James Ballantyne

Category: Journey

  • Surviving Psychopathic Parenting (Part 26): Little Professor

    Surviving Psychopathic Parenting (Part 26): Little Professor

    Over the last few weeks I have, again, through a combination of therapy and personal reading, began to identify more about the ways in which I survived – or were guided towards surviving as a child in the midst of emotionally immature parenting (from both parents).

    I had some favourite toys as a child, many of which – except for board games- were ones in which I played alone, I was the older child. Some of those favourite toys were train sets, lego and less so mechano – they all involved building, making a route, a building and then playing with them. The constructing was more fun than the playing. In the 1980’s Video games were non existent, for me, though there was at least one racing game I remember – but these kind of games were seen as a waste of time by the parents. (sudden realisation here…. something frivolous was a ‘waste of time’ – play wasn’t worth spending money on….most of my toys had some education purpose….or they were quiet) (I’ve talked about fun elsewhere..)

    I read a lot of books, and at this time of the year I am reminded of the very long summer nights as a child and how I would read late into the night, books by Roald Dahl mostly, though also Beano Annuals, Comics and other books I cant remember- my bedroom window had a western facing window and so it was so light until late I wouldn’t need the light on.

    There were a few electronic games, educational ones obviously, that I did have, one was a kind of colour coded game in which I had to copy the sequence of colours/lights in a row , and the sequence would get longer and longer. From about the age of 10, as I had learned to play chess by then, I had a computer chess game, so that I could play chess by myself, and move the pieces and follow the coordinates on the red lights, this was great as I could play in the room and listen to adult chat or could hide away somewhere. Other times I remembered playing and making up games to myself, even playing against myself in games like naughts and crosses or one of the children TV quiz shows.

    However, the one toy that summed up the child that I was, in the main, was a small yellow electronic calculator, called ‘The Little Professor’ . I was given one at the age of about 5 I think.

    The 1980’s Little Professor

    I learned quickly that I had to be clever. I wasnt going to be happy, neither felt in any way physically tough or handsome, and as I have said before, I was having to adapt to the systems around me, and also try and understand in it all. Words like conscientious on a good school report or ‘don’t try and be a clever clogs’ on a bad parent reaction day – were common. I learned to find safety in learning. I learned that I was going to have to try and work things out. Try and work out how to do well, how to survive, and even, as I said in this piece, how to work out how to get what I needed, without getting caught…

    The little professors, the thinker, perceptive to have to work things out.

    Some of it paid off, 4 years of home based little professor and my maths grades at Primary school were the very top. I was intelligent but utterly messy with it, untidy – I didn’t present what I knew well, but I knew things. Oh and I also worked out how to win the Little Bowden School story cup, by copying Martyn Buzzards story, he won by having a dog go on an adventure, I won the next month by having a cat do the same. Teachers couldn’t believe that I would cheat? I didnt cheat, I copied the good idea and turned it into my own. Clever. And maybe sweet and innocent too.

    Little James had a very strong little professor – always thinking, trying to work things out, and in the case of this..

    I was able to self learn all the times tables, all the sums, and began to memorise complicated sums like 27*37 which is 999 because the display on the little professor only had went up to 999 and so I wanted to work out what sum went to the highest number. There were many games on it, and most of the time I was doing very quick multiplication of double figures, the kind that id only learn to do properly in school many years later.

    The ironic thing about the little professor in me, is that numbers was safe. I had no life experience aged 5,6,7,8,9 to fit with the things I was trying to find out, my mind was exploring, and wanting to know answers to questions, but id end up being seriously naive at times. It makes sense in another way too though, because I had to already know intuitively how to navigate eggshells, I had to be perceptive, always. Its no wonder I wanted to do psychology at the age of 16, its as if I knew something about reading other people. Sometimes that Little Professor was creative and innovative – sometimes it still is, and so I am very grateful for my little professor childhood survival strategy, going into my head and valuing learning and intelligence was what I needed to do to survive. Both to do well at school and thrive, and also to understand how to get what I needed, even if was devious.

