Caterpillar in the tree How you wonder who you’ll be Can’t go far but you can always dream Wish you may and wish you might Don’t you worry, hold on tight I promise you there will come a day Butterfly fly away
(Miley Cyrus)
So often, the butterfly is a metaphor for change, as this song I really like describes. The change from caterpillar, to cocoon to butterfly is rich in symbolism, rich in mystery and describes, often perfectly, the necessity for acceptance of an ongoing death, an ongoing inner change, even if both the caterpillar and the emerged butterfly are still so fragile in the hierarchy of the animal pecking order. As a friend once said to me, what’s the point in doing all that healing work, only to be as fragile, vulnerable and prone to attack as a butterfly, even if you can fly and look astoundingly beautiful for the shortest of flight times?
What if, instead of much change being required to embody the butterfly, that the butterfly was there all along? What if you already had that inner butterfly, that which moved in accordance with the air, that fragile, wispy-ness, of colour, that closed and opened at various speeds, an inner butterfly, less something that emerged, or that you turned into, but was there all along.
Waiting to flutter, waiting to rise
Waiting to be seen, waiting to astonish
Waiting to be revealed, waiting to be freed
Soul rising, soul living
Feeling the wind, feeling the life through its wings
So, profoundly, Psyche, can be both translated as ‘Soul’ and also ‘Butterfly’ .
And to one extent, therefore, this might mean, that you do not transfigure into your inner soul/butterfly….. you are born with it, it was given to you. Your inner butterfly has never not been there, and will never not be there. Its gentle, quiet, wing beats need stillness and space, and the various coverings over and around the soul walls to be gently, carefully, lovingly melted and removed, to allow your soul, your being, your inner butterfly to be free.
Its path is cleared with softness, not with power tools that scare it.
Your inner soul, your inner butterfly is the mystical Love, Being, God or consciousness that dwells within, always there, always, it is your full true self, eternal divine goodness, joy and beauty – fragile and majestic as the flight of the butterfly. Vibrant, Colour, Free.
It is not to be changed into, but to have its flight path cleared of blockages, for the falsities to be removed, for it to be safe to fly.
You will become……maybe you already are.
Never a caterpillar deep inside, always a butterfly.
Something needed to happen for the dull aches inside to get dealt with.
Something needed to happen for me to listen.
Something needed to happen for me to start to live.
Something needed to happen for me to realise my heart, and not just my head was a superpower
I needed to change from survival mode, to ‘I need help’ mode
From grey stoicism to tears of raw pain, vulnerability and bravery.
A wake up call.
Five years ago; Facing homelessness, unemployment (albeit a tiny 1 day a week job) and separation, I made a call to friend, at the end of a summer of hidden tears and confusion.
A spare bedroom was offered and somewhere safe, a meal out on my first night there and the beginning of a long long road.
Desperation, vulnerability and a Wake Up call.
That was the big one. The first one.
There have been others since, as other aspects of my life needed to be faced with.
Past pain to be faced, not feared.
Ive lost times when I know that trying to hide has only hurt myself.
Ive lost times when realising that the path of self honesty and vulnerability has been the right path
Ive lost times when its felt like that onion with layers of pain has needed tears to heal, and yet as my friend 5 years ago said, Tears are good. Tears appear when it’s safe.
Ive lost times when ive felt alive.
Ive lost times when I have felt.
Ive lost times when ive had to be brave.
Ive lost times when I have felt held.
Ive lost times when the unknown had be trusted
And my heart has grown, with the safe conditions to do so. Love feeling strong.
Ive lost times when Ive had to see, unlearn and learn, this new beautiful way of being.
Yet, I haven’t lost time at all, it’s just the way, if anything ive gained time.
The sleeping giant needed a wake up call.
One daily step at a time, one new day to be alive, one day to feel what life has, to be open to the magic and wonder it all.
Sometimes life needs a wake up call to make its way known to us.
And a realisation that I could not fight it anymore, it was time to accept, time to grow, time to face and time to listen.
And now….
All around there’s new life rising…. from the winter fields
Runrig (MayMorning)
Heart still open, tears of joy and well… straining chest muscles from dancing too much…. ;-)
But it needed a wake up call and my response to it, safety and trust.
