James Ballantyne

Tag: Emotions

  • Passing Places

    Ive just come back from a week holiday away in the gorgeously delightful tiny village of Port Appin, on the west coast of Scotland, almost equidistant between Oban and Fort William.

    I wrote lots, and read less, but didnt write anything here (or on my substack – if you’d like to subscribe to me there heres the link https://substack.com/@jamesballantyne1) , mostly wrote out alot in my journal and some ideas. But mainly I walked, along either way of the coastline.

    The first thing I noticed when driving into the village was that the road was single track, with passing places every so often. The village was only accessible by two small roads, and on the Monday I walked back along the road (no pavement, as you can see)

    Because at the end of the road was the jubilee bridge, across the estuary. A bridge, incidentally that was so narrow it fit one person at a time.

    The Passing places on the road fascinated me though.

    The bridge added to it as well.

    It meant that there was always going to be some kind of interaction between people (or people in cars) to negotiate the passing of each other.

    Speed was only rude. Barging past the other as likely to cause accidents.

    So it meant that entering the village was only an opportunity to acknowledge the other, a raised hand of ‘thank you for letting me pass’ or ‘thank you for waiting for me’ . Im not sure what happens on the bridge though, as in 4 days I didnt see how this would be negotiated as there were so few people.

    It was a gentle reminder to me of the passing places, and letting things pass, holding things lightly.

    As Micheal Singer writes in ‘The Untethered Soul’, so much of our internal suffering is due to ‘Clinging’ onto things, holding them too tightly, whether emotions, memories, responses and anxiety, or being so close to something we care about it too much. The Irish describe emotions and something has ‘come upon me’. But decisively it is not me.

    In a passing place two things meet, in the places in our lives, it might be many more, two emotions, work, people, feelings, fears, thoughts, dreams and pasts, all meeting with each other, and sometimes the path feels laden heavy, and entering a passing place can feel like leaving it heavier than prior to entering. We picked up more than we left down, more weight, more fear, more responsibility, something else clung to us. To the point of sometimes stopping moving. To weighted down by what someone else gave us in that passing place, guilt, expectation, shame – and yet they left lighter having disposed of their weightiness.

    On other occasions the passing takes place with no one else, its those moments when memories pass with emotions, when dreams pass with thoughts, when thoughts and thoughts pass by each other, and sometimes the two parts stick together rather than pass – and clog up the whole road, blockages, or theres tension between the two and peace has shifted.

    Prior to being away a number of things were in my passing place, lots of anger, stuff to do with work, and for quite a few weeks , the passing place was more clogged up, heavy, weighted, tension between so many parts that I couldnt see how beautiful the scenery was around, couldn’t be grateful, struggled to be anything like calm or separate from what I was feeling. And though much of that had begun to clear the week before, the image and reminder of the passing place on the holiday, early on was a tiny reassurance and remembering of allowing myself to be, and to let go of the things that were causing harm, for….they are and were not me, just things that hurt.

    I can, and you can, leave the passing places, you have more power than you realise. Yet in the passing places so much can demand our attention, combine, circle around each other – and for there not to be gentle movement, noticing of the speed, and grateful acknowledgement of what the moment was there to teach us, and softly, still gently we give ourselves distance from it, until the next passing place around the corner….

  • Joys…are there to be felt!

    Joys…are there to be felt!

    To feel it

    I had to feel it.

    Just like when I was on the beach today with my team, a day out in the glorious north east coast, at Whitley Bay/ Cullarcoats. Food was eaten, the sun was out, yes there was a westerly breeze.

    Old me would have kept his shoes on. Old me was scared to feel. Old me would be afraid to enjoy himself. Old me would have stayed in his head. Old me would probably have told people off for taking their shoes off. Old me would have thought them childish.

    Today, the sand on my feet belonged to me.

    Today, I didnt care, and it was time to let my feet get covered in warm glorious sand.

    And put my feet into the water.

    Blue Sky meets the Crisp cold north sea.

    Ripples of sand, water and sun dancing

    And my feet part of it all

    Feeling

    To feel it, it had to be felt.

    And I remember a time before.

    When my head would prevent me from feeling, because it was safer that way.

    Thats what denial, distraction, critical old me would have done. Anything to avoid feeling. Anything to stay in safe mode.

    I used to live near the beach as well. For a whole year I would walk along the beach, in shoes or boots. They were my covid restrictive walks, along the sand, glorious…but..

    watching others in the water

    watching dogs run in and out

    taking photos of the sea.

    me walking along the sand, in boots, keeping my body clothing layers away from feeling.

    scared to feel.

    Until one day I decided to take off the shoes.

    Until one day I realised it didnt matter if I got sand everywhere, or my feet wet or anything, because it didnt matter.

