I realised something today in doing a Mental Health Awareness course with work. It was that I am so proud and pleased with the journey I have been on When in the past suicidal thoughts were common from the age of 9 When negative thoughts crowded my mind, constantly When I gave in to self soothing behaviours When I felt shame When I disconnected from feelings When I couldn’t look anyone in the eye – when they asked.. ‘Are you ok?’ When I lacked any joy, dreams, or self worth When I was in survival mode When I travelled through life sacred, bruised and with a lingering depressive state.
So…as I sat in the room, I realised the extent to which I have dug deep, how much I have faced fears and inner demons and stood up for myself, how I’ve sought professional help. Sometimes it’s just important to be grateful for the journey…the one before ..and the one emerging …..
It meant pushing through with the motivation to ‘get out’ and walk, in the grey and wet.
For it was miserable.
I left my flat in a break of sunshine.
Arrived at the walk point with rain clouds, and horizontal cold rain.
And waited in the car, long enough to unsteam the windows, and at least wait for the rain to stop.
And it did.
For a tiny moment.
It was muddy. Wet. Cold and windy.
But I was walking.
Wrapped up warm, with camera and binoculars, with scarf, gloves and hat.
And thermal socks on with the heavy duty boots.
I was out. Walking.
Brave in the cold.
Madness maybe. But out.
And this is a blog about a walk.
Just an ordinary walk.
Did I mention, cold, wet and muddy?
A very ordinary grey, wet, cold, walk.
But a walk none the less.
Ordinary.
Ordinary courage and bravery.
Ordinary steps taken, one by one.
At a place ive been to many times.
Its not a mountain top experience to deal with trauma, or deal with the monsters. Just ask Harry Potter, no one wants that badge of honour.
Sometimes the path is wet, cold and muddy and you need to be protected from the elements.
One foot in front of the other, even in the wet muddy path.
Even when I’m writing, there could be a temptation to show off the best bits, or most important, to biggest challenge in my personal healing. But recovery is about the ordinary.
Its about the every day.
Its not always about the new place, the new discovery.
Though there are discoveries, and there are significant moments. And at the moment im loving John O Donohues Eternal Echoes. Its a warm hot chocolate for my soul.
But sometimes there’s just something significant in going for a walk. Its about expectations, or not having any. Its about making a positive choice to do something, even if the path feels wet and muddy, but its being done. A positive choice doesn’t mean the sun is going to immediately shine, there’s a lot of mud, fog and cloud to wade through. But at least im walking. Started putting one feet in front of the other. the gritty ordinary of healing from abuse, is not pretty.
There are beautiful moments of sunshine though.
When the gaps open up.
But often these are surprises. Moments when the universe makes its voice known. And when I’m ready to see them.
Like on that walk.
The sun did come out, and I noticed two deer resting in the sunshine.
When the Roe deer sat down and rested in the glimpse of the evening sunshine, sat as she was on the wet grass, it was a perfect still wonderful moment. I watched, breathed, and used my camera (quietly) and enjoyed it, present in the moment.
A universe gift.
Sometimes the paths are made by those who walk. Sometimes the universe conspires to help the dreamer. Sometimes its just about putting one foot forward, in front of the other, even despite better judgement, but doing so from brokenness, from vulnerability, into a cloud of fog, with the gritty hope that there is another side beyond it.
Ill tell you something else.
I was beginning to sense boredom. Boredom being one slight step to the left from contentment. Contentment is a lovely feeling, its as if everything is early spring. What boredom felt like was the peace of contentment, but without the colour of the daffodils.
I guess when 40 years of my life have existed with a background noise of toxic drama, then the years since of processing and recovering from this… peace can feel like boredom when there’s no drama going on.
But something I realised, is that I have needed coping activities in the last 4-5 years. Maybe I dont need these as much, and maybe I’ts time to have more fun and creativity, to have more energy to give, because im in a different place. As I walked yesterday, I realised that I could be grateful for the feeling of boredom, and that this is an indication of where I am, who I am and the journey I have been on. Maybe instead of feeling frustrated by the grey cloudy days, its time to walk through them.