    I may come back to my ‘little professor’ childhood again, but there’s no doubt that in the midst of emotional neglect and abuse, the one thing that did develop , maybe too much, and detrimentally in later life – was that little professor part of my childhood development.

  • Light Life Days

    I had no experience of light Life Days for a very long time

    Because, everything was trapped away

    Hiding, in a cupboard

    Hiding away, Heavy, very heavy

    But gradually, with safety, I began to take a few things out

    And look at them

    And give them light

    What I noticed was though there was alot of processing being done, something even 3-4 years ago felt lighter

    I felt lighter

    I carried less

    Today has been a light Life day

    Yesterday was a processing day

    A writing day of listening to my inner voices, anxieties, questions, emotions, feelings, and getting them down

    Body still keeping the score

    The day after facing something, processing it, feeling it, I can feel light, it’s as if my soul, my inner child, my self rewards itself with blissful feelings of achievement

    New bits of shedding to be done as it’s revealed, new parts given the opportunity to have burdens lifted

    Today felt light, inner bliss

    Walking in the woods this morning, it didn’t matter if I did or didn’t see anything, I was just happy to be out, happy to be me, be another newer version of the real me

    Life feels light when one more aspect of life’s trauma has been lifted, there will I’m sure be others, the journey isn’t over, but today has been a life light day. What about you, what’s does it feel like, the day after you’ve given your soul time to process the shit?

    It’s as if the universe conspires to give a day of emotional relaxation and joy… Life light days

  • Fathers Day; It’s Complicated

    Mothers Day is ‘easy’, as is her birthday. Its not easy, but it’s easy because it’s clear cut, if you have read anything of my story on these pages, or had met her, you will know.

    For some of you reading this, Fathers day is the clear cut one. Not easy, not ever easy, but its clear, if your father abused you, hurt you, abandoned you, or beat up your mum, Fathers day brings with it horrible trauma, understandably, as its being dealt with, I’m not in any way saying that its easy, at all – more reflecting that there’s a clarity, however rough, in facing that day as a horrendously difficult one, as its a permanent reminder of the abusive, toxic one. For me- that day is Mothers day.

    But Fathers day – the celebratory day , for me, of the ‘other’ parent – its complicated isn’t it?

    Even as I grew up, from mid teens onwards there was a recognition of the ‘difficult relationship people has with their fathers’ – on fathers day. But that wasn’t me.

    The difficult relationship was with the psychopathic other one.

    So, I could, somehow think to myself- aged 12 onwards that I was somehow alone, in that no-one had difficult mum issues, and also that compared to mum issues I did have, I didnt have dad issues. Or at least, I had lesser Dad issues that have only arisen to the surface as I have begun in recent times to deal with the mum issues.

    Growing up, the eldest male child – of an abused Father. A Father still caught in the web of her abuse. A Father powerless. or…. A Father choosing to stay trapped, choosing loyalty, actively making a choice?

    I kind of get, how a child of abused female parent is expected to rationalise their action -The abusive male is stronger, more powerful physically, the child watching the damage to their mum – is undoubtedly traumatised – but she isnt expected to fight back, yet might protect her children and leave for safety.

    What kind of emotional strength and awareness would it take for a man to leave an abusive woman?

    Thats the question I am left facing in regard to my Dad, for 40 years I know I was afraid, for 40 years I ran and hid, for 40 years I couldn’t see it either – caught in her toxic web – the trophy, compliant child, walking on eggshells.

    Its complicated, Fathers Day.

    On one hand, my Dad didnt abuse me, frighten me, hurt me, bully or reject me. So thats a tick.

    But on the other, he didn’t protect me from the one who did abuse, frighten, hurt and bully, not just me..but everyone. Thats the tick taken away, isnt it?