    I wasnt going to get told off.

    I didnt need permission

    I could feel

    I could run in. I could make splashes

    I could get my t shirt wet

    It was ok to feel.

    It was safe to feel.

    It wasnt enough to think about feeling. It wasnt enough to watch the water, to assess, judge or stay distance from it.

    It wanted me to feel it, to feel its abandonment and life in it. Inviting me to freedom, requires feeling it, even just toes, just cold, just anything.

    Joys are there to be felt.

    Joys are there to be felt!

    Thank you for reading!

    My previous piece on Joy is here…it feels like it’s a thing!

  • How Journalling has helped me (and why I found it difficult to start)

    How Journalling has helped me (and why I found it difficult to start)

    I had the weird moment a few weeks ago when I was standing in the well known outlet store ‘TK Maxx’ in the stationary and journal section, where I was joined by….another man in the aisle, looking for a new suitable journal. It was a rare experience. I have never encountered another man in the journal section of either TK Maxx, Waterstones or WHSmith. The lesser spotted male journaller.

    In amongst the array of pink, peach, ‘self care for you’ , ‘be your better self’ journals, that were mainly targeting the female journaller, in conversation we realised we were both looking for something very similar. A plain looking, plain inside journal. No ‘Year planner’ no ‘Goal setting’ no ‘write your dreams for 2026’ – just plain, so that we could write, and write without prompting.

    Oh it wasnt allowed to be pink. Sorry. Just plain. A blue, green, black or purple.

    I didnt feel like asking this random stranger male what he journaled, or what he wrote, we just looked for a while trying to find what we were both looking for.

    Given that its incredibly important that we men have healthy avenues to try and describe, write and formulate our thoughts and feelings – that it seems that its a market more targeted to women, is another tiny obstacle men face when beginning the inner journey. (dont mishear, this is not an excuse..just an observation)

    So, I journal. And I realise that over my lifetime I have written down my thoughts in different ways.

    Firstly, given that bedrooms weren’t safe, there was no way I could write about what was going on at home as a child, nor leave it in a place. Some of my girl friends (friends who were girls) wrote diaries, as did the girls in TV shows, but rarely did boys. The times that I did I kept everything factual and boring, like the weather that day, school homework and probably football scores. Thats all that was safe to be left in my childhood bedroom.

    Between then and 5-6 years ago I would write thoughts and ideas down, usually stemming from what I had read in the Bible, talks or conferences, training notes or my academic notes or ideas for essays. Rarely entering the world of my feelings, or heart – just ideas, thoughts, concepts.

    I probably baulked at the idea of doing journaling back 6 years ago. It seems like a ‘girly’ thing to do. But that I know now was my reactions to it, because it wasnt a safe thing to do in the recent or long term past. But now, I had my own flat, my own space, and I was learning to realise that i was safe to write, safe to express myself and safe to put anything I want down on paper and in any shape or form. Even if at times this had to be fought against the inner voices that were inhibiting it at times.

    I would say that I have used writing in four main ways in the last 5 years, the private stuff, not what I write here.

    1. Free writing – This can take the form of wax crayons, colours and plain paper, closing my eyes and just scribbling, and writing anything on the page depending on the feeling that wants to come out, anger, rage, frustration, hurt, pain, and it can be anything, swear words, scrawl – anything at all – sometimes its a fight to come out but I just sit there and let it, however much thought resistance there might be.
    2. Therapy homework and dreams – After one particular time of therapy I was introduced to inner child writing, and so, i have a journal in which i have an ongoing inner dialogue with my ‘self’ or my feelings, my childhood ego state, and listen, love and care for it. I do this one more often when feeling anxious, depressed, or fearful – but also, when calm too, as it’s a good way of assessing my inner feeling temperature. I followed the ‘discovery of your inner child’ book by Lucio Cappacione for a very long while. I needed to do..not just understand.
    3. Dreams. I write them down. So that I notice what my subconscious is having a play around with during my sleep.
    4. Raging words and trying to understand things. One of my journals was about trying to understand things, trying to write out the questions, the reasons, the hurt and pain of what I suffered.
    5. My Affirmation journal. I began this in 2023 (Here is the story), and continued it each day (give or take a few) , in which I write to myself affirmations, no negatives, no questions, just positive affirmations, as if the universe and its angels were looking at me with delight and then telling me, or as if I as a friend to myself was telling me my truth. Who I am. This has been utterly transformative, not using the language of lies and limitations to shape my inner voice or self any more. To re – orientate my inner critic into something small, and let me heart and soul speak into my life.
    6. The blank one. There always a blank journal on the go, for anything else, just to grab it and write something, a sentence, a phrase, a line from a book, a meme. It’s a bit like the journal equivalent of saving screen shots from healing memes on fb, that also include stuff from books too. Sometimes words just find me, and so I let them arrive and put them down, sometimes these become titles for blogs too. Oh and more recently writing poetry has begun from this.

