James Ballantyne

Category: Self awareness

  • From Denial to Love: My Body Transformation

    Transformation is through the body, not away from it (Eckhart Tolle, The Power of Now)

    I think I read ‘The Power of Now’ about 3 years ago, im not sure if there’s been a month since when I haven’t gone back to it and given it a read as something has taken me back to it.

    There is much in it, and many have written on it before, so this is in no way a review. But, the part of the book for me that felt the most uncomfortable when I read it the first time, and I guess then the most challenging, was the section on the Body. In particular about the Body and Spirituality.

    The quotation above is in a section in which Tolle describes how the body was ‘left behind’ in aspects of western spirituality (in favour of the mind) and how this fragmentation can be repaired, and without it, that transformation, from the inside out, is impossible.

    My timings might be off, but when I read those words 3-4 years ago, I knew I had started in myself the tiny steps of repairing the inner disconnect.

    Part of this was to distance myself from the religious language and practices I had inherited that aided the separation (written about here in part 1 of this series on loving our bodies).

    Part of this had been in tiny steps to recognise the worth and value of my own body in maybe tiny physical ways; at that point I was valuing myself with nice clothes, enjoying the feel of baths to relax in, using Nivea moisturiser, eating better and healthier and at least valuing my body more than I had done previously.

    Part of this too, I think was that I had begun or about to do Trauma Therapy, which in every session I was able to sense coherence, in some emotional ways, inner re-wirings, which meant tiny shards of feeling settled on the inside in a way not before.

    The journey of body connection had begun, in tiny steps.

    And so, as I read The Power of Now at that time, it felt reassuringly natural, yet also uncomfortable and aspiring, to think, to feel or get a sense of renewal through the body. For I also knew then I still had a lot of work to do.

    My tendency as I said above was to disconnect from my body (with all the religious permission to do so) and blame it, enact pain on it and self soothe it in a number of harmful ways.

    So to talk about Spirituality through the body, when my body didnt feel emotionally safe, strong, peaceful.. when it didnt feel at ‘home’ in itself, still felt a long way away – yet, at the same time, having tried to do religiosity through the mind, I also knew/felt something had been lacking.

    It was like trying to have a faith life with the ‘self’ quadrant (of the four quadrants, self, God, community, creation) on just the beginning of bringing itself to the James spiritual life party. I mean it was better than it was, but it was just starting..

    The search for meaning and truth for me had been in external things, to the extent of neglecting, denying and damaging my body sometimes in the search for and of them, when I saw this in the Power of Now, I realised to what extent.

    But this felt real at the time ( underlined then)

    Through the inner body, you are inseparably connected to this unmanifested One life- birthless, deathless, eternally present. Through the inner body you are forever one with God

    (Eckhart Tolle)

    The other source for me of awakening the spiritual within has been John O Donahue, today I read and read the section in which this part is in:

    We should avoid the false dualism that separates the should from the body. The soul is not simply within the body hidden somewhere within its recesses. The truth is a the converse. Your body is in the soul, and the soul suffices you completely.

    (John O Donohue, Anam Cara)

    In a kind of beautiful way, I am finding it much much more difficult to share where I am today in all of this, than where I was three years ago, in that three years, a lot has happened, both dealing with external, but even more so, two lots of therapy later, the internal.

    For the first time in my entire life, this year, I have felt completely at home in my own body, like feeling stillness, sureness and confidence, as if, through all the work I know I have done, and with brilliant professional help, there’s safety within.

    Not the removal of emotions, like the moment of anxiety, or unsettlement, these have happened, they’re going to. It has neither been the continual sense of transcendence I might add, but more so, the safety to sense and feel, to feel myself as someone of value and immensity, to also sense my own mystery and depths, as well as feeling open and large hearted, like joy and wonder and love are constant companions, not bolts of lightening out of the blue.

    Like I am a whole being. Whole.

    Transformation has been through the body, and that process has been the slow reconnection, of my mind to accept my body, my heart to love my body, for me, to be, and realise myself as within, and not just thoughts or emotions, but me, conscious me inside.

    Is that my soul or my heart? does it even matter, either way, my experience this year, all year has been about becoming day by day more aware, more content, more at home, to sense more love, and peace, more joyous even, and be more open, on the inside.

    I wouldn’t have thought that possible 3 years ago. it was beyond comprehension 6 years ago.

    So today.

    I woke feeling still, and loved, and held, and content, like almost every day this year. I realised I had no plans for the next three days of a bank holiday weekend (I worked yesterday I’ll have Tuesday off too), and so I thought to myself, I would just be.

    So I made an intention to just tend to and enjoy the sense of peace in my body, for the outside; i cut my hair, did a facial scrub, shaved and showered, all deliberately and slowly, and then gave myself permission just to feel alive in my body by just wearing shorts for an hour, in my flat, to just feel on the external the same sense of alive and peace on the inside. To sense my body with utterly no shame. And like much of this year, feel utterly alive.

    I then picked up both books mentioned above, and have spent today, at home or at my favourite cafe in town, reading, feeling and noticing how different I feel now about my body on the outside, and about my emotional, heartful, safe inner body, and just in the peace of the cafe or home, breathed, sensed and felt renewed in the sense of deep connection within my own body. I feel utterly at peace and still in this moment of realisation, affirmation, bliss even, it feels, I feel wonderful.

    I dont really have to write about this at all, I get that, but even this has been a deep experience to try and write in black and white this tiny part of my spiritual, physical and emotional journey, and that transformation really has been through and not despite or outside of my body.

    This is the beginning of the realisation of oneness, which is love. At the deepest level of being, you are one with all that is (Eckhart Tolle)

    The Spiritual self was inside me all along, love was inside me all along, soul was inside me all along, I was inside all along…

  • The Dangerous Power of Truth

    There’s that moment at the end of Harry Potter 7. For two books Harry has been tormented by the flashings of Voldemorts actions, and feelings. Harrys scar has got more painful, the dreams more harrowing. Snape and Dumbledore giving harry time and education to try and help him control his mind, and not react to the dreams, to the pain, to the torment.

