’s revealed, new parts given the opportunity to have burdens lifted
Today felt light, inner bliss
Walking in the woods this morning, it didn’t matter if I did or didn’t see anything, I was just happy to be out, happy to be me, be another newer version of the real me
Life feels light when one more aspect of life’s trauma has been lifted, there will I’m sure be others, the journey isn’t over, but today has been a life light day. What about you, what’s does it feel like, the day after you’ve given your soul time to process the shit?
It’s as if the universe conspires to give a day of emotional relaxation and joy… Life light days
Mothers Day is ‘easy’, as is her birthday. Its not easy, but it’s easy because it’s clear cut, if you have read anything of my story on these pages, or had met her, you will know.
For some of you reading this, Fathers day is the clear cut one. Not easy, not ever easy, but its clear, if your father abused you, hurt you, abandoned you, or beat up your mum, Fathers day brings with it horrible trauma, understandably, as its being dealt with, I’m not in any way saying that its easy, at all – more reflecting that there’s a clarity, however rough, in facing that day as a horrendously difficult one, as its a permanent reminder of the abusive, toxic one. For me- that day is Mothers day.
But Fathers day – the celebratory day , for me, of the ‘other’ parent – its complicated isn’t it?
Even as I grew up, from mid teens onwards there was a recognition of the ‘difficult relationship people has with their fathers’ – on fathers day. But that wasn’t me.
The difficult relationship was with the psychopathic other one.
So, I could, somehow think to myself- aged 12 onwards that I was somehow alone, in that no-one had difficult mum issues, and also that compared to mum issues I did have, I didnt have dad issues. Or at least, I had lesser Dad issues that have only arisen to the surface as I have begun in recent times to deal with the mum issues.
I kind of get, how a child of abused female parent is expected to rationalise their action -The abusive male is stronger, more powerful physically, the child watching the damage to their mum – is undoubtedly traumatised – but she isnt expected to fight back, yet might protect her children and leave for safety.
What kind of emotional strength and awareness would it take for a man to leave an abusive woman?
Thats the question I am left facing in regard to my Dad, for 40 years I know I was afraid, for 40 years I ran and hid, for 40 years I couldn’t see it either – caught in her toxic web – the trophy, compliant child, walking on eggshells.
Its complicated, Fathers Day.
On one hand, my Dad didnt abuse me, frighten me, hurt me, bully or reject me. So thats a tick.
But on the other, he didn’t protect me from the one who did abuse, frighten, hurt and bully, not just me..but everyone. Thats the tick taken away, isnt it?
And he did carry out the ‘Dad’ punishments on behalf of the other one, when she got upset by something I did or didnt do – that to her was unreasonable.
Slippers used to beat me on at least two occasions, and on both I can remember thinking that he wasnt really invested in doing it, wasnt really him, just being told to do it by her. Child-mum got upset. Emotional, couldn’t cope.
And he didnt ever stand up to her – for either of us – never saying ‘You’re being too hard on them’ to her… but , instead saying things like ‘ Just do that thing to please your mother’ or ‘ Dont upset her’ – all the whole realising that it made absolutely no difference.
Keep off the eggshells, or ill be in trouble too. he might as well have said.
Often he was just her tool.
Defending her, when others called her out.
I am reminded of this- and the book it came from:
Essentially, you dont get to have only one Emotionally immature Parent. At least, I dont. The obvious one is the Emotional one, the Child-mother. Dad is Passive parent, to the textbook.
‘Passive parents aren’t angry or pushy like the other three types, but they still have negative effects. They positive acquire to dominant personalities and often partner with more aggressive types who are also emotionally immature, which makes sense given that people with similar emotional maturity levels are attracted to one another. Comparesd to other types, these passive parents seem more emotionally available, but only up to a point. When things get too intense, they become passive, withdraw emotionally, and hide their heads in the sand. They dont offer their children any limits or guidance or help them to navigate the world,. They may love you, but they cant help you’
Lindsay C Gibson, Adult children of Emotionally Immature Parents (2015)
He was also completely un-trustworthy – her Flying Monkey , he’d be the one to glean information, good (easy to talk to) cop, though didnt offer anything in return – no empathy, advice, genuine concern – was just listening for information to take back. I learned not to trust this parent. Any attention he got made the other jealous, so actually it would become difficult to know how to gauge what to do. He knew we, as children or a family, would spend time with him, when she wasnt around. Yet, he would hide away to stay out of the line of fire, I mean he didnt spend hours in a shed, garage or converting an attic for nothing – or somebody elses.
The image is right though, playful – and also at times fun – especially when I was a much younger child, and would still play board games , also the helpful fixer – practically doing things, making, fixing, DIY and all of that, though that DIY ‘dependency’ would be a way for her to be involved – so again he was being used.
What makes all this complicated is the level to which I regard him as someone who could have made different choices, someone who may have realised a long time ago that he has missed out on many aspects of actual life – like relationships with his own kids, grandkids, family and others – and chosen instead a path of least resistance and loyalty. For too long people would say ‘I feel so sorry for ________ (insert my Dads name) he’s such a nice guy – really helpful – he shouldn’t miss out – just because of your mum’ – and maybe, feeling sorry meant that I or others kept softer boundaries with him, that the other parent bull dozed through – (a marathon of miles taken when an inch was offered).