    For most of these I use coloured pens, to express myself inwardly, and also because blue and black are too close to official colours of study or work. My inner life deserves purples, pinks, greens and yellows, and feelings often emerge in colour.

    I have used writing in a number of ways to listen, and speak from my pain and trauma, from my heart and to my wounded parts, and as the process has continued I have developed different strategies as different aspects have required attention.

    I definitely didnt start this process thinking ‘I am going to journal’ though maybe it was likely given my blogging history and love of writing academically, that writing was going to be one way that was going to be a very useful tool for my healing processing and journey. I did find it painful to start, to force myself to write deep things, as I had spent so long writing thoughts and ideas and my inner heart and feelings were so locked, shamed and hidden away. It was always going to take time, and the guidance of psychological professionals to help me unlock and unblock.

    Sometimes it’s a quick grab of the paper and write down something, sometimes I realise that ive been fighting myself for hours and I just needed to sit, and write and listen and respond. It doesn’t matter, it’s just day by day doing the work, rebuilding, noticing, revealing and loving my self through its own expressions.

    This has been, so far my journey of journalling, what about you? Id love to hear in the comments below your hints and tips for journalling and how it has been part of your healing journey through whatever the situation has been for you.

  • Growth Conditions (on the inside)

    Growth Conditions (on the inside)

    One of the concepts I really like that I have used in some of my community work practices, is that of ABC, and it’s taken from Deci and Ryan’s stuff on self -determined growth. I first found it in Jocelyn Bryans book ‘Human Being’ :Insights from Psychology on the Christian Faith.

    A link to Deci and Ryans stuff is here. Basically how I have tended to share this has been about how young people, more pertinently, how three key factors are required to enable us to be able to ‘grow’

    They are A – Autonomy – the capacity to make decisions about the things that are important to us

    B- Belonging – it’s all about relationship…. but felt safety, felt sense of ‘home’ , being valued, being seen…

    C – Competence – Having the opportunity to do things, take risks, have positive feedback, ‘go beyond’

    Thats it in brief. So, when I share this stuff i normally do so on the basis of the ‘external’ places where these things happen…. or dont… and so when young people (or anyone) feels that they dont have these things, or maybe only 1 – then its unlikely that they will be able to flourish/grow in balance.

    A place where there is felt safety – but no challenge o autonomy might get boring or belittling…

    A place where there is challenge- but no relationship or autonomy might be task heavy, uncaring and disempowered…

    How might all be present, to the extent that a person requires in in a setting, and then, what’s required in a place like a workplace to keep someone in a role, when these things aren’t there. Higher pay? Better conditions? enforced compliance?

    Not every situation is going have ‘all three’ in balance, and maybe thats an impossibility given our individuality, however, in situations where 1, 2 or 3 of these is seriously lacking… and maybe there’s a thing too that some places offer one of these, because of the damage of somewhere else, and people embody these as much as places create them too.

    Yet, I was pondering all this over the last few weeks, given that I used this ‘model’ in a conference recently.

    And I was wondering, how might this all be applied on the inside.

    What if instead, the ‘place’ of growth wasnt the external place of the school, youth group, workplace etc… what might it be if the place was the ‘community’ on the inside?

    The heart, soul and mind in community – linked with thoughts, memory and experience?

    So often I have realised that what I tried to create for others…..I needed myself….

    On the inside….

    What might felt belonging and safety feel like – inside? – a place on where emotions are free to come out and play…. all of them , a place where inside there is a sense of calm, and not urgency, fear or danger…. a place where the talk inside is caring, soft and loving? A place inside of connection and harmony. The inside can rarely feel safe, more a barren landscape that can be thought of in fear…..

    True belonging……. on the inside…..

    Autonomy – on the inside… the ability to make decisions about thoughts and emotions, distinct from the thoughts and emotions, having a sense of control rather than bewilderment, overwhelm and where there’s is choice. Choice to act in a way that is conscious. Inner choices to make assessments of emotions, and thoughts.

    And what about Competence. Inner competence. To feel internally proud of achieving and making hard changes, in behaviour, whether this is addiction, dependence, whether this about self protection, or whether this is the day by day, step by step of seeing, feeling and becoming more awake. Brave steps to face stuff on the inside and work through them, rising to that challenge, often reluctantly or belligerently. Often starting with the externals, the relationship, then working on the internals, the default protective patterns, that are self prisoning. Competence on the inside as a process of ongoing healing from trauma and growth amidst it…and beyond.

    All of these are required for growth. All of these are required in the process of inner deep healing.

