If yesterday I wrote about my own joinery from self loathing and denial to becoming more self referential, respectful and also giving space to trust my feelings. Today I’ve pondered the question – what happened to me, so that I had no ‘faith’ in myself? What happened to the extent to which there was no ‘I’ in my life, to trust myself, my feelings, emotions, desires or wants.
It boils down to this
Psychopathic Parents + Evangelical Faith = No Self Trust
In these ways:
Self Trust wasn’t possible when I was told not to be selfish
Self Trust wasn’t possible when I heard that my core was sinful
Self Trust wasn’t possible when I was told I wasn’t enough
Self Trust wasn’t possible when I was told that everything good I did…wasnt me..it was God
Self trust wasn’t possible because I was made to feel embarrassed or ashamed for having emotions, desires or wants
Self trust wasn’t possible when my emotions were stolen by others.
Self Trust wasn’t possible when I wasn’t encouraged for being good (or when I was accused of being the ‘eldest son’ )
Self Trust wasn’t possible when I was terrified of upsetting my abusers.
Self Trust wasn’t possible when I was encouraged to pray that God would fix things.
Self Trust wasn’t possible..if my ‘self’ had to be denied.
Self trust wasn’t possible if I numbed the pain and disconnected.
Self trust wasn’t possible, even being clever or good… wasn’t enough.
Self trust wasn’t possible… All to Jesus I surrender.
Self Trust wasn’t possible, if Jesus gave me all my good feelings.
Self Trust was invalidated if I tried to express myself
Self Trust wasn’t possible – when my body was bad (Spirit is good) – and in my body is my emotions, feelings, desires and energy.
Self trust wasn’t possible when I was masking abuse for 40 years.
Self trust wasn’t possible if I was told who I was…and I had to accept it, whilst dying inside.
Self Trust wasn’t possible when my real self was hidden away, unseen.
Just Pray – they said. Be good – they said. Be quiet. Dont make a mess. Fulfil our expectations for you – they said. Grow up and dont be silly..they said.
Be our trophy to be proud of – they said. But do this alone.
Dont ever be who you are. Dont ever think for yourself.
Live to soothe and placate and please your abuser.
Live to please and worship God…and deny yourself in the process.
How could I respect myself, if I didnt trust myself, how could I know myself if I was hiding myself away? How could I trust myself… if God was always watching…and I had to remember sins and feel only continual guilt and shame.
I was taken..from myself.
What am I in all this?
Where am I in this?
Who am I in this?
Today. This day. This month. These last few years.
Have been unapologetically about me.
Not just ‘finding myself’ – but…actually finding, connecting, listening, feeling and knowing myself. But its no fucking wonder I had hidden myself away… or that I had no sense of self in ‘my’ life. It was all about other people. Other people and ‘other’ Gods. Losing myself in the process. I can look back and see this. Realising the extent of what I wasn’t able to be.
Reminding myself, now, of my own deep strength. Acknowledging it and accepting it, and being utterly grateful for the now.
The spills of life going inwards, deep burning of molten lava piercing into the wounds. Feeling Raw, but feeling true, feeling at all. Being me. Healing from within. One layer at a time. One pebble to climb, then a rock, then more. Step by step.
Soul, heart, mind and body on a beautiful discovery. Wonder from the heart outwards. Time to live. Spiritual life… from the inside out.
Men… Can you remember when your voice broke? What did that feel like? How old were you? I remember that I didnt want to talk for a few weeks or months because I was so self conscious about how it would sound, I also hated that it was noticed by everyone, so I stayed quiet. There was a change, a weird change. How I communicated changed three times, from child voice, to breaking unpredictable changing voice, to changed voice, in a few months.
I noticed something about my walk last week.
It is this.
My Voice changed again recently. But it wasn’t my external voice.
It was my inner one.
I used to give myself a good talking to.
Especially if I had done something wrong. Especially if I had made a mistake.
Especially if id got embarrassed by something
Especially if id been made to think id made a mistake, or misunderstood, or not met another persons needs, and been punished for it.
I would beat myself up.
