James Ballantyne

Category: Emotions

  • What actually did I learn from my Parents? (Part 1)

    What actually did I learn from my Parents? (Part 1)

    How did (my brothers and) I learn kindness, trust and loving fun when not a single one of these was a consistent part of my parents marriage?

    Anne Lamott, Dusk Night Dawn (2021)

    This is a fascinating question. Dont you think?

    Ive often wondered similarly. I think Anne Lamott book has given me permission to explore this further:

    How did I learn about love? – when feelings were hidden or false

    How did I learn about kindness- when the dominant parent only stole

    How did I learn trust – when, to this day, it wasn’t a word used at all

    How did I learn…anything at all?

    I don’t remember being taught anything at all?

    I remember being told of for not being able to do something. For not ‘growing up’ and being able to do something.

    I didnt see love, only felt fear.

    And when I think about it, what did I learn at all?

    I learned to stay quiet, make no noise, dont be inconvenient – only room for one person with temper and anger in the house.

    Tip toe on around the eggshells.

    I learned to conform, or be punished

    I learned to put myself to one side, learning to orient around the other.

    I learned to hide the good parts of me, revealing only I safe places

    I learned that I had to grow up fast

    I learned loyalty

    I learned sides

    I learned to shut down

    I learned to be self reliant

    I learned that I had to leave childhood behind – and be mature

    I learned to accept little, limited and not question – to manage without

    when others had.

    I learned survival

    I learned I couldn’t be helpless, couldn’t ask, couldn’t want or need.

    Thats interesting isnt it.

    I learned that I couldn’t be helpless.

    There was only one child allowed in the house. Trophy children aren’t allowed to be messy, be themselves, have emotion, be understood.

    Ive just finished reading ‘Dibs in search of self’ (1964) I found it fascinating on a number of levels. In one interaction between Dibs (aged 6) and the Play therapist, she (Virginia) notes that on one occasion Dibs asks her to ‘help me with my shoe, help me with my coat’ – In a rare moment of helplessness. Helplessness was a luxury that I couldn’t afford. I just had to know things. If I was told once how to do something, that was it, expected to know, like the toddler tasks of wiping my own bum or tieing my own shoelaces. I remember looking with scorn at the children at primary school who couldn’t do their laces. I mean couldn’t everyone. No, what I couldn’t see was that they had the luxury of helplessness, they didnt have to grow up and know. I had to.

    If I had to ‘just know’ how to tie my shoelaces. I had to work out most things for myself. I knew there was no point in crying for help, it wasnt going to come.

    I couldn’t be helpless, so I judged others for being able to be. I learned projection from age 5. To hide what I didnt have.

    So, what about kindness, what about love? What about gentleness, joy or peace?

    Its funny that for an evangelical childhood home – how these were absent.

    There was soothing and accommodating. There was helpfulness. There was hiding. There was avoiding.

    Maybe I didnt need to learn love. I just needed to uncover it. Maybe that more part of my (and your) core and its waiting to spring from the deep of layers of pain or shame or hurt or guilt. But it still makes me doubt? Am I loving enough – do I need to have learned it to give it?

    im in a space where I’m reflecting on what I learned, or how I learned from my parents.

    Theres a part 2 on this coming soon too..

    But – what about you – what did you learn, and how did you learn from your parents? if anything at all?

    Anne Lamott, Dusk Night Dawn, 2021

    Dibs in search of Self, Virginia M Axline 1964

  • On Intuition

    On Intuition

    I love this by Anne Lamott:

    You get your intuition back when you make space for it, when you stop the chattering of the rational mind

    The rational mind doesn’t nourish you.

    You assume that it gives you the truth, because the rational mind is the golden calf that this culture worships , but this is not true.

    Rationality squeezes out much that is rich and juicy and fascinating.

    Sometimes intuition needs coaxing, because intuition is a little shy.

    But if you try not to crowd it, intuition often wafts up from the soul or subconscious, and then becomes a tiny fitful little flame.

    It will be blown about about by too much compulsion and manic attention, but will burn quietly when watched with gentle concentration

    Anne Lamott, Bird By Bird (1994)

    What has it meant to me, to let my soul speak?

    What does it mean to you

    That spark from the well of the soul

    Warmth, energy, power, from within

    Tentative

    What has it meant to me to hide my inner voice for so long, to have the rational mind needfully take over for my own survival. Rational mind to survive. Intuition and inner voice to nourish. Theres a big difference.

    What do you think? What do you feel? What colour is your intuition when it emerges from within?

