James Ballantyne

Tag: Emotions

  • The Joy of First Time Puddles

    It rained today.

    Actually, where I was, it more than rained today

    Rain bounced off the roof today

    Rain flooded the cafe patio where I was today

    And it deluged the country lanes off North Yorkshire today for about 4 hours.

    And it was so bad, and spectacular some people took photos of it.

    So did I

    But I was inside. With the other sweaty walkers who’d made it indoors – filling the cafe with a stale damp smell of wet boots and jackets.

    And by three hours later the water had cascaded down the hill, and it was sunny at the top, and most of what was evident in the photo above, had dried away.

    But that’s not really what I wanted to write about. I wanted to give you the first part of my afternoon.

    Rain.

    As I drove back I saw something far far more remarkable and precious.

    28 Miles later and I have driven down the hill, over the A19 to Northallerton and making my way home.

    When I’m about a mile from my house and driving in the 30mph zone and about to queue for a roundabout.

    It has clearly been raining here too.

    The paved ‘pavement’ with its undulating slabs and grass edges was holding pools of water, substantial ones.

    And next to one of these pools was a navy blue push chair, containing a baby, the handle of the pushchair held by mum.

    Standing in the pool of water on the pavement was a tiny blonde boy. Navy blue dungarees, blue trainer shoes.

    Must have been about a year old, not much more.

    Standing still in the water, water about as high up to the top of his soles, so, not too deep.

    He was standing there as if this was the first puddle he had stood in in his entire life. Spellbound.

    Not splashing the water, running in it – but just standing in it.

    Feeling it.

    Noting the moment.

    Amazed.

    Then I thought, given the lack of rain, and his age – it might well be the first time he has seen a puddle.

    Seeing and feeling a puddle for the first time.

    Standing amazed, raptured. That feeling.

    First

    Time

    Puddle

    And it was pure joy.

    And watching it, for that split second moment – was pure joy too.

    Seeing childlike curiosity and joy – was joy in itself.

    Maybe that blue dressed blonde boy reminded me of someone…

    Maybe it was joyful too to see how the mum was letting the boy just ‘be present’ in the puddle and feel it

    It was ‘just’ a moment. But it was a ‘joy’ moment.

    A moment where I saw the little boy in the arena – the little boy in the puddle – the boy risk being himself – the boy risk the reaction of others – and have this moment validated by his mum.

    The boy experience the feeling of being wet. (and not just in a bath)

    Its easier to watch the rain and take photos of it, and moan about it, or be bored and frustrated by it.

    It was easier for me to stand on the edge of the arena and avoid the feelings, and watch as I didn’t take part in being myself in life. It wasnt easier, it was, as Brene Brown says, about numbing, shielding and hiding my vulnerabilities for the sake of survival. Watching life from the edge, disconnected.

    Watching the boy in the puddle helped me realise how I started to feel.

    How I needed the safety to dip my toe into the feelings – of metaphorical water.

    To let myself feel

    Feelings ive found can be like puddles, they can be like waves, they can be like waterfalls.

    High Force – County Durham – Sept 2022

    Some are pleasant, some are calm, some surprise and some feeling like a downward uncontrollable swirl, sometimes the water is warm, other times it’s cold.

    I used to try and wear layers of waterproofs, heavy boots and umbrellas and lather myself in oil. Anything to avoid and protect myself from getting wet emotionally. Or stay in the warm spots of looking into and helping others with their emotions. I could understand aspects of other peoples water. But without letting my own feet get wet. Too risky.

    Im on a continual journey of keeping my feet in the water. Keeping my feet in. Not afraid.

    Feeling, the sand, the cold, the wet, the reaction.

    Feelings like rain, like water.

    Raw, naked feet and ankles.

    About to feel.

    The joy of the first time puddle.

    The joy of feeling

    And it was ok. It was ok to feel. Safe to feel.

    The vulnerability of feeling for the first time.

    Learning to feel

    Learning to accept

    Learning to be raw and naked

    Learning to stand in the water

    Attending to my human self, my emotional self.

    The raw joy of first time puddles.

    References to ‘The Arena’ are from Brene Browns book Daring Greatly – which im reading at the moment.

  • EMDR and my Anxious Mind

    When I got triggered by something a few weeks ago I went into a bit of a spiral.