In the way I would talk to myself.
The strongest voice inside, was the voice of the perfectionist-critic.
My inner voice was the voice of my own media company.
Critic, Perfectionist…
Not only was I emotionally neglected and beaten up by others, my inner voice assumed that I was responsibility. Why… because I had no reference to know that what I experienced by others was their problem. Or that I could be treated better.
So it had to be me. I had to be the problem. My Fault. Because Women are always right..arent they? So it had to be me.
What kind of things would I have heard myself say to myself?
You’re not good enough
You dont deserve any better
You can survive, just keep going
Why didn’t you think of that?
You can do better
You should do better
You let yourself down there, James, and God too, you should be ashamed
You should know this by now
You should be able to do this
Oh.. you really messed up again
Look at yourself James, hypocrite.
You failed at that one again
You upset them, you silly boy.
You need to be strong.
Must rush, must do, must keep on, keeping on.
It could be worse, don’t be ungrateful.
Talking to myself, like I was my own worst enemy. Or just trying to numb and shut out what I felt.
Beating myself up. Because that was the only way I knew how to process. Not being good enough, not being perfect enough, not being enough.
Why did I notice this last week?
Because the day after I had been for a walk, I reflected on how my inner voice has changed. Maybe its like it broke again. Broke by the process of digging deep, recovering and healing.
I noticed that I could say to myself different things
When I walked, I said things like:
I can take myself out for a walk
This is for me, I can be for me.
I am grateful
I am ok to feel
I am ok- as I am.
I am love and loved
I can be, and breathe
I can enjoy this moment, of the rain and mud
I can sense myself
and be proud of myself.
I can have feelings and there’s nothing wrong with having them.
I dont have to be perfect, I can do mess, I can play
I can be slow.. I dont have to rush… I dont have to do everything
I can have fun
I can be happy
I am.
I am who I am and this is enough
and more besides….
I just noticed how the voice changed, it wasn’t the first time in the last few years that I have spoken to myself in this way. But it was just that I noticed the difference, how I used to be a critic and perfectionist, talking to myself like I had inherited voices from others. From self loathing, self denial – to self- reverence and self compassion. Was my inner guidance system the one I had created from the places of having to adapt as a child – abusive parents, evangelical religion, academia? Probably.
Or maybe, and i’ll be kind to myself also, this was what I needed to do and be to survive emotionally. In my own head space, the place of thinking, over thinking and self criticism.
It’s now safe for me to talk to myself in this way. Brave to be self- compassionate. To practice it and give it a go, to see how it feels, to have the feels.
New green life forming from the old. New tender green shoots.
What’s it like to be a supportive youth worker, be a friend even to myself, and do this, after agreeing with it. Doing it for myself. Because I am worth it. I am of value. I am.
It was just good to notice the difference.
Talking whole heartedly to myself. From broken to whole.
If you’d like to learn more about Self Compassion, I highly recommend the beautiful book Heartwork by Radhule Weininger, a link is here Heartwork, also The Power of Now by Echart Tolle.
It meant pushing through with the motivation to ‘get out’ and walk, in the grey and wet.
For it was miserable.
I left my flat in a break of sunshine.
Arrived at the walk point with rain clouds, and horizontal cold rain.
And waited in the car, long enough to unsteam the windows, and at least wait for the rain to stop.
And it did.
For a tiny moment.
It was muddy. Wet. Cold and windy.
But I was walking.
Wrapped up warm, with camera and binoculars, with scarf, gloves and hat.
And thermal socks on with the heavy duty boots.
I was out. Walking.
Brave in the cold.
Madness maybe. But out.
And this is a blog about a walk.
Just an ordinary walk.
Did I mention, cold, wet and muddy?
A very ordinary grey, wet, cold, walk.
But a walk none the less.
Ordinary.
Ordinary courage and bravery.
Ordinary steps taken, one by one.
At a place ive been to many times.
Its not a mountain top experience to deal with trauma, or deal with the monsters. Just ask Harry Potter, no one wants that badge of honour.