    I was reminded also of these yesterday as I watched Brene Browns TED talk again of 15 or so years ago, and the path of vulnerability.

    Im just pondering really, giving these some thought space… what might be required psychologically on the inside for healthy post traumatic growth?

    Maybe these are markers that inner growth is happening?

    And yes its ‘only a theory’ but just pondering….

  • I had an Anger issue, but had to pretend I didnt.

    Let the flame of anger free you from all falsity

    (John O Donohue, To Bless the space between us)

    In one of the books I am writing at the moment, I am about to talk about the feeling and emotions around Anger, it is already half written, it needs expanding, yet, as today I read the blessing and prayer above, it has caused me to realise the complexities of how I didnt deal with anger, or couldn’t.

    I share, because I know I am not alone in this, not at all, I share because the damage we do when not dealing with anger in the right way can be horrific both for ourselves and the people we love around us, those who we transfer it to.

    A few weeks ago I was talking to some friends of mine, with foster kids, they shared how the kids would rage and destroy things because they felt angry about what had happened to them, as they realised how they had been treated. We both agreed that this, was a good thing, for them, that pain is so raw it has to come out.

    In the conversation, I said, that it took me 40 years to be in any position to process what had happened to me, and have any sense of anger about it.

    I remember a friend react with anger as something my parents said to them, and I witnessed them be angry and punch the door, at the tender age of 15, I said, ‘theres just no point in being angry’ or words to that effect, because I had to delegitimise being angry for my own good, and I had shut this all down, because for me, to survive was to stay small and quiet. But someone else, my friend, in their home was safe to be angry.

    I held on to it. I held it inside.

    No emotion was safe, so all inside.

    Playing sports got some of it out, and I pushed myself hard at this from 12-40 in different ways.

    Talking to young people about Anger Management in my late 20’s was all about me hiding and pretending that by ‘being calm’ that was the way to deal with it all.

    And even though I had probably realised that Anger wasn’t a sin (just something I had held inside) from better theology, I still couldn’t be angry, denying the self, meant staying emotionally small and invisible..and safe this way…

    I did my best to add things on top of the inner pain. Keeping busy, being responsible, adding more things that were brain things, study, read, write, think, get consumed by sport, politics and the news, adding more on top of the real, layers upon layers. Burying the real.

    I couldn’t be angry about the real thing, so I directed it to other things; politics and twitter, blogging, being harsh on my kids when they were v young, the dog, these got my anger at times, because they were ‘safe’ to receive it.

    Was this a conscious thing at the time, not sure, but it was how I was trying to cope.

    I couldnt be angry because I had a reputation of being soft, kind, patient, caring, loving… keep up the facade… and yet inside so much was hurting, raw, empty, and still in survival mode.

    And, because a survival technique as a child was to ‘be there’ to soothe other peoples emotions, especially those who were also abusing me, I internalised that my emotions weren’t important, though other peoples were. Soothing other peoples angry was a safe place.

    It was a matter of feeling like I had to be the strong one for others. I could be safe for others, whilst feeling false and dead inside.

    Had to be good, Had to be helpful, had to be ‘christian’, had to be mild, had to be small, had to accept, had to be ‘grateful’, had to please others, had to…

    I couldnt be angry because that would mean that me and my feelings had validity, and that wouldn’t have been safe or acceptable. So I denied the possibility, I denied myself.

    I couldn’t be angry about what happened to me, because I had been given the suffocating rope of responsibility within this, so there was no one to be angry about it… except myself

    So I internalised it, and gave in, caved in to comfort eating, self neglect, self criticism, being annoyed at myself, despair, self loathing and shame – yet trying to hold it all together….to keep face.

    Even transferring it to others, in ways such as cynicism, passive aggression, sullen awful behaviour.. created a negative cycle of shame and further torment, and I was utterly miserable. In a pattern I could see no way out of, and felt responsible and condemned through it all. Shame cycles. Avoidance cycles. But I knew no different and had to be strong and safe for others.

    Bottling it inside, sullen energy, masking, yet reacting to everything, a mess. A hurting, bruised, mess. When pricked, acted like the frightened hurting teenager, sullen, moody, that even as a teenager wasnt allowed to be.. lid on. Raging inside with no where to go.

    All this took considerable energy, but survival and avoidance was the place of known comfort for decades.

    I couldn’t be angry at was happening to me, because until I was 40 I didnt fully see it as abuse.

    That’s the bewilderment of emotional abuse, especially by narcissists or the emotionally immature. (Check out a few resources here on this, they helped me see this for what it is, there’s also tons of this stuff on You tube, I like F Rieberson on it here)

    I couldn’t be angry because I felt shame to feel angry. It felt wrong to be angry.

