James Ballantyne

Category: Healing

  • My Problem(s) being an Abuse Victim

    What do I see myself as, A Victim or a Survivor?

    If I go back 4 years;

    I couldn’t be a victim, unless I realised that I was badly treated.

    So I was in denial

    I couldn’t realise the extent of what had happened to me, until I started to say that I was a victim of abuse.

    Because , until then, I was holding onto the responsibility of actions someone else had done to me.

    I was protecting them and fearing them, holding it all in, running from dealing with it.

    Thinking that what happened to me, was what I deserved.

    I was responsible. I was full of shame.

    Thats what emotional abuse is. The ongoing belief that I was responsible, guilty for actions other people had done to me.

    It was my responsibility to soothe them and do what they wanted, or I would be punished.

    But I didn’t know it. I lived in a daze of slavery.

    Compliant and Passive. Loyal and Dead on the inside, and outside.

    It was only when I realised that I was more than ok, that I realised I was being treated badly. It was only when I realised this, that I could stand up for myself, and pass that responsibility onto those whose it was to take.

    In fact on more than one occasion one of the accusations levelled at me, shouted drunk, by my abuser was ‘Dont you starting thinking of yourself as the victim’ …. So… I was projected and abused into not being able to see that I was being abused.

    I had to realise that those who had played victim – so that I took responsibility for their feelings, weren’t actually the real victim.

    Not that I am utterly blameless, this isn’t the point.

    In understanding what had happened to me, and the safe space to do it – was the moment that I realised, gradually and slowly that I had been a victim of domestic abuse.

    I started to see the patterns, I started to read the books, I started to assess how I was being treated, used and lied to.

    So I was a victim.

    But I didnt know it.

    And I was reluctant to own it. I didnt want to be known as a victim. Even if I did start to realise what had happened to me.

    And yet at the same time, almost at exactly the same time, because I didnt realise that I had been a victim of this for 40 years, and I was in a safe place from virtually the time I realised. I considered myself a survivor too.

    I was a victim, it was the past tense. At that moment. It had happened.

    In the current moment of knowing, and acknowledging the past pain – the present moment I could say that I wasn’t currently a victim either. It had happened.

    Why would I want to keep playing the victim card? Thats what I’ve seen all my life- to abuse me. Why would I want to abuse myself in the same way – or bring out that same needy ‘poor me’ personality. No – why would I do that? I write my story for awareness. I know my story isnt unique. Well not quite at times. I dont want to dwell in a victim mindset.

    But it was important for me to realise that I had been a victim. That I had been treated, or allowed myself to be treated badly, from a deep core of trauma, shame, codependency and people pleasing – and hiding all this, and it not being safe to deal with it.

    So.. I was a victim. But I wasnt too. ,

    Would I say I was a survivor? Is that appropriate?

    Maybe. Maybe not.

    Have I survived? Currently yes – though some weeks, this week especially has been pretty dark. Surviving is what I had to do, throughout the time of the abuse. My internal voice that constantly said ‘I am going to get through this’..

    I dont like the thought that I am still surviving. Though I did survive. Many others dont. So I am grateful, eternally grateful to be here and alive. I wasnt close to jumping off the cliffs of Roker , when my therapist asked about my mental health. I was determined to grow, to dig deep and wrestle with myself and what I needed to do, for myself. I knew I was ok. I was probably more than that. But I had also survived the worst of it.

    In the present moment; I did survive. I wasnt a victim.

    Affected by decades of emotional and psychological abuse. Yes.

    Realising and attending to myself in the process of loving myself to be me. Yes

    Choosing the slow road, the self-kind road and trying to listen to my inner childhood voice. Yes

    It feels like a choice I make every day. A powerful choice to regard myself highly.

    Am I a survivor – yes then. But what would I rather be?

    I would rather be me.

    I would rather not be defined by what someone else did to me.

    I would rather not have them centred in my story.

    I am me – I am James – I am who I am.

    I am living and alive, love and loved, present and the future.

    I dont want to be a victim, I dont want their curse to stay on me.

    I am rebuilding , I am becoming a truer version of me

    I just am me.

    Just like you are you.

    This piece was inspired by Dr Glenns one – do read it here in it he says:

    In my experience as a trauma therapist, that’s just now how trauma recovery unfolds in the real world.

    In the real world, we ONLY recover WHEN we take responsibility for our happiness and stability— and part of taking REALISTIC responsibility means acknowledging our pain.

    It is not reality to pretend we are responsible for our post traumatic pain.

    It is not reality to “accept responsibility” for injuries that resulted from other peoples’ decisions and behavior.