Sometimes the path is wet, cold and muddy and you need to be protected from the elements.
One foot in front of the other, even in the wet muddy path.
Even when I’m writing, there could be a temptation to show off the best bits, or most important, to biggest challenge in my personal healing. But recovery is about the ordinary.
Its about the every day.
Its not always about the new place, the new discovery.
Though there are discoveries, and there are significant moments. And at the moment im loving John O Donohues Eternal Echoes. Its a warm hot chocolate for my soul.
But sometimes there’s just something significant in going for a walk. Its about expectations, or not having any. Its about making a positive choice to do something, even if the path feels wet and muddy, but its being done. A positive choice doesn’t mean the sun is going to immediately shine, there’s a lot of mud, fog and cloud to wade through. But at least im walking. Started putting one feet in front of the other. the gritty ordinary of healing from abuse, is not pretty.
There are beautiful moments of sunshine though.
When the gaps open up.
But often these are surprises. Moments when the universe makes its voice known. And when I’m ready to see them.
Like on that walk.
The sun did come out, and I noticed two deer resting in the sunshine.
When the Roe deer sat down and rested in the glimpse of the evening sunshine, sat as she was on the wet grass, it was a perfect still wonderful moment. I watched, breathed, and used my camera (quietly) and enjoyed it, present in the moment.
A universe gift.
Sometimes the paths are made by those who walk. Sometimes the universe conspires to help the dreamer. Sometimes its just about putting one foot forward, in front of the other, even despite better judgement, but doing so from brokenness, from vulnerability, into a cloud of fog, with the gritty hope that there is another side beyond it.
Ill tell you something else.
I was beginning to sense boredom. Boredom being one slight step to the left from contentment. Contentment is a lovely feeling, its as if everything is early spring. What boredom felt like was the peace of contentment, but without the colour of the daffodils.
I guess when 40 years of my life have existed with a background noise of toxic drama, then the years since of processing and recovering from this… peace can feel like boredom when there’s no drama going on.
But something I realised, is that I have needed coping activities in the last 4-5 years. Maybe I dont need these as much, and maybe I’ts time to have more fun and creativity, to have more energy to give, because im in a different place. As I walked yesterday, I realised that I could be grateful for the feeling of boredom, and that this is an indication of where I am, who I am and the journey I have been on. Maybe instead of feeling frustrated by the grey cloudy days, its time to walk through them.
Sometimes the grey makes for interesting photos.. but this isn’t one of them.
Its an ordinary path, just outside darlington with the sunset reflecting on the grey wet tarmac.
It was just a walk.
But it was so much more.
It was time to see. Time to make choices. Time to receive.
Time to sense and feel. Time to be grateful. Time to notice.
If you’re not in any way religious you might want to look away from this piece. If you are in any way religious, especially Christian, you might not like it.
I want to share something about how Evangelical Christianity suited me. More to the point, how it was perfect for me.
It’s also the story about how I left my emotions at the door of the church. Well, again, thats an inaccuracy, it was more that there was almost no necessity to show emotion in church, and that made it perfect for me. Perfect to mask and hide. But also, because of my parents influence in it, I had no choice.
When I think about the places of my childhood, I think about school, about church, about the clubs like swimming or scouts, and also the ‘free’ space in-between.
School was a place of intellectual development, primarily. And once I got my untidiness sorted, I did quite well. Once I realised I wasn’t going to be supported or helped, it was me or nothing, so I got on with it – despite my parents.
Swimming Club as well as football training and the school badminton club were all physical, Scouts was a bit of physical, and other survival activities, in which I was woeful. (I wasn’t taught how to survive life, I had to work this out, strange that) . In TA terms, my adaptive child was taking over, big time, so that I could fit and belong in these adult environments, like church.
Church was ‘Spiritual’. Yes there were physical elements, like the youth club, and badminton group, and social. But it was barely emotional. Actually.
It was anti- emotional.
I grew up Evangelical, and letting emotions loose in church was seen as ‘inferior’ , ‘scary’ or almost what ‘cult’ like churches did. As a very young child I remember not being able to breathe or make a noise sitting through the very boring service, with only a bag of toys to play with under the seat.