    The memories were being used against Harry. Harry felt subject, submissive to the torment.

    With limited other internal resources, and having had a umber of years trying to fight the energy sucking dementors, Harry struggled to do anything but not believe the lies of Voldemort, the tales being sown into his mind, the lies.

    The Lies that got a reaction. The lies that tormented.

    And yet… at the very last… Harry worked out what he needed, what he needed to do, that the Voldemort was not tormenting him, but giving himself away, giving away his own weaknesses of need and power, and Harry let the voice enter, Harry wanted to see, Harry took control, Harry spoke to the lies.

    Is the message of Harry Potter that love wins? That at that critical moment, the deep magical love passed down from his mother filled Harry with such energy to keep him going? Was it that fighting the voices and torment only gives it power?

    The lies only have power if they are believed.

    Don Miguel Ruiz (The Fifth Agreement)

    They have even more power if we act on them, as Harry did, becoming Hero and being manipulated by the visions.

    I wonder, what are the lies that dominate your life?

    Is it about your body – not being big, tall, thin, fit enough?

    Is it about your job? – not being good enough, earning enough

    Is it about your family? not being as good as _____ (insert other family member you get compared to)

    Is it the voice of perfection, the voice of criticism, the voice of shame, the voice.. the judge, the tyrant, the victim in your mind..?

    It may be there…. but it is lying to you.

    It is lying to you in the same way Voldemort lies to Harry, to manipulate you to become hero, rescuer, to feel victim or bully even (to become like Voldemort himself).

    It is lying to you so you can spend extortionate energy fighting it.

    It is lying to you so that you can stay stuck

    It is lying to you so that you can feel small

    It is lying to you so that you continue to feed it back again

    It is lying to you so that you can stay scared, scared of the power you actually have, and scared to make a choice.

    Is Harry Potter a lesson in mindfulness? Does it take the destruction of the external world and its system to generate this level of inner power and resource? We don’t mourn the end of Hogwarts castle at the end do we, at the end of the film? We don’t mourn the end of the Ministry of Magic being revealed for what it was?

    The voice in our head, mine; self critical, doubt, fear, disbelief, had been believed for far too long, had tormented my dreams, as had those whose presence in them caused nightmares.

    A few years ago, I started instead to hide and try and ignore my dreams, I wrote them down, as much as I could remember, letting them out into the light, seeing what my subconscious was processing, without any self judgement for how weird they were. And, over the last 5 years I have noticed something.

    I have got stronger in my dreams.

    Far from waking up shaken and sweating as before, they would end with me acting bravely, determinedly, to put into practice in my dreams my own self respect and power. I know, it’s not just dreamwork alone that has enabled me to do this, but the ongoing slow process of inner healing, with therapy, journalling, and the process of change. But bringing the torment of the lies to light has been instrumental. In all the ways.

    They are just that. Lies.

    You have a choice, like you do with any lie.

    You can give it weight, give yourself over to it, keep living a life in accordance with it, react to it.

    Or fight it, ‘im not listening, go away’

    Or cover it with something else

    Or maybe:

    You can listen to it.

    Yes thats right, you.

    Because you are not the voice.

    You are you. The voice is the lie.

    You can listen to it, talk to it, calmly, and then make a choice…

    It can be doubted, it may not be true. ‘do I carry on believing you and continue this way of living’ or ‘what if instead, I believed the opposite?’

    Thats right, I said.

    It can be doubted.

    Because its told you it was truth for so long, and now that you’ve given it a moment to consider it, maybe it wasn’t, after all.

    What instead of thinking I am in trouble, I believed I am not in trouble

    What if instead of believing I am not good enough, I believe that I am

    What if instead of trying to be perfect, I just allow myself to be who I am

    What if instead of ____________, I start to believe the opposite

    You are more powerful that you realise, it is a lie that you feel so small sometimes.

    And then act as if this new actual truth… is true.

    There will be more lies, like ‘you can’t change’ , ‘it won’t last’ …. just listen… and believe the opposite…

    Like Harry, it is possible, to change how we deal with the lies.

    The lies keep us trapped in the nightmare.

    The truth will set us free.

    Truths about ourselves.

    Because, you’re reading this, and have got this far.

    I’ll tell you one.

    You are incredible.

    You can be proud of yourself

    You are amazing

    You are love

    These are true. Dont believe me…

    Maybe you’re not ready to… but they are true….

    Might it be better to believe these than the lies so easily believed?

    What different might it make in your life if you did? What risk might it take to do so? What kind of new life for you might awaken in front of you, with this belief about yourself?

    Dont give it thought, accept the truth. The truth of who you actually are, not the voice of those who kept you small, and trapped in their chosen image of you. You are worth much much more than this.

    It’s time to believe.

    It’s time to use the power you have.

    Your Heart. Your beating Heart of love.

    That beats love for you a million times a day.

    Love believes in you. Love angers away the lies. Love finds you hurting and wants to heal, and love loves you. Love is your truth, if you can open up to let it, and then let its truth heal the lies.

    It’s time.. to doubt the lies…and live in the truth.

    References:

    The Four Agreements, Don Ruiz

    The Fifth Agreement, Don Ruiz

    The Untethered Soul , Michael A Singer

    The Power of Now, Eckhart Tolle

  • The (not so) wonderful thing about Tiggers

    Without question this was my favourite Disney song. My beautiful Auntie Heather, only 10 years older than me, had in her record collection circa 1982 a Disney compilation, as well as probably a whole load of other cool music that I had no idea of (or wasn’t allowed to hear).

    But the second track on the Disney album, moving the record player arm to the first groove on the record, was the one. The Original Tigger song.

    And probably to my Aunties great torment I wanted it to be played it over and over and over again in her bedroom when I stayed at my Grandmas house, I was about 3 or older…

    Fast forward 43 years.