    Downwards.

    And I forgot.

    My mind went into overdrive

    The words, fears and punishments from my childhood got relived into my present.

    Thats what trauma, childhood trauma, any trauma feels like.

    Mind whirlwind.

    Anxiety.

    Thinking.

    Over thinking.

    And in the midst, I forgot.

    I forgot because I had got consumed.

    I forgot who I was, I became the frightened child, the frightened me, hiding and scared.

    I didn’t even realise I was doing it.

    I needed my fiancé to keep checking in and asking me.

    The Trigger.

    Did it matter what it was? No – but it was big one.

    I spiralled downwards for at least 5 days. But tried to keep going and pretending.

    During that time wrote a bit – publically

    And wrote a bit privately – a lot of emotions out, alot

    But I was still on edge. Even after beginning to realise myself in the present.

    Beginning to regroup and rebuild

    Telling myself, that I am safe, that I am enough, that I am stronger than I realise.

    I did a great job of telling others too, but I needed to hear myself.

    But ultimately, it wasn’t what I wrote, what I read

    The things I needed to know.

    I had to learn again, and again that I didnt have to suffer alone – and my lovely Christelle sat with me on times, affirmed that I was having a trauma reaction.

    Affirmed that what I was going through was trauma anxiety.

    Taking me back to the past, unable to rest in the moment

    Unsettled.

    I forgot and also I resisted, I resisted to do the very things that I knew would help

    So I did all the other things, like comfort eat, excessive cleaning, distractions.

    Part of me was anxious, so I listened to that part

    Part of me was also resistant to and didn’t want to get rid of the anxiety, it was loving the attention

    Two weeks of the swirl, back and forth, heart racing, forgetting to breathe.

    Forgetting my safety

    Forgetting the journey to this point

    Forgetting and being over taken by mymind racing

    Forgetting my power

    Forgetting myself

    Yet in the midst of last Thursday, in the afternoon, I somehow did something that I remembered.

    Yes I had began to regroup the preeceding few days. Get myself out of the swirl

    I remembered EMDR.

    Something my therapist taught me.

    Something I had barely needed or used for a long while.

    So I sat down

    Breathed

    Closed my eyes

    And for a few minutes listened to my breathing

    and tapped either side of my shoulder blades, first quickly, then slower.

    Breathing too.

    Why had I forgotten EMDR? In the midst of a severe trauma reaction, I forgot a lot.

    The part of me that wanted pain to remain dominant raced – Tolle calls this the Pain-Body -the ego.

    Anxiety induced forgetfulness

    And what happened.

    Since I did EMDR, my brain completely stopped the anxiety patterns. And it has done ever since.

    The descending of calm on me.

    Calm. Utter calm.

    A reordering of the neurones and programming, that no amount of writing, eating or other externals would have changed. Almost miraculous to be honest, and virtually instant.

    Incredible. Its as if my entire mind has shifted. To a new place. One that isn’t racing.

    I can breathe.

    Literally 5 minutes of EMDR. After 2 weeks of trauma responding. Panic and Anxiety.

    On one hand I could be annoyed I didnt do EMDR within a few days, on the other the trigger did give me the opportunity to work through some things- part of me that needed to heal.

    Maybe I need to have mental notes around my flat – remember the good practices. Remember EMDR, or Yoga, or other good trauma healing practices. Especially when in the midst im likely to forget.

    Recognising that recovery from a lifetime of abuse is seriously hard work, so im not beating myself up, but noting what trauma and anxiety does to the memory in the present, and how it created in me resistance to wanting to, and conscious memory of what I needed to do in response.

    How a trauma reaction caused me to forget – and highlight what I might need to do to remember in the future.

  • My Problem(s) being an Abuse Victim

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

    If I go back 4 years;

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

    So I was in denial

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

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

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

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

    I was responsible. I was full of shame.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    So I was a victim.

    But I didnt know it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    Maybe. Maybe not.

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

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

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

    Affected by decades of emotional and psychological abuse. Yes.

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

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

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

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

    I would rather be me.

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

    I would rather not have them centred in my story.

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

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

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

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

    I just am me.

