James Ballantyne

Category: Emotions

  • How does Shame hold you?

    How does Shame hold you?

    ‘When we (Men) reach out and be vulnerable, we get the shit beat out of us… and dont tell me from the guys…but from the women in our lives

    So I started interviewing men and..

    You show me a woman who can sit with a man with real vulnerability – ill show you a woman who has done incredible work

    You show me a man who can sit with a woman who has got to the end of her tether and his first response isn’t ‘I unloaded the dishwasher’ but he really listens – because thats what we need – then ill show you a guy whose done a lot of work

    Shame is an epidemic in our culture

    To find our way back to ourselves in our culture we have to find out how it affects us, the way we’re parenting, the way we’re working, the way we’re looking at each other

    When asked what the things men have to do to conform with male norms in culture, research showed the following:

    • Always show emotional control
    • Make work a Primary goal
    • Pursue Status
    • Violence

    The antidote to shame is empathy, if you put shame in a petrie dish it goes away.

    Shame needs three things to grow exponentially, secrecy, silence and judgement – it can’t survive with empathy.

    If we’re going to find our way back to each other, vulnerability is going to be that path.

    It may be seductive to stand outside the arena, when im perfect and bulletproof…but that never happens, we bring ourselves as we are to the battle ‘

    (Brene Brown, TED Talk 2012 – https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=psN1DORYYV0

    I have spent the last week digging deep reflecting on vulnerability and shame, on guilt, on myself – and this brought me to the point of actually reading or watching something of Brene Brown, a name that to me had been only a social media meme, or someone who I hadn’t got around to yet.

    So I watched her two TED talks over the weekend. Whilst there’s so much to reflect on in full. Its these last few comments about Men that I highlighted above, that I felt it appropriate to share here.

    Lets look again. For a man in society to live up to cultural norms (in a US based research) it involves

    Emotional Control

    Primacy of work

    Status

    Violence.

    So shall we ask the question – do you agree or disagree?

    Or a better one – have you felt shame in not fulfilling these things?

    Or another – how much effort does it take to ‘go against’ them?

    What does shame feel like for you?

    Are you expected to be ‘in emotional control’ – around others who lose their shit – so what place do your feelings have?

    when was the last time you cried? When was the last time you cried, in front of your partner?

    Are you expected to work until – well until you are sick? Because you are meant to? Is your life about success at all costs?

    Status and power – Have felt the pressure or shame for not taking on that promoted role, or that position?

    Violence – Dont be the victim of bullying, stand up for yourself… fight back… – win at all costs ?

    Which of these resonates for you? Or might it be something else?

    If im honest I was shocked by these 4 things, especially Violence, but then whats the method in which superheroes win in films? or in video games? (as one example) – and it worried me that these were revealed as expectations and then areas in which Men might feel shame about, and realised that even if we dont think all apply to us – we can still carry shame because of just one of these areas.

    Maybe lets pause for a moment and reflect on the shame that we carry.

    What is it, and what is it doing to us that is likely to be unhealthy.

    What subliminal message about expectations and shame are we passing onto our children? What have we inhabited? What does shame and vulnerability mean for us, as men?

    I had to admit something to my partner Christelle the other day, she knows me as someone who is wise, clever, reads, who likes nature, adventures, travel and food, who is in work that involves justice, poverty and faith. I had to admit something, that feels like a guilty secret, in comparison of all these noble, creative, wise activities about me.

    And that was my also my following of sport. Specifically the capitalist business model team that is Manchester United – a team I supported since I was 8. My guilty pleasure, out in the open. But it felt almost shameful. Not liking football could be seen as odd in the UK, but that I support ‘that’ team (and not just because of recent results) seems so out of character with so many parts of me that I stand for. Though this felt trivial it wasnt in a way. It was a tiny bit of vulnerability on my part, a part of me that I often feel shame about, and hide, as it makes me feel less perfect, less with integrity, interested in something ‘trivial’. Though it sounded trivial, it still felt like a thing I felt shame about.

    In another example : I had to take a covid test today, like so many of us in the last 2 years – but can you remember how it was ‘shameful’ to admit getting this disease? Shame and blame in culture… – and yes I am writing this post whilst dosed up on lemsips and a bag full of tissues to hand – and the test has come back negative…

    Maybe thats the thing with shame and vulnerability – its about giving ourselves away, to hope that we’ll be loved despite our imperfections, and take a risk – where its safe to do so.

    So to the Men who might read this – what might shame and being vulnerable mean to you – what are you scared of, or afraid of?

    What cultures in work, or religious groups, make it even easier to hold on to shame- where our real lives can be hidden away for pretence or expectation – to not be our real selves..pretending…

    It might be time to bring it out of the secrecy, silence and judgement.

    Do the expectations of emotional control, stays, work and violence affect you? – in what ways?

