‘We’re free from the death camps – but we must also be free to – free to create, to make a life, to choose. And until we find our freedom to, we’re just spinning around in the same endless darkness’
Edith Eğer ( The Choice)
I get this.
Time plays havoc on the possibility of something new
Moreover, accurately, trauma plays havoc with time.
Its like it wants to pull you back to that thing – because in the present there’s a reminder of it, sometimes this is certain, other times is unintentional. It was almost likely that I would find something resonating in Ediths book about surviving a death camp, but in a way I was ready for it.
Other times the moment hits you when you least expect it.
I think thats why when I write about my life, and write blogs theres not always a simple thread. Some im revealing the hurts, some I’m revealing myself, some are about the process of rebuilding, some are about the methods, some are about a future as yet unknown, full of possibility.
Sometimes its about realising that I have a choice to, a choice to spin in there endless darkness – and how does that balance with writing about a story, reflecting and learning so that it might do the same for others?
But what about freedom?
What freedom is there, after trauma?
Well, there is every freedom, isnt there? Maybe theres even more on days when we feel like we’ve conquered monsters – revealed them – on other days its feels like a fog in which the future that has never been certain, still is.
What about the freedom to choose to forgive?
The freedom to choose to share our story?
The freedom to live, in a quiet place and be away from everyone?
The freedom to hide?
The freedom to choose to do life in the way we want to? Given the contrast between the abusive control that had held it so far?
The freedom to choose not to fix someone else – instead of focussing on myself
The freedom to feel my own emotions
The freedom to not people please
The freedom to walk out the door
The freedom to have a safe house
The freedom to construct boundaries
The freedom to be able to make decisions
The freedom to not know
The freedom to be the didn’t think it was possible me
The freedom to choose
The freedom to smile
The freedom to have fun
The freedom to rediscover myself
The freedom to see the spinning, and step off the roller coaster
and as Edith says:
The freedom to have life
for the first time
Maybe theres no point being free, if you don’t know what to do with it – the temptation as Edith shares is that for so many freedom is terrifying and it was easier for some prisoners of war to stay within the prison walls, those who want to keep you captive make it so hard for you to want to experience freedom, or to have the confidence or self belief too.
Edith also writes ; ‘When you have something to prove, you aren’t free’
let that sink in a moment…
And thats it isnt it, in places of abuse and torture , you dont know where you stand, playing guessing games on a hot bed of eggshells, always trying to prove, please, or appease.
I spent far too long in my life trying to meet invisible expectations to people who were never satisfied, grateful or happy… or staying in situations of abuse just to prove them wrong. How shit is that? But that was my first 40 years of life.
So, once we feel the freedom, of the breeze on our faces, the water on our feet, the freedom to start again, the freedom that feels light and fun, even to choose how to spend the small amounts of money that we might be left with, its still freedom.. its about continuing to walk in the direction of freedom, in the direction of opportunity, in the direction of life.
Ive got to admit I didn’t really want to like Brene Brown.
Her name had been banded around for quite a few years, usually by the phenomenal women that I know…and on the ever shared many internet memes and quotes, there probably isnt a week that goes by when a Brene Brown quotation hasn’t crossed my path in the last few years.
But I didnt want to delve in to the Brene Brown popular phenomenon.
So I figured I didnt really need to read her books or listen to her stuff.
I mean, everyone is doing the self-help guru act and isnt she just like other people – an American female Matt Haig.
Im sorry to admit… I was maybe a tiny bit American self help prejudice…
So, dosed up with Lemsip, a laptop, and after a week of self reflection, I took a step of vulnerability and gave her TED talks a watch last weekend.
Opened myself up to the possibility of what she might be saying… 11 years after it was recorded… (up until last weekend my TED talk watching has included 5 in total I think – yeah I know)
I was pleasantly surprised.
Here was someone who spoke the language of academia – not mushy self help
(Then again would she be on a TED talk otherwise..?)
Here was someone who was both self effacing, witty and wrestling with herself in the process of the research
Someone who was warm.
Someone who spoke and made it possible for me to feel like she was talking to me—- oh hang on James, really?
Yes..because she was trying to hide herself behind her ego knowledge. Being known for knowing things.
And that was me.
The clever one at school – who couldn’t dance….who tried to do sports
The clever one – who found academia…
I was probably avoiding Brene Brown…because I kind of knew that I would like her, and like what she was saying, about shame, vulnerability and relationships.
She ends the second of her two TED talks with a shortened version of this quote:
What do you think of this quote?
I love and hate it at the same time. I love and hate it because it asks something
Its about showing up, with a raw vulnerable self
In my relationships with my wonderful partner, my fabulous children and also friends and my work colleagues
Not avoid the arena, to not just be the critic from the side (and isnt so much of media the critic?)
Its easy to stand from the edges and criticise – but life isnt a non participation sport – not life in its fullness
Participation in life is a messy action, where feelings are felt – not numbed…
Daring greatly
As Brene had done herself – from academic critical thinker, to therapy chair and breakdown (sorry, Spiritual Awakening)
So I was doing my best to stand on the edge of the arena when Brene Brown is on the stage, and her books are available. Rather be the critique from a distance, than entertain the possibility that id be vulnerable to admit resonating and liking what she might have to say.
Theres something else too. Its not just about showing up on the arena, in full view.
Its about showing up to ourselves.
When the only critic is ourself – often the worse critic of all
The one critic that we might need to talk to as much as the external critics too. Tell to STFU every now and then.
So, thank you Brene Brown. Thank you TED for being an incredible resource on You Tube, Thank you 5 days of cold/flu which has given me time to delve into them.
I got you wrong Brene, and I’m grateful that I found you at the very right time. Vulnerability and Shame might be what the next phases of my life are about. So, thank you.
Have a look on TED for Brene yourself…I dare you greatly…
Theres a reason why I made the logo to this page purple.
Purple became a healing colour for me.
As a weird coincidence I watched 2 films in the summer before I left the family home for the first time.
One was 12 Years a Slave.
The other was ‘The Color Purple’
Both astonishing films, both moved me to tears.
Both began to help me see something. Just began a tiny bit.
Abuse is sneaky, and so is the controlling slavery of it.
Not easy watching, but good watching none the less.
Fast forward a matter of a few weeks.
In the confusion of having left the family home, and the emotional clouds and fog.
I do have some freedom. Just the tiniest bits to breathe.
I manage to negotiate my own bank account, and even though I’m only in a one day a week job, and no house, but staying at a friends, I have the smallest speck of choice. Having to buy my own food and travel.
I also have a small amount to buy, for myself.
A new duvet, towels as I left with barely anything.
What I noticed was that I started to buy things for myself that were all there same colour.
Purple.
A purple towel
A purple jacket
Purple socks (in and amongst other colourful sock colours)
Purple T shirt
I start to see purple everywhere.
When I chose a fleece for the winter, I chose a purple ‘Tog-24’ one. I still have it.
Purple felt like it became a ‘thing’
Purple.
A cross between the peaceful blue, and the fiery red – that’s what i googled to see if there was meaning.
I had always been blue. Peaceful, compliant, giving, surviving, silent
Red was slowly entering.
Slowly.
My healing colour was the colour Purple.
It was weirdly unintentional at the time, but maybe it was trying to tell me something.
Colour was also returning, from a place of grey and ash.
Blue was almost a default colour, blue was the only way to be and survive, from childhood and onwards. I wasn’t red and fiery, blue pacified. Blue water evaporates with fire, though it can also quench it.
I started to notice the purple. I started to feel more like purple than blue.
I was changing.
I was beginning the tiniest journey then of seeing colour.
James Ballantyne 