    It is not reality to deny the fact that we are in pain, and there are layers to our pain that we do not control and can not reliably affect.

    It IS reality to see what we see and know what we know about our past and our present functioning— that there were aspects of our past that were painful and terrifying, and there are aspects of our current functioning that aren’t great as a result.

    None of that is “victim mindset.” It is reality mindset.”

    Dr Glenn Patrick Doyle

  • Why don’t people want to believe Abuse Victims? (Reasons below)

    I want to bring awareness to this issue.

    Whether you are an adult or child, a person who has suffered any kind of abuse from another, whether sexual abuse, neglect, emotional, spiritual or financial abuse – you will have encountered one or all of these.

    It is one thing knowing that I have been abused.

    It is another convincing others who might be able to be allies, or to do something about it or for any kind of justice, to listen.

    One of the recurring themes in abuse situation is ‘Why doesn’t the person leave’? as is ‘Why dont you tell someone?’ – and whilst there are barriers to disclosing abuse – like the fear of not being listened to, there are also reasons why someone chooses not to believe an abuse victim.

    These are all choices a person makes when they decide not to believe, stand with, or act on behalf of an abuse victim. Time and time again, it is one of these.

    They are heard a lot by the way. Alot.

    • They’ve only seen your abuser being ‘nice’ – nice people aren’t nice – they’re hiding and masking – helpfulness hiding reality – they’ve been manipulated too….

    • They see that person in the role they are in ‘They couldn’t do that, they’re a christian/police officer/teacher/social worker/vicar’

    • They have believed the abuser by dismissing you based on the abusers projections : ‘they’re just a tell tale’, ‘dont listen to _____ they’re always gossiping about me’

    • They have given that person a role – no point complaining to their boss – their boss employed them, is culpable and that is a position to defend.

    • They dont want to now be responsible for them, knowing this information about them.

    • They have an institution to protect – If this is true, the whole (church, school..) reputation will be harmed – tbh, bury and avoid it and it’ll be worse in the long run…

    (The rules and guidelines in the institution is set in favour of the powerful. The fear of the 0.5% likely false allegation influences policy. )

    • They are equally terrified of your abuser.

    • They are dependent of your abuser themselves, for love, money, status, worth..anything

    • They dont want to see them in the same way you do.

    • They privately do believe you but dont want the drama

    • They believe in a naive reality that people cant be that bad.

    • They believe the myth… ‘oh no a parent or a woman wouldn’t do that’

    • They dont want it to be their problem too

    • They cant understand why its taken you so long to tell them, I mean – you know deep psychological trauma and fear of not being believed..all actually being thrown back… oh… there was a right time was there..?

    • They want some kind of proof, and their memories of the same events are different, or ‘you dont look like someone who has been through abuse’. – as ifs there is a ‘certain look’ ?

    Time to fess up though.

    I was some of these. I was some of these when members of my family described to me the abuse of my parents. So I knew some things, but was not in a position to deal with it, and chose not to, terrified, afraid of losing status and terrified of having to deal with all of it. So I get it. I think I tried to be balanced – whilst still on the avoidance run. I wasn’t ready, and so, I get that some people just aren’t ready to hear it.

    Im not sure that excuses people for whom they have a duty of care for individuals. Yet again Youthworkers were ignore when flags were raised in Telford as they were in Rotherham on child abuse cases. System too busy. System frightened. Its not just statutory authorities. Churches and Safeguarding – on issues like domestic abuse, child sexual abuse and everything else, there’s lip service to look good and then theres reality – institutional gaslighting, please dont tell me it doesn’t go on and none of the above dont apply to you. Institutions wise up. Seriously.

    As Bessel Van der Kolk writes, a memory of Trauma is 99% of the time a truthful one, its just been masked and hard to access, its been fragmented by decades of abuse, wounds and masking, buried away in there and takes time, love and safety to be brought to the surface. Someone in a domestic abuse relationship might not be able to remember childhood abuse. Its being masked. The brain is hiding it for current safety sake. Believe a victim, especially one who doesnt play the victim. Believe the victim when they are upset and angry – wouldn’t you be when your whole life has been affected by abuse. (Bessel Van Der Kolk, 2005, The Body keeps the Score) .

    These are all choices a person makes when they decide not to believe.

    Have you encountered any others?

    And in most of the cases, abuse victims and survivors get it. Honestly. We get why you wouldn’t want to believe us when we say what our abuser did. It is too horrible that even we dont want to go there. Not everyone is going to say ‘I believe your story’ the first time. Problem is is that that first time might be the only time someone will give the opportunity. In other occasions a person might see it later and be able to deal with it (that was me). By not believing the first time the damage can be horrific.