I could understand that he was scared of her, everyone was, but if he was scared of her – why did he not think that his children needed protecting from her too? Maybe thats it, maybe thats what makes it complicated, he was in his own survival mode that we were all in, whilst the psychopath took everything for herself – am I angry- no – is it complicated? Yes. Could he have taken responsibility – and not left the emotional responsibility to me in the house? Yes, Could he have thought his children have some emotional welfare against her abuse? Yes
Was he continually lied to by her? Was he stuck in the midst of the Darvo game she played? Did he accept breadcrumbs? Was he coerced to be loyal for religious reasons? – probably yes to all.
Maybe, I just realised that because of his loyalty to her, despite all the abuse, then what I had to do was treat them as the pair that they are.
Fathers Day. Its complicated. When one parent is only slightly better than a very abusive one, doesnt mean that they’re in anyway good, nurturing, protective or supportive, especially when enmeshed in their lair. He’s a grown up though, its his responsibility to change himself. Happy Fathers day ; To the parent who isnt as bad as the other one – isnt going to sell many in Clinton cards…
So – what do I feel? Feelings are complicated today – because all of this is complicated. Sometimes I feel angry and annoyed, then I feel guilty for feeling angry and annoyed , because well, that anger and annoyed should be directed at the other parent – then I wonder if in reality there is no such thing as a perfect dad anyway and do I have unrealistic expectations – but actually thats just a cop out. I can choose to have neither part of my life, especially while both exist as a pair. Its just easier that way. Whilst im writing this, im realising im a week early in processing this, thinking that Fathers day is tomorrow when it actually isnt, says something about how im feeling I guess.
Its also complicated because I am also a Dad too, and trying to unlearn what I grew up with, to be a better person and man today, every day.
I sometimes get asked the question : ‘Why are you writing just to Men?’ so I thought I might share a little in response and maybe pose a few further thoughts on this, thoughts, that may not be complete, but thoughts that share a little on some of my reasoning and motives for the blog as it is:
The main reason ‘Healing for Men’ is that I am male. Its kind of obvious, but theres no way I would want to speak for, or to women. Yes I know women read what I write, some women read it and pass it on to their male friends or partners. My experience is from a male perspective, my perspective, of what it was like to grow up in an emotionally abusive home and the implications of that, of being a son, a brother, a husband and father, and also male in various workplaces such as supermarkets, call centres, and through education to Masters and 20 years in faith based youth and community work, all as a male. But also what its like for me, as a male, accessing therapy, accessing the process of therapeutic learning, self help, self awareness and rebuilding. I have tried where I have been able too to write from my experience.
The Mental health, suicide crisis is virtually solely a Male one in the UK, its the biggest cause of death for the 30-50’s, and though I can honestly say I wasn’t close to making that life ending decision aged 40, it might have been close if it wasnt for a small group of friends and a place to stay. Part of this blog then, is for me to talk about what getting help, vulnerability and life change is like for me, what shame, guilt, feeling trapped is like and sharing something of my journey. Could it be that men might read this and think that they are not alone? Maybe…
Though numbers of this are increasing, I want to raise the profile of Male victims of Domestic Violence, and the support offered, accessible to others (links included), but also I think it is as important to speak into the situations of where men abuse women, as this is tragically still more common. Though I recognise that if this is you, you are unlikely to be reading this, but one day you might reflect on your behaviour, change is possible, starting with acceptance, vulnerability, you don’t have to abuse and objectify women forever, that frightened part of you can heal, give it light.
I am wondering if there are specific actual aspects of a breakdown-healing-self awareness- growth journey might be characteristically male. I have read recently that less men access therapy, and less men are present at seminars on DV or Trauma – these are seen as ‘female’ issues..are they? , I am not qualified enough to suggest responses to the men and therapy question generally – though for me it was about pride, and about not wanting to start a process that felt dauntingly large – knowing what I had hidden or avoided for so long. (I acknowledge therapy isn’t for everyone, though I will also say that external activities that say they are therapeutic, (like screaming at a football match) might only scratch some of the surface) – but might there be male attitudes to ‘getting help’ ? More men that women might be externalisers who hide and defend their weaknesses – through a veil of codependency, narcissism or worse – but women do this too. (21 reasons men hide their vulnerability – here)
One of the ‘Male’ perspectives and attitudes that I didn’t grow up with – given that my own father was an abused Dad , was the idea of ‘Macho’, strong, and senses of achievement, and physical strength – its not something I can relate to – but, the ‘Macho’ I had to be was have inner survival strength to cope with emotional shit, and the emotional beatings and manipulations of a lifelong psychopathic mother. I can’t speak from the ‘macho’ culture, but dont we all hide behind strengths of a variety of different kinds? I am intrigued at some level by the toxic masculinity conversation, and reflecting on its effect, on men, since childhood, and how it plays out in families, workplaces and elsewhere. What if we stopped trying to live up to, but started to live? I know I’m not going to heal the world, and I dont profess to, yet I do know and have heard of men who have recognised themselves in some of what I have written, and I’m honoured to have been able to connect in this way.