  • Let you be you

    Im talking to you,

    Yes you

    Come closer,

    Come closer

    Look at me,

    Look at me

    I want you to know

    I want you to see

    I want to to tell you

    The truth

    That you are magic

    That you are love

    That you are life

    Breathe

    and let your heart

    let your body

    let the gaps between your breath

    feel

    the magic

    love

    life

    and free

    to be

    Come closer the the magic

    Come closer to the love

    Come closer to the life

    It was there all along

    Inner child running free

    Time to finally be truly me,

    Come closer.

    Let you be.

    Let you be you

    Kicking and screaming

    passionate

    free

    Let you be you

    Dont contain it any longer

    stuck in your mind

    Let you be you

    loving, gentle, kind again

    Let you be you

    all you ever wanted to be

    Let you be you

    the self you once tried to hide

    Let you be you

    as you wonderfully are

    let your magic shine bright

    free

    Come closer,

    to who you are

    Magic, love and free

    Let

    you

    be.

  • 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.

  • Walking the hard road of loving myself

    Walking the hard road of loving myself

    Who is the most important person in your life?

    The hardest thing for me, was too realise..that this was actually me.

    What are the things you look after? Your bike? Your tools? the remote control? The car?

    What about yourself?

    I didnt.

    I had no idea how to.

    Theres a great description in the beginning of the book Matilda by Roald Dahl of the sickening parents who espouse greatness on a mediocre child, compared to the parents who completely ignore, belittle and fail to see the magical talented one. I found it revealing as I re read it a few months ago.

    Growing up, messages I heard were that ‘other parents spoil their children’ or ‘pamper’ them

    or

    ‘We’re not going to put pressure on you by rewarding you with money’

    These and others were projections.

    Justifications for a lack of support, acknowledgement and encouragement – for..it couldn’t look like being spoiled or pampered could it…

    Justifications for expectations, and for emotional neglect.

    The thing is, is that as I grew up looking for something that would never happen, I ended up forgetting myself, and times that I did think I was choosing myself, it was seen as being selfish.

    The thing about the constant walking on eggshells, is that your only trying to avoid them, appease them, sooth them.. what happened to me, and others with narcissistic/emotionally immature parents or partners, is that I lost myself.

    There was the ‘me’ that tried to be compliant

    There was the ‘me’ that realised that they had to do life alone

    There was the ‘me’ that had to discover a way of doing life despite them

    There was the ‘me’ that was only scared.

    There was the me – who was unable to make decisions or choices or have needs and wants – because..

    There was the ‘me’ that effectively was oriented around them…around her….around the other

    I hadn’t ever realised myself as important or valuable. How could I? The key to survival was meet their needs.

    What do you mean ‘I’ might be important?

    that just sounds like being selfish James….

    you have to meet my needs, I cant cope if im not the needy one around here

    Isnt God the most important thing in your life James? not you….

    In a way it was easy to hide myself in a profession, vocation even, where I could think of others before myself. Love my neighbour, and get angry about injustice ‘over there’ – rather than be angry about my own condition. Love myself enough to have something to defend.

    Thats the thing with emotional abuse – you become devalued and fearful into becoming almost nothing, but a slave to them.

    Back to Trauma bonding.

    No wonder I and many others dont just get emotionally abused once. Childhood abuse sets us up again.

    Why?

    Unless its obvious, but even then, we dont know how what abused us did so, and therefore we have no words or language to describe it, or then get help to recover from it. So we blindly give ourselves away again in the same way we only know how to. Attracted to only slightly less worse treatment than we’ve already had once. Or think we can try and fix this new abusive person.

    I started to realise, once I had permission and safety to be able to, that I was important.

    I started to realise that I was valuable.

    I started to realise that I was worth something – not just for what I did..but who I am

    I started to realise that I could love myself

    I started to realise that the I part of me, my -self – was ok, was good.

    How did I realise?

    Because I started to give myself time. Because someone treated me to some food, and a house, and somewhere to stay when I had nothing. Because I received.

    I had no choice.

    I was important enough..to be cared for myself.

    It was only a start, it was all it needed to be, a start to realise – but it was a new start, I became my own new toy.

    I was important enough…to invest in discovering myself, and paying for therapy – internal work a priority – rather than external entertainment…because I am important

    I was important enough…to value my time, my safety, boundaries of noise and distraction

    I was important enough…to say no and block those who caused abuse.

    I was important enough…and somehow other changes took place..

    I was important..so its ok to buy myself new clothes, eat nice food, travel and buy things for me that I like, it didnt need an excuse or reason.

    Maybe these things come naturally to you, but they didnt to me. Buying things for myself had previously been met with ‘do you really need that’ or ‘nice of you to spend money on yourself’ or ‘you already have one of those, why do you need another one’ –

    Because someone else needs and neediness more important that my own.