    I currently am one of the lead trainers for safeguarding in the Methodist Church, and this week led a face to face session. In it the participants get the opportunity to use a variety of cuddly toys to explore how people respond in places if they feel unsafe or been abused, so there’s the turtle (retreat into hard shell) the hedghog (prickles), you get the picture, and there’s also the Pooh bear characters. The brilliant thing is that every time there’s always one new piece of insight from each group.

    The group had done all of the characters, except our friendly bouncy one.

    So, I from the front went ‘which table has got the tigger, as we all know the wonderful thing about tiggers….’

    And they sang along…

    Then a lady on the table said.

    ‘The thing about tiggers, its like the song, they are bouncy, they are fun, they are smily, but like anyone who is an abuse situation, they believe they are the only one’

    And the lady looked me in the eye, and I looked back, and a shared tear I think appeared in both. My little heart had a moment, when I just realised.

    I believed I was the only one.

    For so so so long.

    If I could see what was happening as abuse, I believed in the shame and isolation of being the only one.

    No one else was telling me that it might not be the only one who could have an abusive mother. And weak as a boy/man for this being the case.

    I felt I was alone and the only one who might be in an emotionally unhealthy/damaging marriage…as a man.

    I felt I was alone when women in work places bullied me – and that I should just ‘get over it’

    I felt I was the alone, the only one.

    I felt that I just had to survive it, that I had no choice but to cope.

    It was so confusing and bewildering that it was impossible to explain, and no resources to.

    Believing I was the only one.

    So in that moment in safeguarding training, I realised quite how much that Tigger song resonated, and as it did so gave me the opportunity to see, to know and to feel, and also to perform in the moment the self love and acceptance required.

    I wasn’t the only one.

    I wasnt.

    So many people had been damaged by her that I wasn’t unique in this.

    I wasn’t the only person to have narcissistic parents, as the book that saved my life testifies to.

    The day I realised my mother is a narcissist

    I wasn’t the only man to be hiding and surviving in an emotionally unhealthy/damaging marriage

    I wasn’t the only man feeling shame and the weight of responsibility

    I wasn’t the only man to feel on the run, incapable of being myself in relationships, just reverting to the hurt wounded teenage persona – there was a reason for this… it was the wounded me.

    I wasn’t the only man who who felt that going to therapy was weak..

    I wasn’t … but I felt it…

    And if this is you, neither are you, even if you feel it.

    Tigger needed friends to help him out of his uniqueness, the projection of being ok and not needing help or have someone else care, all hiding deep insecurity and potential counter- dependence.

    Friends with experience, friends with experience and books, the spaces online that I found eventually where groups talk about this and have resources are all healthy ways of undoing the alone thinking.

    And this week, the feedback was that it was one of the best training sessions they had had, and that it was led with sensitivity and depth. I wonder why.

    I wasnt triggered, (though maybe tiggered) it was just a gulp of realisation of the light shining on the whole, and the opportunity to hold and love that wounded little boy all over again. Yes the tears flowed on the journey home, but thats to be expected with me at the moment, love feels strong.

  • It all started with a Goldfinch…

    It started with a goldfinch, making its pearl like chirping from the tree, just outside St Cuthbert’s Church, Darlington.

    Ordinary Goldfinch.

    Making me take notice at it.

    And ended with a Bumble bee scrambling for the pollen in the blossom in the trees opposite.

    And in between that distance of less than 10 metres, I walked. Slowly.

    No deadlines. No expectation. No Time.

    Slow Wonder Walking.

    Following the path along the river Skerne.

    Slow, almost the same pace as the river itself.

    Could I see the otters? Maybe.

    Walk slow. Notice

    Everyday wonder in the midst of the ordinary.

    The bee springing from the nettles

    The wren launching itself from the base of the tree trunk to a branch then shouting at me in its loud voice.

    The Dogs that didnt give me dog hugs. The Owners that smiled when they didnt.

    Slow step.

    Surprise after Surprise.

    Unexpected red breasted Merganser. Female, on her own.

    Grey Wagtails, fluttering their uniquely yellow underbellies.

    The joyful playful shriek of the girl toddler running away from her pretend chasing daddy, squealing and playing with utter delight. Her all black romper suit covered in a myriad of rainbow hearts. Joy.

    I wondered that I used to run, run away, or need to go fast.

    But now slow.

    Contented slowness.

    Embracing peace.

    Shades. Streaks of sunlight.

    Slow walking

    When we walk slow, we give the opportunity for a new person to grow inside of us

    Paulo Coelho

    Who is that person?

    That same joyous toddler full of curiosity and play

    Probably

    Sounds of play

    Sounds of nature

    The inner feelings of bliss

    Some kind of bliss

    Some kind of calm

    Rest.

    Bridge.

    Wonder at reflections.

    Watch the water ripple, make them fuzzy

    Watch and wonder.

    Stare.

    Be.

    In the moment, of accepting the magic of the ordinary.

    10 minutes of staring at willow branches fluttering in the water.

    interrupted by the joy of pooh sticks.

    Wonder, magic, delight of floating sticks.

    And beating grandpa.

    Boy running. Boy in wonder.

    Wonder.

    Awe.

    Everything is magic.

    Everything is open.

    Slow.

    Walking, back the same way.

    Temptation to think, ive been here before, must go some other route

    But I haven’t, I haven’t been there in this moment.

    “Always we have to look, Today suddenly a flower is the reason for your surprise, tomorrow it may be the same flower, just with a different colour, because of the age of the flower”

    Paulo Freire

    Resist the urge to need to go somewhere new, do the same, do it slow again

    I am 20 minutes older. Inside. Or Younger. How does this new person feel time

    It just is.

    Feeling its way in the moment.

    Though suddenly…

    Oh look what’s this, a thought, a thought about tomorrow, a thought about something I need to do and suddenly, my feet have grinded up a gear…. subconscious speeding up,

    Lost from the moment, into thought.

    Noticed.

    I saw you.

    I saw you thought.

    But I am here.

    And I stopped you.

    Because you are not for now.

    This is now.

    Wonder is now

    Slow is now.