The path of healing is paved with moments of love. In fact it’s surrounded in it.
Because I didn’t think I as worth it…and then I realised I actually am?
Photos tell alot don’t they.
I barely have any photos of me prior to 2019, so when I saw the one in the top middle a few weeks ago, I got a bit of shock.
Taken in 2017. There wasn’t a smile in my wounded heart to be had, trying to pose for a photo for a new job I was about to take. It was haunted, serious, in survival mode me, hiding and fearing, both demons on the outside and within.
This was before…
Any Therapy
A reading of any self help book
A realisation that I wasn’t as responsible for things as I thought
A realisation that I had been abused
A realisation that I could be vulnerable, or had to be
A realisation i could be free from things that I felt trapped by
Any sense of self knowledge or self worth or value
Any journalling, any practices of self care, boundaries or being willing to see my unhealthy behaviours
And a lot more besides…
Top photos 2012, 2017, 2018. Bottom photos 2022, 2024, 2024.
Today I was in conversation with someone, actually a homeless man on the streets, a beautiful conversation by the way, he said to me that I didnt look like I had had 4 lots of therapy in 5 years, also saying that I looked about 36. I turned 46 last week.
This reminded me of the conversation I had with a minister when I was 19, he thought I was in my late twenties, yes a beard helped this, and I think he meant well.. but I was carrying the world. It’s obvious from the photos above isnt it.
Ive wondered about how self indulgent I have been recently. Clocking it.
But realising that what ive realised is that the bits of my story I like talking about is the joy stuff, the new me stuff, the feeling of peace and happiness, though… people can see it and hear it in my voice… somehow its harder to convey this by writing this down… Maybe, as a friend said to me recently, I spent 40 years avoiding myself and being barely self orientated, 5-6 years learning to love myself and go through some real challenges in this, and now, there’s a bit beyond. A great big bit of life beyond.
So if you knew me, pre 2017, a part of me says sorry, because you got a very wounded me, shell like. Though part of me also recognises how still kind and loving I could be, in the midst, and professionally pretty good, at times. Also, 2024 James, loves 2017 James, for his bravery and courage.
Some of you have read bits of my 2019-2024 journey, a lot documented here, or have met for coffee or regular phone calls, and to you… thank you, thank you for holding me as ive shared, learned, loved, tried to understand… And those who have seen me recently, thank you for sharing the joy, the life and the happy tears, of all of this.
Did I know in 2017 that this photo would be an evaluation moment? No.
Do I remember it being taken and the feelings inside… yes.
Am I genuinely proud of myself, in a positive way for loving myself through my own self knowledge project, to today, to tomorrow and to the next… Yes.
Sometimes that different inner person just radiates outwards. We change, and our selfies tell us.
I write this as I’m on the train to London from my new home in Darlington, having moved in 6 days ago. Today I say goodbye (professionally) to my FYT colleagues on a first team day in over 2 years.
But yesterday I realised that I could breathe.
It was the first time I could breathe and let my body relax since at least 9th December. 3 months of feeling the underlying ache of anxiety and having to respond well to it.
It was on 9th December that I got the news I was being made redundant from a job I loved. The rest of the month was spent dealing with that.
It was also spent looking forward to spending Christmas with away in the USA and dealing with all the flight paperwork, permission, covid tests and travel. The time away was glorious by the way, and the break I needed, and I got engaged to my beautiful love Christelle.
But I knew whilst I was away what I was coming back to, looking for work.
Nope. Not quite.
For, on 9th January my letting agent called, I thought it wasn’t a normal time for them to call, to say that the landlord was selling the flat I was in,I had two months to move out. Yes, I know it was longer notice than usual , but it was nice that the date of my birthday this year was also written large on my eviction notice.
So, now I had to find somewhere to live and somewhere to work. Breathing took on a whole new dimension. Breathing to cope. Breathing to stay regulated.
Trying to respond well in the midst, meant living it, not necessarily writing about it. It meant accessing the therapy homework, journalling feelings, breathing.
My rational brain said that my flat was just bricks and mortar, but given the role it has played in my healing, recovery and rebuilding, it had become so much more. I went through feelings of betrayal when I saw new flats. Even though I knew I had no choice but to move, I still didn’t want to.