    Anger wasn’t valid, because Anger meant facing reality, and facing reality was only going to be difficult, and at that time I had no where to feel safe to even start this process, and no one I thought would even know or understand what it all was.

    I was running from the external monsters, like a frightened child, running from the reality I couldn’t and didnt want to face, and running from wanting to deal with all the feelings inside and how I had tried to deal with it.

    Not being angry, was a falsity. I get it now.

    Holding Anger in was a blockage, it meant I couldn’t feel anything else, not fully.

    I was stone. Suppressed rage. Suppressed pain.

    Lifeless.

    Starting with realisations, self awareness and safety in many ways, I began to recognise what happened.. but it still took a while to deal with the anger. It was as if I had 40 odd years of it stored up and I was afraid of it, pretending it wasnt there, too self conscious to want to feel it.

    When a friend 6 years ago told me to swear and use the F word, it took me almost 30 minutes to meekly say the word. I was so scared of that feeling, the shame of letting out the depth of feeling, i was so inhibited, so afraid.

    Afraid of letting out a reality in myself… that I was angry, and it was valid, I was valid. Hiding truth had been a falsity, and I was protecting something that needed dealing with.

    And I did.

    Within the safety of both therapy and my own safe space of home, I wrote.

    Red crayon, red pencil, anything, and felt every bit of rage inside come out by letting the crayon write deep, painful scribble and lines and anything.

    Moment by moment, memory by memory, trigger by trigger.

    It had to come out.

    It had space to come out.

    It was better out.

    And yes tears, many…rage.. a lot… but all leaving…

    I began to let some of what was held inside… go…

    I wrote other writing, that will never see the light of day, but it had to just be given air to and let out

    I started to feel the truth.

    I became more able to stand up for myself and create boundaries in saying no, to them (and to others).

    Anger made me realise I was important, and vice versa.

    I had to finally recognise that what I had experienced wasn’t my fault.

    I started to feel my heart burn

    I started to feel… my heart at all

    Pretend peace and suppression became slowly slowly something real.

    Something real beyond.

    Somewhere real beyond a place I was comfortable in for too long.

    Somewhere I had to go.

    How am I today?

    Like I said in a previous piece, it’s so hard to describe.

    There are moments when I feel angry, desire and hurt and pain…because thats one colour of my heart- red – and this is legitimate and beautiful!

    There are moments when I feel peace, joy, wonder and curiosity – and thats a different colour too – orange or purple – equally beautiful too!

    And much much more, but previously everything was grey.

    Now life is colour, life is joy and my heart feels utterly alive and open.. and I love it! But God it’s taken work… but so so worth it.

    I didnt want to get real about my stuff. It felt too big and I didnt feel worth it to do so.

    And you may not want to either. You may not be able to. But my friend if you are reading this, know that there is nothing to be frightened of by feeling angry, it means there is something wrong and something needs to change….

    To take the courage to realise that you are important and worthy to be angry and act.. for your own good.

    What we get angry about is rarely the real thing, and is often expressed in places where it’s safe to, rather than directed at the situation that it needs to be.

    It could be a whole other things beyond it, like grief, frustration, overwhelmed, injustice… Anger might be the cork..released to enable us to see other things..

    What we can get angry about is how we’ve been treated and its time, time my friend to let that anger burn away the falsity, so that you, your truth and your being may emerge and be felt.

    And so, as I write a book about the feelings of anger, I realise how my own anger ‘journey ‘ has been so so complicated, but writing it, and this today in a place of health and light.

    Anger is real. Anger is so so real. I was trying not to feel it, but it was still real.

    If you are suppressing it and damaging others….. time to face this too…

    Anger… It may heal you, it may make you and take you to your truth.

    May it free you from all falsity.

  • 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

  • There’s no such thing as bad feelings.

    Every time I click onto my ‘WordPress’ app on my phone it gives me a different question prompt for the day, as an example, todays is ‘What do you know about where you live’ , and normally, because there’s often a few hundred answers recorded and I dont always want to answer it, I ignore it.

    Yesterday however I was about to. It asked the following question:

    What positive emotion do you feel the most often?

    I looking at this whilst I was out and about shopping in the morning, and so it occupied my thinking around Morrisons.

    My mind went to times of deep content and happiness, about the times of being at peace and still, about times when I feel safe and loved, and I smiled a little reflecting on these as I was doing my food shopping. It felt good to have a bank of experience of good feelings and emotions to draw from.

    So I nearly answered the question.

    But then I stopped myself. A tiny bit.

    I realised that as I was thinking about the question I had fallen into a bit of trap.

    in which I was labelling ‘good’ emotions and ‘bad’ emotions – or positive feelings and negative feelings. (and I know emotions and feelings are slightly different but im using them interchangeably here)

    And by doing so giving so called ‘bad’ feelings a further reason to avoid them or feel fearful of them, if they are ‘bad’ then I can have reason for feeling shame for having them – anger, fear, distress, frustration, grief , yet these are all part of the human experience – more so – they are part of your and my collective humanity.