    What did it take for me to change to believe the truth? What might it take for you? What might it take for institutions to do the same?

  • Doing The Hard things

    Hey you

    Just want to say, well done on doing the hard thing

    The hard thing? It was nothing, I just got on with it

    You are incredible, that was brave, that was hard

    Aww shucks, really, it wasn’t much, anyone could have done it

    But you did it, yes you, you are incredible

    Now you’re going too far, all I did was the thing

    But that’s such an important thing, a first brave thing, I’m proud of you, you did the thing

    Yeah, and Im just thankful for all the people who helped me to do the thing, I couldn’t have done it without them

    But you still did the thing, you made the call, you made the decision, you did the thing.

    I had no choice really, was desperate and there was no way out, I had to do the thing

    And you did the thing, at a point of desperation, you did the thing, well done, brave human, you did the thing and now you’re here, you’re alive, you are living, because you did the courageous thing, you changed the pattern to your normal, you did the thing

    True, my friend, I did the thing

    You the hardest thing, brave, courageous, strong you

    I’m just me, anyone couldve done it

    But you did it, you did the thing

    You did the hard thing, you made it happen

    Thank you

    Do you see it now?

    Maybe, but I don’t think I’m amazing for doing the thing

    That’s why I’m here to keep reminding you, you are amazing, you are incredible, you are stronger and more inspiring that you realise. You did the thing.

    How many times did I have this conversation in my journey, and I still do. Not seeing how difficult, or how brave I am for doing ‘the thing’ – whether that thing is facing the pain or shame, whether that’s going to therapy, or choosing to listen to my inner voice and respond, or whether it’s taking responsibility for my feelings, or standing up for myself or others.

    So many times I wanted someone else to do it for me.

    So often before id hidden everything and survived every blow.

    Surviving lone as a great result of being counter dependent. Pretending to survive alone.

    Doing the hard thing meant changing.

    Changing is a hard thing.

    Well done you. Just well done you.

    You Are an Incredible Human, and so am I.

  • Surviving Psychopathic Parenting (Part 32) How their ‘helpfulness’ hid the reality

    I have shared before about growing up feeling incredibly alone.

    In that piece I referred to the fact that the Toxicity of my mother meant that family members were kept at a distance, physical or emotional wedges were dug in place that meant that they stayed away or I was kept away from them. A family divided and when together – the rare occasions, there were more eggshells and mistruths than a cabinet meeting with Boris Johnson held in a poultry farm.

    But there was something else.

    Whilst Family were being divided, neglected, controlled and abused.

    There was another reason that I grew up alone.

    Sprinkles of Helpfulness.

    You see, people who are this toxic do not have friends.

    Barely did anyone willingly volunteer to come around for coffee to chat with them – victimhood persuasion was often needed and overheard on the phone, and No was barely taken for an answer.

    They didn’t have friends, because if she didnt have any, Dad wasn’t allowed them either.

    Sprinkles of helpfulness though.

    What are you on about James?

    They didnt have friends – because that mean seeing people for who they are –

    Instead, they helped people, rescued them – groomed them even.

    Often for money, or to trade ‘taking them to church’ as a bargaining tool – or to have the ‘right ‘ to judge their morality, she deserved to be rewarded for the helpfulness. (entitled, remember..)

    The list isnt endless of the helpfulness, because it was reluctant and not done with any joy or depth, it was tactical.

    People would be taken on holiday – they’ve had such a tough year

    Children would be looked after – before and after school

    ‘Old dears’ would be visited

    Actually, it was rare that a walk back from church on a Sunday wasnt via some old couple or another, knowing what I know now, they were probably being sized up.

    So called friends ‘had personal problems’ or were ‘going through a hard time’- and ‘Its good to be there for them’ – and mysteriously moved away when they recovered, never to be seen again

    Im reluctant to bring my Dad into this, but, prime fixer and helper was his de facto – when it came to fixing boilers, radiators or any DIY, and thats before building an entire church building. Oh and by the way – She was bitterly disappointed that he ‘only’ got a lamp for all his efforts. The church weren’t grateful enough for all the sacrifice she went through – their reward wasn’t enough….

    Yes, Evangelical Church 1990…she was furious when we got home with that lamp and nearly threw it and smashed it.

    Sprinkles of helpfulness

    And note, if you haven’t noted already ; It wasnt genuine. It was for show.

    She expected to be rewarded appropriately for it.

    We stopped looking after children ‘When it wasnt worth the effort’ – not because it wasnt good for the family

    People started to disappear – when they realised their expectations went up – or the fees did.