    Just like you are you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    Dr Glenn Patrick Doyle

  • Doing The Hard things

    Hey you

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

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

    You are incredible, that was brave, that was hard

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

    But you did it, yes you, you are incredible

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

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

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

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

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

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

    True, my friend, I did the thing

    You the hardest thing, brave, courageous, strong you

    I’m just me, anyone couldve done it

    But you did it, you did the thing

    You did the hard thing, you made it happen

    Thank you

    Do you see it now?

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

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

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

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

    So often before id hidden everything and survived every blow.

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

    Doing the hard thing meant changing.

    Changing is a hard thing.

    Well done you. Just well done you.

    You Are an Incredible Human, and so am I.

  • Hiding behind Okay

    Hiding behind Okay

    Hey again, its you

    and me

    having a chat again this evening

    How are you doing?

    fine?

    Thats what I used to say,

    Fine,

    I’m ok,

    I’m doing OK,

    Thats what I used to say.

    And if someone asked me in that slow, actually listening voice, I’d say something like;

    ‘Yeah, I’m OK’

    Why?

    Why did I do that?

    Why do I still do that?

    Do you do that?

    I am doing OK

    When sometimes I am doing nothing at all

    When sometimes I am doing nothing at all that I like doing

    When sometimes its just a pitiful voice saying Im Ok – but I don’t believe myself when I’m doing it

    Because Im not ok, or I wasn’t ok.

    I was just hiding and pretending

    It was more than that though.

    It was being the strong one, being the one who dealt with other peoples problems

    When mine were deep, unknown to myself even, and in the ‘DONT GO THERE’ category.

    JUST DONT GO THERE.

    Its more than that too.

    I didn’t want to burden you with my problems.

    I didnt want to have to need you

    I didnt want to be vulnerable

    I didnt want to not be the ‘Emotional strong one’

    I didnt feel safe – that you might listen

    I didnt want to open up that dark cupboard door, in which everything was hidden.

    I DIDNT WANT TO SAY THAT I WASNT OK

    Hide Everything – behind OK.

    Why… because of this:


    But what about you?

    So, how might you respond to ‘How are you?’ this evening?

    Whats the real answer?

    Its ok that its the real answer

    Just take a moment to listen to that real answer.

    Not the answer of your mind, not the answer you think I want to hear – the answer of the still small voice inside.

    Not the critic one, the heart one.

    The heart voice.

    How is your heart this evening?

    Broken, Weary, Alive, loved, peaceful, happy? A mixture of all of these – quite possibly

    Is your heart breathing?

    What colour does it feel to be?

    Bright red? light grey? purple or Orange? Yellow, green or blue

    Listen, feel

    Its ok to feel the fucking feelings

    Let them out, tears might be the feelings trying to flood their way out

    they might be.

    Dont say you dont have time for them. They’ll find a way one day.

    They won’t do you any harm.

    Its you, your feelings.

    Part of beautiful you is the emotions.

    Took me a while to be safe to share mine, and still it can be a struggle. Im used to hiding them and dissociating from them, you might be different.

    Maybe get a pen, or kids crayon and draw out the feelings, choose the most appropriate colour and make a mess on the page.

    I dont even care if you start by getting angry at me as you read this, Im a sanctimonious blogger who’se just discovered emotions and now writing in the 4th wall to try and be trendy. So Hate me. Start there, fine by me, make it Red, hold the crayon tight and get mad.

    Good.

    Let it out.

    Make it a messy blob, or a poem of expression. Tell it as it is. For no audience.

    Then throw it away, or sell it for a million pounds. Its up to you.

    It didnt have to be anger by the way. Draw daisies and butterflies if thats how you’re feeling.

    Sometimes the good gets ignored doesnt it

    Its time for me to go now

    But I just wanted to check in with you again, Im busy tomorrow so I wont be around.

    Im glad we talked again, thank you for sharing with yourself.

    Did you notice?

    How do you feel now?

    After it came out?

    Write that down too, and now go and get a cup of tea, like I have

    Sleep well

    Bye for now

    Beautiful human.

    See you next time,

    James

  • From Numbing to Noticing my Feelings

    From Numbing to Noticing my Feelings

    I’d probably describe myself as a former cycling enthusiast, It was a thing I did alot for good period of 2-3 year and then I found it harder and harder to motivate myself to get out on the bike. Though I have done a bit more recently. Scotland was the perfect setting, fabulous quiet roads, scenery and summer nights that were light until very late, and the odd glimpses of red kites in the sky, red squirrels on the roads, and did I mention scenery… that in bucketloads.