    And he did carry out the ‘Dad’ punishments on behalf of the other one, when she got upset by something I did or didnt do – that to her was unreasonable.

    Slippers used to beat me on at least two occasions, and on both I can remember thinking that he wasnt really invested in doing it, wasnt really him, just being told to do it by her. Child-mum got upset. Emotional, couldn’t cope.

    And he didnt ever stand up to her – for either of us – never saying ‘You’re being too hard on them’ to her… but , instead saying things like ‘ Just do that thing to please your mother’ or ‘ Dont upset her’ – all the whole realising that it made absolutely no difference.

    Keep off the eggshells, or ill be in trouble too. he might as well have said.

    Often he was just her tool.

    Defending her, when others called her out.

    I am reminded of this- and the book it came from:

    Essentially, you dont get to have only one Emotionally immature Parent. At least, I dont. The obvious one is the Emotional one, the Child-mother. Dad is Passive parent, to the textbook.

    ‘Passive parents aren’t angry or pushy like the other three types, but they still have negative effects. They positive acquire to dominant personalities and often partner with more aggressive types who are also emotionally immature, which makes sense given that people with similar emotional maturity levels are attracted to one another. Comparesd to other types, these passive parents seem more emotionally available, but only up to a point. When things get too intense, they become passive, withdraw emotionally, and hide their heads in the sand. They dont offer their children any limits or guidance or help them to navigate the world,. They may love you, but they cant help you’

    Lindsay C Gibson, Adult children of Emotionally Immature Parents (2015)

    He was also completely un-trustworthy – her Flying Monkey , he’d be the one to glean information, good (easy to talk to) cop, though didnt offer anything in return – no empathy, advice, genuine concern – was just listening for information to take back. I learned not to trust this parent. Any attention he got made the other jealous, so actually it would become difficult to know how to gauge what to do. He knew we, as children or a family, would spend time with him, when she wasnt around. Yet, he would hide away to stay out of the line of fire, I mean he didnt spend hours in a shed, garage or converting an attic for nothing – or somebody elses.

    The image is right though, playful – and also at times fun – especially when I was a much younger child, and would still play board games , also the helpful fixer – practically doing things, making, fixing, DIY and all of that, though that DIY ‘dependency’ would be a way for her to be involved – so again he was being used.

    What makes all this complicated is the level to which I regard him as someone who could have made different choices, someone who may have realised a long time ago that he has missed out on many aspects of actual life – like relationships with his own kids, grandkids, family and others – and chosen instead a path of least resistance and loyalty. For too long people would say ‘I feel so sorry for ________ (insert my Dads name) he’s such a nice guy – really helpful – he shouldn’t miss out – just because of your mum’ – and maybe, feeling sorry meant that I or others kept softer boundaries with him, that the other parent bull dozed through – (a marathon of miles taken when an inch was offered).

    I could understand that he was scared of her, everyone was, but if he was scared of her – why did he not think that his children needed protecting from her too? Maybe thats it, maybe thats what makes it complicated, he was in his own survival mode that we were all in, whilst the psychopath took everything for herself – am I angry- no – is it complicated? Yes. Could he have taken responsibility – and not left the emotional responsibility to me in the house? Yes, Could he have thought his children have some emotional welfare against her abuse? Yes

    Was he continually lied to by her? Was he stuck in the midst of the Darvo game she played? Did he accept breadcrumbs? Was he coerced to be loyal for religious reasons? – probably yes to all.

    Maybe, I just realised that because of his loyalty to her, despite all the abuse, then what I had to do was treat them as the pair that they are.