    One of her biggest projections was that ‘Other people were being taken advantage of’

    When someone else did something for nothing, because it was a good thing to do.

    Especially anyone who did this and took the attention away from her.

    Have you ever seen the film Spotlight (2002)?

    Its what the Catholic Church did – its Institutional Gaslighting.

    Create a mythical reality of helpfulness in one domain of life, whilst abusing others, in an almost similar space. It perpetuates the disbelief. ‘They can’t do that, they’re so helpful’

    Sprinkles of Helpfulness

    People to ‘fix’

    Vulnerable people to prey on

    Institutions fall for the helpfulness – until individuals work them out.

    Or, as in Spotlight, an external agency puts the patterns together.

    Anyway. As a child. The adults that remained relatively close to us – were those who were being helped

    Because no-one stayed. People who realised they were being played didnt stick around.

    There was no warmth.

    Long term friends didnt come around for meals – because there was no such thing.

    So, growing up alone wasnt just about the people who stayed away

    It was that the so many others were dazzled by sprinkles of false helpfulness

    Caught in the myth.

    And people feeling sorry for them, or grateful for them.

    They couldn’t do that – they’ve been just helpful to me

    They couldn’t do that – they’re good christian people

    And it was always someone else fault when I asked that ‘we haven’t seen ______ for a while’…

    Strange that.

    And maybe Institutions that pride themselves on helping and rescuing are places that can validate abusers who have this tactic – who are unaware or choose to ignore or who believe words, defend and protect instead of listen and change. Fixers and helpers hiding in plain sight.

    It would be extraordinary difficult to be able to articulate the level of psychological abuse and neglect we received in the family, it was even harder when the avenues of who this could be articulated to were shut down. But people knew. They were just as afraid of them as I was. But those who they helped – were indebted to them and weren’t safe. What the ‘helped’ didn’t realise – was that it wasnt genuine.

    The myth of my parents helpfulness meant surviving alone.

    Those they helped weren’t safe for us.

    Those they helped also…weren’t safe from them.

  • Discovering Life Internal

    Discovering Life Internal

    And…….. Breathe……

    That kind of day today, long day for me, what about you?

    So maybe

    Just sit down fellow life traveler

    and do nothing, with me

    Sit comfortably

    and watch

    your stomach in front of you

    rise

    and

    fall

    as you breathe

    Take a deep, slow breath

    and watch

    feel the air in your nostrils

    and

    the release of your chest and abdomen

    empty itself

    of the life air

    Did you notice anything else?

    A smell in the room – what was it

    This evenings cooking? Fumes from outside?

    Your own stale socks from a days work, keeping your feet warm?

    What else did you notice, as you watched yourself breathe?

    Nothing?

    Really?

    When you looked at your stomach rise and fall, and took those breaths

    There was nothing?

    Did something disappear?

    For a moment?

    I focussed on my body, and breathed life into it

    Did you?

    And in that moment

    Mind focussed on Body

    Mind focussed on life

    Mind still

    There was a gap

    That magic gap again

    That magic gap in the incessancy of the mind going a billion miles an hour

    Impossible to stop by thinking it to

    But take it else where

    Focus on life internal

    Not stress external

    Life internal

    That magic breath again

    Your beautiful body full of life

    Your incredible body

    As it is.

    Life mystery

    Hold that breath again

    not that thought

    Hold that breath

    and let it be released

    slow, and watch again

    feel again

    Bodyfulness

    The gap again

    Take yourself to the gap

    Body full of joy ness

    of being alive

    of being you

    In the present moment of every new breath

    Peace – Joy – Self love

    Stay a while longer, as long as you like

    The longer you want to, no pressure

    Come back as often as you like, as long as you like

    Im here, because you are here

    in the gap too

    Return

    To that free gift, the free moment of self-truth

    of the life internal

    love internal

    Joy deep within

    each breath.

    But only when you notice.

    Thank yourself for the time to breathe

    Life internal

  • Why you are more than Enough

    Hey there

    Yes you.

    The beautiful human thats reading this

    One of my readers.

    Thank you.

    Just thank you, not

    for reading this, or liking it

    not for what you’ve done.

    But just for being you.

    Thank you

    You are enough

    The World is a more beautiful place with you in it.

    You, yes you.

    So, thank you.

    Even if you don’t believe it, yet.

    It is true.

    But what about you, I wanted to have a chat with you

    Yes, you, you could be my beautiful fiancé in San Diego, the folks in Ireland who read my blogs first (usually), my readers in the UK, Canada or the Philippines. You could be my family, my friends or anyone…

    It doesn’t matter.

    Its you thats reading this right now, and I want to speak to you.

