James Ballantyne

Tag: feelings

  • Why you are more than Enough

    Hey there

    Yes you.

    The beautiful human thats reading this

    One of my readers.

    Thank you.

    Just thank you, not

    for reading this, or liking it

    not for what you’ve done.

    But just for being you.

    Thank you

    You are enough

    The World is a more beautiful place with you in it.

    You, yes you.

    So, thank you.

    Even if you don’t believe it, yet.

    It is true.

    But what about you, I wanted to have a chat with you

    Yes, you, you could be my beautiful fiancé in San Diego, the folks in Ireland who read my blogs first (usually), my readers in the UK, Canada or the Philippines. You could be my family, my friends or anyone…

    It doesn’t matter.

    Its you thats reading this right now, and I want to speak to you.

    Yes you

    I have something to ask you

    Are you ready to listen?

    I mean, really ready?

    I mean, turn off the TV, sit for a moment and prepare yourself listen?

    Dont be scared now, honestly

    You might think I’m crazy to ask you this, but thats just the thing, crazy is just the thing that is abnormal, and normal is crazier than we’d like to realise, thats another story.

    I hope you’re not scrolling quickly, to get to what it is I wanted to ask you,

    you’re taking your time.

    Time.

    Whats time anyway? And no thats not the question, its another tangent… but have you ever thought about time, and how weird it is? To think that that time is on a clock, but memories , thinking, actions and words, seem to exist in a past, present, future dimensions that all get mixed up and thats not on a clock is it, it’s just the now. The now.

    Im writing this in the now. Right now. But your now is now and my now that was now is past now, but you might share this and your now will one day be in the past now, but that thing about time – you thinking about in the future and it’ll come ‘back’ to you, but in the future. It’s to be discovered, but not ‘back’ – maybe ‘back’ is in the future after all. By the time I clicked publish, my now has already gone.

    Sorry, I got distracted with the whole time thing.

    On the subject of sorry. I realise that I forget you sometimes. You, the reader. If I was writing a book, id think I was writing for you, the reader a bit more, id talk to you, with you, and not ‘at you’ or use you like a cat uses a scratching post. Im itching and I write at times like I need you to be a collective therapist, or I want to write so that one day, one person might be helped by something I might say. But I’ve got to be honest, more often than not, its a splurge of mixed up emotional dumping. So, im sorry. Sometimes I do this, the crap dumping, so im sorry about that, I dont treat you very well at times, they say respect your readers, and often I dont even give you a thought. This is a blog not a book – and you haven’t paid £12 for this, but I would understand if you didn’t want to waste 20 mins of your time listening to me process the crap from my childhood, or something I read in another self help book, more keep being added to the resources list above, by the way, discovering myself is feeling like a life work.

    Discovering myself.

    Becoming aware, of who I am.

    Thats the question my friend.

    Who are you?

    Three words, three small words.

    Who

    are

    you?

    Stop and think about it a while

    Pause

    No really, who are you?

    Fellow human, Who is it that you are?

    I just wanted to ask you, as I am asking myself, Who am I?

    I used to ‘think’ that I could think myself into the answer.

    I am good at____ or clever at____, or think of myself in relation to others, I am a fiancé, Dad, friend… or I am a youth worker, I am in relation to a profession, or even a faith, I am a Christian.. …and some of these are still true.

    I could ‘think’ myself into an answer…

    Deep down – who am I? in myself?

    Me, myself and I

    Who am I when I notice myself?

    When I realise that there is a part of me thinking – but that part of me is able to notice who is the thinking?

    That there is space between the thoughts?

    Can I muster just one little space in amongst all the millions of thoughts every day and every moment, but what if I did, give myself time to notice my thoughts?

    Give myself time to notice my thoughts..

    hang on

    who is me, and who is my thoughts?

    is there two of us here?

    A thinker and a watcher? really?

    So who am I really? – Who are you?

    The thinker or the watcher?

    The dream or the dreamer?