    Fathers Day. Its complicated. When one parent is only slightly better than a very abusive one, doesnt mean that they’re in anyway good, nurturing, protective or supportive, especially when enmeshed in their lair. He’s a grown up though, its his responsibility to change himself. Happy Fathers day ; To the parent who isnt as bad as the other one – isnt going to sell many in Clinton cards…

    So – what do I feel? Feelings are complicated today – because all of this is complicated. Sometimes I feel angry and annoyed, then I feel guilty for feeling angry and annoyed , because well, that anger and annoyed should be directed at the other parent – then I wonder if in reality there is no such thing as a perfect dad anyway and do I have unrealistic expectations – but actually thats just a cop out. I can choose to have neither part of my life, especially while both exist as a pair. Its just easier that way. Whilst im writing this, im realising im a week early in processing this, thinking that Fathers day is tomorrow when it actually isnt, says something about how im feeling I guess.

    Its also complicated because I am also a Dad too, and trying to unlearn what I grew up with, to be a better person and man today, every day.

  • Why ‘Healing for Men’ and not for all?

    Why ‘Healing for Men’ and not for all?

    I sometimes get asked the question : ‘Why are you writing just to Men?’ so I thought I might share a little in response and maybe pose a few further thoughts on this, thoughts, that may not be complete, but thoughts that share a little on some of my reasoning and motives for the blog as it is:

    1. The main reason ‘Healing for Men’ is that I am male. Its kind of obvious, but theres no way I would want to speak for, or to women. Yes I know women read what I write, some women read it and pass it on to their male friends or partners. My experience is from a male perspective, my perspective, of what it was like to grow up in an emotionally abusive home and the implications of that, of being a son, a brother, a husband and father, and also male in various workplaces such as supermarkets, call centres, and through education to Masters and 20 years in faith based youth and community work, all as a male. But also what its like for me, as a male, accessing therapy, accessing the process of therapeutic learning, self help, self awareness and rebuilding. I have tried where I have been able too to write from my experience.
    2. The Mental health, suicide crisis is virtually solely a Male one in the UK, its the biggest cause of death for the 30-50’s, and though I can honestly say I wasn’t close to making that life ending decision aged 40, it might have been close if it wasnt for a small group of friends and a place to stay. Part of this blog then, is for me to talk about what getting help, vulnerability and life change is like for me, what shame, guilt, feeling trapped is like and sharing something of my journey. Could it be that men might read this and think that they are not alone? Maybe…
    3. Though numbers of this are increasing, I want to raise the profile of Male victims of Domestic Violence, and the support offered, accessible to others (links included), but also I think it is as important to speak into the situations of where men abuse women, as this is tragically still more common. Though I recognise that if this is you, you are unlikely to be reading this, but one day you might reflect on your behaviour, change is possible, starting with acceptance, vulnerability, you don’t have to abuse and objectify women forever, that frightened part of you can heal, give it light.
    4. I am wondering if there are specific actual aspects of a breakdown-healing-self awareness- growth journey might be characteristically male. I have read recently that less men access therapy, and less men are present at seminars on DV or Trauma – these are seen as ‘female’ issues..are they? , I am not qualified enough to suggest responses to the men and therapy question generally – though for me it was about pride, and about not wanting to start a process that felt dauntingly large – knowing what I had hidden or avoided for so long. (I acknowledge therapy isn’t for everyone, though I will also say that external activities that say they are therapeutic, (like screaming at a football match) might only scratch some of the surface) – but might there be male attitudes to ‘getting help’ ? More men that women might be externalisers who hide and defend their weaknesses – through a veil of codependency, narcissism or worse – but women do this too. (21 reasons men hide their vulnerability – here)
    5. One of the ‘Male’ perspectives and attitudes that I didn’t grow up with – given that my own father was an abused Dad , was the idea of ‘Macho’, strong, and senses of achievement, and physical strength – its not something I can relate to – but, the ‘Macho’ I had to be was have inner survival strength to cope with emotional shit, and the emotional beatings and manipulations of a lifelong psychopathic mother. I can’t speak from the ‘macho’ culture, but dont we all hide behind strengths of a variety of different kinds? I am intrigued at some level by the toxic masculinity conversation, and reflecting on its effect, on men, since childhood, and how it plays out in families, workplaces and elsewhere. What if we stopped trying to live up to, but started to live? I know I’m not going to heal the world, and I dont profess to, yet I do know and have heard of men who have recognised themselves in some of what I have written, and I’m honoured to have been able to connect in this way.
    6. Healing for Men, for whilst we as men dont fill up the therapy rooms, we are bulging at the addiction clinics, whether its gambling, food, alcohol, porn, drugs or something else or we’re drowning in overwork – these are all conditions that stem from deep loss, brokenness and trying to run and hide. This is what we turn to often – the external – when its the internal that’s crying in pain. At least, thats what I did. I am sure women turn to these things, or others too.