    Gaining self importance was one of the big keys for me in unlocking the doors, removing the layers of onion skins of re building and changing that I needed to do. I would say now that I spend 40 odd years of my life having no sense of self worth or value at all. It was hard work, it still is, as it involves new habits, behaviours and patterns that were default for a very long time.

    I had an inner voice that told me repeatedly that I would get through this, I would survive, that I would work it out…but not an inner voice that told me that I was important, that I was worth it… so when that started to change it was a big thing.

    Feeling and accepting a healthy self importance has been the journey I have made from a place of emotionally empty selflessness.

    Who is the most important person in your life?

    You are.

    And that isn’t selfish. Its the truth.

    How might you start today?

    Are you about to pick a fight with yourself over it?

    Give yourself excuses not to bother?

    Make a reason?

    Yes, its fucking hard to do.

    But you are the most important person you could love today.

    And…so am I…

    Time to love, enjoy, and accept ourselves…we are beautiful just the way we are.

  • Courage to be Human

    Courage to be Human

    Courage to be Normal

    Courage to be Happy

    Courage to accept that I am who I am

    Courage to stop

    Courage to breathe

    Courage to cry and weep

    Courage to be vulnerable

    Courage to hurt

    Courage to feel

    Courage to know myself

    Courage to be brave

    Courage to say No

    Courage to say Yes

    Courage to be disliked

    Courage to dance

    Courage to not give a fuck

    Courage to believe

    Courage to grow

    Courage to protect

    Courage to feel it all again

    Courage to say I can’t do this by myself anymore

    Courage to ask for help

    Courage to not carry on- the way it was

    Courage to listen to my heart

    Courage to listen to my soul

    Courage to be

    Courage to tell myself, that I am valuable

    Courage to accept myself – as I am

    Courage to live

    Courage to enjoy

    Courage to play

    Courage to make

    Courage to love

    Courage to relax

    Courage to change

    Courage to shout

    Courage to be angry

    Courage to be open

    Courage to be still

    Courage in the midst

    Courage to be… content

    Courage to be

    Courage to respect ourselves

    Courage to be real

    Courage to understand our emotions and control them

    Courage – do we have it?

    It takes courage to love – when its easier to pick a fight

    It takes courage to be open – when its easier to hide

    It takes courage to stop and be here now – when its easier to avoid and rush into tomorrow

    What might it mean to have courage?

    What might it mean to be strong?

    What might it mean to choose a path of courage – for yourself?

    What might it mean to act with courage everyday?

    Don’t you deserve it,

    to be courageous with yourself?

    The good, loving human that you are?

  • What if my Monster only Abused Me?

    What if my Monster only Abused Me?

    Maybe I was going to realise this eventually.

    For all that I have described the details of the abuse I suffered.

    What if it was just me.

    What if it was just me, and my family who suffered and experienced the monster. Our Monster.

    Because, its very likely isnt it?

    Thats the game they play – jackal in public – hyde away in private.

    Public persona – just about gets through – unless challenged, unhinged or worked out

    Ensuring that the suffering goes on alone.

    Ensuring that the suffering isn’t believed

    What if it was just me – because thats more than likely – isnt it?

    The Family.

    They can put on ‘literal’ Sunday best behaviour out there – for an hour a Sunday, or 9-5 Monday to Friday.

    Have friends or allies.

    Meanwhile – was I the only one?

    Was is just my family whose lives were wrecked by her?

    I mean – would anyone in their jobs ever see it?

    Would they ever make a complaint?

    Would they diminish it, or be scared of it?

    Would they ever see it – and choose to ignore it?

    Triangulated?

    Whilst the family suffered?

    But thats the thing isnt it

    Men who abuse their wives – play a great round of golf, talk the talk,

    Women who abuse their husbands – playing the kindly one as teacher, vicar or nurse…or a dominant sales person ready to lie for money

    Hiding behind the social norm, that it’s only men who are abusive

    Could be the person in your workplace, and you wouldn’t know it

    Part of their game, hiding parts of their life away

    So, the family know, they’ve felt the scars

    We’ve then done the lifelong work, amateur psychologists trying work the monster out, professional therapy patients in recovery, healing with survivors gift

    Took us, took me, a long time to realise what it was.

    But can they act out a normal living whilst they’ve abused so appallingly? How is that even possible?

    The psychopath at large, choosing victims appropriately. Playing the victim appropriately.

    Darvo games

    Only leaving the obvious trail amongst the unheard, silenced, victims

    But leaving a trail elsewhere, that only the aware can spot.