    Yes you

    I have something to ask you

    Are you ready to listen?

    I mean, really ready?

    I mean, turn off the TV, sit for a moment and prepare yourself listen?

    Dont be scared now, honestly

    You might think I’m crazy to ask you this, but thats just the thing, crazy is just the thing that is abnormal, and normal is crazier than we’d like to realise, thats another story.

    I hope you’re not scrolling quickly, to get to what it is I wanted to ask you,

    you’re taking your time.

    Time.

    Whats time anyway? And no thats not the question, its another tangent… but have you ever thought about time, and how weird it is? To think that that time is on a clock, but memories , thinking, actions and words, seem to exist in a past, present, future dimensions that all get mixed up and thats not on a clock is it, it’s just the now. The now.

    Im writing this in the now. Right now. But your now is now and my now that was now is past now, but you might share this and your now will one day be in the past now, but that thing about time – you thinking about in the future and it’ll come ‘back’ to you, but in the future. It’s to be discovered, but not ‘back’ – maybe ‘back’ is in the future after all. By the time I clicked publish, my now has already gone.

    Sorry, I got distracted with the whole time thing.

    On the subject of sorry. I realise that I forget you sometimes. You, the reader. If I was writing a book, id think I was writing for you, the reader a bit more, id talk to you, with you, and not ‘at you’ or use you like a cat uses a scratching post. Im itching and I write at times like I need you to be a collective therapist, or I want to write so that one day, one person might be helped by something I might say. But I’ve got to be honest, more often than not, its a splurge of mixed up emotional dumping. So, im sorry. Sometimes I do this, the crap dumping, so im sorry about that, I dont treat you very well at times, they say respect your readers, and often I dont even give you a thought. This is a blog not a book – and you haven’t paid £12 for this, but I would understand if you didn’t want to waste 20 mins of your time listening to me process the crap from my childhood, or something I read in another self help book, more keep being added to the resources list above, by the way, discovering myself is feeling like a life work.

    Discovering myself.

    Becoming aware, of who I am.

    Thats the question my friend.

    Who are you?

    Three words, three small words.

    Who

    are

    you?

    Stop and think about it a while

    Pause

    No really, who are you?

    Fellow human, Who is it that you are?

    I just wanted to ask you, as I am asking myself, Who am I?

    I used to ‘think’ that I could think myself into the answer.

    I am good at____ or clever at____, or think of myself in relation to others, I am a fiancé, Dad, friend… or I am a youth worker, I am in relation to a profession, or even a faith, I am a Christian.. …and some of these are still true.

    I could ‘think’ myself into an answer…

    Deep down – who am I? in myself?

    Me, myself and I

    Who am I when I notice myself?

    When I realise that there is a part of me thinking – but that part of me is able to notice who is the thinking?

    That there is space between the thoughts?

    Can I muster just one little space in amongst all the millions of thoughts every day and every moment, but what if I did, give myself time to notice my thoughts?

    Give myself time to notice my thoughts..

    hang on

    who is me, and who is my thoughts?

    is there two of us here?

    A thinker and a watcher? really?

    So who am I really? – Who are you?

    The thinker or the watcher?

    The dream or the dreamer?

    If I am the watcher of the thinker of my thoughts – then..who is the watcher? Who am I

    And..I am not just thoughts, my brain is not just thinking

    It…can… stop…

    Who am I then? Who are you?

    Did you notice… you?

    Who are you then?

    More beautiful that our thinking, perhaps

    Ive got a surprise for you.

    Its time.

    Its time, that now, you notice.

    That space between your thoughts is not to be afraid of, because thats you.

    Part of you waiting to be discovered, your consciousness waiting.

    A gap of no thinking, where joy can be.

    What did it feel like for you?

    Thats you.

    Did you feel it?

    You are that joy.

    It is there, in a gap.

    It is in a gap of you.

    WOW. Isnt that incredible?

    You are Joy.

    It was hiding all along.

    Did you smile when you felt it?

    Im smiling as I realised it too. Im smiling as I realise that one day you might read this and feel the same. Im smiling as you’ve received a gift of joy, a gift from the universe.

    I didnt think you’d mind, knowing this…actually feeling this.

    Free joy. Free space

    Thats all, I just wanted to talk to you, and ask you something, and on the way I discovered things too, and maybe you did too. You are a beautiful human being and the world is a better place because you are in it, you are more than enough, especially if you think otherwise, because..those thoughts are just thoughts…between them, is consciousness radiating with joy – and thats you.

    If you smiled, might someone else?

    James

  • The Challenge of ‘Letting Go’

    The Challenge of ‘Letting Go’

    What does it mean to ‘let go’?