    So I made you stop. For now is wonder time.

    And those dancing grey wagtails captivated once again

    And the gold crest in the tree

    The couples with their beautiful babies in pushchairs, all full of life and energy

    Noticing the joy.

    Noticing my feet slowly placing one foot in front of the other.

    feeling. Breathing. Heart filled with joy.

    That new person finding life

    That new person safe in wonder

    Smiling, arms outstretched

    Whistling Heaven.

    When I walk among the hills.

    Walking slow.

    Walking in wonder.

    Awakening.

    In the moment.

    Seeing in the midst, glory in the everyday.

    Timeless unbridled joy.

    Being fully alive.

    Peace from within.

    Return to the town.

    Slow. (but slightly quicker crossing the road)

    Calm.

    Bliss.

    An avenue of blossom, beauty amongst buildings.

    It all started with a Goldfinch.

    It ended with a bumblebee.

    A blissful walk that went nowhere, but everywhere in between.

    Wonder at Wonder. Awe is something awesome.

    Some kindness of bliss.

    Wordless, thoughtless, timeless.

    “What remains will be the love that moves the heavens, the stars, people, flowers, insects, the love that obliges us all to walk across the ice despite the danger, that fills us with joy and with fear, and gives meaning to everything.”

    Paulo Coelho

  • I needed in me, what God used to be.

    Those of you who have followed my writing for a while have either read or endured a few pieces from me about my faith, notably my evangelical upbringing and also more recently my stepping back from going to church.

    Trying to survive after falling off the evangelical cliff

    1000 Days since I last went to church (as of December 2022)

    Add to this my story of survival with in an ‘evangelical’ home with a monster of a parent.

    So, Relationship with God: Its Complicated.

    At least, what I’m beginning to realise and see is how emotionally complicated my relationship with God (and the church) was, and that is all written above.

    Yet, at the same time, I dont think ive really had a process though my various breakdowns, rebuilds and healing journey of being angry with God, there wasn’t a sense of ”Why?’ God did you let this or that happen’ not recently; I had internalised personal responsibility, having taken that on implicitly as the little rescuer of my parents emotions, and then becoming a christian aged 10 in which somehow I implicitly then gave Jesus my ‘Sin’ (which were survival strategies) and for forgiveness for them. I wasn’t sinful aged 10, yet this was the pattern I then implicitly believed in. This is appropriate here:

    It’s been more of a gradual shift.

    Mainly because over the last few years I have realised that there was good and well meant good in the community of many of the churches I have been involved and and certainly the church of my teenage years, and tbh many of them were as scared of or had experience of the same monster. (Except the ‘old dears’ , the ‘old dears’ would have had special visits by them, having been ‘popped around to be seen’ and so, the ‘old dears’ every week at church would be like ‘How are they, how are your parents’ . It was a lovely first question as a young person to face in church. For some reason it was old people in churches who they gravitated to, to be ‘helpful’ and ‘charming’.)

    Anyway. I digress. 2 paragraphs in and a pre-amble and I’m no-where, where I thought I would be.

    I have began to notice something.

    The things I needed for myself, were things that I ascribed to God for.

    Here are a few examples from well known evangelical songs from the 1990’s…

    1. Jesus is Alive (mostly on Easter Day)
    2. God is Strong (You are mighty/ Our God is an awesome God)
    3. God is love (various)
    4. God is Powerful (There is power in the name of Jesus, Show your power)
    5. God is in or is the quiet space (Be still, The Lords my shepherd)
    6. God is the place of Joy (The Happy song)
    7. God is the exclusive way to hope and healing (In Christ alone)
    8. I trust in God alone
    9. I found Jesus

    Im definitely not here to say that these things aren’t true.

    But what I have realised is that by ascribing to God for these things, these were not things that I felt I could be, they were the what God can do and be, and not what I could do, be or have. I know this sounds complicated.

    I have discovered that I have needed to know my own Power and Strength, that I can have healthy power, and not stay weak.

    I needed to find myself, not wait to be found, or look for something other.

    I have discovered that I have needed to find my own capacity to love, for self love, compassion and self gentleness, not sink in the swamp of self loathing.

    I have discovered that I have needed to find safety as an important part of everyday , to heal.

    I needed to be able to trust myself (not my mind)

    I have discovered that I can be alive and joyful.

    I have discovered too how my inner self is both spiritual and creative, that tender person within, that needed nature and care and attention.

    These have all been important components of my healing process over the last 5 years. For too long I believed that these were only possible ‘because of God’ and therefore ‘unattainable for myself’, or that ‘I could carry on, or suffer without them for myself’. I dont think that these were the intentions of the song writers by the way. The other thing of complication is that the same powerful God was also the God of those who were and had harmed me – so whose side was he/she on?

    I am at peace in using different language, it feels right and whole to me to talk about ‘the gifts of the universe’ or ‘love’ or ‘magic’ and to feel the earth, the sea and the waves, to wonder at ‘consciousness’ and ‘being’ , to be still in the present of the moment and seek alignment to the deep truths. Maybe it’s the language of the heart and soul. Maybe it’s the innocent faith of the child, the inner child, and not the rules of the organisation. Maybe it’s the language of the mystics. Maybe it is just language that describes very similar things but with different agreements and expectations upon them. Maybe I decided I prefer or need or enjoy different agreements and expectations. Maybe the gentle attentive love of the Celtic contemplatives has spoken, restored and awakened my soul. Maybe these gave me the assurance of peacefilled mystic giants whose earnest shoulders I could sit on and be held by.

    I didnt wrestle with God, it all just awakened for me, it just started to appear, moment by moment, book by book, journal by journal (that I wrote). It started to make sense, it started to feel like love that until then had been mostly only cognitive knowledge. Maybe emotional breakdown and spiritual awakening were intertwined. Maybe it was about unlearning and learning. Maybe it was already there all along.

    I noticed that I was becoming more and more whole, more and more coherent in myself, less fractured and fragmented, less desperate in need of a God to save me, more balanced in knowing, loving and enjoying my flawed, but created and incredible self.