    Another thing more common to men is take on roles of Power and Authority, it becomes an addiction and a mask.

    Given our influence, in our families, workplaces, homes, and communities – dont those around us deserve us to be the best we can be? Our real selves? What would it mean to be vulnerable – for the first time- to accept and acknowledge needing help? To start by admitting defeat, but not the end? Ultimately all I really want to do in this blog is continue to share the parts of my journey that I want to make public, to encourage any man in their own process of growth, self learning and personal truth, to let them, to let you know that change from any behaviour is possible.

    Your emotional needs are important, men, you are important.

    Self care and self help isnt just for women

    Self -love isnt weak

    It takes courage to admit

    Real courage

    The strongest strength you have ever had to look inwards

    Its where real power lies.

    You dont need to carry around an emptiness forever, friend.

    Neither do I.

    So thats some of my reasoning for ‘Healing for Men’ – maybe the other is that theres already alot out there for a female audience, not that there aren’t resources for men either, but felt that I could be specific, and personal, and be one male, sharing my story, speaking with and to other men, as we all journey though life.

    Thank you – do click like and share with others, and thank you for your ongoing support

    Healing for Men, the world is a better place – when we are too.

  • Developing internal commitments to myself

    I have stood and made a number of commitments to others.

    Commitments to workplace ideals and agreements

    Commitments to the terms and conditions of a large purchase

    Commitments to the planet as I have tried at times to reduce my carboin footprint, buy organic or grow my own

    Commitments to others in relationships.

    Commitments to a God, recommitments on a regular teenage basis

    Commitments as new year resolutions? – what have they been like for you?

    Whats been the biggest struggle for me in terms of commitment?

    Commitment to myself

    In all my existence, I have only notionally given any thought to making commitments to myself.

    There was the time when I was 40 when I decided to do more exercise before my 40th Birthday, and cut down alcohol and reduce food.

    It still felt like an external change. Even if my body did appreciate it at the time.

    I barely gave any thought to myself. I barely could.

    I had been conditioned to think that to think of myself was selfish

    I had been conditioned to revolve emotionally around others

    I had such an aching emptiness inside that I thought ‘helping others’ was what brought be me joy.

    So what could I commit to myself?

    External things, like food, exercise and bodily health. Not unimportant.

    It wasn’t in balance.

    I wouldn’t say I was selfless, though I was at times accused of being selfish for even considering that I had needs.

    And I poured out from a completely empty vessel. Because that was exactly what I was used to being.

    Neglected and empty, and used to it.

    Don’t get me wrong it wasnt that I rejected self-care because I thought it was worthless – though I acknowledge that in the past I may have scoffed a projection of what worth it might do – that was just my defensive survival talk speaking. Why bother with self care – I’ve managed without it? Id rather just tell others about it.

    And that’s it isn’t it; before being able to commit to myself, before being able to protect myself, before being able to listen to myself

    I had to acknowledge myself

    I had to start to recognise that I had a self worth valuing

    Some of that started with getting to know myself – self knowledge

    Continuing with the ‘feeling of feelings’ ,

    and over the course of the last 3-4 years being on a path of self acceptance, self knowledge, self awareness to where I am now, which again is in a process of therapy, and also finishing a counselling course – and reading books on self understanding

    What I began without realising it was a path of deep self discovery, a path of rebelling my external intelligence, with internal intelligence too

    What might it look like to make commitments to myself, as I am now?