    What does letting go mean, when the damage has been so great – from people who are supposed to be anything but this?

    I thought I had let go of them, one time, but I was running away scared

    Ran away as far as I could – geographically and physically – but running scared of them

    Running away was all I thought I could do

    But

    Running away is pretending

    Running away wasnt wanting to face

    Running away when I couldn’t articulate it

    Running away was saying things like ‘I didnt have a bad childhood’

    Running away wasnt being true to the self I was

    Frightened James running away.

    Thats not letting go.

    ‘They did this to me’

    ‘Its their fault I’m like this’

    I cant change who I am and ill blame them

    Thats not letting go either

    Thats accepting that nothing can change

    And im just their continual victim

    Letting go, means not holding on

    Not holding on to the pain they caused

    or the excuse that I can give them

    Keeping the pain close

    Letting go, means letting that go

    Noting it, seeing it, feeling it, unescapable moments and reminders

    Opportunities to keep healing, not holding

    letting go – and letting go of the shame,

    The shame of things I needed to do to cope and survive

    The shame that I felt responsible for fixing them, soothing them

    The shame of not meeting their expectations

    Guilty by dissociation.

    The shame of being theirs. Their son.

    Identity shame.

    Letting go – means not holding on, means not running away, means releasing responsibility and giving it to someone else

    Letting go – and knowing that I am enough, I have a voice, I have needs and I am free

    Letting go – facing, accepting and making changes to protect myself

    Letting go – is that what forgiveness is? Forgiving myself for what I put myself through..because of them?

    Letting go – of their effects being my story

    Letting go – of having them take more power in my life and future

    Letting go – and being strong

    Letting go – of any myth of normal

    Letting go – expectations of pleasing or meeting their needs

    Letting go – and loving myself

    Letting go- and valuing myself

    Letting go – and releasing the pain

    Letting go – and making myself light again

    Letting go means being the sky and not on their cloud

    Letting go – to discover myself

    Letting go – to be the me I should have always been

    Letting go

    To breathe clean air

    To think clean thoughts

    To be in the present

    It’s time.

    Its time to not carry any longer.

    The inability or rather unwillingness of the human mind to let go of the past is beautifully illustrated in the story of two Zen monks, Tanzan and Ekido, who were walking along a country road that had become completely muddy after heavy rains. Near the village a young woman was trying to cross the road, but the mud was too deep it would have ruined the silk kimono she was wearing. Tanzan picked her up and carried her over to the other side.

    The monks walked on in silence. Five hours later, as they were approaching the lodging temp. Ekido couldn’t restrain himself any longer; ‘Why did you carry that girl across the road?, he asked ‘We monks aren’t supposed to do that’

    ‘I put the girl down hours ago, said Tarzan ‘ Are you still carrying her?’

    Eckhart Tolle, A New Earth
  • Sensing the Mystery of Being Alive

    Sensing the Mystery of Being Alive

    I got up early this morning, waking up early

    After I showered, and said good morning to my love Christelle and read her to sleep

    I sat on the couch, and started to read a book – the same book – but a bit further on

    A New Earth by Eckhart Tolle.

    The view from my couch was a bit like this

    Looking out the windows, above the eye of the book

    Turning the page, in between sips of coffee

    I see movement in the corner of my eye

    A fledging blue tit on the arc of a branch

    Looking at me

    I looking at it

    I didnt rush to get a camera or binoculars

    Just stopped, and watched

    and looked at it

    Looked at it, for what it is

    A bird.

    Two Blue tits (Taken at Cowpen Bewley Woodland Park February 2022)

    Just a very ordinary bird

    But as I looked

    It wasn’t just a blue bird, a small bird, a young bird

    It was a joint traveller in this world

    Sharing the universe with me

    A creature of magic flight

    A fearless wonder

    Taking a moment on a branch

    To look me in the eye

    To feel the same mystery

    of life

    of air

    of flight

    A part of me, and part of it, one in the same universe

    Sense of being in the moment

    Sacred, pure creature, looking at me

    What does it take to notice?

    What does it take to sense being?

    Time to look up

    Time to see

    Time to breathe in and wonder

    To sense the mystery of the universe

    The magic of being,

    of being…Alive.

  • Crossing the Road in the USA; A New script

    Crossing the Road in the USA; A New script

    Over the next few days I will be away, as I’m heading to San Diego for a week to be with my beautiful fiancé Christelle as we plan our wedding for a few months time, meeting folks and importantly getting the license for our wedding.

    As I head there, I’m am reminded of something from the last time I was in San Diego, at Christmas time.

    I had to re-learn ‘crossing the road’ in a new context.