    So more broadly. Maybe it’s time to rethink the way of christian songs, or the implicit messages from the lecturn. Maybe a trauma aware church might reflect on these things. What if loving our self, was what Jesus meant all along, and not just our neighbour. What might life in all its fullness mean, and the good shepherd leads sheep to come and go freely. Maybe the sheep dance too. Maybe they play and run around. Maybe the sheep are happy. Maybe thats what’s its been about all along.

    May all that is unforgiven in you, be released

    May your fears yield, their deepest tranquilities

    May all that is unlived in you

    Blossom into a future

    Graced with love

    (To Come home to yourself, John O Donohue)

  • To the Shadows, Stranger and Friend

    Do I dare take myself into my own shadows?

    It won’t be a walk on the brightside

    Far from the lights

    into the wild spaces

    The lost areas

    Do I Dare?

    What am I afraid of?

    What might find me there?

    What might be lurking in the midst of me?

    Fearing the fears themselves

    Who is leading me there

    Who is taking me

    Who is holding my hand

    When I walk, what will I find?

    And what happen when I face the strange encounter?

    Of what’s hidden deep within

    That moment

    Approaching the dark veiled mystery

    That pain that holds power

    The dark, the hidden

    Do I dare go there?

    In the maze of labyrinthine mystery

    Do I dare be led by the stranger?

    To the darkness held within

    Swamps of voices, Caves of emptiness

    Failings and shame making themselves known

    But what happens then, when the stranger leads me

    To that depth within

    Who is stranger leading, if not me, and my friend too

    So, that darkness is less the enemy

    When approached by stranger and friend

    Stranger unafraid to go there

    And friend there, as love, deep inside

    Stranger leading, friend following

    And gentle the process of walking

    In the shadows, stranger and friend

    to myself

    and what’s to be loved inside.

    (James Ballantyne, 2024)

  • Love feels Strong

    This piece could be written in a number of ways, from a number of starting points. But I want to keep it brief.

    And I want my heart to write to you.

    It arrived to me as I was writing my book yesterday. The phrase was uttered by one of the characters.

    Love feels strong at the moment.

    Love feels strong.

    And as I wrote it, I marvelled.

    Love feels strong.

    Because this phrase flowed from my soul to the paper.

    Love feels strong.

    Love used to be non existent. Love was hidden and small. Head protecting heart.

    Head felt strong. Mind felt strong. Mind in control.

    Yet, also , Mind overworked, Mind critical, Mind protective, Mind the necessary superhero.

    Heart and Love hidden weak, vulnerable, timid, in a body that felt shame, self loathing, self denial.

    Follow the mind, it’s always right, isn’t it?

    Especially when tarnished by abuse, hurt, pain and decades of survival.

    The mind is right

    The body is weak, Love is weak (or only pure if from ‘God’)

    But it wasn’t true. It isn’t true.

    My mind, your mind is wonderful – but it isn’t everything

    It doesn’t tell you the truth all the time.

    It sometimes tells you too many things that were never true that someone else said.

    It sometimes tells you things to keep up the pretence of being strong.

    It creates melancholia, suffering and attempts to hide.

    It wants to be strong.

    And it can sometimes feel as though it is completely over reaching itself to control you.

    But there’s someone else waiting to guide you. There’s something else thats a superpower too. And it has even more power than your mind.

    Love.

    Love from within can create space in your over thinking mind

    Love from within can soothe your body – feel your own loving touch on your skin instead of scratches

    Love from within can enable you to breathe.

    Love from within is fire to weep away the coldest of hurts

    Love has been waiting in the background, invisible, pateint

    waiting for you to be open to its treasure, its gentle possibilities, the power it has to heal and connect you from within

    Love feels strong, when sadness, pain and anxiety once ruled. Love grew.

    Love opens. Opens smiles to the universe of light.

    It wasn’t God given, it was inside all along. It was there all along.

    Gentle self love, Patient self compassionate love, Strong courage love.

    Love feels strong inside.

    Feel the glow of strong love, let it guide you, let it sparkle inside you.

    Let love be you. Let you be love.

    Let you be open to strong love. the power of the deep inner love.

    Let perfect inner strong love make your fear weak. Let it give your mind a rest.

    You can make love for yourself. You can, because it’s not unique to me.

    You can love yourself into your new beauty.

    Love feels strong.

    You are love my friend, a stronger love resides in you that you think, because your think doesn’t want to give power away, but you can.

    Because you are you and your mind isn’t you. You can bring love into your life game, you can live with an open hearted brave courageous strong love.

    You can choose, and love can feel strong.

    Love feels strong.

    Love is strong. It really is.

  • Careful, the universe might give you what you wish for.

    Dangerously there were two words that I started 2023 with.

    It was as if, they were the words that were about to shape my life, weirdly.

    One of the words I wrote about, a little bit. The other I didnt.

    I wasn’t a bit fan of ‘manifesting’ or ‘goal setting’, for a mixture of reasons, one felt too charismatic and dare I say it, American, the other I realise now was because of inbuilt depression.

    Want to know what the two words were?

    (I guess thats the point of this piece)

    One of the words was Happy.

    The Other was Surrender.

    And… little did I know what was about to happen in the year.

    Because, I started the year in quite a good place.

    But it sort of felt just a bit fragile, I was having happy moments. I was having moments of ‘overcoming stuff’ that in the day to day I was enjoying the bliss of this, the wash of self love, and also beginning to feel a bit more me, and a bit more confident.

    Yet, the early confidence of 2023 was fragile. I could tell. It wasn’t matched with self belief, it wasn’t matched with a sense of inner wholeness, it wasn’t confident.

    As I said, the words were Happy, and Surrender.

    From April until August 2023. I crashed.

    Big time crashed.

    I had fought a fight and lost badly, and the inner voices returned.

    And it felt so so dark.

    Had I gone too soon with trying to be Happy?

    No.

    Did I have more healing to do?