Sometimes the grey makes for interesting photos.. but this isn’t one of them.
Its an ordinary path, just outside darlington with the sunset reflecting on the grey wet tarmac.
It was just a walk.
But it was so much more.
It was time to see. Time to make choices. Time to receive.
Time to sense and feel. Time to be grateful. Time to notice.
For the very positive responses, comments and feedback from my recent blog about ‘1000 days since leaving Church‘ which I published just over a week ago.
I did not quite realise, though had I thought about it, I may have also realised it, quite how common my experience has been.
Thank you for reading, sharing and commenting on it, thank you.
Its been very apparent in the comments, both public and private to me, from youth workers, pioneer folks, leaders in churches and denominations, for how many folks, they had to leave church, to re-find God, and find a faith.
I guess I wasn’t brave enough to do it all those years ago.
I guess I still wanted something about what ‘organised church’ could offer, anyway..
So, thank you.
Thank you for reaching out, thank you for encouraging me on the same journey.
And that’s just it, its a journey. Cliche alert.
I haven’t ‘made it’ , neither have I the answers, and any certainty expressed sometimes comes back as vulnerability or a lesson to be learned.
But something feels more coherent.
I found home in myself, in a way that I was trying to find home elsewhere.
There was a hole in my life and heart – it wasn’t God shaped, it was because of childhood abuse, because of neglect. That God was an external being to surrender to and lose myself to – despite an internal ache that never went away.
Haemin Sunim says this:
We must cultivate all three intelligences for our overall health
Critical intelligence, emotional intelligence and Spiritual intelligence
If one falls to the wayside, it slows the growth of the other two
Haemin Sunim, Things you can only see when we slow down.
If I were to do a 3 way audit of these three intelligences at different times in my life – what would I have found – how might this pie chart look like?
Something like this, probably
And that’s 5% emotional intelligence and awareness on a good day.
In fact I was scared of those weird things like emotions, best to stay disconnected from them, dissociate, and stay in my head. That was the safe place. Critical intelligence to the absolute full. God is to be understood and not felt.
But without all three, no growth. No heart. Or peace. Or Joy. Or love.
What I had been looking for, was closer than I realised. Everything I needed was within, and I have just had to be given permission, and the tools to see it. I just Am. (as are you)
I like this from John O’Donohue too, on coming home to yourself:
May all the is unforgiven in you
Be Released,
May all your fears yield
Their deepest tranquilities.
May all that is unloved in you
Blossom into a future
Graced with love.
So…..Thank you , I am very grateful and appreciative, I really am.
Hey folks, I just wanted to write a piece about what’s been happening with me in the last few weeks and months as Ive realised that my writing on this blog has dried up a little.
One of the things that ive realised all along with keeping a blog like this going, keeping it interesting, honest and thought provoking – is that the subject matter , myself, can then take a bit of an emotional toll. I began to notice that some of the things I was talking about, i was struggling to actually do, and I was writing more than I was actually doing the hard graft to rebuild after trauma itself.
I also realised that I was sometimes veering on being too vulnerable about myself, wanting to share my story, share my healing journey, share my learning – like it was a new toy, like I was a new toy – with you all – but what that meant was giving myself away in a way that actually was something that I didnt and don’t need to do, in fact , in thinking about boundaries, about self care, maybe I shouldn’t.
Part of me too, was and is enjoying some new reading recently, reading that has given me some different insights on spirituality and recovery, and though its relevant I haven’t really focused on healthy spirituality in this blog too much and didnt want to share, yet.
So I kind of stopped for a bit on the personal writing front.
I also stopped because I just wanted a break as well. I stopped also because I wanted to spend more time doing, living and being me – and also time with my partner Christelle who came over to the UK for a week, a few weeks ago, and it was great to be present, to be together, and to be very much off my laptop, social media or anything for a few weeks.