    Is it one of these things more than the others? And who and how might you begin to expose the layers of some of the wounds of shame and let them go, in a way like Matt Haig describes below:

    Imagine forgiving yourself completely. The goals you didnt reach. The Mistakes you made -(the choices that you made even). Instead of locking those flaws inside to define and repeat yourself, imagine letting your past float through your present and away like air through a window, freshening a room. Imagine that.

    Matt Haig (The Comfort Book)

    Of course, the other side of this is those who feel no shame, the tiny proportion, but still large number who might be considered sociopathic. Shame is part of being human, part of being a human that is more whole and humane.

  • Its time to realise our wonderful bodies

    My body is wonderful

    And so is yours

    Have you ever noticed?

    Said those words, to yourself?

    Thought of your body as wonderful? Just as it is?

    Its no more wonderful larger, smaller, fitter, leaner, younger or older

    Because it is wonderful, just as it is.

    Have you ever noticed? Or stopped to?

    Then do so

    Why not try now?

    As you read this, with your mind open, wriggle your toes

    Feel your bones move, each one

    Your ankle and foot

    What is happening in your body as you wriggle your toes?

    Can you feel the movement? Can you tell?

    Your body is so wonderful it doesn’t tell you what it has to do every time you wriggle your toes

    or walk

    Every bone, cartridge, joint, muscle, tendon, all the fluids and skin

    As you read, your eyes watching, feelings deep within.

    That you can hear the noise of traffic outside as you do so

    your mind wondering

    did you forget your toes? Wriggle them again

    wriggle them fast, slow, and feel.

    Seems ridiculous doesnt it

    but thats the point

    To feel our bodies.

    Why is ridiculous? We all have them, bodies. (unless you’re a robot reading this, and you’ve been made by a body)

    What else about your body is wonderful….

    all of it

    Trying to escape from them, keeps the pain in them

    Tormenting the body, to feel pain

    Shame, blame, pain locked deep within, a carcass we thought nothing of.

    Our bodies are wonderful

    For what they are

    Sense it, enjoy it, feel it

    Its easy to forget, our body

    As just a tool to house our ever thinking mind

    As just a tool to pummel in the gym or working the land

    A tool to create life

    Reducing our body to a machine.

    As men, our gaze is often outwards to see the beauty in the female form

    But what about ourselves?

    Or the physical specimens of the sportsters and athletes, and we feel we cannot compare.

    So lets not.

    Lets give our bodies more healthy attention.

    Yes yours, and mine.

    A body so beautiful and complex, we will never understand, but we don’t need to

    Bodies housing all that shame, expectation, fear, guilt and pain, its no wonder we think so little of them.

    Undervalued by religion, the object of advertisers desires.

    Your body is wonderful, and so is mine.

    What it does and how it is held together, and how it thinks, feels, sense and communicates.

    Its never to late to start to love yourself for who you are, not just what you do, accomplish or create, but who you are, body included.

    Awaken the love of your body, listen to it breathe, feel it as it moves.

    Breathe life into it, feed it time, not just food.

    Treasure it, love it.

    Do the ridiculous thing, and think of yourself as having a wonderful body

    Try it…

    Stop reading…

    Wriggle your toes…and smile.

    And realise, just wonderful your body is.

    Though if you wanted to read more on this, try The Body keeps the Score by Van Der Kolk, or The Power of Now by Eckhart Tolle.

  • Is ‘It’s OK for Men to cry’ too simple to say?

    Is ‘It’s OK for Men to cry’ too simple to say?

    Its ok for men to cry

    Is said often. But I was wondering whether its said too often, without any thought about the complexity of this.

    I wonder if it’s said too easily.

    I wonder if women need to hear this message too.

    So its not just men who need to hear that its ok to cry.

    But its not just ok for men to cry. It should be ok for men and women to express their emotions.

    It should be ok, but often it isnt.

    Its not just men that have trouble expressing emotions.

    Its not just men but women too who have been unable to express emotions because its has been unsafe too, since birth often.

    Cant get them out.

    Cant show them

    Cant be seen to be not in control

    Cant be ‘not the stable one’

    Cant be the one who has to rely on others

    Cant be the one that doesn’t look like they are coping.

    Cant be the one who is vulnerable

    Cant be the one who isnt holding things together

    Because. Men do cry.

    They cry when their team gets relegated.

    They cry at movies

    They cry.. with other men, when..everyone is crying.

    So they do cry.

    But maybe its that we men find it difficult to cry about something relating to ourselves, or..in front of the people who we’re meant to be responsible for, emotionally.

    Its not as straight forward as to say that its ‘Ok for men to cry’ – we need to ask why, and not blame men if they cant

    Tears are good- and it shouldn’t be judgemental for men to cry

    Its ok to acknowledge and feel the pain, when it hurts

    In fact, we need to feel it.

    Feel the pain of being unloved, neglected or abused, by parents or partner

    Feel the pain of death, grief and loss

    Feel the pain of bereavement, unemployment, and yes the disappointment of the football team.

    Its ok to feel

    Its never ok to take that feeling out on others.

    thats why we need to feel the feeling differently, by feeling it.