My rational brain also wondered how I’d find a new flat in a competitive market without a job that was more than a few hours per week. Thats a rational thought..isn’t it?
I kept reminding myself that through all these life circumstances that they were just that, life circumstances, they weren’t all of life. I tried to tell myself that I am the sky, not the clouds. Life is bigger and I am more than these circumstances..even if these circumstances are challenging. They will pass.
Even if the Sky/cloud thing is a good metaphor, doesn’t mean that I didn’t struggle with dealing with the emotions of everything. I could sense myself trying to say ‘Im ok’ when I wasn’t, and avoiding wanting to face the emotions of frustration, shock, grief and loss. I could say that I was a model patient of myself , noting my emotions and being present to them. But that wouldnt be true. Even after sitting in the emotion, noting it, breathing and working through it was a good thing each time. Didn’t always mean that I wanted to face them every time.
And everything I didn’t it lurked in the background a little bit longer, chipping away as I avoided it.
I may have re read Eckhart Tolle during these last three months on being present and learning acceptance, but I had to do it. Accepting, going with the flow, offering less resistance. Opportunities may be waiting, but feeling acceptance, trusting the present was a hard gig. By the way also read both of Kishimi and Koga’s books on courage during this time. Maybe life circumstances like this are a good time to read Adlerian psychology. Or to do a counselling course at college. Maybe pain is where more is revealed. Maybe pain and change is a time for learning and digging deep. Or maybe just self help books are my current drug. Then again, as I remember, Richard Rohrs book Falling Upwards started all of this 4 years ago and that was read as I was made homeless and jobless then too.
Just heading through Doncaster. If anyone is here for the travel update. Talking of trains, they, and nature have been places of calm in the gaps. Being mesmerised looking at life through binoculars forced the present to be more aware.
Looking at nature in its pattern, regular trips to cowpen bewley woodland park to watch kingfishers, swans, and owls have been hugely grounding.
The space that was my safe grounding place was now a place of tension, as the boxes began to be filled, as shedding happened, as the date loomed. Outside breathing space was more required.
But then I’d see sunsets and nature changing, and it remind me of my own situation. I would be my own metaphor. Yet I was trying to stay present an see what I could see for what it was. Then I’d remember to breathe again.
Positive news of changes emerged, new job and flat were found, I had been accepted and affirmed by others. Now I needed to continue to accept the changes, to accept and make the move into new things. It is now a week since I said goodbye to my old flat and I’ll write more about that soon. But as the removal men left having unpacked my stuff, at 4pm Thursday I clenched my fists and exclaimed ‘Yes’ I did it…I’m home.
I did two hard things at once. More than that, it was a myriad of many tiny hard things, making choices, viewing flats, interviews, travel, whilst also staying alive, cooking, resting, shopping, self care during it all.
And saying goodbyes. Which I hate doing. This was also something revealed to me. One of many things.
I’m now nearly at Peterborough, and the WiFi signal on the train is fluid and maybe a sign to end this piece. Reflecting on my last 3 months. Noting how the last 3 days have felt peaceful and calm in comparison. Noting how practicing breathing in the cloud gaps is different to when the sky is clearer.
As for metaphors this piece might be a cork piece. I was dealing with too many things to write much here, writing this piece and now that I’ve moved, I’ll have more head/emotional space to do more writing. There’s at least 10 drafts started in the last 3 months that didn’t get written. I’m grateful too for those who have offered presence during this time, sitting , listening, and understanding as Ive worked through all this change, especially to my love Christelle.
Breathing clean calm air after facing and doing hard things. I feel light again, I can breathe…
Theres a reason why I made the logo to this page purple.
Purple became a healing colour for me.
As a weird coincidence I watched 2 films in the summer before I left the family home for the first time.
One was 12 Years a Slave.
The other was ‘The Color Purple’
Both astonishing films, both moved me to tears.
Both began to help me see something. Just began a tiny bit.
Abuse is sneaky, and so is the controlling slavery of it.
Not easy watching, but good watching none the less.
Fast forward a matter of a few weeks.