    I think this was somewhere between Perth and Bankfoot, but memory has gone. It was only many short 20-30 mile routes and it had a ford near the top.

    Anyway, one such route that was known was ‘The Beast’ – it involved over 100 miles, from Perth, Crieff, Aberfeldy, then up and over the back of loch Tay and over Ben lakers, Killin, Lochearnhead, Comrie, snd Crieff and back again. If you can see the little roads on this map you’ll see the route, what you don’t see on this map is the hills and climbs. A cafe a Bridge of Balgie supplied essential snacks at lunch, but the calories for them were gone after the Ben Lawers climb, and there was still 50 miles for me to get back.

    Anyway, If my memory serves me well, I completed this route three times. It was a summer thing, and needed several 70+ rides in the preceding weeks to build up to it. I didnt ever try and better times on it.

    The second time I completed it I had heard of a way of making myself cycle faster.

    In the bike magazine I was reading, it suggested that to slow down the messages from your leg muscles that you are in pain, listen to music on a ride. So I did. I borrowed a tiny iPod shuffle (it was 2011) and headphones and so, on the ride I listened to music. I dont remember the music, though I think I tried to listen to lively music for exercising and tempo.

    In effect, I was trying to numb the actual messages my body was trying to tell my brain.

    So, what happened? It told me, eventually, for though I had maintained carbs, liquids, gels, food all day – it wasn’t enough, I did complete the ride. If I remember I had suffered some kind of cramp around the route or on the 20-30 miles back. But when I got back I collapsed, on the bed, body fully empty of any energy, shaking, weak and beyond movement or functioning.

    Those messages had been screaming at me, and I wasn’t listening. Yes I responded at strategic stops for food/water – but to get to the end I was numbing.

    I feel like this was such a picture of how I deal with emotions, feelings – whether happy, sad, joyful, angry – I numbed them. I just had to survive. I just had to find ways of ignoring them, distractions, soothing, being busy, new hobbies, shopping, cooking, not stopping, to notice – then working, studying, staying in my head. My head was my safe place – but I also filled it with noise, of news, of podcasts, of opinions, of anything.

    Numbing the pain on a ride was just a metaphor for numbing the pain and emotions that I had been running from all of my life. Go faster, climb higher, ride further – dont stop to hear the messages, until..I …burn..out.

    Fearing what would happen if I could actually feel. Fearing that and losing myself in the soothing of others, denying myself, numbing myself and not listening.

    Why am I writing this today? – well because sometimes when im sitting, thinking, reading, or even processing my emotional reactions to some startling news today – an image, or a memory comes to mind – reminding me of where I was. I needed permission to feel emotions, and safety too, as well as the time to get to know and feel myself. Its funny how cycling 40 miles on bike rides was also part of escaping the childhood house.

    I can see that in this photo taken in 2012, that I am lost, and there is no life in my eyes.

    What I realised a few weeks ago, is that its far easier to ride a bike when it didnt need to do more than be a bike ride. I could relax and breathe and…enjoy being happy on a bike.

    Me in 2022..emotions on display…. a 10 year older face..but with spark and life.

    Its kind of obvious looking at these photos what numbing pain and emotion was doing to me, isn’t it?

    Instead of numbing my emotions, i’m learning to listen to them, learning that I dont need to hold them, noticing anger, fear, anxiety, and responding sometimes by swearing, drawing, moving, writing, listening – also means that I can feel all the happy feelings too, the bliss of being loved, smiling and laughing with my fiancé. I had to learn, and be in a safe place to begin to feel my feelings. Until that point I was numbing them out, like a mad cyclist on a 100 mile ride in the middle of Scotland. Like I used to.

  • Searching for Happiness, one feeling at a time

    Searching for Happiness, one feeling at a time

    I hope you don’t mind me asking, but where do you think happiness comes from? What makes you happy?