    Want to be a strong man? Then manage your emotions and self.

    Its not ok to try and hold things together whilst wounding everyone around.

    So…let me ask..

    Who were your emotionally aware role models? When were you given the opportunity to begin to master your emotions healthily?

    I wasnt – but were you?

    Not until therapy a few years ago.

    Where might you start now? A therapist? A book like ‘The Power of now’ – its just a start remember..but maybe start..

    Men, its ok to have emotional needs, and wants and to admit it – as it is for Women too

    Its ok to stop and feel

    Its more than ok.

    Its more than ok and be the best version of you, that is real, that feels, from deep

    Its ok to let your body feel. To let it well up, and start to feel it.

    Maybe its not that Men, or women are ok to cry – but more to clock where and when they do.

    There are those who really cant though, and if you’ve followed my stories above, you wouldn’t be surprised to know that some peoples tears ive seen are crocodile at best.

    Tears cleanse. They release. Bringing out emotion from the heart.

    Maybe thats it too. We’re ok too cry when our team is relegated, but not if we’re heart broken by loss or bereavement.

    Maybe Healing for Men is about realising that those phrases are complicated. Of course its ok that men cry, healing and being the best version of ourselves is about being closer to the pain of our bodies, our emotions, and learning to accept, feel and manage our emotions.

    And yes, often we can be in charge of others emotions, but have barely stopped to deal with our own.

    Maybe its time to not pretend that we’re ok any longer. To avoid, run or try and bulldoze our way through the pain.

    Maybe its time to start working on ourselves

    For our sake. Because we can do better.

    Because we can love ourselves, even if we’re trying to after not being loved.

    We can feel feelings too. I can feel feelings too.

    Learning to cry, and be angry…also means we can feel the happy, the joy and the pleasure alot more easily, and dont you want that in your life too?

    Our emotions can be rollercoasters, and thats ok, staying on a level plane is causing us more pain.

    Take a moment.

    To feel.

    The real you.

  • Surviving Psychopathic Parenting (Part 19) The gifts of toxic gratitude

    ‘You’re just so ungrateful – after all I’ve done for you’

    In my previous piece I talked about how my abusive caregiver in the way in which they cooked food, often would create inedible food, that actually could be damaging to eat, making the food so uncomfortable, that expressing gratitude or thanks was an act of fakery.

    But toxic gratefulness wasn’t just food.

    To keep a narrative about being ‘poor’ and working for a faith, and gaining sympathy from people – sympathy they also rejected, my parents specialised in the distribution of valueless, token, ill thought through gifts.

    For 50 years.

    At the time the gifts stunned and often brought tears to us as children, as well as our cousins too. They were countless items over the years – Christmas and Birthdays nearly always were tinged with some level of crushing disappointment. The specific item ‘wanted’ was instead replaced by one that was ‘needed’ without any care or deliberation.

    And as children we were then punished for not being grateful for them.

    It didnt stay as children.

    My wedding present from my parents, was their second hand car, that they then expected us to pay for. They didnt want to give something on the wedding list as it wasnt what they wanted to give, so they didnt actually give anything.

    A fiat Uno , G reg, but black.. that was my first car.

    A few years later they said they wanted to pay for a pushchair/buggy for my oldest child, but in going to pay for it, in Durham mother care, the parent asked about ‘keeping the receipt, in case anything doesn’t work out with the baby’.

    How can you be grateful when you are stunned by the awfulness? And yet, what do you do? In a public place – when they then make a big deal of ‘giving’ the pushchair in front of the till.

    Food has already been mentioned. Though Toxic gratefulness occurred regularly, when theres ‘gifts’ given of food. The open cardboard box of reduced items in the supermarket they scavenged, or were going to waste, that they ‘bring’ – and ‘give’ at the front door. Yeah great.

    The problem with all of this, even now, is that I start to sound ‘ungrateful’

    And that’s it.

    When we dare criticise them for how they have behaved towards us in any way. Not only do they selectively not remember. (and they do this often)

    They hide behind, ‘telling the truth ‘ – I was just telling the truth to the cashier..

    Or

    the ultimate

    ‘You’re just being ungrateful, I did lots of things… you just dont realise how difficult you were’

    ‘You’re just being ungrateful, you have no idea how much I sacrificed for you‘

    Toxic gratefulness. Though there must be a different word for it. It what gets banded out when the abusive one feels under threat, when their generosity is questioned.

    Oh its my fault that you cant be generous now is it?

    or

    ‘You have too high expectations‘ – Well if having awareness and empathy and value for others is ‘too high an expectation’..then..

    or..the classic

    ‘I cant change who I am‘ ; Agreed, but why are you threatened when your awful behaviour is pulled up?

    Because. The truth that they aren’t actually generous would hurt if they could even see themselves. But the reality is, is that they’re in such a deluded reality that they can’t see themselves anyway, not beyond their ego, and how the world is there for their taking and getting.