As an older child I was rewarded by what I knew. Memorise the verses, memorise the books of the bible, find verses quickly, find the animal/fruit in the bible verse. Do reading or learning homework. Volunteer in the Sunday school. Know things. Do things.
When I had moment of despair in my room, aged about 9, and I tried to pray, I wanted so desperately to feel something. Feel that God was listening. Feel that I was about to have some kind of divine moment that I thought I was supposed to have, then have an amazing testimony, about how God came close and I felt something. But the prayer I despaired and felt like kicking the wall, closing my eyes and ending it all felt like it didnt go any where. I remember desperately wanting to feel something. And nothing came back.
When I was 10 1/2 I ‘became’ a christian – I prayed a prayer because I had in my head all the ‘sins’ I had been made guilty of committing (I was selfish, spoiled according to my parents – oh and I felt guilt for even thinking of suicide age 9) so I prayed that ‘my sins’ were put in an bin and got rid of.
I was asked what I felt about this big decision I made. I felt nothing. I knew that I had done something. But I didnt feel any different – was I supposed to start feeling things? Maybe I got a sense of feeling a tiny bit spiritually clean, from things I had no reason to acknowledge were mine to carry in the first place. God I sound screwed up psychologically.
The adage was true though, in the main most people are sinned against than sinners, but you know, lets play on the individual sin in the guidebook for encouraging guilt, then dependence, and an easy victim to it. Trauma in the family that a child may have experienced is far too difficult to deal with.
I digress, back to the ‘knowing’….
I remember the songs, from Sunday school and beyond.
‘Be Still and ‘Know’
‘For this is ‘Know’
‘Knowing you Jesus, there is no greater thing…..’ (The ‘Kendrick’ Abba song, knowing me knowing you…Jesus..)
Dont get me wrong, there were some songs about being happy (The Happy Song) and dancing too. But these seemed forced…no one ever felt like dancing…
Songs, Sermons, remembering information. Engaged the brain.
Space for silence, space to feel, limited.
Then, when I was 13 I discovered this:
It was in a tract by Agape Ministries in the UK, and my church undertook the ministry of it (and I did as a young leader and keen one) , to do a course on evangelism, that included 5-6 weeks on it, and then use a tract, ‘Knowing God Personally’ – that described the ‘bridge’ and the had this train on the back.
The premise of the train was that Faith was based on Fact (and not feelings) and that feelings somehow were the carriage that followed on behind. Facts. Knowledge were important.
Feelings followed.
Faith was based on fact, because, it was important to know the bible, know the facts, know that it was historical, know that it was true – historically, know so that an argument could be ‘won’ , know so that faith was subject to what was described as the ‘turbulence’ of emotions.
It also meant that even if I didnt ‘feel’ happy – or ‘feel’ that God was close, that I ‘knew’ that God was and that this provided certainty… apparently.
As a young person who knew their trains. As a young person that had disconnected from their emotions – this was all great.
Feelings were just an added bonus extra and not to be regarded at all.
I could hide having feelings even more. And when I did have any feelings or emotions in life, over the next few years, or more – I could then ‘know’ that these weren’t what God would want me to have – feel shame for having them – and then consider it to be sinful to feel – and then ‘get back to knowing’ . Read the bible, Read, dont feel. Learn.
If you know, you know – but the ‘Toronto Blessing’ stuff made things interesting for a few years. My ‘knowledge’ orientated church was cautious, compared to more charismatics. People ‘felt’ in the church for the first time, and it made them weird. And I went along to some of the weirdness, and I was determined that I wasn’t going to ‘feel’ the hype. It was the only time that permitted feelings came to church in my time. And it was pretty mad. And for those who for whom it was too mad, they retreated back to the safety of knowledge and facts.
For me?
I went on to become a ‘leader’ in churches, and so I had to be ‘responsible’. Therefore showing emotions wasn’t part of it. I had to be mature, I had to know things, I had to lead, inspire and have integrity. I had to cope. I could be professional. I could be ‘adult’. I could leave all and any child behind.