    (Hector, Hector and the search for Happiness, 2014)

    It might be a running theme this, after last weeks date night movie with my beautiful fiancé Christelle, and the piece she wrote about it, here : `The Day we Sang’ (whilst you’re there do read more of her story, of play, power and healing) , but yesterday evening (uk time) we joking said to each other ; ‘Well it won’t be as good as last weeks movie’ . It wasn’t, not for me anyway, but, it only wasnt quite. I guess Amazon Prime really does know what films we like, they must involve British eccentricity, quirkiness, life journey, discovery, love and a surprising, though maybe not surprising, moment of inner child – and that is all in ‘Hector and the search for Happiness’ – and a whole lot more besides – and it was funny, painful, despairing, violent, and contained bundles of colour and joy.

    Hectors journey to discover happiness, starts when he starts to make the journey. It starts when he starts, not when he finds. The realisation of disconnection between what he says and what he lives takes him to a place of personal angst. He gets Angry. He uncomfortably makes a change happen. He moves. In the persuit of others life coping as a psychiatrist he has forgotten someone, himself. The child that played airplanes and dreamed of adventures.

    I ask myself – what kind of happy was I wanting other people to have – if I want happy? What kind of life was I setting other people up for – if I couldn’t feel my own feelings and in self denial?

    On his journey, he observes, he writes, he lives- eventually … he feels happy. But he had to feel through the other feelings first.

    Ill not write too much more, as its so worth a watch for yourself. Should I give away the ending here.. Well no I won’t.

    What he discovers too, is that Happiness is a threatening question. Happiness is a question in a currency the world cannot cope with. Happiness could be discovered when he let his inhibitions go, through taking risks, through community, through following his instinct. Happiness is a dream sold, but is never found that way.

    It was another reminder to me, trying to control and inhibit emotions is such an easy default for me too. I dissociated from them, and my body, from an early age, survived by growing up fast and my ‘little professor‘ ruled – the adult/child. I gave up being curious and feelings – and played everything safe, stone cold safe – feelings in shutdown mode, hiding myself to be safe. What did Hector learn? What have I had to learn? That its ok to feel emotions. That its ok to feel them. Yes, it needed safety, care, love, and space. But like a car without an engine, life doesn’t work without making use of them. I was running and avoiding, not only the painful things, but also the feelings associated with the painful things – understandably so.

    Things keep unravelling for me, day by day, week by week, unravelling, not in the psychotic way, but giving myself permission to feel, having space to feel, and digging deep into the parts of me that were meant to feel anger, meant to feel love, meant to be nurtured, meant to feel grief. Only small moments cut through, the playing of Danny Boy at my grandfathers funeral, still gets me every time, that was in 2000. The rest of the time I was in survival mode, stone cold mode, avoid, or intellectualise my feelings away.

    Happiness, couldn’t be bought ..in the movie…..- it had to be felt – it was…..all of it.

    I am happiest when……?

    Hector and the search for Happiness

    Im just reading The Hobbit to Christelle; and was reminded of this:

    Thank you for reading. Maybe its time to keep discovering what makes us happy – and not just what makes us less sick, or soothes our pain – me included.

    Talking of dragons and gold…..

  • I Am The Sky

    I love this from Eckhart Tolle:

    When you are full of problems, there is no room for anything new to enter, no room for a solution. So whenever you can, make some room, create some space, so that you find the life underneath your life situation.

    Use your senses fully

    Be where you are

    Look around

    Just look, don’t interpret

    See the light, colours, shapes, textures.

    Be aware of the silent presence of each thing.

    Be aware of the space that allows everything to be.

    Listen to the sounds; don’t judge them.

    Listen to the silence between the sounds.

    Touch something – anything- and feel and acknowledge its being.

    Observe the rhythm of your breathing; feel the air flowing in and out,

    feel the life energy inside your body.

    Allow everything to be, within and without.

    Allow the Is-ness of all things

    Move deeply into the now

    Eckhart Tolle, The Power of Now.

    Why do I love it?

    Because if I stop in the midst of now, I notice that there aren’t problems.

    I can put more problems into the space, somebody else to add to my own

    But what if don’t?

    What if I create a gap in the midst – to notice myself and the space I am in

    To notice the gap between the problem exists a me, and I am not a problem, the problem isn’t me

    The problem exists outside of me

    I want to have it consume me less, and I want to step away

    And be me, and not my problems, and be me, and not your problems

    I am the sky, and I am bigger than the cloud

    Many reasons, what about you?