    So they give minimally or not at all, or with the emotional loading attached like breadcrumbs from the table, or to try and hoover you back into their orbit, by their pretence of ‘being nice’.

    I cant remember the age, but I think it was about 8, the birthday party at my house. the one where I only asked for one thing on the table, I didnt want a cake. I wanted a Black Forest gateaux. (yes it was 1986) They were in a supermarket. They cost £3 probably. Do you think I got one?

    guess again?

    Instead I got a two layer chocolate sponge homemade with some cream and cherry pie filling on it. Glorioulsy announced in front of my friends. Her version.

    Where do you go apart from hide, or want to cry. Our birthdays, were their show.

    ‘Youre too hard on your mum, my friends would say as they laughed the next day at school, that case tasted yum’ It had no taste.

    I didnt want large birthdays or parties, because I didnt want them to be at them. Since 8 (ish) I avoided them.

    That they created birthday scenarios, and invited themselves to them, for both my 18th and 40th, and made everything so uncomfortable , not respecting or listening to me, was another thing. Having said I didnt want something, they did it anyway, because they felt they had the ‘right to’ and I had to be ‘grateful’ for something I didnt want, and be violated.

    I learned to tune out. Go into the survival zone. It was the only way to cope. It’s like a surreal moment when time goes so so slow, every breath takes 40 seconds and your desperate to need to go pee every 2 mins just to get out of there. Its awfulness upon awfulness. Yet smile, as you don’t want to appear grateful, or that this isnt walking on eggshells or all a game that they’re publicly doing. Let’s not be an ungrateful Trophy child.

    Which, by the way, they were rude to the service staff, and I had to pay the tip, for the thing they wanted to do, for my birthday.

    I really do sound ungrateful. Dont I.

    But thats just the thing. Every scenario is insidious, uncomfortable, disrespectful, and example upon example of awful behaviour that wounds, hurts, manipulates, and abuses. To start listing them, makes me out to be bitter. So, where is this kind of thing exposed? Do those who suffer this kind of awfulness from their parents have to suffer in silence?

    Emotional abuse is so difficult to quantify, as is narcissistic abuse.

    The penny drops eventually.

    The penny drops in that you get to realise over a lifetime, that when there are things that might be considered worth being grateful for, they do these things for a show ‘ look at us spoiling you now, dont ask for this again’ and then that gifts are rarely so, the penny drops that they struggle to be generous in gift giving, because they struggle to actually be nice at all. Gifts are to create toxic gratitude. A show for them.

    Its not just the stick that abuses, but the absence of anything resembling warmth, empathy, generosity and kindness. Its a kind of emotional neglect.

    So, when I point out the examples above, they are because these are the stories that are most memorable, but lets not get me started on the myriad of others, or the drip drip of the dementor like taking presence in between.

    Surviving psychopathic parenting, left a lasting effect on me, that over the last year im only beginning to understand. Gratefulness was one of the moral armouries used as a weapon.

    Its hard to write about gratefulness without being… well you know. So no wonder as a child its a weapon.

    What about in your case? Is this something you have experience of?

    Its only when I share the stories that I realise how awful it was. So thats why I share. So that you can start to see and heal too.

    If you’re reading this and its beginning a chain of thoughts in your head about your parents, or partner, then do seek support and a therapist, especially someone who can understand emotional abuse and trauma. There are resources on emotionally immature and narcissistic parenting in the resources section above, do check them out too.

  • On Comfort Eating, and my relationship with food

    If the end to the abuse and pain was at the end of a tunnel made of bread, then I spent most of my first 40 years on this earth trying to eat my way towards that distance unreachable utopia.

    When I say 40 years, I mean all 40 years.

    It was said of me, by my abusive mother, that James will eat his weight every day, and his friend C (best friend from 0-11) would drink his way. My friend C drank so much juice, whilst I was eating everything, once I discovered solids.

    I bet we all have a interesting relationship with food though dont we? Maybe spend a moment reflecting on yours..

    I became the eater. Known for it.

    In public I would be the first in the queue at the church fellowship teas – this food was so good, sandwiches, quick, pasta, pizza, deserts..oh my all the 1980’s deserts, cheesecakes, gateaux, jellies, laid on large tables that covered 2/3 of a length of the room, piled high.

    I only had one motto on things like that. I didnt eat the food my mum had contributed.

    But feast on everything else. It wasnt quite a competition with the contributions (probably all women , it was the 1980’s) , but many would pull out the stops.. and so it was good food, and I was known for being first in the queue, and first in the queue when everyone else had had.

    Food, glorious food.

    I know now that many of the situations, and the content of the food I grew up with was orientated with emotional trauma. Yes I was forced to eat what was on the plate – what ever it was, and some of it was highly questionable, liver, marrow, but the dinner table was also the place where that person dominated. Anything that was worth eating was worth eating fast, and getting out of there.