    A commitment to personal growth? A commitment to ongoing spiritual and emotional growth?

    Committing myself to thinking positively of myself

    A commitment to love myself, including the parts of me that have been hidden or frightened?

    A commitment to accept raw and vulnerability as part of the process of rebuilding

    A commitment to keep listening to myself, my inner voice, my spiritual child within?

    A commitment to prioritise myself maybe?

    A commitment to value being present perhaps?

    A commitment to the slow, and not the fast? The slow rebuild….

    A commitment to not give everything away? (NB – I have written a lot in the last 4 weeks, and its not for you here)

    In Gary Zukavs book ‘Spiritual Partnership’ he outlines five commitments for his own spiritual and emotional growth, which have inspired me to think about commitment; his are;

    1. Focus on what I can learn about myself
    2. Pay attention to my emotions
    3. Pay attention to my thoughts
    4. Pay attention to my intention

    I reflect on my own journey. From denial of myself, to understanding and acceptance of myself, to loving myself – yes its taken a while, yes its not been without tears and revelations of my own responsibilities, behaviour and choices, and also my life survival requirements – but to be in a position of even considering making commitments to myself, for my own sake, for my own well being. How might I pledge these 5 things for myself – and what difference will it continue to make, for me, and others around me, such as Christelle, my kids, family, work…?

    So I ask – what commitments have you made to prioritise your own spiritual and emotional self?

    Not ideals, but self pledges, self determination, to stay as real, the best I and you can be – what might it be for you?

  • True Courage

    True Courage

    Im learning courage

    Not the courage to climb, to fight or to be successful

    Not the courage to be disliked, or happy

    But the courage to listen to the frightened parts of me

    The courage to love those parts

    The parts of me I hid away

    The part of me that hid away those parts

    The parts I hid away, in a safe place

    The parts of shame and guilt

    The hidden needs and wants

    The dreams and ambitions

    The pains and the joys

    I chose to hide them away

    Safe, from my abusers

    Feelings I hid- not acceptable, not appropriate

    Mask truth, lie to adapt, lie to survive

    The part of me that hid things

    To control, to keep safe.

    But now it is safe, for me to love

    Love opens the door to let light into the hidden places

    Love is gentle

    Love is kind

    To myself

    Feelings, emotions, stories, actions, coping strategies all like lost children hiding in a cupboard, hide and seek, with no seek

    Gradually waiting, to be held, loved, to be seen.

    This has been the courage I’m learning over the last month, especially, the courage to love and hold my abandoned childhood, to listen, slowly.

    One abandoned, hidden, neglected child at a time.

    Spiritual partnership by Gary Zukav

  • Dementors are Real

    The first time I saw the dementors in JK Rowlings Harry Potter, I knew what that feeling was like. The moment when I’m in a room and the life and energy has been sucked out of it. It often only takes one person to do it. They might be outwardly charismatic – but the attention becomes all on them. They might be outwardly carrying the grey cloud of personal victim hood – and want the room to be on their level. Sometimes that person is both. The man or woman child that wants attention.

    They suck the life out of the room. The collective energy.

    There is a longer historical mythology around Vampires. Some perpetuated by the stories, of Transylvania and Whitby in the north east of England.

    Maybe the mythological Vampire and fabled Dementor are attempts to give a fictional embodiment to the very real that exists in human society. For the many who give and contribute, for the many who love, care and are genuine. There are those exists just to take, to win, to consume, to prey.

    I didnt like watching Vampire movies. They were far too terrorising. The only one I could cope with watching was the Polymorph in Red Dwarf, because it was funny. But its the same thing.

    They were far to real to life. A vampire wasn’t fictional in my childhood.

    What does a real life emotional vampire want?

    Not your blood, but your emotions.

    Why?