    I have had to dig deep over the last few months, circumstances that ill not disclose, have caused me to face a number of situations, that have required intense emotional energy, both in fearing, in feeling injustice and feeling horrified, angry and grief.

    I know in the past I would have faced difficult situations with a Stoical ‘I will survive’ kind of mentality, or dismiss my own feelings at the time, for others, or project anger or grief elsewhere (Twitter was great for this). More often I would avoid the feeling, it was shameful and unsafe to have them. I had internalised that having feelings made me a bad person. So ‘Im Ok’ would suffice.

    By being stoical and ‘avoiding’ the deep emotions and feelings – that included anger, anger that revealed grief, and grief that meant loss, I would keep all of that buried underneath. I couldn’t have feelings, and definitely not ‘so-called’ bad ones.

    But suppressing feelings and emotions – meant not experiencing life, its goodness and beautiful moments too. As I read recently Sensitive by Hannah Jane Walker, she described the effect on a child of having parents who nurture or ignore a Childs emotions and their expression of them. My parents stole my emotions, to comfort themselves and keep up pretences. The more I realise this, the more that I understand the complex nature of what I have had to work through to be better and healthier emotionally, for myself and others.

    Back to digging deep, I have days when I can sense that I feel unsettled, out of kilter- mainly also because I have an experience of days in which I feel calm, content and happy too – I can sense that there is ‘something’ and nagging feeling – and I can make a choice as to what I do with it, and I know there are days when I dont want to. I know there are days when I become afraid of what I might be feeling or wanting what is behind it to reveal itself.

    I am never upset for the reason I think

    Eckhart Tolle, A New Earth (Taken from A course in Miracles)

    The temptation , because of learned behaviour, would be for me to avoid whatever it is. It’s more than likely to be be painful. At least that what ‘that voice’ says in my head. Those days then become a bubbling pot of anxiety and forgetting to breathe. They do more damage in, than out.

    I wonder if the problem isn’t the feeling or the emotion itself, but our relationship to it, and the means in which we have to express these healthily.

    So the labels of ‘good’ feelings and ‘bad’ feelings aren’t helpful, they are what they are – feelings.

    They happen, and it is better to notice them, feel them and find ways of giving them healthy air.

    If you’re anything like me then you may have felt unsafe expressing your feelings or found a way to talk your way out of them, suppress, deny and invalidate.

    So it makes it more of a challenge to do this when feelings get associated with judgement like good or bad. Ironically – a ‘bad’ feeling about something.. might be a good natural early warning sign – that you can choose to ignore or do something about – it’s a protective good thing, potentially.

    I was wondering whether there might be a better way of ‘collectivising’ feelings and emotions- could they be like tools in a shed, or toolbox – different feelings appropriate and used in different ways – but this metaphor almost give the impression that when we see a need we can choose the right tool, but feelings can be more intuitive and instinctive than this, its not a matter of picking the right feeling for the occasion, its that those feelings accompany the occasion or situation, and its important to adopt a healthy relationship with the feeling.

    How do you respond when you can sense the feeling? Does a critical voice tell you off for being joyful at something you felt joy happening? or a voice tell you that you’re not supposed to feel a certain way? Because, you are allowed to. It’s totally natural. Totally. But that voice suggests that it’s not valid, not to be trusted. A feeling, is just that a feeling, and whilst it’s not to be fully trusted every time, it’s equally not to be dismissed or ignored either – or invalidated. It is neither bad, nor good, it is what it is.

    Those feelings aren’t bad, but need appropriate attention and releasing, space and warmth to accept them, to become friends with, to feel them as they are, in all the human messiness and complexity. There is no shame in feeling, there are no bad feelings.

    But, there are pretty awful things that we can do, because of giving into anger, fear or grief, and thats something different altogether.

  • I am not my Pencil Case

    The other day I was reading Eckhart Tolle’s A New Earth, it is quite a remarkable book, its probably the third time I have read it in the last 18 months, and whilst it didnt have the same spiritual effect on me a The Power of Now did, it is high on my list of books in which the process of reading has been a spiritual experience.

    On Page 189; Eckhart writes this:

    Nobody can tell you who you are, It would be just another concept and so this would not change you. Who you are requires no belief. In fact, every belief is an obstacle. It does not even require your realisation, since you already are who you are. But without realisation, who you are does not shine through into this world. It remains in the unmanifested which is of course your true home

    Tolle, A New Earth, p189

    And as I was reading this I looked up at my high, large window ledge. On it was my coffee cup, a wedding photo of Christelle and I, and also my clear pencil case, full of a mixture of wax and pencil crayons, and fine tips for colourful writing, and expressing in my private writing.