In the confusion of having left the family home, and the emotional clouds and fog.
I do have some freedom. Just the tiniest bits to breathe.
I manage to negotiate my own bank account, and even though I’m only in a one day a week job, and no house, but staying at a friends, I have the smallest speck of choice. Having to buy my own food and travel.
I also have a small amount to buy, for myself.
A new duvet, towels as I left with barely anything.
What I noticed was that I started to buy things for myself that were all there same colour.
Purple.
A purple towel
A purple jacket
Purple socks (in and amongst other colourful sock colours)
Purple T shirt
I start to see purple everywhere.
When I chose a fleece for the winter, I chose a purple ‘Tog-24’ one. I still have it.
Purple felt like it became a ‘thing’
Purple.
A cross between the peaceful blue, and the fiery red – that’s what i googled to see if there was meaning.
I had always been blue. Peaceful, compliant, giving, surviving, silent
Red was slowly entering.
Slowly.
My healing colour was the colour Purple.
It was weirdly unintentional at the time, but maybe it was trying to tell me something.
Colour was also returning, from a place of grey and ash.
Blue was almost a default colour, blue was the only way to be and survive, from childhood and onwards. I wasn’t red and fiery, blue pacified. Blue water evaporates with fire, though it can also quench it.
I started to notice the purple. I started to feel more like purple than blue.
I was changing.
I was beginning the tiniest journey then of seeing colour.
I realised this week that I’ve been able to breathe for 2 years now, these were the first two years I’d been able to breathe in my whole life
I remember when I walked into the flat 25 months ago and being emotional in front of the estate agent. Realising that this was going to be my space, my space to look after, my space to look after myself in, my space , haven, calm
My space, to make home. To light candles, listen to music, read, and enjoy life in my own pace.
My space to determine boundaries of what I listen to, read or who I allow in
My space to look forward to coming home to after leaving it
My safe space
I can breathe
Stop and slow down
41 years of emotionally abusive home space, with 2 in-between of working/living in houses with gap year teams, with me being the ‘responsible’ one
2 years of being able to breathe
2 years of being enough, 2 years of listening to my heart, 2 years of not having to revolve around the often crazy unpredictable needs of others, 2 years of being just me.
2 years of healing from the 41 years previously
2 years of starting to see
Healing requires time, safety and connection, and in the process, self determination to make decisions, take control, for me about putting myself first, making decisions for my own good.
It makes me stop and realise quite how unhealthy places are when breathing isn’t possible. When eggshells are the only floor covering and avoiding fighting or fawning conflict is the only reality. That’s not to mention lies and gaslighting, and trying to constantly work out who the crazy one is.
It’s worth saying here, if you’re the one creating eggshells for others in your relationships, or family, through manipulation, control, bullying and neediness then maybe decide to give it up. You can change. Problem is, that you’re unlikely to read this. But…
If you’re not breathing you’re not living, you’re just surviving. I was just surviving all my life. Ignoring every attempt of my heart to make itself known. Just surviving. Bouncing from one crisis to another. Fawning over the needy anger of toxicity.
Breathing for 2 years, learning to be me. Realising who ‘me’ is.
As I write I’m on holiday, camping in the rain, and up to now, my few holidays have been busy ones, climbing, walking, city breaks, and I’ve filled my days. Today I’ve tried to do what I am learning to do in my home. To stop and enjoy a ‘doing nothing’ day.
Yes I’ve walked a short distance,but no rushing for trains , or climbing hills, just a short meander to the village a walk by the river and now just time reflecting on it as I write this, in a tent in the rain.
In the past I realised that I struggle to slow down, in the last two years I’ve realised quite how much I’m able to slow down.
Business was my ongoing distraction. Busy work, busy hobbies, busy. It’s no wonder that I’d wait to get ill during Christmas holidays only, when I had the time and my body relaxed. This was the pattern since childhood.
Learning to slow down
2 years of being in and feeling like being home.
Safe
Rest
Breathe
I’m sure I have more healing to do, as more layers are uncovered, as I listen more to my inner child, as I draw, write and play. But for now, a mark to note two years of being able to breathe, and feel new life, growth and change.