    Yes

    Was the universe shaking it all up so that I could Heal even more?

    Oh fuck yes.

    Was it hard. Absolutely.

    As bleak and as dark as anything before. As anything since I was 9. The year I had to shut out the voices.

    But now I heard them again.

    Happy and Surrender.

    really?

    Happy and Surrender.

    Surrender and Happy.

    It’s so hard to explain now, but the spiralling fall that was taking place was debilitating.

    Happiness felt like an unachievable illusion

    Surrender felt like falling, failing, giving up.

    I was treading water with lead bricks attached by ropes to my feet.

    Walking a tightrope that was on fire

    Bleak, Dark, humiliation and all the feelings. All of them.

    And yet.

    And yet, I also realised at the time, with gritted teeth, that the voices, the inner peril was being revealed to me so that I had no choice but to deal with it.

    No choice.

    After 6 months of not really writing to myself, I re started journalling again, when I say journalling, I mean writing out the rage, the hurt, the anger, the pain, the feelings of humiliation, little James’ pain. This was the beginning of starting to write to little James, writing that tentatively started to shape the book im writing.

    I had to ask for help.

    I had to accept, surrender even, that I needed help.

    Everything was triggering me. Everything.

    I could tell how self absorbed I was in my own damaged head. In my own woundedness.

    Help arrived in a number of ways.

    Yes, professional help in terms of beginning therapy again. But also finding a safe space to write and give myself distance from the places that felt unsafe or too draining.

    The raw path of vulnerability opened up the beautiful. I noticed the gifts of the universe in response. I began to feel held.

    Happy and Surrender.

    Strength from surprising places, notably from within. One Vulnerable step at a time.

    Some of the breakthroughs might warrant a whole piece on them.

    At that wasn’t really the point of this piece, the point was that 15 months ago there were two words that seemed to be announcing themselves to me at the beginning of the year. Happy and Surrender.

    And the relationship between the two, in my healing process in the last 15 months is quite astonishing.

    Surrendering to the darkness did not mean giving in, giving up, or believing the voices, even if they were loud and I felt terrified, small and humiliated.

    Surrendering meant accepting that those inner voices were the consequence of pain and a damaged wounded childhood and I needed again to love those wounded parts, listen, and be open to whatever the path might be, navigating through them.

    Surrendering to the path through the darkness and slowly but surely holding myself in love as the path was being walked on slow step by slow step. A path of self-compassion and warmth as the anti-dote to self hatred, blame and criticism.

    Happiness was a risk. It still feels like a risk, a tender shoot to love and care for.

    A new toy to protect.

    Easier to talk about pain, shame and darkness – that isn’t going to be stolen.

    Happiness is fragile. Happiness feels conditional. Happiness requires surrender.

    Because, after all, what was the point? What was the point of wanting to be whole, healed and better? Just to exist and survive? Just to write about it and get the views? Just to stay stuck in it?

    I dont think so.

    Happiness and Surrender – what did I need to surrender to, in order for there to be inner happiness in my heart, soul and mind?

    A happy mind? imagine that… not an over thinking, over sensitive, triggered one.

    And, 4 months since the end of regular therapy. 9 months of the slow step by step inner healing process (of this phase of it).

    Whisper it quietly, or shout it from the rooftops, a deep sense of Happiness, of Joy even, has found me, a kind of clarity and strength and peace in heart, soul and mind, that hasn’t been my life experience ever. It’s weird, so so weird, but incredible all the same.

    Happiness and Surrender… You dont always get what you wish for, at least not in the ways you might expect, but sometimes the universe, the loving mystery of the universe has it, and it has you too.

  • Shining a light onto my Depression

    Its ok to not be ok

    But what if ‘norm’ was a depression that I didnt realise was?

    I’m pretty sure now that I was depressed but I just didnt realise how this had been my normal experience.

    Thats a conclusion I came to a month or so ago.

    I had never thought of myself as being depressed, that was something other people experienced and not something I would want to or could conceive of being the lens to which I was experiencing life, maybe I was masking it.

    But I can imagine now how a cloud, mostly grey, was being taken into every room that I was in, and, not intentionally.

    Oh and I dont mean the obvious emotional breakdown moments, the teary moments that i’ve experienced in the last few years, as my emotions have welled up, have broken up through the layers of cold, hardened exterior.

    I’m more talking about the cold, prickly, exterior. The despairing hopelessness. The Self doubt and beating myself up on the inside.

    So let me wind back a bit.

    I read two books back to back just before Christmas, whilst also being in the process of therapy. (I tell a lie, there were probably 5 books on the go…but anyways..) The first was Stolen Focus, and the second was Lost Connections, Stolen focus was the gateway for me into the writing of Johann Hari (ive written about Stolen focus Here on my youthwork blog, as this is all about play).

    Lost Connections is Johann Hari’s personal exploration into his own depression story, how he was prescribed anti depressants as a late teen, the journey of medication, and his research into the causes, indicators and alleviators of depression.

    So, I read Johanns book with interest. But not with the thought that I was depressed, more that it intrigued me that he was going to talk about the importance of social relationships in mental health. But no, not that I was depressed.

    Buy the book from Hive bookstores here: Lost Connections

    If you’ve read my story (in the menus) you will know what’s coming, but it is very accurate to say that one of my survival strategies for dealing with a psychopathic mother, was to hide my emotions, including any semblance of happiness or joy. In fact I would go further and say that any moments of being happy were stolen: ‘I need to feel your joy for you passing your exams’ , and times when I felt happy outside of her influence were negated : ‘ I need to get all that toxicity out from when you were at grandmas’ – as there were and are photos of me smiling and happy at grandma’s. Any place where I was paraded or made an example of, I hid my smile, including family and school photos. If I was going to be on a mantel piece for others to see, it would not be with a smile.

    Yet I was aware I wasn’t smiling. It was ok when other people took the photo, like church events or elsewhere, but if it was photo heading to the mantel piece or taken by her, no smile.