    I looked at my pencil case.

    Breathed, a slow deep breath

    And realised..

    That I am not my Pencil case.

    It was a bit of revelation.

    I could see my pencil case.

    I am separate from it

    I can watch my pencil case (it wasn’t moving)

    I am seeing it.

    I am looking at it

    It is in the universe

    But I am not my pencil case

    It has contents, a mixture of them

    And I can slowly or quickly choose them in a number of ways.

    The pencils have labels, colours

    Yet they are just what they are

    They may be broken, some underused

    Some pencils left at the bottom, my least favourite colours for writing.

    Peach, Grey, Brown.

    But what do I mean?

    I know I am not my pencil case, surely?

    Yes.

    But who am I, if I am not my pencil case?

    Am I my contents?

    Am I my past?

    Am I my labels?

    Am I my emotions?

    Am I just an object? just a tool?

    Am I what others made me out to be?

    Am I just a container, full of these things?

    Feeling sometimes broken, sometimes raw, sometimes colourful, sometimes grey.

    Feeling sometimes the tools connected to the writer.

    I am more, or maybe I am less

    Maybe all, Maybe I am the universe and I just Am, all at the same time

    Connected and Isolated

    Embracing natures warm bliss, and treading a tightrope of trauma

    Gentle steps, sometimes joy, sometimes anxious

    I am , I just fucking am.

    I am not what I can see, I might be a seer

    Yet I might get stuck, hiding away, trapped inside, like crayons waiting from the zip to be undone, waiting to be creatively safely found again.

    I am not just potentiality

    I am not an identity

    I am not a toy or a gift

    I am not a tribe

    I am, I just am, more than just am

    I am not my pencil case

    I am trying to listen to who I am

    I am feeling who I am

    I am trying to work out how I can be me.

    But I am not my pencil case,

    I just Am.

  • Healing my (non) Anger.

    Anger is a Sin

    Dont you dare get Angry

    Good people dont get Angry

    We Shouldn’t feel Angry when we do

    A good boy doesn’t get angry.

    Anger will turn someone away

    Anger will mean someone else has to take responsibility for my feelings

    Anger is to be avoided

    I didnt want to be angry like they are.. when they got upset.

    I internalised all of these, and I think other myths about Anger.

    Time to stop believing the myths about Anger.

    Yet I knew about anger…in theory… because like a ‘good’ youth worker I delivered ‘Anger Management’ classes..about 15 years ago.

    I could soothe and listen, but had absolutely no experience of processing my own anger. With the exception of bottling it, and it being released in cynicism, and holding it all in.

    I couldn’t be angry and expect others to have to deal with this. I had to be the one who dealt, responded even, to other peoples anger.

    I didnt know what ‘being angry’ to the point of letting these feelings out.

    Thats why discovering saying the ‘F’ word began a process of helping me to release the metaphorical cork on the bottle.

    I Mis-managed my own anger. Conditioned since childhood.

    Anger gives me power. Anger enables me to take action. Anger now helps me realise that I have something to protect. Anger creates boundaries.

    But its new, and still new for me, and im learning to be healthily angry.

    I used to say ‘I dont get angry’ but what this meant that I suppressed everything.

    Much Anger comes from Unmet needs

    Melody Beattie (Codependent no more)

    I was scared of my own anger, because I didnt know what it would be like.

    Yet, without anger, and rage, there might not be the point beyond it to know what the actual source was and is, and experience the peace beyond. The thing we’re frightened of is often the thing that controls us.

    Silent rage is destructive. If you’re not actively, consciously releasing anger, your holding on to it. And this is not doing you any good

    Edith Eger . (The Gift)

    So.. what did I do when I got angry this week. We’ll firstly I noticed that my despair at a situation only lasted for about 1-2 hours – in the past this may have lasted longer, I may have sunk, frightened.

    But instead I realised that I could be angry about it.

    I swore, a lot.

    I threw a few cushions.

    I drew with large crayons on paper, let the scrawl take what ever shape and told myself that it didnt matter it just needed to ‘come out’

    And then I wrote, words, phrases, to the situation, to myself who had to deal with the situation. About my needs.

    I talk more about my relationship with Anger here in my latest video

    /

    I think I used to try and bypass my anger to try and find a place of calm, yet that calm was often like the proverbial shaken champagne bottle, calm, but raging.

    Im learning to be better at this. Im learning to have a better relationship with my emotions, and sometimes get opportunities to practice…..

    It took me a long while, and it required small practice steps, of even just re-learning to swear.

    Time to bury the myths about anger.

    Time to deal with it, ourselves.