    Yup.

    Everything I instinctively followed about crossing a road in the UK I had to think differently. It wasn’t just that they drive on the wrong side – but that, get this, sometimes, a red light doesn’t mean stop – a ‘walk’ sign might mean walk if clear or walk if the car lets you, even if it says walk – do cars wait at crossings, who drives first at a crossroads – and what if two cars arrive first and why all the stopping and starting..

    At least on one occasion I was half way across a junction driving and nearly froze. On another occasion Christelle and I weren’t seen by a driver as we used a crossing. Madness.

    The rules were different, yet everyone seems to know how to operate in it, or at least, those with respect to these rules, who were aware of their surroundings were.

    But I had to unlearn what I knew and try and learn a new language.

    It felt like I was having to go against all my 43 years of unconscious competent instinct.

    Press, wait for the green man, look and then go

    was now, press, wait, wait and check, the car might not stop for you, then cross, carefully…

    As I think about this today, one day out from travelling, Im reminded of some of the life scripts I’ve become more aware of

    things like:

    You can only relax, when all the jobs are done

    Work hard, don’t be lazy

    Dont think about yourself, thats selfish

    Other people are more important than yourself

    Hurry up, the early bird catches the worm

    Dont be inconvenient

    Make us proud

    Keep things in the family

    Dont upset us

    Be strong…and care for me

    What have yours been?

    What about the words Ive said to myself ; Ill be ok if__________, or ‘that kind of thing happens to other people and not me’ or ‘I always___________’ or ‘If I do this then ill be happy/feel better/ successful/ok’

    Then there was the script about waiting to be rescued – having a magical rescue or disappearing

    The scripts are everywhere, just go to a coffee shop and listen to others –

    but what about yours – what about mine.

    One of mine definitely is ; ‘You can only stop and relax when all the jobs are done’ – and in previous situations those jobs were never done, but even now I have to make a conscious effort to undo that script – because there are still jobs to be done, and I can always make more, like cleaning the inside of the fridge, changing the beds, or the kitchen cupboards…even on my own in my new flat (or old one) being busy was part of my script – I might describe it as cleaning anxiety, conditioning as I was expecting to be ‘told off’ if things weren’t tidy, or putting my own needs last – either way I know that its there.

    I also know that as a response to the ‘Dont exist’ phrases from childhood, I developed a script that was that ‘I was ok to exist if…….’ and this included things like being compliant, tidy, quiet..and working hard – so its not difficult to see where this all came from.

    In Stewart and Joines (TA Today, 1987) they describe scripts to be one of these patterns, Always, Never, Until, Almost, After, Open ended, in the examples ive shared of my own you can hear the ‘Until’ as the common one, the reality is that there’s times I use all of them to some degree, but one might be more dominant than the other.

    I have talked before about the difficulty of doing my own healing work in that piece I noted some of the internal voices that were current verbalisations of past scripts.

    Like crossing the road, I have a choice – as do you

    Do I follow the script of the old pattern – that worked to keep me alive and safe in one context

    or Do I note it, see it, and realise that whilst it was needed, my context has changed? New rules, new awareness, new behaviours are required?

    What if I say

    The tidying can wait, its more important that I sit, in quiet and relax for a while

    I am more important than the things….

    or

    I should go and do that fun impulsive thing, without over thinking it

    I should do something I want to do – rather that what I think other people want for me to do

    The first step has been acknowledging the patterns of the scripts – seeing them

    The second is recognising that they were useful, kept me safe

    The third is about realising that I have a choice to maintain the script – or decide that I can break out of the script pattern – because I am in a new context….and

    Different things matter…..I matter… and I can choose…I am safe – so do I need the same script?

    Of course – I did have a choice before – but the reality was that in abusive relationships that choice is limited.

    Like crossing the road in the UK, its so long since I learned how to that that awareness has completely disappeared – I similarly didn’t realise that I was following script patterns for so so long – And I’m sure there are others I am yet to discover. I just instinctively did it, without realising – or felt I had no choice but to.

    Now some of those scripts, just don’t make sense at all. But others are more subtle….

    Be strong – and dont show your feelings – is another script I heard – as I had to soothe the abusive people around me – no space for me to show any emotions.

    To other men – what were your scripts? What did you hear and take on? and How might you respond to them, and communicate to others around you that this is what you need to do? Changing life patterns is no easy feat, especially if it challenges norms within relationships. Other times if we dont change, its like being continually bewildered trying to cross a road in a different country. A country in which our new self, new awareness is wanting to shape us, shape me, into healthier patterns.

    I am valuable and so are you.