    If I am the watcher of the thinker of my thoughts – then..who is the watcher? Who am I

    And..I am not just thoughts, my brain is not just thinking

    It…can… stop…

    Who am I then? Who are you?

    Did you notice… you?

    Who are you then?

    More beautiful that our thinking, perhaps

    Ive got a surprise for you.

    Its time.

    Its time, that now, you notice.

    That space between your thoughts is not to be afraid of, because thats you.

    Part of you waiting to be discovered, your consciousness waiting.

    A gap of no thinking, where joy can be.

    What did it feel like for you?

    Thats you.

    Did you feel it?

    You are that joy.

    It is there, in a gap.

    It is in a gap of you.

    WOW. Isnt that incredible?

    You are Joy.

    It was hiding all along.

    Did you smile when you felt it?

    Im smiling as I realised it too. Im smiling as I realise that one day you might read this and feel the same. Im smiling as you’ve received a gift of joy, a gift from the universe.

    I didnt think you’d mind, knowing this…actually feeling this.

    Free joy. Free space

    Thats all, I just wanted to talk to you, and ask you something, and on the way I discovered things too, and maybe you did too. You are a beautiful human being and the world is a better place because you are in it, you are more than enough, especially if you think otherwise, because..those thoughts are just thoughts…between them, is consciousness radiating with joy – and thats you.

    If you smiled, might someone else?

    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…..

  • What my Projections began to reveal

    What my Projections began to reveal

    Although I might have considered myself a ‘not very judgemental’ type of person, borne out, mostly of a combination of people pleasing, empathic behaviour from an early age, and also adopting youth and community work values, stemming from human values that were of this nature from my studies. Strong empathy on one hand maybe, maybe even non judgemental at times too – I definitely did judge though, often as a form of a projection, this could be to organisations, or people groups. A classic one would be to say that a group of young people were ‘hard to reach’ – from an organisation point of view – but that was more likely a reflection on my own practice in engaging – rather than their responsibility.

    That was from an organisational point of view – project outwards to hide personal defects or deficits. Many projections I made came from what I did not have, critical of what others had.

    Im just reading ‘Born to Win’ by Muriel James and Dorothy Jongeward, in it they very succinctly describe the process of as an adult learning from projections saying:

    A projection is a trait, attitude, feeling or bit of behaviour which actually belongs to your own personality but is not experienced as such, instead it is attributed to object or persons in the environment and then experienced as directed towards you instead of the other way around

    Perls, in James/Jongeward

    So its something that is in my own personality – that I might either be aware or unaware of, or in denial of – that I communicate outwards, yet it resides in something of my own more than it does others. Most insults are projections. Most of what I heard by my abusive mother was projections. One was;

    ‘Look at _______, they are spoiling that child’

    When this translating as, I am actually neglecting my children, and justifying this as ‘not spoiling’

    So what about mine.

    In the above book they share another example:

    ‘The picture of being rejected – by first his (or her) parents and now his (or her) friends is one the neurotic goes at great lengths to establish and maintain. Whilst some claims might be true , what is also true is that the person has failed to live up to ideal expectations or standard he imposed on them. Once he (she) has projected his/her rejecting onto the other situation, regard themself as the passive object of all kinds of unwarranted hardship, unkind treatment or even victimisation’

    (Perls: Getalt Therapy Verbatum) (gender neutral alternatives added)

    It was only when I became aware of what I did not have that I realised I was projecting. In a twist of irony, where my parents projected that other parents were spoiling their children, and emotionally damaging us, my own projections focussed on the luxuries of others, whilst not being aware of how I was in denial of myself. I dont need self -care, I can manage without…. or ‘look at them going to get their fix’ , what I understand now is that I can use my projections to listen and learn to myself and see what it is that might be part of my own personality. I wince at some of my blogs on my other site, or even here.