    So maybe only the family got abused.

    Only the family saw their splintered personality at large

    Only the family felt the cold

    Only the family were stolen from, emotionally, physically and financially

    Maybe it was only just the abused who know the abuser.

    The truth has set us free – whilst they lie to everyone else.

    So maybe it was just me, just us.

    The victims who know and see – who saw and felt

    It really cant just have been me?

    But what if it was – what if its ‘just’ family.

    They couldn’t do that – could they – be so good to get away with it elsewhere?

    Or has that trail waiting to be discovered? Has no one come forward? Too scared or terrified?

    The shame of being a victim, shame of exposing them, silenced into silence.

    What if there are other stories waiting to be told? What if it wasn’t just me?

    I wouldn’t know – until one of them was brave. Until one of them got angry, until one of them took a stand, but what if that story is dead? – unable to speak?

    Its not possible to be just me – it cant be- can it?

    Whats hidden in places, what trail was left behind, what tales behind closed doors never come to the open?

    Theres no shame in being a victim of my monster, in speaking out – talk to us, talk to me – I already know. You are not to blame.

    It cant just have been me – cant just have been family, can it?

    Surely others can see?

    Thank you for reading this piece, if you would like to respond to me, do so via my contact details, if you have stories of your own regarding my monster, then I would love to hear from you. Know that I will listen and it was not your fault.

  • Life is Now

    Life is Now

    I could wait until lifer was a bit more sorted

    But, life is ok

    Its just the situation now I find myself in thats, well, a bit on the uncertain side

    Looking for jobs and houses in the same month – is a ‘bit’ tiring

    So I could wait

    Wait for life to be better before reflecting on it – what I learned – what I did

    But life is now – the situation might only change

    Today is about life

    I, like you, only live the present

    The moment

    The Now.

    I could wait for an unknown future to determine how I am today

    I could hope for future something to cause life to be – better?

    But I only have today to enjoy life

    Then I only have tomorrow – when tomorrow is the present

    What did I do today to make me be alive?

    Where was life?

    Where was love?

    What was adventure?

    What did I learn?

    When did I stop and breathe – and slow down

    And notice the gap in the midst of time

    The gap in which I was, just me, being me

    Tomorrow can wait, today has enough life for me in it

    I can be happy today, in the midst

    I am always, like you, in the middle – how can I be in that space

    Not thinking- but living the moment

    I am the sky and the sky is now

    The clouds pass and fade away

    I am here now, and so are you.

    There is no life in which there is not a myriad of problems

    In the middle now though

    Focus on life itself

    If I wait for a future life – I might miss todays life.

    No need to wait for life – life is here now.

    In the moment. This moment.

    References: The Power of Now by Eckhart Tolle.

  • Playing the grown up (even at Primary school)

    I think I must have been 7 or 8 years old when I got the lead role in the Primary school play, I was to take the part of the shop keeper. There was no selection process, other that my primary school teacher Mrs Knox (I think) choosing me for the role. I remember it well.

    Little Bowden Primary school – its been updated a bit since 1985….

    I have been reflecting on vulnerability recently, and also reading Brene Browns book ‘Braving the Wilderness’ in it she tells stories of her childhood. Maybe thats why this one comes to mind to me.

    I played the shopkeeper – I was given the ‘adult’ role in the group, being the ‘grown up’ aged 7 or 8 – When everyone else in the class could be a toy, a doll, a vehicle, an action hero. When the shopkeeper (me) closed the door at 5pm, the toys (my friends in costumes) all came mysteriously to life.

    They could play in front of people. I had 5 mins at the beginning of the performance and less than 2 mins at the end – the other 40 odd minutes was about the playful enjoyment of the toys that came to life and their adventures, self realisation of ‘life’ and what they discovered they could do – alive.

    When they played, I was to one side, waiting for my moment – waiting for a moment to respond to their sneaky, secret playing; being the magical toys that came to life. I overlooked, whilst they played – even at age 7. I watched other people play and have fun.

    I was to be the one who was shocked, betrayed, and look as If I was telling them off for it. What and whose role was I copying here I wonder?

    The joke was on me. It was also on me, as my time arrived to respond I had to do a ‘shocked’ face, and what I expected was the audience, including my parents, to clap and cheer and even be with me in my faux astonishment – from what I remember, the audience thought it was funny and laughed.

    It wasnt a ‘I tripped over on the stage’ moment when they laughed because I made a mistake – no – there was laughter in the audience when I did what I was supposed to do. The joke was on me – twice.

    I had never really thought about my ‘on stage’ moments before, I was narrator in a few Christmas nativities or in the orchestra for others, I wonder now what was going on in me at that very young age.