    Because their tank is completely empty. Because they’re jealous. Because they are needy. Because you are not allowed to have what they cant feel. Because they just want, and just want to take. Because they cannot help themselves..and more besides…

    Emotional abuse and neglect takes a number of forms, though I am not sure there is quite the language except that from mythology to describe how those who neglect and abuse people emotionally also take from them.

    I have written before about pretending and hiding – and this is the only way I could survive growing up with an emotional vampire as a mother. In that post which is linked here – what I described was how I had to pretend to be someone else to fit in with a role that was expected of me. Also how I would have to give pretend smiles to the camera, whilst dying inside.

    Pretending and Hiding

    Pretending and hiding wasnt just about the role – or about fake emotions. Well, actually it was a lot more that that.

    The reality was that the emotional neglect I (and my sister) experienced wasnt just the complete lack of nature and protection emotionally – but it was also that there was an emotional vampire taking from us any positive emotions or situations for themselves.

    Sometimes it was ‘Killjoy’ words and actions ; ‘ Its my job to bring you down to earth’ – after having a good experience – notably away from them. (Jealousy)

    or ‘ I don’t know why you’re so happy’ – whilst im stuck here… (Victim playing)

    But my role growing up was that I was the one who had to soothe my abuser. There was no give, but take. At the time, aged 5 or above I thought this was a special place, a special role – to be the one who could soothe my ‘grown up’ parent. In reality I was being used and taken from. No 5 year old should be cast in the role of comforting their parent (from things the parent had done and not taken responsibility for) – ‘They are being awful to me James, I need you to hug me’ There was no give, only take.

    The vampire at work.

    Giving me the responsibility, also casting me in a favoured role. To nature and protect her. I would be in trouble if I didnt. Remember the eggshells? Yeah those.

    There was a moment when I was about 9 or 10 that I look back on and realise what that had done to me. Aside from being completely soft, and unable to stand up for myself.

    The all watching Vampire patrolled my primary school at lunchtime. I mean, there was no freedom. An incident occurred one lunchtime when she either fell, or a football hit her or some kind of accident happened when she was on patrol. Strengely I always avoided any playground she was in, most kids did tbh. Anyway, this one occasion something happened, I know not what and she got hurt, fell and damaged her arm. Though I dont remember all the exact events of the fall, or the immediate reactions of mine. I do remember being upset all afternoon. My teachers were kind, and lovely, but my emotional response really did not match the event. They thought I was crying because my mum was hurt ‘ Its ok James, she’ll be fine’ – which is perfectly understandable.

    No I was crying that afternoon in 1988 because I hadn’t fulfilled my role. To protect her, I was crying because I was expecting to be in trouble. But there was no way I could communicate that.

    Thats what happens when they take. When she gave me responsibility for her emotions, by taking mine.

    Looking back this event was a key moment for me. Alot changed after then.

    I must have known more at the time than I remember. I must have felt more.

    Can you see how my inner child had no where to go? Apart from hide?

    I worked out, from then, a number of strategies to cope, including the pretending and hiding.

    On any day of success, such as passing driving tests, GCSE’s or A levels when I was existing in my childhood home, she wasnt the first person I would tell. I found people in my life who I could tell who would say

    ‘Well done James’ – instead of the vampire reaction I was used to which was

    ‘I needed to hear this, give me some of your joy’ or

    ‘All that stress you gave me, I can relax now‘ (its all about them remember)

    Another strategy was that my body froze. Any hug, even hello or goodbye in any family gathering I would be as rigid as a board – she did not get anything. It was how I coped and survived. I shut down so she didn’t get emotions. She may have had some of my time, or even nicely cooked food, or even my intellectual capacity in listening to her life drama and personal victimhood, but she wasnt getting emotions. Thats what I naturally did. Shut down.

    This was my norm.

    Its only when I write this, when I realise that you think all sounds awful. But it was my norm.

    I was the child-adult, the emotional rescuer.

    Vampires do exist. So do Dementors and Polymorphs. They are parts of the preying psychopath.