    Thats just one example, there were many. But what it meant, and I knew that expressing any emotion was unsafe – it was stolen. Or I had to be responsible for soothing her emotions, yes thats what happened, me aged 5 and above was the one who soothed her upset ‘only you can make me feel better, not even Dad can’ was one message from when I was a child, a young child.

    Talk about being emotionally tortured. It’s what I had to do. And also, this was a survival strategy, even if I didnt have a choice to do it.

    It all makes sense now doesn’t it. It makes so much sense to the extent to which I was desperate, alone and wanted to end it all, aged 9. I wanted to wake up as someone else, failing that wondered what it would have been like to jump out of my bedroom window, or wait for a midland main line train to hit me. Aged fucking 9. Thats not normal is it?

    Funny thing, when I tried to talk about this in starting my testimony at a church event in my teens (17) no one actually believed me, thinking that I was making it up as I didnt think I had a good ‘Jesus saved me’ story. But, folks, it was utterly true.

    I couldn’t actually talk about how I was actually feeling, because I could hardly describe it, and very few people who I could talk to were safe, or would understand. It surely wasn’t normal to be scared of your own mother. But that was my normal.

    But I was stony cold, prickly, critical and only able to let my head have any responsibility in how I was dealing with daily life. Not hard hearted, but wounded, heart hiding, protected. I was trying work out things, trying to work out how to cope, having to be one step ahead to know what to do in a situation, always trying to predict.

    In some ways, this is all for me just ‘coping/survival’ stuff. I wouldn’t have categorised it as depression.

    That was my normal, and if you’ve been in any type of abusive relationship you will know what that is like. Adopting to their unpredictable rage, strategising safety.

    I wondered what it might have been like had I gone as a 10 year old to my GP and said, ‘is it normal to feel suicidal aged 9’? or ‘I feel like I have to hide my emotions around people who should be protecting and nurturing me?’ – but I didnt, anyway back to the book.

    Oh, and one more thing, this actually was the thing.

    I didnt know what I wanted to do with my life.

    Throughout school, throughout my twenties, thirties even, ask me, and I didnt know.

    My usual answer, was ‘Whatever God wants’ that was my get out, but that wasn’t what I wanted, I just didnt know.

    I had no idea that not having any concept of a future was a sign of depression, a key sign. As Johann explains, it’s like the future is wiped away, inconceivable, as the present moment is the only valid space (and the haunted past) to attempt to survive in. Getting through. Making it out alive. One day at a time.

    The other reason for me, was that my future was also something stolen. It was made conditional by that person again, as I had to do something to ‘make me proud‘ ‘not disappointing me‘ or I would have to ‘prove her wrong’ by things that had been decreed as things she was upset by. Stolen Future indeed.

    Another indicator of depression, described in the book, was the lack of being in control. This is fascinating. In the book, research is conducted into 1,000 people all working in the same building, from the very top, to the bottom, CEO to the cleaners. It was found that depression was linked to those who had less control of what happens, in short, insecurity of the future was linked to depression. Being able to dictate and decide gave people more responsibility and stress, yes, but not depression, because they could see the way ahead and have some say in it, Insecurity led to depression.

    It reminded me of Deci and Ryans work in that intrinsic motivators are linked to Relationship (connection/belonging) , Competence (being good at something/positive feedback) and Autonomy (being able to have decisions on the future) (in Human Being by Jocelyn Bryan) . I think this is extraordinarily interesting in relation to faith and systems of faith, especially in a time when status anxiety is rife. I’ll write more about this another time I think.

    Anyway, back to me.

    Well, back to the book to be honest, Johann outlines 8 ‘disconnections’ that are significant causes of depression, they are

    1. (disconnection from) Meaningful work
    2. Other people
    3. Meaningful values. (Capitalism and the need for stuff that kills the soul)
    4. Childhood Trauma
    5. Natural World
    6. Status and Respect
    7. Hopeful/Secure Future
    8. and ‘the Role of Genes/Brain changes in depression’.

    Each of the chapters is utterly fascinating, each is woven with his own personal story of what he needed to alleviate his own depression, something to blame, something that wasn’t himself, a chemical (low serotonin- this is a myth btw), a story. But each of these ’causes’ made a lot of sense. When he talked about depression and anxiety being very similar that resonated too, but what’s interesting for me, is the extent to which I hid and buried all of this, to not feel anything. The other thread being the social dynamic of depression, the lost connections with the human, natural experience. 

    I was ok, I would say. But dont we all say this?

    There was some I definitely scored myself high on. Given that its only been recently (4 years) that I have reconnected inside with the effects of childhood trauma and abuse, connecting with my feelings, and also, been able to consider myself as important and have status (and not a victim) , a lot resonated, not just the ‘future planning’ section.

    The book was another window, a light into my own life, a lens even.

    It was only when I could see all of this that I realise the extent to which my ‘normal’ could only have been an underlying depression.

    Reconnection has been the journey I have been on, probably without realising it, some of that has been to have deep, real , brave conversations, and learn to be vulnerable, some of that has been to seek professional help, and some of that has been to do the work, to reconnect in myself – all sounds simple doesn’t it, well, its so not, its a daily ongoing process. But reconnection (and gentle loving repair) is definitely a good word for it.

    I guess I didn’t realise I was depressed, or parts of me were, until I felt what it was like to feel happy, to feel calm.

    As my therapist said a few weeks ago, there’s now a bright room light shining on all of the museum artefacts of past hurts and parts, rather than trying to fumble around in the darkness trying to look at things with a tiny torchlight.

    As I sit here, I have candles glowing on my window sill, I have relaxing music playing, and I feel a calm inside, a peace inside, a sense of connection inside – that yes can be disturbed and im sure will be even today, but holding my hands to my heart, I sense the breath of love and life in my soul and body, a deep love that is holding me. And the warm glow of the sun shines on the trees, the love of the universe is awakening the darkness. Sounds blissful, and it is, but it’s been a hard road to get here.

    I write this with peace and hopefulness, with a sense of love for my past wounded self, my ignored and hurt parts, and where I am now.