    What I know now, is that food was a metaphor. My abusive mum was feeding the men in the house, whilst behind the scenes abusing the women, my sister, about food. The old trick- do one thing over here, abuse over there. Eat up – youre working men, or growing boys. She was feeding the men, as a cover up.

    Problem was that food wasnt safe. Some of it at times barely edible. It was as if she couldn’t do the thing that other people did, like be predictable, she was a dangerous unpredictability when there was one ingredient missing, would get replaced by something weird.

    She was a dangerous unpredictability the rest of the time too.

    ‘They’ll just have to be grateful for what I give them’ – That was her mantra. And it was the same for gifts and presents.

    In later years, after I left home, food got even worse. Or maybe I noticed it more.

    So, what else did I do?

    Ah yes, that tunnel of bread (though it could have been cereal too)

    As soon as I discovered that glorious new meal ‘supper’ I was in for it big time.

    Early occasions of supper were about 9.30pm on summer nights after id been playing football so late and starving, or after swimming club, that kind of thing.

    But as I got older, and it got later, supper was a safe place too. The house and downstairs would be mine, space, and a few slices bread and late night comedy or sport on the TV to enjoy, to myself.

    What I also did was disconnect from my body, That was the place of shame, that wasnt important, compared to my mind, my soul and spirit (and heart didnt get a look in), but if the body was the source of a kind of evil – then it didnt matter what did to it. So I piled it with food. Body health couldn’t happen, when body value was so low.

    Was I comfort eating?

    Sometimes, as it would be a quantity of bread that I didnt need to eat for physical reasons.

    And that was pretty much the pattern that didnt change.

    I wasnt ever subject to the horrors of actual toxic food ever again, not unless we went to my parents house, for even when we visited the food was always known to be a weird concoction, or actually something inedible, to make a point, to make a point of making everyone uncomfortable. I mean who makes a chicken soup and leaves all the bones in, crunched up by a mixer (though not fully) and serves this to their 4 and 6 year old grandchildren. Or undercooks pasta. They’ll just have to be grateful……

    Childhood food included Prunes in Lime Jelly, chicken frikasee with the bones in, every meat with all the yucky fatty bits, liver…

    Its no wonder I developed places of food eating that we’re safe.

    Most of my late night eating pattern stayed the same, it was what I was used to. There would be bouts of me trying to give up bread, and trying to discipline myself on food, and strangely I did start this, in the last few years.

    But I looked forward to having my own space, when everyone else had gone to bed, and I would raid the bread.

    Bread

    Toast

    Jam

    Marmite

    Peanut Butter

    Bananas

    Honey

    Sweet

    All the above.

    I think my record was 8 slices one night. it could have been 12, I just didnt stop.

    Craving and filling emptiness.

    Then I started to make my own bread. A sure sign of a pending emotional breakdown. Breadmaking.

    The other thing I would do is raid the reduced aisle in the supermarket, especially when I was late at work, and was late at work often on late night detached Youthwork sessions, or on the way back from them. Id eat far far more junk that I needed to, over eating, and piling the weight on, one reduced wrap, doughnut, fruit smoothie, cake or cookie at a time. Secret over eating. Secret Comfort eating.

    Until I stopped.

    My 40th year I stopped, just about.

    Or maybe I began to stop.

    I wasnt looking forward to my 40th, intact, with abusive parents you dont look forward to any birthday, but I wasnt looking forward to my 40th.

    But having downloaded the STRAVA app a few years previously I decided that I was going to do 40 Strava app exercises between Boxing Day and then my 40th that year, in late march. 90 days, 40 inputs of reasonable quality, a run, swim or bike. And I did. I also changed my eating pattern too, I had always cooked food, in fact I had done most of the home cooking for 10 years, but for three months I cooked lots of vegetable soups, lentils and though in so many ways may life wasnt in a good shape, what I was beginning to do was change some of the outer things. Mostly knowing that if I carried on I was only expanding, and doing so from an already getting larger shape at the time. I may have been deeply unhappy (or just used to surviving) but I was going to make an attempt to deal with the food thing.

    And I at least started to.

    I think I lost about 2 stone that year. I was probably slightly obsessed by my weight at the time, but it was one way of checking and disciplining myself. I was starting to take control of myself. Maybe even to start to care and love myself, which started physically.

    What I didnt realise at the time was what I actually needed to do.

    Or maybe, was about to happen that was going to unravel, and how food changed even more so.

    Not many months later I’m staying in a friends house for 6 months, having left ‘my own fridge’ house, family and have no job.

    But do I comfort eat in this situation? Nope.

    Through this situation I’m beginning to realise that I’m starting a process of dealing with the inner me. If one of those onion layers is about pain, and emotional abuse, then as I reveal, and begin the work on this, and the roots, then I understand how and why I dealt with life, and food the way I did, and what I needed it for.

    As I changed on the inside, other things changed on the outside.

    My relationship with food changed, as my relationship with myself changed.

    For 40 years I coped with life, survived sometimes daily on the knowledge that late night bread was waiting for me and a safe place.