    So, not only was nature and protection, love and genuine support completely lacking – but anything i achieved or did, or was – was also taken – or I was expected to give it to them, for their consumption.

    The thief comes to steal and destroy. The Wolf in Lambs clothing. I heard it all growing up. Vampires who take, who steal and destroy are real.

    Emotional neglect is in many forms.

    What they don’t give – they also take.

    And they still exist.

    Only some people are affected by them though, only some people can see them.

    Usually those who have known them from childhood. Usually those who feel it in the pit of their soul.

  • On Intuition

    On Intuition

    I love this by Anne Lamott:

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

    The rational mind doesn’t nourish you.

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

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

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

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

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

    Anne Lamott, Bird By Bird (1994)

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

    What does it mean to you

    That spark from the well of the soul

    Warmth, energy, power, from within

    Tentative

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

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

  • The Surprising Sex life of a Dunnock

    One of the new hobbies I’ve taken up in the last few years has been nature and bird watching, to accompany this I’ve bought a few reference books, you know the sort, the ones that appeared on other people’s bookshelves as I was growing up, like my nanna, actually.. RSPB British birds, that kind of thing.

    As well as taking the book out with me when I go walking, it’s been relaxing to read it, and also read it to my fiance Christelle. she’s been more interested in birds that I have thought, and I tentatively shared with her originally that I was beginning to like this slow hobby.

    But recently we’ve been reading together the different bird species in the UK so that we can go walking together and identify some. San Diego has very different birds. So

    So far I’ve read to her some of my favourites or the more interesting ones, like kingfishers, owls, goldcrests, Swans, blue tits, finches etc

    And many of them are very similar, in the ‘breeding’ section. There’s a courtship, female and male make nest, either or both incubate, either feed and then young fledge a few days or weeks later. Same for every bird I’d read so far.

    So, today I had no great expectations for the dunnock. Small grey/blue bird that my only knowledge of really was that it was prime nest material for the devious cuckoo.

    Dunnocks, it transpires practice polyandry and polygamy.

    Dunnocks are the promiscuous of the UK bird life.

    Who knew???

    I certainly didn’t…

    Clearly when the UK birds were deciding their mating patterns, the dunnocks were like ‘sod that, were doing our own thing to survive and reproduce’

    Look again, that little brown ish bird that hangs around with sparrows but hops along the ground…it’s hiding a bit of secret on its ‘relationship status’ more to the point it looks like either male or female it could be in multi relationship, that it seems like, works ok for it

    The thought of promiscuous dunnocks has made me smile all day, so I thought I’d share it with you. Maybe it’s a reminder to me to keep looking for the surprising stories in what appears grey, small and insignificant. M

    Maybe it’s about life and the world being full of surprises waiting to be encountered and explored. Maybe it’s just that I found the surprising sex life of a dunnock funny today was all it was. Sometimes the world has fun for us in places we didn’t realise.

    Even the writers of RSPB birds think so too.

  • Let you be you

    Im talking to you,

    Yes you

    Come closer,

    Come closer

    Look at me,

    Look at me

    I want you to know

    I want you to see

    I want to to tell you

    The truth

    That you are magic

    That you are love

    That you are life

    Breathe

    and let your heart

    let your body

    let the gaps between your breath

    feel

    the magic

    love

    life

    and free

    to be

    Come closer the the magic

    Come closer to the love

    Come closer to the life

    It was there all along

    Inner child running free

    Time to finally be truly me,

    Come closer.

    Let you be.

    Let you be you

    Kicking and screaming

    passionate

    free

    Let you be you

    Dont contain it any longer

    stuck in your mind

    Let you be you

    loving, gentle, kind again

    Let you be you

    all you ever wanted to be

    Let you be you

    the self you once tried to hide

    Let you be you

    as you wonderfully are

    let your magic shine bright

    free

    Come closer,

    to who you are

    Magic, love and free

    Let

    you

    be.