    The world is a better place when we become closer to the core self we are meant to be.

  • Surviving Psychopathic Parenting (Part 30) What 9 year old me had to Become

    So, I didn’t commit suicide aged 9. But everything was pretty dark.

    I survived to tell the tale.

    To tell my story

    To be my story.

    What did I do?

    Age 9, in those dark moments?

    At the time, I remember thinking that something didn’t sit right.

    That something was that however ‘normal’ I was being told my family was. It wasn’t good. Something didnt stack up.

    As well as an internal voice that did often tell myself that I wasnt anywhere as bad as I was being told I was – I was punished for far less than my friends were telling me they were – I also started to be affirmed by firstly teachers and then other adults – I began to assess that the voice of the toxic one might need to be listened to,

    but it didnt need to be believed.

    I wouldn’t say that id worked out that the problems that they said I was was their problem, thats too far – but certainly began to realise that the toxic voice didnt need to be believed.

    Read my previous post on ‘Survival Self-talk‘ here

    I think I did then realise that I had to do life alone, and with the positive support of my year 4-5-6 teachers (Mrs Prowse, Mr Poole and Mrs Smyton, at Little Bowden Primary school) I began to believe that I was clever, in an academic way, and had other qualities too, like listening to people and being able to be responsible. I was also sporty – winning cross country races and playing for the school football team, and it was sports that I developed more in the next few years too.

    Heres me aged 9 – 1987

    My grandparents took this photo, its obvious, im smiling – and i’m near trains…

    That combination intelligence and responsibility took me to do a number of things – one was to dedicate myself more fully to the church I grew up in – a place that was getting safer, as my parents left it when I was about 12-13, but from 11-12 I was helping in the Sunday school and doing practical things like setting up the chairs and the youth club. Oh by the way, the kid who stays back and puts the chairs away to be helpful every time… doesn’t want to go home – find out why….

    Without realising it, or maybe realising it was the place of the role I was in – with that responsibility, intelligence and desire to fix the thing I knew was broken – is that I became a bit like a mini priest or psychologist – trying to work them out, trying to work out how and why my parents got to be like it – trying to also navigate my own safety through it, but also making the suggestions or assertions to improve things; ‘Maybe we should go out for a meal’ (other families do that, we should) , ‘What about a movie night, or take away’ ‘what if we prayed together as a family’ ‘lets play a board game’ …. I remember also praying for my grandparents – thinking this was the thing I needed to do, to help them….

    Somehow believing that I could fix, something I couldn’t then understand – or even do something to make something happier than the normal constant eggshells.

    This, more often than not, was me suggesting these things, and guess who got grumpy at the thought of them – who would belittle, or patronise these suggestions? Agreed… But this became part of my role in the space of having no nurturing, growing up fast, growing up responsible.

    I realise that I couldn’t rely on the parents, it was now going to me getting on with my life. Once I got more and more freedom (a bike), and a job (a paper round aged 13) , access to learning at the school (libraries) and teachers who helped – I needed them less and less.

    I was wanting to do psychology A level when I was 16, my school didnt offer it. But that was no surprise, not to me now. Id studied human behaviour since I was born, never able to relax, trying to navigate the emotional blows and not give my abusive parent what they wanted, and stay sane and safe.

    I survived an emotionally abusive home by gradually realising more and more that I was less of the problem.

    That parent was good though, because the times I started to believe her less and back off, not trusting her even as a child with telling her things, she’d often come out with the line, ‘Dont you believe the gossip other people say about me‘ . How confusing was this to an 11 or 12 year old, parents dont lie do they? So everyone else is invalid, and whats a child going to say then – ‘No of course not mum’ especially while I’m in the house. The gossip was true though, and I knew it. Thats the thing, I learned to pretend.

    On pretending and hiding – this is here

    Maybe it didnt become a surprise that I became a youth worker, interested in psychology and now training to be a therapist. Not a surprise that my primary school teacher said that I was perceptive, from the age of 6. The magical or desperate ending didnt happen at the age of 9, I just had to work out how to deal with what I was being told, or not told, create distance from it, accept the positives elsewhere, and survive.

    Survive, so that 35 years later I am here sharing my story. Sharing a story of how emotional abuse nearly killed me. How a psychopathic woman destroyed a family and abused many around her. Survive, and now thrive, see and get close to the damage of childhood, get close to the child I left behind, get close to the child that was scared and frightened, and live closer to my core. There may not have been a magical escape, just seriously hard emotional work – but 35 years on im sharing my story, in a safe, happy, loving place – not afraid of the demons within, and taking the time to love the James who had to deal with so much in the only ways he could.

    Thank you for reading.