Healing for Men, for whilst we as men dont fill up the therapy rooms, we are bulging at the addiction clinics, whether its gambling, food, alcohol, porn, drugs or something else or we’re drowning in overwork – these are all conditions that stem from deep loss, brokenness and trying to run and hide. This is what we turn to often – the external – when its the internal that’s crying in pain. At least, thats what I did. I am sure women turn to these things, or others too.
Another thing more common to men is take on roles of Power and Authority, it becomes an addiction and a mask.
Given our influence, in our families, workplaces, homes, and communities – dont those around us deserve us to be the best we can be? Our real selves? What would it mean to be vulnerable – for the first time- to accept and acknowledge needing help? To start by admitting defeat, but not the end? Ultimately all I really want to do in this blog is continue to share the parts of my journey that I want to make public, to encourage any man in their own process of growth, self learning and personal truth, to let them, to let you know that change from any behaviour is possible.
Your emotional needs are important, men, you are important.
Self care and self help isnt just for women
Self -love isnt weak
It takes courage to admit
Real courage
The strongest strength you have ever had to look inwards
Its where real power lies.
You dont need to carry around an emptiness forever, friend.
Neither do I.
So thats some of my reasoning for ‘Healing for Men’ – maybe the other is that theres already alot out there for a female audience, not that there aren’t resources for men either, but felt that I could be specific, and personal, and be one male, sharing my story, speaking with and to other men, as we all journey though life.
Thank you – do click like and share with others, and thank you for your ongoing support
Healing for Men, the world is a better place – when we are too.
I have stood and made a number of commitments to others.
Commitments to workplace ideals and agreements
Commitments to the terms and conditions of a large purchase
Commitments to the planet as I have tried at times to reduce my carboin footprint, buy organic or grow my own
Commitments to others in relationships.
Commitments to a God, recommitments on a regular teenage basis
Commitments as new year resolutions? – what have they been like for you?
Whats been the biggest struggle for me in terms of commitment?
Commitment to myself
In all my existence, I have only notionally given any thought to making commitments to myself.
There was the time when I was 40 when I decided to do more exercise before my 40th Birthday, and cut down alcohol and reduce food.
It still felt like an external change. Even if my body did appreciate it at the time.
I barely gave any thought to myself. I barely could.
I had been conditioned to think that to think of myself was selfish
I had been conditioned to revolve emotionally around others
I had such an aching emptiness inside that I thought ‘helping others’ was what brought be me joy.
So what could I commit to myself?
External things, like food, exercise and bodily health. Not unimportant.
It wasn’t in balance.
I wouldn’t say I was selfless, though I was at times accused of being selfish for even considering that I had needs.
And I poured out from a completely empty vessel. Because that was exactly what I was used to being.
Neglected and empty, and used to it.
Don’t get me wrong it wasnt that I rejected self-care because I thought it was worthless – though I acknowledge that in the past I may have scoffed a projection of what worth it might do – that was just my defensive survival talk speaking. Why bother with self care – I’ve managed without it?Id rather just tell others about it.
And that’s it isn’t it; before being able to commit to myself, before being able to protect myself, before being able to listen to myself
I had to acknowledge myself
I had to start to recognise that I had a self worth valuing
Some of that started with getting to know myself – self knowledge
Continuing with the ‘feeling of feelings’ ,
and over the course of the last 3-4 years being on a path of self acceptance, self knowledge, self awareness to where I am now, which again is in a process of therapy, and also finishing a counselling course – and reading books on self understanding
What I began without realising it was a path of deep self discovery, a path of rebelling my external intelligence, with internal intelligence too
What might it look like to make commitments to myself, as I am now?
A commitment to personal growth? A commitment to ongoing spiritual and emotional growth?
Committing myself to thinking positively of myself
A commitment to love myself, including the parts of me that have been hidden or frightened?
A commitment to accept raw and vulnerability as part of the process of rebuilding
A commitment to keep listening to myself, my inner voice, my spiritual child within?
A commitment to prioritise myself maybe?
A commitment to value being present perhaps?
A commitment to the slow, and not the fast? The slow rebuild….
A commitment to not give everything away? (NB – I have written a lot in the last 4 weeks, and its not for you here)
In Gary Zukavs book ‘Spiritual Partnership’ he outlines five commitments for his own spiritual and emotional growth, which have inspired me to think about commitment; his are;
Focus on what I can learn about myself
Pay attention to my emotions
Pay attention to my thoughts
Pay attention to my intention
I reflect on my own journey. From denial of myself, to understanding and acceptance of myself, to loving myself – yes its taken a while, yes its not been without tears and revelations of my own responsibilities, behaviour and choices, and also my life survival requirements – but to be in a position of even considering making commitments to myself, for my own sake, for my own well being. How might I pledge these 5 things for myself – and what difference will it continue to make, for me, and others around me, such as Christelle, my kids, family, work…?
So I ask – what commitments have you made to prioritise your own spiritual and emotional self?
Not ideals, but self pledges, self determination, to stay as real, the best I and you can be – what might it be for you?
James Ballantyne 