    You need your nausea, you need your pain. It is a message and we must listen to that message. All these depressed and anxious people, all over the world – they are giving us a message. They are telling us that something has gone wrong with the way that we live. We need to stop trying to muffle, silence, pathologise, or soothe the pain. Instead we need to honour it and listen to it. It is only when we listen to our pain that we can follow it back to its source – and only there where we can see it true causes, that we can truly overcome it

    Johann Hari, Lost Connections (2018)

    And yes, I recommend the book, especially if you know or are working with people who are suffering from depression or anxiety.

    References

    Lost Connections (2018), Stolen Focus (2023) Johann Hari

    Human Being (2017) Jocelyn Bryan.

  • My Heart was wounded, not cold and dark. (Why faith language can hinder healing)

    I attended my first ‘religious’ service for quite a long time yesterday, I haven’t gone to ‘church’ for a long while, though I used to, weekly. But yesterday in my team meeting, as I work for the methodist church, we shared communion. A number of the team brought something to share, including songs, poems and prayers, and we used the Celtic Daily Prayer liturgy, including, because it was the 1st February the reflections of St Brigid. It was a genuine moving experience, because it felt as though we were all spiritually and theologically in a very similar place, it was gentle, provocative and deep, reflective and peaceful.

    Yet in the context of my inner healing journey, two phrases stood out.

    I make the cross of Christ upon my breast

    over the tablet of my hard heart

    and I beseech the living God of the Universe,

    may the Light of lights come to my dark heart

    so that I may live in the power of your love.

    Celtic Daily Prayer, Vol 1

    The phrase stood out, because, it was what I believed.

    I believed my heart to be dark. To be hard.

    I believed that my core was full of selfishness, hatred and impurity

    I believed that

    I believed that for far too long.

    I believed it so that I needed a Saviour.

    But let me be fair on this one. Maybe this liturgy was written at a time when heart just meant ‘everything inside’ , and not ‘heart’ full of emotions and feelings, distinct from the mind. Maybe it was written from ignorance of ‘heart’ and not deliberation. Maybe, it was written by the powerful, who might struggle to open up their heart, and felt like a modern day Pharaoh (who it was said closed his heart/God closed it so that Moses had to return many times to let the Israelite slaves free). Maybe the ‘heart’ was something at the time of writing was misunderstood, maybe heart feelings/emotions was seen genuinely as dark – can I include a witchcraft reference here, for 1600’s Britain was rife with ‘sensitives’ or women deemed as witches who ‘sensed’ things. So the ‘heart’ could be feared, but it’s almost talking about cleansing a dark one, not calming a fired up one. Im just pondering. And I love the northumbria community, and contemplative practice.

    Yet the Evangelical christian faith I grew up with was full of the dark heart stuff…

    ‘Dont let my heart grow cold’

    ‘Purify my heart’ 

    And I get that there might be different/newer understandings of the relationship between our minds and hearts, our feelings, emotions and thoughts. I’ll reference a few TED talks below and other references are in my resource library. This is one of the best, by Lisa Feldman 

    There’s so many angles on this ‘dark heart narrative’ that I could reflect on, here are 4, briefly…

    1. It lets our minds off scot free. Maybe the mind was seen as neutral, as dominant and unquestioned, the ‘heart’ can get the blame. The Heart may be hardened, and unable to feel, because the mind is making too much noise. It is the mind and its search for satisfaction for its thirsty ego that causes the most damage.
    2. It causes us have less reverence for our inner workings and body. As many Spiritual people and mystic argue, spiritual awakening is through the body and not away from it (Eckhart Tolle, The Power of Now), not outside of the body or in denial of it. It’s unlikely to produce wholeness and a fragmented/fractured sense of self and body.
    3. It individualises the problem (if only I can get my hard heart to open/be more faithful/pray more/ do more church) rather than consider the external causes of these, and the body’s natural responses such in its need for self protection and survival. ‘It’s my cold/hard heart thats the problem, not the actual reality that ive been mistreated’ - an understanding of external stimuli/trauma here might be helpful.
    4. Only God can save. Because my heart is so hard that there’s nothing in it to be able to love/care for myself… how does this marry up with being ‘wonderfully made in the image of God?’ Where is my heart then?
    5. A heart is the source of emotions and feelings, which make us who we are, denying or hiding these is so so unhealthy.

    There could be essays on all of these, and thats not for now.

    My journey of healing, spiritually and emotionally has been a process of healing my inner self, including my body, and its wounded parts. Its been a journey in which, spiritually I have found the descriptions of the spiritual life, in Eckhart Tolle, Richard Rohr and John O Donohue to resonate deeply, and all take the body, the heart and the mind seriously and kindly in the process.

    My heart wasn’t impure, dark or hard all along.

    In fact, I needed my heart to be able to be self compassionate

    I needed a heart to love, myself

    I could love and care for myself

    My heart just couldn’t feel

    My heart had been stolen from

    My heart had been broken

    My heart had been wounded from birth

    My heart had never been nurtured or protected, it had never been loved.

    My heart had to be protected, sealed and enclosed – to protect myself

    My heart wasn’t dark, it was there all along – being told that it was.

    My heart could love and heal – as can yours

    My heart just wanted to feel, to be healthy, to be part of me – just like yours does

    My heart wanted safety to cry, feel and rage – just like yours

    My heart was never dark.

    It had had its flame squashed and buried

    It was hiding underneath

    It was screaming

    It wasn’t ever dark – it was love all along.

    It was me.

    I had to begin the process of peeling gently back the layers and wounds, and I could only do that gently because of love and my heart. I had to learn to love my body, my heart and create safety for my feelings. Listening to my heart, listening to my core and what it needs. None of this would have been possible had I continued the pattern of believing I was broken and my heart was core to that brokenness.

    May you be blessed with good friends

    And you learn to be a good friend to yourself

    Journeying to that place in your soul where

    there is love, warmth and feeling

    May this change you

    John O Donohue, ‘For Friendship’; To Bless the space between us