    Whats also clear is that unsurprisingly, my childhood family communicated in the language of projection. It was what Sunday Lunchtime was, complain and project about everyone in church that morning, its what conversations were after seeing family members – ‘everyone else is damaging/toxic’ . Everyone else is the problem… so as I grew up its no wonder I can see how it was easy to fall into the same cynical critical stand point. As a child there was no way of knowing or realising what was going on. I had learned a way of hiding what was deficit in myself by projecting outwards.

    On reflection, can I continue to be brave and courageous to realise where my current tendencies to project outwards might reveal personal deficiencies in my own personality?

    What might it mean, like to quote says above – to read the lines of projection in insults?

    What do I – what do you accuse other of – that might be self-lesson waiting to be had?

    This is a brilliant article on exploring projections further, do give it a read – on why we use projections as defence mechanisms, instead of owning and expressing ourselves.

    Reference – James & Jongewald, Born to Win 1996

  • True Courage

    True Courage

    Im learning courage

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

    Not the courage to be disliked, or happy

    But the courage to listen to the frightened parts of me

    The courage to love those parts

    The parts of me I hid away

    The part of me that hid away those parts

    The parts I hid away, in a safe place

    The parts of shame and guilt

    The hidden needs and wants

    The dreams and ambitions

    The pains and the joys

    I chose to hide them away

    Safe, from my abusers

    Feelings I hid- not acceptable, not appropriate

    Mask truth, lie to adapt, lie to survive

    The part of me that hid things

    To control, to keep safe.

    But now it is safe, for me to love

    Love opens the door to let light into the hidden places

    Love is gentle

    Love is kind

    To myself

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

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

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

    One abandoned, hidden, neglected child at a time.

    Spiritual partnership by Gary Zukav

  • Heart Writing

    With the exception of days like today (April fools day in the UK) , I’ve always believed in writing about things that I thought were true. Today is that one day when, over on my other blog I like to do something a little bit light. But it is only for one day. The rest of the time over there on my learning from the streets blog I have shared about what I believed to be true, true about society, about young people, about faith, about church, how my head, how my eyes, how I have seen the world from a particular perspective. It has been true, as truthful as I could be. Maybe not complete, but at least me trying to be authentic, trying to write.

    What I didnt use to write about was truth from my wounds.

    I tried to to hide it behind advice for others.

    I tried to give – with barely anything in my own tank.

    I may have written truth to be useful for others

    But for myself? I’ll admit, writing for the sometimes the rush of numbers of views or reads, or share, or even nice comments, likes or emails in return, sometimes.

    Writing so that I might be important, writing that I might be useful

    Writing so that I might be needed, or popular.

    Writing as a veiled cry for help.

    Sometimes, rarely, I write from just my head.

    My head was safe, my head was useful, my head contained all thinking of theory and practice and reading and processes and intelligence, my head was where I existed, true….but not complete.

    I notice the difference now.

    I notice when I write from my heart, not just my head

    As I experienced wounds that caused me to change

    As I felt, not thought

    As I hurt, not understood

    As I worked through, not avoided

    As I became open, so my heart became

    Theres something about freedom from all that trapped emotional bondage, pain and abuse that causes me to want to write about it, and share, something, so that it might be that something for you, as it has been for me.

    A gift that I have already opened, that is for you too.

    What is the truth of my heart now?

    Honestly? Its a bit tired, but its calm, and after 4 months of high drama, anxiety and worry, its learning how to be still again (see previous blog) . To embrace what might feel like boredom after high emotional tension. Thats the truth. The truth of my wounds is that im pre-wired for emotional tension – Ive been trying to work out and solve the psychological mystery of the damaging others in my life, fear, terror, shame, pain, gaslighting, neglect, emptiness – that calm, can feel like boredom- the adrenaline has ran away.

    Writing from the truth of my wounds – that’s what Anne Lamott writes in her book Bird by Bird, writing from the truth of your wounds.

    Writing the truth, that gives the opportunity for truth to set others free, from the truth of my own freedom. Write about love, and joy, and childhood and when you felt everything – she says.