Thank you to all friends and family alike in their support and encouragement to me in these last 2-3 years, and to Christelle whose healing, loving kindness is a joy
In my last piece I shared a little about how we love ourselves through healing, what it means to be kind on ourselves, as we do so, forgiving our missteps, not over dwelling on the tiny attempts to try that fail in the bigger picture of overall healing. Today I have come across this concept. Post Traumatic Growth, after reading this tweet.
The staggering thing for me is that this is only 10%.
But then again, I realise that looking back how many times in the last 10 years I ignored the warning signs. How scared I was to try and deal with things that I couldn’t describe. How I thought I could just ‘keep going’ and be ok (a trauma response in itself).
Thats me overthinking to the point where it was ‘safer’ and ‘easier’ to stay stuck, swirling in the muck of abusive relationships.
Healing is undoubtedly about growing, and changing. As you change, others around you either do, or dont, and reveal themselves through their actions (even if their words say something different).
And to anyone reading this, especially, but not exclusively men, – lets not be afraid to change, and become a better version of ourselves.
That ‘self-help’ guru that you dismissed in your criticism, that you now have to admit is right… thats ok. Humble pie is good, when it means that you are healing too.
That breakdown, that illness, that continual knowing ache… might be the sign and symptom that is trying to tell you something, that something isn’t right, and a reason to stop.
One of the key factors in helping me to grow, was that 2 of the friends who walked with me through the easiest time had also been through therapy, had also experienced what I had in different ways. They were the wise guides, showing me paths that I could take (though never forcing it).
I recognise some of myself in this article. I have been relentlessly optimistic about my own capacities since I was about 11 and a strong, if coherent, sense of self, even in the difficult times, and doing lot of practical and written tasks to keep going, though I also know that my coping styles were avoidance , not wanting to deal with things. Maybe thats a key one for us all.
Learning to turn around and face the trauma.
To name it, see it, and understand it for what it is.
To deal with the root thats been nagging away.
It was for me. Maybe it is for you.
Theres definitely no sense of ‘look at me ive made it’ as I write, dealing with trauma is an ongoing struggle, healing and recovery takes time, and requires so many new, daily moments of inner work. Its too simple to say ‘What doesnt kill you makes you stronger’, too trite. As in this piece..
But as stories and literature often reveal, it is possible not only to recover from trauma, but to actually grow from it and flourish. Suffering has long been romanticized in literature, art, and folklore as transformative and empowering. There is an element of truth to this concept. But it needs to be looked at more closely. Simply experiencing suffering and trauma does not guarantee that you will become a better, stronger person for it. This attitude is a trite and irresponsible one that men for centuries have used as an excuse to abuse their children in the name of “toughening them up.”
Also, this isnt trying to say that ‘if you do this, X happens’ , for me the growth happened in the process and took a lot of work. It’s not a promise, but it could be a new reality. Its about how to rethink the abuse, how to put ourselves in the centre of our lives, and this takes significant effort.
Right now, approximately 50% of you who have experienced trauma are reading this and saying, “I’m supposed to be grateful for all the crud that happened to me? Each day, I struggle for even a modicum of what other people take for granted. There’s no amount of ‘growth’ that can stop me wishing this hadn’t been my life.”
Post-traumatic growth is not a given. We’re not going to gloss over the long arduous road to recovery from trauma that for the most part does not feel victorious or courageous for those who are on it. However, at least 50% of survivors have found that they can begin to define themselves and their communities by their strengths and that in no small way these strengths have been forged by adversity.
“Out of the hottest fire comes the strongest steel.” – Chinese proverb
My hope is that this piece is an encouragement to you. Not a burden of expectation. My hope is that it causes you to see what can be possible, what is possible. We dont choose the trauma we have experienced, but we can start t choose how we heal from them, how we live our lives from and beyond them. In the midst of it all, tiny shoots of green start to appear. They may be tender. They may be small. But they are there.
Additionally: Since 2020 its not just a personal thing, trauma, whilst we have all experienced the effects of Covid in different ways, how we rebuild from it, healthily may have something to do with what our reactions have been during it, this piece on ‘Why PTG might be what we all need in 2021′ has some helpful insights in it.
James Ballantyne 