    Time to let it out and not feel judgement about it.

    Notice, let it out, and listen to it.

    Anger is a defence. Burning through it and the fear and grief is revealed underneath. Then its time to forgive ourselves. (Edith Eger)

    By not releasing it were denying that we werent victimised or abused or that we’re human. Making ourselves numb. Pretending to be Ok.

    What’s your relationship with Anger? What do you do to release it, and then process the core needs underneath it?

    Its time to un manage it, time to express it

    Time to make it a healthy part of us.

    Time to be human and feel it

  • Trauma’s long Thread.

    I was given a picture this week that has , so far, been helpful to me.

    Its about string… or rope…

    I was in conversation with someone who has supported me for a while through some of the challenges ive faced in the last few years, in the conversation I mentioned that whilst I am feeling generally good (and this is true, I am) , that I had ‘moved on ‘ beyond some of the things that were requiring of the support, and this is also true.

    But I could sense in myself that a number of things recently had cause me to be triggered, affected, and I was in danger of reacting to them.

    It doesn’t matter what they are, but they are stories of abuse investigations in churches, the swirl of conversation, and realising that although I wasn’t involved, I realise quite how easily I may have been as easily manipulated, and how my emotionally spiritually abusive childhood would have set me up to be so.

    Did I ever think that I had been able to ‘let go’ of the string and cause the balloon of 40 years of abuse to just fly away?

    Did I really think that? No, but maybe I hadn’t been able to create a way of explaining the dynamic of journeying through life with that upbringing as a shadow, as a thread, that plays sometimes a larger or smaller part.

    I had let go of the string.

    Originally it was a tight rope. I was trapped. Only with an ending in sight go leaving home at 18. Until that point it was in a toxic swirl, a large tight rope that surrounded me, suffocating, squeezing, unable to breathe, relax, unable to feel. Just the metaphorical pain of the rope burns.

    Until I could see the rope, for what it is, I was led to believe I was self tightening it, that it was my rope to carry.

    The balloon string used to be a thick rope.

    I had to distance myself from the rope.

    It could be let go of, I could now detach myself from the rope.

    But as my support person said this week to me.

    The String is long.

    The balloon at the end of the string has lifted off, but the thread that is attached to the balloon is long.

    Its got a lot of ‘lifting off’ to do before it has finally left.

    I realised that there are things that happen to cause me to grab hold of the string.

    And when I do, its as if the string has been coloured with a dye, and its infected me, my hands turn red, its transferred its mucky dye, and I need to noticed this, and let this cleanse out of me too.

    I got angry this week, it was my detox, to get the dye out, to protect myself again. I got some ‘fucks’ out in the privacy of my own voice, my flat and in drawing them. No plates or property were damaged… ;-)

    The string is long.

    What if I accept that the string is long?

    Actually, I have to.

    The string may be all forms of dye. It is death.

    Yet it tries to give off a spark.

    It tries to make itself invisible too.

    Just so that I touch it. Just so that I forget about it, with the hope that it gets reignited.

    And it gets the chance to release its poison.

    Other times it convinces itself that its ok to touch, and by then its too late.

    Sometimes I do completely forget the string. Its when im having fun, its when im not thinking about it, its when im in the flow of something else.

    But other times, accidental and known cause the string to be more obvious. Anniversary days, Stories of abuse, Safeguarding training even.. All to one extent reminders of the string..

    But I can still choose.

    I can choose how close I want to get to the string.

    I choose.

    What if I do something whilst holding the string – the string wants me to blame it, to play victim to the string. Tightening the grip.

    Circulating the poisonous dye even further. Taking away my own power to choose.

    I have that power.

    Being friends with the string is to accept that it is there. It’s not to fight it. Resistance is futile and hard work. Acceptance.

    A lifetime of abuse and the string is long.

    But it doesn’t suffocate. Its is just there. It exists, and im not scared of it, just finding new ways to live with the string.

    Its just a long string.

    It requires warm playable hands to let it through my grip, to flow.

    To gently notice the string and put it in its place.

    Better to notice the string and let it go, again, walk away from it.

    Accepting that it is long.

    Noticing it and being able to talk to it, from me, the real me.

    A type of mindfulness.

    Loving myself releases it

    Loving myself cleanses

    Loving myself, doing for myself, creating fun and colour… is more rewarding that the ‘attractive’ colour dye on the string, however sparky it hopes to appear.

    Accepting the long string, the threads of abuse, is better that pretending that it doesn’t exists and trying to be completely free from it. Its not realistic, its not helpful.

    I have felt so so much better this week as I have began to accept the string, and in doing so detach from it.

    Maybe its about keeping the darkness close, being friends with the shadow, so it can be talked to.

    Its been a helpful image for me this week.