    Is it because I’m in my 40’s that I now see differently. I dont think so. I needed to breakdown and start to see, heal. I needed the disruption of clearer space, a retreat, safety. I needed to start the emotional work, therapy and see the monsters differently, and see myself who had unnecessarily carried guilt, shame and responsibility for everything and everyone.

    Am I ‘over it’ – Now that I’m in a place of safety, a place of knowing and valuing myself more, a place where I have a better body image, where previously I didnt matter, my body didnt matter, and I was grasping for something with food that food could never do. How do I feel about food now?

    On one hand it took me 5 months of living in my own space to realise that ‘I was cooking for one’ – and I enjoy cooking, following recipes, trying new things, and part of valuing myself has been to value what I eat, and value making good healthy food for myself. I like experimenting with new recipes, growing food that I can eat, and also in becoming vegetarian over two years ago, have developed other new cooking habits.

    Whether its African bean stew or Mexican Avocado eggs.. food is a thing of value and beauty, because thats what I deserve.

    Do I still eat bread? Yes.. because its nice.

    What about food and you? I can see how my relationship with food changed as I developed a different relationship with myself, my emotions, when I saw and understood myself and my life differently. As the inside changed, so did the outside. It wasnt the other way around, and thats probably the lie never told by the diet industry. Curing emotional comfort eating with a disconnected body, was not going to be solved on a diet alone- though it was a bit of a start.

    What about you and food? Other men, has food, been a part of your journey? and in what way?

  • Realising that Now I can be Happy.

    If only

    If only this happened, then I would be Happy

    If I bought this, I would feel complete

    If I achieved this..It would bring me wholeness

    If someone else did well at something – I would be joyful

    If my team won- then I would be happy

    If only

    If something.

    Until the last few years I lived my life in a state of future thinking of happiness.

    Until the last few years I avoided my current state of presentness

    Until the last few years I delved deep into my inner mind workings to survive the past things.

    Mind engaged

    Feelings switched off

    Future life will sort it

    a new job, a team victory, a day out, unexpected money, success, academia…

    Living only for a future to arrive that never arrived, whilst being trapped in a mind prison of the past and having no grip on my own feelings. Was like a prison with a door that never opened, and I had no access to a key.

    An imagined future happiness, lost in the present, and fearful of dealing with a past that I had tried to switch off from.

    This will make me happy. Nope.

    This will bring moments of unexpected joy – yes, glimpses, moments.

    The one off moments that circumnavigate my ever working mind, my overthinking brain to hit me where it hurt. Briefly.

    The breakdown summer in which I cried alot.

    Did not know

    Couldn’t think my way out of it.

    Had to live from a dormant, bruised heart, that was screaming to be acknowledged.

    Yet in the moments of breakdown, the world starts to change.

    I already saw the flowers, but now they were signs of gratitude and hope, I saw what was colour in the everyday.

    The Rainbow. That appears in my flat window, as I write this.

    Feint against the grey clouds

    Moments of the now.

    Glimpses.

    Tomorrows happiness rarely came, because I expected too much of it. I needed the future to do something for me, that was impossible.

    ‘When will you be happy’? Was a question I was asked one time.

    It wasnt just slowing down that I needed to do

    It was just breathing

    It was being.

    In the moment.

    I couldn’t think my way into feeling something that had to be felt, and I am beginning to realise, that I feel in the now. It is when my mind stops and I allow myself to feel, to listen to my heart speak.

    I noticed that I stopped needing things. I enjoyed things, but didnt need them to do something beyond what it was meant to do.

    Maybe its mindlessness and not mindfulness.

    What might it mean to be fully present and in the now?

    and.. if its not now – when.. might that be for you?

    Am I excited about something happening tomorrow, or something in a month, or Christmas coming up?

    Yes, of course, but do I need that thing to make me happy?

    Healing for me, was less about understanding what happened, but about the beginnings of the undoing of what I did to cope and survive through it. Because now I’m not needing to survive and cope, I dont need tomorrow. I have today. I have now.

    And now it full of colour, its even more so when the greyness and clouds break away.

  • Avoiding emotions is like driving with brake stuck on.

    Now I’ve done therapy, I can deal with everything, all the emotions!

    So when they arrive I know exactly what to do

    Disappointment, Anger, grief, self depreciation, annoyance, frustration, tick them all off, I just sit, breathe, and let wash through me like a shower of life’s joys and gratitudes.

    Do I fuck.

    Actually, I’ll make myself busy, I’ll keep moving, tidy, wash, clean, check social media, walk a bit, check social media again, alot, get a drink, check social media again, tidy, eat, maybe go for a longer walk, Facebook distraction, water the plants, watch something else, say I’ll switch off the screen, then open it a minute later, write a cute healing phrase on twitter, when I’m talking to myself and honestly..trying not to do it myself..

    And that’s not just the things I have to do, essential tasks…like work or family stuff..