I have also just started a Level 2 course in Counselling, and this has taken up a bit of my head space, the time of one evening a week plus the homework, and though its not too heavy a commitment, it is taking up, usefully some of my ‘non working’ time. Its a small step, but one that feels like im on a long path to further personal and professional development, within healing, trauma and what ive taken on board in the last few years. This too is a bit of a reason why I haven’t written for a while, somehow even small amounts of study writing at the moment are taking up a bit of emotional writing headspace.
I have always said, I would love to have other contributions from others who may want to share their story, of men talking about emotional and mental health, about the challenges that can be in professional and personal contexts, and the situations and family dynamics that we may want to shed light on, like parental or sibling abuse. Please do get in touch if you have a subject, a story, a piece that you would like to share.
I close by saying
Because, this blog has now been going for one year, and I am honoured that you have read pieces that describe some very difficult situations, some of my pain. some of my journey, and I am even more pleased that as a result you, or friends of yours have become more aware of relationship dynamics and started a process of healing through therapy and recovery.
Even with an almost 1 month break ive published 90 pieces on this blog, at nearly 2 a week, It was time I did slow down… but thank you for reading, sharing, liking and appreciated what ive written in the year!
There is no easy way to avoid dealing with the things we have had to go through. We have to go through them. Often death and resurrection are two sides of the same coin, or as I recently read in Eckhart Tolle – Despair and Enlightenment can often go hand in hand on the same path. If something I have written has caused you to see, even in the despair and brought you closer to enlightenment then thats so good. I hope so, and if you want to share, please do. Do send me a note or comment!
Can I promise more writing? Yes – im sure there will be, and my writing has emerged in bursts… but thats all for now, and so thank you, remember that you are valuable, that you do not have to pretend, to pretend to be the strong one, and also – if you cannot stop yourself from being ‘out of control’ and blaming others – then that can change too. Healing for men is about the ongoing awareness and healing for us all, regardless of what it is from.
The day started like the last 3 on my summer camping trip to the Yorkshire dales.
Grey. Drizzly. Wet
But, after breakfast and tidying up, the smallest semblance of blue sky emerged. Just the tiniest bit.
The tiniest blue in a sky full of grey, after a day of mist and cloud.
Sometimes it just takes the tiniest speck of blue.
Sometimes, we can barely see it
Sometimes we have to walk, even in the midst.
Sometimes our tiniest blue is something that we cling on to to keep going, it might be our children, our faith..just something that tells us that walking is just about possible, and worthwhile.
The tiniest blue
Do I walk?
Will I get wet? Hurt? Where will I go? Who will be there?
How many questions to overthink before making a move. Thinking is the enemy of flow. Life is for living, not watching others live it.
So I started.
Walking.
The map looked flat. But then again walks aren’t maps.
When walking, the path gave me decisions, like above, 3 splintered off routes, often a muddy one, rocks or gravel, and what I realised some were better for downhill than up. They got me to where I needed to be, but I still had to choose
Some paths were so worn down they’d been replaced, laid in concrete or wood to stop me from slipping, outside help to aid the walker.
Clouds gathered in the distance, sweat pouring from me. Breathing becoming difficult. Hard work. But I was walking.
Every now and then a moment to stop. Take off layers, it was warm, drink and eat.
Signposts that told me how far I’d come. A mark to say, 2 miles done.
We need that don’t we. Someone to say, it’s been hard to walk, but look at where you are, and how far you’ve been. Even if you’re drenched in sweat and there’s walking to do. Stop and notice.
You got this far. Be proud of yourself …..Keep going…
Other things to stop and notice, purple heather, a buzzard in the sky, and somehow energy returns when something natural and beautiful takes our attention. Gratitude moments.
Walking along. Walking alone. Listening.
A flicker of unexpected brightness, a surprise, universe conspiring, something new to focus on for a split second, watching the flight and beauty of something so graceful as the Wheatear, a moment to feel treasure, to see, to hear that chirp. An unexpected gift.
A warning ahead. Previous walks have had bulls in fields, cows even, and even this week I had to avoid a herd right by the gate. But this one had to be walked past. There was only one path. No way to avoid. Must walk through. Keep walking.
Breathe, I can do this one. I know what I need to do. Im less scared. Its been tamed, by many other walkers as they’ve been past.