As someone who had a disconnected sense of self, (and what I learned about ‘self’ spiritually is a whole other post) , church could easily be a place where I could hide emotions, where praise was heaped for stoical behaviour, and the pursuit of knowledge.
Maybe now I have language for all of this experiences, growing up even in the early 1990’s where there was no conversation about emotions…anywhere, especially not for boys. Adapting into ‘Adult’ life as quickly as I could was what I needed to do, run away from childhood asap, and leave behind what that represented, emotions, play and curiosity. Was feelings free Christianity really what was on offer? Maybe thats not what was intended, but it meant that I could negate that carriage of the train, in regard to my spiritual life.
I wonder now what the cost is and has been. I wonder how common this is in other denominations around the UK or beyond. I wonder whether emotions in church are ‘just’ for the hysterical or depressed, and how these are to be ‘got rid of’ or ‘discarded’ for being uncomfortable or in some way unspiritual. Im not blaming the church I grew up in for what it didnt know, but I also know that there were many in that church who were as bewildered and scared of the same monster that I had to encounter every day.
Maybe it all goes back to way before the ‘Fact Train’ , Karen Armstrong writes about how the myth of the sacred story was turned into a desire for objective fact of the Biblical narratives, around 400 years ago. The feeling of the camp fire story making way for the cognitive reading, but this isn’t a general history lesson on theological feelings and emotions, its about how I could leave feelings and emotions at the door of the church, but in reality, I could leave them buried deep down, hidden away, and mask the childhood emotional abuse that happened.
It has been a long road, a long rail even. It has been one for me in which I have begun to let the feelings and emotions out of the shadows, and be accepted as part of me.
If you’d like to read more on my Spiritual Journey, or the resources that have helped me to reconnect my emotional life with my spiritual one, do have a look at the resources above. I particularly recommend Eckhart Tolle, and Gary Zukav, though there are others too.
It was a film that centred Men and their dealing with emotions, such as grief, anger and memories. Yes, it wasn’t perfect and maybe not therapeutically perfect either. But it was good.
So it got me wondering, what films have you watched that portrayed Men dealing appropriately, though not always perfectly, with their emotions? Do comment below
I can think of a few others, Rocketman, Hector and the pursuit of Happiness, The Day we sang all watched in the last few years – but what for you has been a good film that shows Men dealing well with difficult emotions?
Over the last few weeks I have just started a ‘live’ chat from my fb page ‘Healing for Men’ – yeah the old title of this blog, which I haven’t got round to changing as yet..
In it so far I have talked for about 10-15 minutes on something that I have learned that previous week, it might be something id written about here too, so if you want to watch do subscribe.
Anyway, last week instead of going live I pre recorded an interview with John Pearson a well being coach on who wanted to share with me some stuff he’d noticed about Men as he was listening them in his sessions.
Ive been taking ‘photos’ for over three years. A Camera has accompanied most of my walks, and especially during the lockdown walks.
I see nice things, then think, ill take a photo of it. Or..
Ill go birdwatching and take photos of birds, or actually any nature, foxes, squirrels, rats, mice, anything natural to be honest.
This year, as you may know, as ive mentioned it a few times, ive started ‘learning’ photography.
Actually learning it.
What do all those letters mean on my camera?
What makes a good composition?
What about light?
And what makes a good photograph? If there is such a thing….
But I notice something.
I realised today, when I was across at Redcar Blast furnace and beach, a place id not been to this year yet, but have been a number of times. A place with a combination of natural and man made beauty
It a place where there’s sea birds, benches, beach, and fishermen, but none today.
But as I looked at the photos I took, I realised something. The habits of old are the default. So ive got hundreds of images of birds on the rocks. Though I did also try to get some of maybe more photos where I thought about foreground, the story of the photo, or something of interest. Like the house above, or this one of the boats, banked up on the beach.
I walk around an area and sometimes ‘old habits’ are hard to shake.
But I also realise that im in a place where its conducive to the old habits. There’s stacks of nature and water.