    That’s what I’ll actually do

    Until I realise

    That I’ve been ignoring, hiding, avoiding

    Life is one big distraction of avoiding us being our real selves. The emotion police.

    But after I did therapy I thought I would be emotionally competent, feeler, healed and deal with it

    Turns out, I just know what I could do, but still have to make the right choices for myself to actually do them.

    40 odd years of abuse survival avoidance habits die hard. Though they were needed, and to be thanked.

    The last thing I want to do is deal with myself, yet the rewards for doing so are so much that I wonder why I put it off.

    It’s like driving a car with a fixed on brake, the brakes can come off and it drives better without, but it’s easier to keep going brakes on and not bother stopping to get it unstuck.

    Maybe this is a good metaphor to explore more, a brake being stuck on, might not show up as a warning light on the dashboard, but its a nagging feeling that something isnt intuitively right. You may be able to drive without fixing it, or put the stereo on to not sense it, but its still there. Intuitively , gut, something is provoking to be dealt with.

    It’s only when I stop, do I start again. Every moment of silence to listen to my own heart is a space of healing.

    I know what I need to do, it just takes a while to do it sometimes.

    What are you avoiding? What am I?

  • 2 years of being able to breathe

    I realised this week that I’ve been able to breathe for 2 years now, these were the first two years I’d been able to breathe in my whole life

    I remember when I walked into the flat 25 months ago and being emotional in front of the estate agent. Realising that this was going to be my space, my space to look after, my space to look after myself in, my space , haven, calm

    My space, to make home. To light candles, listen to music, read, and enjoy life in my own pace.

    My space to determine boundaries of what I listen to, read or who I allow in

    My space to look forward to coming home to after leaving it

    My safe space

    I can breathe

    Stop and slow down

    41 years of emotionally abusive home space, with 2 in-between of working/living in houses with gap year teams, with me being the ‘responsible’ one

    2 years of being able to breathe

    2 years of being enough, 2 years of listening to my heart, 2 years of not having to revolve around the often crazy unpredictable needs of others, 2 years of being just me.

    2 years of healing from the 41 years previously

    2 years of starting to see

    Healing requires time, safety and connection, and in the process, self determination to make decisions, take control, for me about putting myself first, making decisions for my own good.

    It makes me stop and realise quite how unhealthy places are when breathing isn’t possible. When eggshells are the only floor covering and avoiding fighting or fawning conflict is the only reality. That’s not to mention lies and gaslighting, and trying to constantly work out who the crazy one is.

    It’s worth saying here, if you’re the one creating eggshells for others in your relationships, or family, through manipulation, control, bullying and neediness then maybe decide to give it up. You can change. Problem is, that you’re unlikely to read this. But…

    If you’re not breathing you’re not living, you’re just surviving. I was just surviving all my life. Ignoring every attempt of my heart to make itself known. Just surviving. Bouncing from one crisis to another. Fawning over the needy anger of toxicity.

    Breathing for 2 years, learning to be me. Realising who ‘me’ is.

    As I write I’m on holiday, camping in the rain, and up to now, my few holidays have been busy ones, climbing, walking, city breaks, and I’ve filled my days. Today I’ve tried to do what I am learning to do in my home. To stop and enjoy a ‘doing nothing’ day.

    Yes I’ve walked a short distance,but no rushing for trains , or climbing hills, just a short meander to the village a walk by the river and now just time reflecting on it as I write this, in a tent in the rain.

    In the past I realised that I struggle to slow down, in the last two years I’ve realised quite how much I’m able to slow down.

    Business was my ongoing distraction. Busy work, busy hobbies, busy. It’s no wonder that I’d wait to get ill during Christmas holidays only, when I had the time and my body relaxed. This was the pattern since childhood.

    Learning to slow down

    2 years of being in and feeling like being home.

    Safe

    Rest

    Breathe

    I’m sure I have more healing to do, as more layers are uncovered, as I listen more to my inner child, as I draw, write and play. But for now, a mark to note two years of being able to breathe, and feel new life, growth and change.

    Thank you to all friends and family alike in their support and encouragement to me in these last 2-3 years, and to Christelle whose healing, loving kindness is a joy

  • Recovery of my forgotten Inner Child

    Recovery of my forgotten Inner Child

    Over the past 8 months, through Trauma Therapy, I’ve been getting in touch with my inner child.

    The remarkable thing was, I didnt even know I had one.

    A child.

    A child part of me

    What I began to realise was…I had spent my whole life parenting other peoples inner child..

    But not my own

    So what did I say?

    How did a relationship start with a person, that I had never met?

    A person that, told me that I had left him behind

    A person that disappeared when I felt I had to grow up

    A part of me that hid

    That was scared at time to come out

    A part of me that was terrified of the anger, the abuse and shock of those who had tormented me

    A part of me that needed to know it was safe to appear

    I had to youth work myself.

    Safe

    Slow

    Easy conversation

    Allowing my inner child to speak

    To say the words that hadn’t been said in 40 odd years

    Letting it out

    Hello, little James

    Would you like to say anything?