  • Healing through Hobbies and Interests

    ‘Tell us about any Hobbies and Interests that you have’

    This used to be one of the common questions in job interviews, the kind of thing to add in the later section of the ‘Record of Achievement’ burgundy coloured leather folder from school , but as I was out yesterday, walking, bird watching, enjoying nature, I was thinking about how this has become a ‘hobby’ and ‘interest’ and how long I might do this for.

    Why might I be thinking like this?

    I guess I started to reflect on the amount of hobbies and Interests I have had in my life – and my relationship with them.

    I sometimes think that I have gone from one hobby or interest to another quite alot in my life, and then i wonder whether thats the same for others, do other men just have one or two hobbies, and then stick with them for their whole lives?

    Some hobbies I have needed to have because they helped me to exercise and stay healthy – they also kept me out of traumatic houses for a long period of time – So – Road Cycling – which I thought I would do forever, until I met English roads, which hold no joy after cycling in Scotland for the first 4 years.. but I still have a bike – ridden once in the last year… part of this too was pushing myself, climbing hills, longer distances, physical exertion, faster, longer rides, recording them on map my ride, then strava…

    Gardening and growing food – Yay! the hobby that I though I would do for a very long time that cost alot of money…..the joy of homegrown carrots, chillies, herbs, potatoes, onions, radish, onions etc, and the despair of picking off late night slugs….but then I ended up not being in that house any more, after spending money on raised beds and equipment… but also that was another hobby that provided therapy and purpose in the midst of an awful relationship.

    What else have I done?

    Football matches? yes – and Ive supported one team since I was 8 or 9, but though I have been to a few matches, the thrill of the live game is often emotionally counteracted by some of the fear I feel with large crowds and alcohol, especially if I have to also protect my son when we used to go together. It can feel like thousands of people taking out their anger on 11 other people. Enjoyable in winning times, but not always.

    Food and Breadmaking – This is partly because I had to, do the cooking, but also I blame GBBO for this, I started bread making as Paul Hollywood and GBBO began to get more well known. I got obsessed for a few years…. I have enjoyed cooking, and I do think making food is an act of love and im glad I still enjoy cooking food in my current situation – but it was something devalued and belittled/not appreciated during previous traumatic relationships. So, bread making a hobby, cooking an essential that I enjoy for its creativity.

    Playing Tennis, Running (until I get injured), DIY (essential in buying cheap homes to do up) , Reading, Writing (like this) , Trains have been less of a hobby now, than as a child, then there were the 4 video game years, in which I spent far too long playing Xbox – mostly Fifa 07 or motor racing games. Then theres Social media, twitter, facebook – is that a hobby or something more all consuming?

    What about you?

    Do you have 1 or 2 set hobbies that you stick to, or seems to flit around doing lots of different things?

    I wonder also, how much trauma and things like ADHD have an effect/impact on this. I can certainly tell when I ‘needed’ hobbies and interests from an emotional/mental health point of view – but probably didn’t realise this at the time, or want to admit it, also I can trace some of the changes of these things as times when I was criticised by emotionally abusive people for doing them, often they didn’t like the ‘mess’, ‘the cost’ ‘the time’ that these things took, and generally making me feel bad for doing them, or having to fight to even do them, despite their criticism.

    What about Hobbies and you? Do you have them? Have you just one or two? and what is that you get out of them… someone once said to me, in terms of the things that you choose to do, do things that worship you, or that you get back. Some hobbies give back more than others, I think of how I feel when I reach a milestone cycling and how this compares to the magical moments of nature, or the satisfaction of creating something… some create environments where it becomes difficult to leave them, like football, some are more essential, some are to ‘keep busy’, and not stopping. I wonder also how many of our hobbies and interests are to take us away from the difficult things, and have our mind consumed by something else, which is absolutely fine, but again – what might it be that we’re avoiding?

    Often, the people that criticise you for having hobbies, are also the people who dont have them. Part of the criticism is that they’re jealous that you might be happy, or enjoying yourself without them. Part of it too is that they cannot reveal being happy. People make themselves very elusive without hobbies and interests, and impossible to please. And don’t get me started on the people who’s hobby is shopping… (I have a 23 part series on that person, see above) .