Sometimes testing out new habits needs a new place.
When I found myself noticing that I was going back into ‘old photography habits’, I would stop and have a moment, a rethink, breathe, and know that nothing was wasted, and I would notice myself. On some occasions where I could I would take my focus somewhere else.
I was so busy looking outwards, for the scene, for the bird, through camera or binoculars, that I would forget the more important thing.
Myself.
If I can find a suitable spot, a bench or path, ill set up the camera so it can take a shot of me. If nothing else it means that I am part of my own story of my day. I am important.
Its as if the slow process of setting up camera, viewfinder, focus, timer etc and then getting into position is a mindset shift.
And the results are varied. But it doesn’t matter to me.
This interruption changes my focus, as even in doing this I am practicing new skills, a different focus. Im putting myself in the frame.
Unlearning the old takes time. Unlearning the old, in the same environment of the old is incredibly hard, if not impossible.
Changing mindset, starts from inside.
For me, a change in mindset is to focus on my self. It may not be this for you. It could be to focus on others, or focus on the spiritual or the environmental.
But it’s a change in mindset all the same. Change the focus of my attention, from external to internal.
Something I noticed today.
I suppose, thinking about it, when I shared this the other day, I was given the opportunity to then live and practice it a bit.
Can I speak for all Men? Probably not, so If you are a man and reading this then forgive me that I might be saying something that doesn’t apply to you. If you’re not reading this, then chances are you might not want to face the subject of ‘Self -Care’ , or that you dont want to read this particular blog, but ill be confident of one thing. One, or more of theses reasons will apply to you, cause you to wince in recognition, or cause a reaction, that may be defensive. Maybe you are a partner, sister or brother of a particular Man, and you can identify some of these. If you are, then be gentle with him. Facing some of these things is pretty terrifying for the first time, be brave to and hold him gently.
Before I share further. Some of these apply to Women, fully as much as Men. Absolutely. But as a Man im going to just identify some of the ‘Man Issues’ about this.
Because it sounds weak. We’d fix a broken car, and we’d store our car in the garage to look after it, maybe even vacuum and wash it each week/month/year, and take it for a service. Loving something that’s an object, a purchase, a status even seems perfectly acceptable. Self-love feels weak as often we’re not so proud of our bodies, our minds, our previous actions, our attitudes. If it wasn’t ‘Self-love’ and instead it was ‘Power-clean’ ….
Because it means accepting vulnerability. Tending to our needs and self might have to mean realising that we need something, that something in us is in need of attention, there’s a weakness.
Because it might mean accepting defeat. I believed I would be able to survive anything and deal with anything. Stoical survival, keeping going, trapped in a landscape of coercive control, institutional expectation, thinking there was no option, no way out, no alternative, no help, no one else…. at what cost? I wasn’t winning anyway. Self love might mean realising that ‘trying your best’ is enough, and exhaustion and being emotionally drained really isn’t what you are here on earth for. If you want to understand more about trying your best, look it up in the ‘ 4 Agreements’ by Don Miguel Ruiz.
Because it might mean accepting that the person who indentifies it…might be right. Someone else can see what we are going through, someone else in our lives might be telling us to slow down, take a break, stop, do less… Someone else might also be representative of a voice we might not want to listen to. We might have to admit that that voice of our partner, friend or family member might be right. That might take huge courage if we have prided our selves with self sustainability, self dependency, self strength.
Because we spend more time responding to the needs of others, and ignoring our own. Since childhood, I was safe when I tended other peoples needs. When I didnt I was accused of being selfish. These were my deep down reasons. It meant pacifying the monsters. But on other occasions, there were the needs of others in a regular way, such as childrens activities, concerns and issues, colleagues, and with any of us who work in caring roles.. all the people we work with, young people, vulnerable adults, and our colleagues who do so. When we are good at listening to others emotions and needs, we become brilliant listeners, supporters and take on huge amounts of responsibility. … I could also hide my own… for the sake of others… Sometimes id catch myself say ‘Oh Im Ok’ if someone asked. But also, I would avoid being around people who might ask this.