    What would you like to do to today?

    What even is your name?

    baby steps as my vulnerable child begins a dialogue

    I am just beginning to listen, and keep listening

    Sometimes he swears at me. Sometimes he’s angry with me

    Sometimes hes quiet

    I am finding out what he likes, what he wants and what he needs.

    More that often I listen, try to hear, what my inner child is trying to say.

    Finding out who he feels safe with

    I am just discovering my inner child

    Re-covering my inner child

    Letting him out to play

    And in case you hadn’t noticed, be creative

    in his own time.

    Sometimes he writes, scribbles, draws, colours, just to get feelings out

    Sometimes I can hear him tell me off ive been too busy or distracted to talk, to listen

    Yes. He knows, as..deep down I also do too.

    What has it been like?

    Painful, raw and exhausting at times, but all of what my inner child has been holding onto for 30 odd years is having to come out, when its time, safe, and when he can trust me, to be protective, nurturing and safe.

    The things that were absent from my own childhood.

    And ive encountered the parts of me that I had inhabited, the critical parent, my wounded self, the voices in my head that say ‘stop being silly’ and try and let that inner child rest, play and pick up the crayon and make a silly mess. Because its not silly.

    And Critical me has had a lifelong field day. Ask anyone who’s been on the wrong end of my questions.

    As Lucia Cappachione writes, the fascinating thing is that the more we encounter , nurture, protect and parent our inner child.. the less we jump to rescue others, and also the less we need others to rescue us. Im not going to share too much from my inner child here, for, that is something for later, and maybe in a new relationship I will protect him and keep him safe, away from needing to be shared.

    But in re-parenting myself, ive discovering myself, and feel like a coherent person in a way that I have never done before. Im feeling my way into a real, whole person that until this year had felt disjointed, disconnected and I had lived out of a false self.

    If anyone reading this would like to start this journey, and it is recommended with a Therapist who specialises in this, the resources I am using on this, to do the work, not just learn about the work, are from Lucia Cappachione, most notably, Recovery of your inner child, 1991

  • On Gareth and the Hug we all need

    On Gareth and the Hug we all need

    I feel like there needs to be a broader conversation about men and processing emotions in day to day life, after incidents of violence and racism, and not just during special events like #mentalhealth awareness weeks. If football/alcohol cause the emotions to explode..

    Then those emotions are lying dormant, waiting to come out. Yet, those emotions are themselves from other things, and the bottle/cork that contains them is kept tight, then its waiting to happen…and its a big release when it does

    Its easier in the media to keep the blame game up and project anger continually , on the players that missed, the people who raged afterwards, the racists, so there maintains a cycle of perpetual anger, and yet also a realising that sport means so much…why?

    So I ask, whats the cork, or bottle made of? what it the pain or trauma thats keeping the emotions under wrap (until alcohol loosens the cork) Someone to blame is one thing, it projects from inside that we made not more than it was, we ‘needed’ England to win…

    and that need reveals. When Southgate held Sako, what, as a man did you feel? Grief, Hurt, Envy? Southgate held Sako in a way many of us as men have rarely encountered. Being heard, valued and seen as emotional beings, who are real.

    Gave him a cuddle’ was the way in which the commentator said it… what about held, felt, grieved, allowed emotions to happen, made it safe to do so, even on a public stage.

    Southgate showed an emotional maturity, empathy and warmth, that as a man, and a man in a leadership role, and on the public stage, is utterly incredible and inspiring. Yes its leadership, but its also character. It may be projecting but what Men might need more, is not …

    the victory of the sport, but to be held, heard and validated, in the midst of their disappopintment, expectations and especially on the public sphere. Southgate showed how it is done.

    Where might we turn to, as men, to process emotions more healthily? If we know Sport is the ‘release’ then maybe its time to look inside the bottle at whats fizzing around, to deal with it.

    There are some links and resources on this website: as well as articles on trauma and emotions.. one of the first things though is to start to get close to the things that have caused the pain, to find safe place, to slow down. All easy to say ..

    Because:

    I couldn’t run away and pretend to survive forever. I though I was ok, but really wasn’t. I needed football, so I get it, I really do

    I needed football, I admit it, in my previous blog here

    I thought therapy was for weak people

    I thought I didnt need it

    I didnt want to face the monsters

    I didnt think ‘my childhood’ was the problem

    I hid emotions in the bottle, closed them off completely.

    And in work I did exactly the same. Expectations of being responsible and leading, were aspects of the cork in the bottle.

    We won’t find love, and healing in the space of the media. We’ll find pointers of it in places like @matthaig1 and others. Men (though its not just men) we have waking up to wake up to the cuddles we actually need, before taking out more destruction on others.

    All I can say is, Gareth Southgate, thank you for showing that this is possible. Thank you for holding Sako, and in doing so holding all of us.

    Not just because of a pandemic, but because we are all human and it is what we all need.