    But I didnt feel everything.

    I closed everything off because thats when it was safe.

    I avoided and wanted to hide away.

    I didnt feel. I felt so self conscious about feeling anything that I couldn’t – shame and guilt were it all – and I hoped Jesus would take it away. And Jesus did, as well as even more of my emotions.

    I gave my testimony aged 14 at an event where I made up ‘feeling suicidal’ as a child, just to try and have a decent testimony, because even then I didnt have a cool testimony of drugs or prison and I knew I didnt. I said something like ‘ I wasn’t very good at committing suicide, and look here I am now’ aged 14 joking about suicide. Aged 14 joking about something I so wanted to do, escape from being alive.

    I had experienced that escape before. As a toddler and even up to the age of 4 or 5.

    To escape the world, I held my breath.

    For as long as I could until I passed out, until I went blue.

    I passed out and took myself to the invisible place, the dark place, a place that was away from the present, away from the lights, the pain and the neglect.

    And then the world would return. I’d still be on the floor.

    Write about your childhood, says Anne Lamott , write from your heart, write about the feelings. I have to try hard to get to mine, they were shut away for so long, I think as I read what she says, feelings need safety to emerge. What feelings did I have as a child?

    Feelings of expectation, feelings of responsibility, feelings of where I felt I was having to go through life alone, feelings of deep embarrassment, of blushing severely, having a face that would go red, and ears that would go red, being bullied at school by girls. Theres no surprise, that didnt change. How did girls aged 7 know that this little boy of 5 was easy to embarrass and pick on? They didnt do it to others? Maybe its because there was nothing in me that knew how to stand up for myself, to run away, to ignore, so I would just take it. It took another 38 years for me to actually learn this.

    My word, speaking truth is taking me to a whole load of heart wounding places. I didnt even realise or connect all of this, until then. Write from my wounds. It might be interesting for one of you.

    But thats not the point, I dont really care if any of this is interesting to you, or any of you, theres truth and fire in my heart that wants to come out and express itself, in different ways, on different days. Its the truth about what happened to me 40 years ago, 20 years ago, or only last week, as a heart that was neglected, hidden away now experiences the joys and challenges of life – and some of the in-between moments too. Healing for men, or healing for me.

    Writing from my heart might be messy, silly and playful, the child wanting to be free, that inner child feeling the sun on his face, crushing sand on his feet, and running into the water of writing, loving and living. Perfection is the tool of the oppressor, and the truth of life is messy, silly, loving creative and free.

    Write from your heart, your wounds, your life, write authentically, write so that your audience trusts you to be you, dont write to manipulate, or patronise – says Anne Lamott, and maybe this blog is a response to her book that ive just read, as I work through writing truth, and writing about the lost feelings of childhood, trying to dig deep into them. So thank you Christelle for the book for my birthday, and thank you Anne, for encouraging these writing hands and fingers to be, to be real, to be me. That was the point of this blog Healing for Men all along, to help me to write from my heart. I think its starting to happen.

  • Feeling the soul

    I can’t be understood

    I can’t be thought

    I can’t be bought

    I just am

    I am only felt

    I am only listened to

    Soul

    Heart

    Soul feeling

    Voice between the thoughts

    Inner life

    The dark night

    The prompting voice

    Wants space

    But doesn’t demand it

    Waits

    Soul feeling

    Feel the breath

    Feel your soul

    Feed it silence

    Nourish with space

    Love the soul

    See it, give it, let it

    Be felt

    Be transformed

    Through the feelings of your soul

    Feel it

    Feel life

  • Fake grass and our emotional well being

    I grew up with a small understanding of tools.

    My Dad was, and still is, a very practical man, the shed and garage was full of saw, drills, spanners, screwdrivers, bits of wood, metal, nails, screws, pipes, plastic, levers, sawdust..loads of sawdust and grime , my Dad was a self employed Plumber and heating engineer, and basically everyones favourite repair man in the town.