Because it might mean trying to act from our emotions, and articulate them. How many times do I start conversations with ‘I think’ verses ‘I feel’ .. thinking is easy, thinking is about brains, power and intelligence, about success and work.. I think therefore I am…. but actually.. I feel and maybe I become more complete. Starting with ‘I feel’ can take a huge shift.. and this gets me thinking…. sorry,… this gets me noticing and feeling… what words do we have to articulate feelings, that as Men we can use. Buried deep inside us might be the little boy that cried and was told off. The boy who was made to feel embarrassed or ashamed, or The boy who was rewarded for not showing emotion.
Feeling emotions isn’t as scary as you might think it is. It takes bravery and courage though. Feelings are more than just anger. Self-love might require us to understand our emotions and the needs behind them.
I feel angry when………. and I know I need………..
I feel shame when ……….. and as a result I need…..
I feel tired when…….. and I need……….
I feel drained when….. and I need ……..
I feel confused when…….. and I need ………
I feel misunderstood when ……….. and I need……….
I feel ……………….. and I need to love myself by doing …………………
There are other emotions and operating from them is like a brand new language, and our language can help us describe the emotions. It is new.
7. Because we fear what it life might be like operating from emotions … This new language for emotions (Emotional Intelligence by David Coleman might be a good resource to start with) , creates a new world for us. Life is different, for me, its full of colour, as opposed to stony grey. There is nothing to fear about what it inside of us and part of us.
8. Because it’ll mean I have to take myself seriously as a whole being.. and im not used to that.. Im used to being part of the machine of work, part of the ‘rat-race’ , doing, providing, success, achieving. My work, as a youth worker, became as much an identity, a safe place, for me, I could be lost in thought, lost in the next challenge, constantly busy, then adding even more to that, like study, or hobbies, or even, writing… Yet huge parts of me were left undiscovered, hidden, and more often that not I was operating in my own shadows. Self-love, means to love and accept ourselves as the humans we are, frailties, complexities, emotions and all. I am enough, and you are too.
9. Because it hasn’t been safe for us to share or be emotional, when we’ve experiences with our parents, partners or others. (unless frustration at football, or hiding in a dark cinema to cry)
10. Because we believe we can wait. We can wait until we retire, we can wait until tomorrow, we can wait until its too bad, we can wait until its desperate, we can wait… look there’s something else to focus on instead… we can wait.
11. Because it sounds, and feels feminine. Getting in touch with ‘our feminine side’ is often roundly criticised and pilloried in the media, many of the books and resources on self love and awareness are targeted for women or written by them. Many, not all. It’ll mean losing the macho, and attending to the malleable.
12. Because we’re too busy. And business is an addiction. Life being fast keep everything at bay, including our needs and our selves. Even the temptation to be fast runs through everything that could be slow. Bird watching leads to tech competitiveness or getting the perfect shot… walking can end up being an olympic sport… or a hobby to reach the highest, m furthest, newest climb… Slow hobbies in the midst of fast lives can easily become another space for speed, performance and achievement.. and what’s lost… that moment for ourselves again.
13. Because in the drive for perfection – we turned ourselves critical ..on ourselves. Oh how I love being super critical, asking questions, all in the name of reflection…. but look deeper and I know this is a safe place for me. Look deeper still and I can see how being critical of others stems from being critical of myself, beating myself up to try and be something, someone, better, more than I was yesterday. Try caring for yourself and see what that critical inner voice tries to do.. Loving ourselves means letting a different voice lead the way..and critic voice rarely goes away without a fight…
I write these and recognise myself in most if not all of them, to some degree at different points in my life. Unlearning the old habits of self – neglect is an ongoing battle. As I look at the list above, I know there are gaps, this isn’t about perfection…I feel this is something important to talk about and share, I also wonder whether there might be good habits for self-love and care for us men that would be good to share too.. what do you do to remember to love yourself? do put these below
Thank you
If you want to or need to explore these further, do find a trusted friend, a therapist or someone who can help you to validate your needs and feelings and give you a brave safe space to.