In the vastness of the landscape, and the pursuit of the climb, small details can get missed, the thistle, bumblebees and wild flowers are scattered around. Ancient limestone rocks strut out from the peat and grass, and attract balls of bright green moss, their intricate weave capturing all the nutrients they can, a myriad of depth perched on the rock
How long has this moss been here for? It looks fresh, but could be weeks, months, years old, and that’s the thing, on the walk, ancient, recent and new knowledge and ideas can help to shape our path. As we look into them the myriad of depth gives us life, encouragement to walk on.
Climbs up to gates that seem hard work, and then a view of the next section, the next climb, and a gate and stile to climb over, and another moment to pause, to take it in, to see how far you’ve come, and also the destination ahead. Legs getting ever more tired, steps hard work, even if they’ve been easily laid out, one foot in front of the other. No going back.
Every now and then a guide present, that map, or someone descending or going faster and slightly ahead. We all go at our own pace.
Another stop, another drink, a moment to learn, a moment to take it the surroundings, a moment to breathe before the next climb. Another decision to keep going, with 4 miles of walking in me, 1 more to go and it’s steep, the last bit. But it’s the bit I’m here for.
The Summit in sight, still shrouded from view, steps to take when walking, ive got this far, how far to go, and will this tired, sweaty body make it up the last bit. How tired am I? How long shall I rest for? What do I need to make the next step?
Its water, a trail bar, and a banana time.
Every step I’m taking Every move I make feels Lost with no direction My faith is shaking
But I, I gotta keep trying Gotta keep my head held high
There’s always gonna be another mountain I’m always gonna wanna make it move Always gonna be an uphill battle Sometimes I’m gonna have to lose Ain’t about how fast I get there Ain’t about what’s waiting on the other side It’s the climb
Miley Cyrus, The Climb
Life at the base of the mountain.
In an amongst the rocks, a circular pool. A swamp of vivid colour.
Dragonfly dancing around, and rock pipits flutter.
Views await as I get to the edge of the mountain, a valley comes into view. The other side.
Ribblehead Valley, and the glorious Ribblehead Viaduct. Until now hidden by the mountain itself. And still hidden by the clouds, which I’m now almost in.
A moment to recognise that there are sometimes many paths to get to the same destination, some snake the valleys, some tantalise on what seems the precipice, some, seem like more of a slow long gradual walk, but paths towards the summit none the less.
But these clouds need walking though, to get to the top, as there’s not far. Encouraged by the new view, and within reach of the summit, one more steep push, one more step in front of the other, one more decision per step, which rock, which gulley, which position shall I put my foot, what’s going to grip, on those last few steps, steps to the summit, and then…
Not a peak, but a large platform, a flat space, with views of other distant heights, Pen-y-ghent peeking in the clouds and others far off.
So I made it, to the top, to the summit, 723 metres up. And that is there the sun came out. For virtually the first time all morning. The first blue sky, since the blue sky when I started. A space to sit, and gather with other fellow climbers, compare notes of the directions they took, their starting points, their perils and journeys, to admire the view, and take selfies with that most important of markers. The trig point at the top.
Elation
Relief
I made it.
And then the descent. Realising the difference of gravity on the tired limbs, its as if the earth calls me back down, pulling me down the mountain. Lighter feet, but careful feet on the rocks, mud and paths.
Almost free flowing back down. Light. Free.
Even as the rain really did come.
Walking feels light. Less in the bag, more in the stomach. Every step the possibility of another, but much quicker, easier.
The climb worth it for the climb. Worth it for the views. Worth it to have the free walk back. Worth it to have seen, lived, felt and overcome.
We make the road by walking
Horton, Friere.
Some paths have already been made.
But we still need to walk them.
Live them, one step at time.
Starting from the first.
Sometimes we need to walk.
The tiniest blue sky in the mist at the base.
The tiniest blue sky at the top.
The journey in-between
Freedom, achievement and energy on the way back down.