    We didnt even have a car, we travelled around on a bench in the back of ‘the van’ , shovelled in to a space that in the weekdays was also a home for work bags, tool boxes and the dust sheets. The same tools built and redeveloped our entire house (as well as everyone elses).

    Used in the wrong way tools were harmful, some blades were sharp, some drills too heavy and powerful for even an enthusiastic 7 year old to use, some tools were the wrong ones selected for the job, some tools will make jobs easier, some harder, depending on what you wanted to do. The grass could be cut with scissors, but its not worth it, hand sawing wood at times very hard work, not worth it on some occasions.

    But that kind of makes sense, doesnt it, selecting the right tool for the job, when cutting the grass, making a shelf, wood turning or refitting a gas boiler?

    And the tools we select for finance work or academia or community work – are also honed, cultivated, chosen, practiced and reflected on, for the purposes of the task in hand, to be effective, meaningful, quick, cooperative or productive.

    As some of you may know, and from my other blog (Learning from the Streets) , One of the books I have been reading this year is this one

    The English Pastoral by James Rebanks. Its a true story about the changes in farming in the last 100 years, compared to the previous 1600 years, though there were changes in medieval farming, to rotational farming, and then with the intensity farming with the development of fertilisers, chemicals and so called efficiency. Do have a read. Its ultimately fascinating.

    One of the things he says towards the end of the book, and throughout is that farming is precedented on the ongoing quality of the soil and how this affects everything, crop growth, wildlife and ecosystems, all of which are important for the present and future.

    But what he concedes is that one of the principle tools that has brought the most disaster, ecologically, is the one piece of equipment that farming has relied on for centuries.

    The Plough.

    The plough breaks open the soil, exposes it to the harsh realities of the weather, disrupts nutrients and ecosystems. Its a staggering thing to admit for farmers (p239), it’s like saying that church buildings are harmful for Clergy or calculators for economists.

    So in understanding about the need for the quality for soil to be preserved that new, or maybe older ways of farming, and a change of tools is required.

    In our understanding of soil – there is a requirement, for a number of reasons to change the tools – if we want to restore, preserve and maintain the health of the soil. If farming pushes on regardless with chemicals, responding to profits and supermarket demands, the tools are items of destruction. But only if different motivations about the meaning of life, and the countryside and ecology are changed.

    So, what about us? As individuals? As Men..specifically?

    What about Emotional tools, rather than the physical ones?

    If our life is about the ‘bottom dollar’, work and efficiency – what might be the cost? And what tools do we use in dealing with emotions, when money and profit are the main motivation.

    I can say, that diverting, distraction, hiding, pretending were the tools I used for emotions, because that was the only option I had. They were the only emotional tools I had in my tool box.

    What are the tools you’re using, that without realising are causing long term harm? Is putting off dealing with difficult emotions your way of coping ? is it go through the motions of work, drink, sport, sleep and back to work again without any recognition of being a person with emotions – unless its about getting drunk and being angry? In the same way you might re decorate a room – what parts of you need some attention? Whats the quality of your soil like? Full of life? or dry? barren, lifeless?

    What damage was that doing to me? What damage might it be doing to you?

    Did I value the very thing all life stemmed from, the soil of my heart, my soul or mind? Did I love myself? What part of me was being destroyed – for the sake of what?

    Tools may have been given to us as children growing up, explicitly or implicitly about how to grow up, what was expected of us, what rules to keep, what to value, what to not – and for some of us those tools may well have been the suitable ones for life and to enjoy it, but thats not the case for everyone, when my therapist asked me what guidance I had growing up from my parents, I struggled – I knew what not to have done after the event, but tools for life? hmm not so sure

    We might still reach for the wrong tool, without knowing other tools are even available – new pain experienced, old tool grabbed for. Same pain or experience, same tool, same pattern, same again…and its ok…start to see the pattern…

    What tools did you receive – when dealing with emotions – that without realising are damaging you? Which are you trying to deny space to work and deal with? Are you avoiding? Are you digging a hole with the wrong tool? Or trying to cover over the cracks with a temporary grass , that looks good, but is ecologically disaster ?