    I was good at reading and music, so they might have been easy reasons for my roles. But..

    I remember now, 37 years on, being uncomfortable with being physically embarrassed, ie acting, dancing in public that sort of thing. It was as if I couldn’t see myself doing that movement and so I’d shy away from it.

    Though I played sports and for teams, the same public physical disconnection occured, I was good in practice but for the team not so much. I couldn’t disconnect brain, thinking slowed down instinct…there was something about how I couldn’t connect my physical body, relax, let it move – so self conscious, so in my head.

    And since the same age, probably 7 or 8 I hated action songs in church – and wherever possible hid behind playing the music for them.

    There was something also about seeing life from a viewpoint that everyone else seems to have fun, or be able too, and from an early age I was cast as ‘responsible’ or narrator or musical prompt (of others fun) and until these last few days I hadn’t really realised it.

    Fun was what other people had…

    So it was better for me to grow up quickly and leave fun behind…do sensible things, like study and learn – I assessed that I was to do ‘responsible’ things.

    At least, even from primary school that’s the role I played, so I became the facilitator of other people’s fun, on the edges, the sidelines, the owner of the shop, not the toy that came to life. The responsible one.

    Theres something there about becoming a youth worker – facilitating other peoples fun, putting my own ‘fun’ to one side..

    It’s amazing how some of the smallest things in our childhoods are seen in a new light, light at all, and I’m constantly reminded that being close to these things is an opportunity to heal them. Not that these were traumatic experienced, but ones where I look back on and reflect somewhat… Did these roles cast me in them – or were they what my teachers identified as my strengths? could easily be both.. ..

    What about you? What school experiences did you have that might be signs or symbols for you?

  • The challenge of saying No (today)

    The challenge of saying No (today)

    I had built it up over the weekend, tried to put it off, thought it, over thought it, woke up thinking about it, not been able to sleep thinking about if its the right decision was about to make.

    Then I realised that it wasnt that it was about the ‘right decision’

    It was about the fact that I had to say no to someone, someone who offered me some work

    I didnt want to do that thing, say No.

    I was also due to go and see some properties later today – but I realised that neither were going to be suitable – so that was another ‘No’ telephone call.

    I expected the work person to be annoyed, I expected them to say that I had inconvenienced them, I feared being made to feel guilty for saying No. Why?

    Because that’s what saying No meant every time when in an abusive relationship.

    Saying no – was responded to with anger or guilting – for not accommodating their needs

    How dare you say no to me!

    You’ve upset me and let me down

    You haven’t tried hard enough – this is your fault

    I dont like you when you say no

    You always do what you want

    and the rest…

    Theres no wonder why working through issues of conflict and saying No have been part of my healing and self aware story – Learning the power of No is here – the rest of my story is above in the links

    So I was building up to the phone call.

    Deep breath.

    Adrenaline going

    Lots of energy being spent…

    and…

    And it was ok.

    The person understood.

    The person was wished me well. The person was grateful that id been honest with them. The person realised that I needed more from them as an employer.

    The person I said no to – realised that my needs were important. Interesting that.

    Then I had to say no to some viewings – the estate agents, thanked me for calling and offered other properties and said ‘ thats ok James, there’ll be others more suitable’

    The Estate agent recognised my needs – as I said no to them too. Interesting that.

    What happens when you are emotionally damaging relationships with emotionally needy people – is that you are never ever seen, seen to have needs, or wants or desires – these all pale into insignificance, to the needs of the neediest. Yes is the only word to say to them, as otherwise it opens the door to the emotional rage from within. Eggshells again.

    I said No today and It was ok.

    I said No 3 times today – and it felt good.

    I even walked out of a car sales garage saying No and not feeling bad about it- I mean thats progress too!

    I didnt realise that people might actually be ok if I said no to them.

    I put my needs first.

    I eliminated things that weren’t the right thing for me.

    I chose myself.

    Also – because everything is just a tiny bit stressful at the moment, with job and flat all change situation – I forgot things I learned a while ago.

    Or worse – they started to attack.

    what will be their reaction, have you let people down again? and the rest…

    Today, I had a healthy reminder that it should be ok to say no. That No is about protecting, about deciding and about thinking about my needs.

    I had a reminder of the power of No.

    I had a reminder that I might be worth more than what was on offer – and that the other person could actually see that.

    I felt proud of myself that I had said no. I felt relieved too.

    Today was a bit of a life lesson, a reminder, of the energy required to muster up the power of No. – and doing it in the midst of tiring life situations…

    What if the No creates the space for the Yes to emerge? – well…maybe thats for another time…