There are more resources in the menu above and also links to various mens mental health and abuse organisations too.
The best way for me to describe this is to tell you a story.
Last Sunday morning I had fun with my camera.
But. I had to make a choice to do this.
Because, the previous Thursday I went out, hoping to have fun, a relaxing walk, mixing some bird watching and photography. But for some reason it wasn’t fun. I had got to a point of digesting a few days worth of new knowledge about photography skills and practice and then went out armed with this knowledge.
On a grey uninspiring day. I also went to go nature walking.
There wasn’t much nature, and there wasn’t much of interest. It was a bit bleak.
Here’s a few examples from the day. Grey light mostly.
In short, I got back and felt as though I was trying to do too much.
Rushing. And over thinking.
Was I enjoying the walk..? No.
Was I chasing a bird or moment of nature? Yes
Was I trying to use my camera and look at scenes , sometimes..
Was I trying to practice a new skill, walk and find places, or see nature?
Too much going on. Over thinking.
Anyway. A few moments of fun in the sunset. Nothing is wasted, absolutely.
But I got back and thought id wasted a day, frustrated.
But on Sunday things were different.
I went to a place I had only been once before, HedleyHope Fell, just outside Tow Law, last time I was there it was wet and cold and looked like this:
Though I also realise that this photo doesn’t give any indication of how wet it was that day. Its just a tree. But trust me it was wet here in November.
On Sunday I went, the sun was hazy and out, and I decided that I would solely use the space to walk and try taking interesting photos, try some different angles and settings and just have some fun. I also thought I would take seriously the suggestion that I would tell a story, and the simple story of my photos was that it was me going for a walk.
So, in 8 photos, here’s me going for a walk at HedleyHope Fell.
Im not going to write this 4 days later and make out that I was gliding around the setting, in a beautiful flow of human with camera making beautiful art.. but I can say that I was having fun.
I was lost in the moment, yet present in the moment. Observing landscapes, light and scenes in front of me, trying to look, feel and sense the place.
Being present.
Enjoying myself.
And, I could tell what happened to take me out of this.
A text message , just as I was about to climb up the hill to the car.
A message that took me away from the place, the fun and the enjoyment.
I should have turned off my phone, but I dont do that for emergency sake, and text messages are so rare…so, I
was into thinking again. Panic even.
In that moment I lost presence.
Even breathing and trying to ‘slow down’ I had gone. Only my body remained in the fell, my mind was elsewhere, panic anxiety or whatever it was.
I did have plans to go to a different nature reserve after this one, but instead I faced the challenge, knowing that avoiding it would only make me worry more. Though I had resolved that on my drive back home that the worst case scenario was unlikely. And, it was unlikely. It was and is something I can deal with.
So its all ok.
So in a way I am proud of myself for how I responded and reacted calmly to a situation..eventually.
But what im also aware of is how easy it is for the fun and enjoyment I was having to burst like a bubble.
My flow went, my mind raced, panic, but then gradually logic and calmness did return.
I did go out again later, and I did enjoy an afternoon of sunshine, but what I did on this occasion at the nature reserve, was focus on recovering calmly from the minor stress, walking, breathing and doing the nature thing. Doing one thing at a time. So just outside Darlington at the Burdon Community Woodland, I got these photos.
Maybe not the best photos. But that wasn’t the point.
But it was important for me notice that I had to focus on one thing.
Walking and being in nature is good for me for slowing down, for appreciating connections with the earth. It was what I needed to restore myself. Sitting and waiting for an owl, or the movement of birds slows me down. It was one thing to focus on. It wasn’t the time for me to learn a new skill, a new toy. I needed something different for myself, than I needed in the morning.
Fun in the morning, Slow speed in the afternoon. Nature in attendance.
So, that’s my slightly unwieldy story about overthinking. Im kind of over thinking whether I should even share it, because its probably not that interesting, or enlightening, just me going out for walks and realising when I’ve been present in them or not, and I would imagine that’s just like any one of us.
James Ballantyne 