    Other people, even those close to us, are giving us nods and hunches all the time that we have stuff to unlearn, to see differently, to have the nudge to change – they see things we dont always. A new tool might be required for a moment, that we might default into distract or divert, deny or depress – when it might be better to accept, to feel, to open up, to listen, to respond. Fear might keep us using old tools, loving ourselves, and others might help us to pick a new tool out of the toolbox, its not a hammer with a blunt edge, but a delicate chisel, to sculpt, shape, mould, gently.

    New growth in a farm without a plough takes time. Its the same as dig free allotment gardening. But, nature does recover. It just need humans to help it, not destroy it.

    Maybe its time to realise the damage of our old toolkit, thank it for what it brit, made and kept safe, but a new us requires new tools. Theres pain in throwing out the old equipment that served us well, but maybe its time for something new. What of your behaviours feels like the plough? And maybe thats the one to talk about, to be vulnerable about, to seek professional help about, maybe its time to put the nutrients into the soil and grow from goodness and depth.

    100th Post!

    Thank you for reading and sharing and liking my written work here on Healing for Men – ive just noticed that this is my 100th piece, so, I just wanted to thank you for all your encouragement and support. If you would like to make a small gift contribution please do click the link on the right. Thank you all

  • Its time to realise our wonderful bodies

    My body is wonderful

    And so is yours

    Have you ever noticed?

    Said those words, to yourself?

    Thought of your body as wonderful? Just as it is?

    Its no more wonderful larger, smaller, fitter, leaner, younger or older

    Because it is wonderful, just as it is.

    Have you ever noticed? Or stopped to?

    Then do so

    Why not try now?

    As you read this, with your mind open, wriggle your toes

    Feel your bones move, each one

    Your ankle and foot

    What is happening in your body as you wriggle your toes?

    Can you feel the movement? Can you tell?

    Your body is so wonderful it doesn’t tell you what it has to do every time you wriggle your toes

    or walk

    Every bone, cartridge, joint, muscle, tendon, all the fluids and skin

    As you read, your eyes watching, feelings deep within.

    That you can hear the noise of traffic outside as you do so

    your mind wondering

    did you forget your toes? Wriggle them again

    wriggle them fast, slow, and feel.

    Seems ridiculous doesnt it

    but thats the point

    To feel our bodies.

    Why is ridiculous? We all have them, bodies. (unless you’re a robot reading this, and you’ve been made by a body)

    What else about your body is wonderful….

    all of it

    Trying to escape from them, keeps the pain in them

    Tormenting the body, to feel pain

    Shame, blame, pain locked deep within, a carcass we thought nothing of.

    Our bodies are wonderful

    For what they are

    Sense it, enjoy it, feel it

    Its easy to forget, our body

    As just a tool to house our ever thinking mind

    As just a tool to pummel in the gym or working the land

    A tool to create life

    Reducing our body to a machine.

    As men, our gaze is often outwards to see the beauty in the female form

    But what about ourselves?

    Or the physical specimens of the sportsters and athletes, and we feel we cannot compare.

    So lets not.

    Lets give our bodies more healthy attention.

    Yes yours, and mine.

    A body so beautiful and complex, we will never understand, but we don’t need to

    Bodies housing all that shame, expectation, fear, guilt and pain, its no wonder we think so little of them.

    Undervalued by religion, the object of advertisers desires.

    Your body is wonderful, and so is mine.

    What it does and how it is held together, and how it thinks, feels, sense and communicates.

    Its never to late to start to love yourself for who you are, not just what you do, accomplish or create, but who you are, body included.

    Awaken the love of your body, listen to it breathe, feel it as it moves.

    Breathe life into it, feed it time, not just food.

    Treasure it, love it.

    Do the ridiculous thing, and think of yourself as having a wonderful body

    Try it…

    Stop reading…

    Wriggle your toes…and smile.