    Part of this blog is thinking about loud, about Hobbies and interests in our life. Things change as we get older, of course they do, they change because of circumstance, cost and time – Birdwatching and nature emerged for me during the first lockdown – yet it was something that has childhood memories too, or my grandparents. Its a hobby and interest that has therapeutic qualities, as Joe Harkness explores in his book, bird therapy, about watching, about focussing on the present, about being connected to nature, but other hobbies do that too, dont they, like running, cycling etc

    So, what about Hobbies for you? How have they helped? How might they heal? How have they changed?

    Why do you do them? What do you get out of them? How have they been contentious in relationships?

    How long will I enjoy the slow walks, birdwatching, photography and nature? Who knows…

  • Surviving Psychopathic Parenting (Part 21) Accepting delusional normality

    Surviving Psychopathic Parenting (Part 21) Accepting delusional normality

    If you’re like me and have spent a lot of your life reading or watching politics, you may know about the phrase ‘hyper-normalisation’ . I dont know who coined it, but its spoken of in depth in Adam Curtis’ brilliant documentary here. The key part in which he speaks of it, is when the people of Russia dying of poverty are living a very different life to that of which is portrayed on their TV screens, and they accept it as ‘normal’. Imagine A Boris Christmas party being live broadcasted last year. Curtis’ documentary is long, but worth it.

    Anyway, this blog isn’t about politics. Its about Normality.

    I have found it fascinating, that over the course of the last few years, especially, as I have shared my story, incidents, events and situations of my childhood and then more recent times involving my parents, I sometimes get the reaction ; ‘That isn’t normal behaviour’ , then followed with… ‘ its shocking/abusive/disturbing/manipulative’

    It isnt normal behaviour.

    But then, like Boris world, and his accompanying anger – growing up in ‘non normal’ world, is about navigating it for safety reasons – showing pretend acceptance that doesnt rock the boat, hiding and all the other things. But its one of the weirdest things to write about, is that those who create a delusional reality, that isnt ‘normal’ (but normal to them) – based on entitlement, ego, woundedness, self absorption, narcissism etc – then expect that this normal is adhered to by others.

    Sounds sort of cult like. Sounds pretty psychopathic too.

    But what about me, what about any of us caught in the whirlwind of delusion, of a person chucking out death traps all the time?

    One form of ‘normal’ they create is the one that you are forced to accept – their world.

    There is another one too.

    Theres the ‘Everything is normal’ that they determine.

    They do a weird thing.

    Imagine for a moment that you have no capacity to show remorse, shame or guilt – can you imagine that?

    So now, consider how you react after someone has called you out for your crime?

    Remember you cannot feel shame, guilt or remorse (and secretly you enjoyed the party, or crime)

    Of course, not only do you have selective amnesia about it, deny it, or blame others for it (taking no responsibility) … and hope to get away with it..again and again… but then what…

    Yes, you guessed it. They carry on as normal.

    As if nothing happened.

    Making no attempt to do any work in the relationship, because..they dont do anything wrong..remember?

    Thats one of the crazy bewildering patterns of the abusive ones. Sometimes it even is accompanied by ‘playing the victim’ and being hurt that they got found out. On other occasions it may be said that ‘everyone just needs to move on and forget about it’ or ‘you cant get over what I did, I said sorry’ – putting the responsibility on someone else again, and they create a new normal, their normal.

    Its bewildering isnt it? And thats why growing up in an emotionally abusive home, delusions become normalised.

    And everyone else goes – that really isnt normal, or thats not the way to deal with hurt or pain..

    But negotiation or conversation about the abuse never happens.

    It’s normalised. Its not even viewed in that way. Its ignored.

    Because a person who cant feel, cant accept that others might feel too.

    Everyone else is emotional and cant get over it.

    Most normal people recognise when they cause pain.

    Some normal people might apologise

    Some might have to face consequences.

    Others live in a reality in which none of these exist.

    Where everyone else is expected to see normal in the way they do.

    As a child, its only possible to navigate through the delusion with safety, and escape on the mind.

    But that delusional reality, and the trauma created as a result of it..affects..

    Every time I accepted normal as abusive I denied myself, though that core was hurting badly.

    Surviving Psychopathic parenting was about navigating the delusional normality and the price that I and everyone else paid for it.

    And then what happens when you stop…

    And realise that I deserve better, and able to stand up for myself.

    See the delusional world, highlight others to it, and stay out.