I realised this week that I’ve been able to breathe for 2 years now, these were the first two years I’d been able to breathe in my whole life
I remember when I walked into the flat 25 months ago and being emotional in front of the estate agent. Realising that this was going to be my space, my space to look after, my space to look after myself in, my space , haven, calm
My space, to make home. To light candles, listen to music, read, and enjoy life in my own pace.
My space to determine boundaries of what I listen to, read or who I allow in
My space to look forward to coming home to after leaving it
My safe space
I can breathe
Stop and slow down
41 years of emotionally abusive home space, with 2 in-between of working/living in houses with gap year teams, with me being the ‘responsible’ one
2 years of being able to breathe
2 years of being enough, 2 years of listening to my heart, 2 years of not having to revolve around the often crazy unpredictable needs of others, 2 years of being just me.
2 years of healing from the 41 years previously
2 years of starting to see
Healing requires time, safety and connection, and in the process, self determination to make decisions, take control, for me about putting myself first, making decisions for my own good.
It makes me stop and realise quite how unhealthy places are when breathing isn’t possible. When eggshells are the only floor covering and avoiding fighting or fawning conflict is the only reality. That’s not to mention lies and gaslighting, and trying to constantly work out who the crazy one is.
It’s worth saying here, if you’re the one creating eggshells for others in your relationships, or family, through manipulation, control, bullying and neediness then maybe decide to give it up. You can change. Problem is, that you’re unlikely to read this. But…
If you’re not breathing you’re not living, you’re just surviving. I was just surviving all my life. Ignoring every attempt of my heart to make itself known. Just surviving. Bouncing from one crisis to another. Fawning over the needy anger of toxicity.
Breathing for 2 years, learning to be me. Realising who ‘me’ is.
As I write I’m on holiday, camping in the rain, and up to now, my few holidays have been busy ones, climbing, walking, city breaks, and I’ve filled my days. Today I’ve tried to do what I am learning to do in my home. To stop and enjoy a ‘doing nothing’ day.
Yes I’ve walked a short distance,but no rushing for trains , or climbing hills, just a short meander to the village a walk by the river and now just time reflecting on it as I write this, in a tent in the rain.
In the past I realised that I struggle to slow down, in the last two years I’ve realised quite how much I’m able to slow down.
Business was my ongoing distraction. Busy work, busy hobbies, busy. It’s no wonder that I’d wait to get ill during Christmas holidays only, when I had the time and my body relaxed. This was the pattern since childhood.
Learning to slow down
2 years of being in and feeling like being home.
Safe
Rest
Breathe
I’m sure I have more healing to do, as more layers are uncovered, as I listen more to my inner child, as I draw, write and play. But for now, a mark to note two years of being able to breathe, and feel new life, growth and change.
Thank you to all friends and family alike in their support and encouragement to me in these last 2-3 years, and to Christelle whose healing, loving kindness is a joy
Following up from Jennis piece about thankfulness as resistance , Christelle and I watched the above talk by Anthony de Mello on Sunday evening. I picked it, with the subject of freedom, as this resonates so much with us all at the moment in the cycles of abuse and being free.
What I didnt realise as I watched was Anthony was about to share how gratitude is a freeing process. For in the video he describes how we can be free, as we practice gratitude and thankfulness.
Whether its bad previous experiences, good ones, possessions, fears and ambitions, his instruction is very similar.
He says, when youre ready to, look at the thing, as if picking it out from the filing cabinet, look at it, talk to it, and say to it something like ; ‘__________, I learned ______ from that experience, thank you for teaching me, I do not need to keep being reminded of you’
or for an item, what he describes, is very similar to what Maria Kondo was suggesting last year, describe it, and thank it for how it helped, how it did the thing it meant to do, and the memories, but now its time to be gifted to someone else.
Through the process Anthony is suggesting that gratefulness is a process of freedom.
Its not about holding those things, and living in the past, the fears, or nostalgia, neither is it aboiut collecting items or ambitions.
Freedom is a process of gratitude.
We can be free, from the horrors of the past, from the traumas, and be in safe places, with our minds still tormented. Freedom involves us being able to look at it, calmly, and somehow, acknowledge it, and speak to it, taking the power away from it, and to us.
James Ballantyne 