    And realise, just wonderful your body is.

    Though if you wanted to read more on this, try The Body keeps the Score by Van Der Kolk, or The Power of Now by Eckhart Tolle.

  • Is ‘It’s OK for Men to cry’ too simple to say?

    Is ‘It’s OK for Men to cry’ too simple to say?

    Its ok for men to cry

    Is said often. But I was wondering whether its said too often, without any thought about the complexity of this.

    I wonder if it’s said too easily.

    I wonder if women need to hear this message too.

    So its not just men who need to hear that its ok to cry.

    But its not just ok for men to cry. It should be ok for men and women to express their emotions.

    It should be ok, but often it isnt.

    Its not just men that have trouble expressing emotions.

    Its not just men but women too who have been unable to express emotions because its has been unsafe too, since birth often.

    Cant get them out.

    Cant show them

    Cant be seen to be not in control

    Cant be ‘not the stable one’

    Cant be the one who has to rely on others

    Cant be the one that doesn’t look like they are coping.

    Cant be the one who is vulnerable

    Cant be the one who isnt holding things together

    Because. Men do cry.

    They cry when their team gets relegated.

    They cry at movies

    They cry.. with other men, when..everyone is crying.

    So they do cry.

    But maybe its that we men find it difficult to cry about something relating to ourselves, or..in front of the people who we’re meant to be responsible for, emotionally.

    Its not as straight forward as to say that its ‘Ok for men to cry’ – we need to ask why, and not blame men if they cant

    Tears are good- and it shouldn’t be judgemental for men to cry

    Its ok to acknowledge and feel the pain, when it hurts

    In fact, we need to feel it.

    Feel the pain of being unloved, neglected or abused, by parents or partner

    Feel the pain of death, grief and loss

    Feel the pain of bereavement, unemployment, and yes the disappointment of the football team.

    Its ok to feel

    Its never ok to take that feeling out on others.

    thats why we need to feel the feeling differently, by feeling it.

    Want to be a strong man? Then manage your emotions and self.

    Its not ok to try and hold things together whilst wounding everyone around.

    So…let me ask..

    Who were your emotionally aware role models? When were you given the opportunity to begin to master your emotions healthily?

    I wasnt – but were you?

    Not until therapy a few years ago.

    Where might you start now? A therapist? A book like ‘The Power of now’ – its just a start remember..but maybe start..

    Men, its ok to have emotional needs, and wants and to admit it – as it is for Women too

    Its ok to stop and feel

    Its more than ok.

    Its more than ok and be the best version of you, that is real, that feels, from deep

    Its ok to let your body feel. To let it well up, and start to feel it.

    Maybe its not that Men, or women are ok to cry – but more to clock where and when they do.

    There are those who really cant though, and if you’ve followed my stories above, you wouldn’t be surprised to know that some peoples tears ive seen are crocodile at best.

    Tears cleanse. They release. Bringing out emotion from the heart.

    Maybe thats it too. We’re ok too cry when our team is relegated, but not if we’re heart broken by loss or bereavement.

    Maybe Healing for Men is about realising that those phrases are complicated. Of course its ok that men cry, healing and being the best version of ourselves is about being closer to the pain of our bodies, our emotions, and learning to accept, feel and manage our emotions.

    And yes, often we can be in charge of others emotions, but have barely stopped to deal with our own.

    Maybe its time to not pretend that we’re ok any longer. To avoid, run or try and bulldoze our way through the pain.

    Maybe its time to start working on ourselves

    For our sake. Because we can do better.

    Because we can love ourselves, even if we’re trying to after not being loved.

    We can feel feelings too. I can feel feelings too.

    Learning to cry, and be angry…also means we can feel the happy, the joy and the pleasure alot more easily, and dont you want that in your life too?

    Our emotions can be rollercoasters, and thats ok, staying on a level plane is causing us more pain.

    Take a moment.

    To feel.

    The real you.