James Ballantyne

Tag: mental health

  • The Last Judgement.

    The last judgement is the day we’re no longer afraid to be alive again, it when we come back to our real state , our divine self, where we feel a communion of love with everything in existence (Don Miguel Ruiz, The Fifth Agreement)

    This is a far cry from what I grew up believing.

    Though I was spared ‘The Left Behind’ series, UK evangelicalism hadn’t fallen for this work of christian cult fiction (or taken it as the underlying influence for US christian education policy) , I still had given to me, from Sunday school and home, a deep worry of what ‘the last judgement’ could mean.

    Hades, Hell and eternal damnation, or absence from the love of God permeated in my prayers, behaviour, diligence and attempts to be good christian boy/man – with the requisite states of shame for failings and repeated eradication of sin.

    The Last judgement stood as a place of reckoning – appearing even in the Family game ‘The game of life’ . I imagined a replaying of the TV screens in a production room of all the scenes of my life, the good, the bad and the ugly, and everything else. I was going to be judged, and fearing this judgement, and the possibility of ‘going to hell’ featured heavily in my evangelical upbringing as well as further theological studies. The conversations about the end times rattled around endlessly, when a so called 1000 years might occur and how it related to the fires of Hell and end times. No one could even consider that it was more metaphorical than real. That wasnt the question, the question was which.

    The heat of hell was to be feared and avoided.

    Hell was real……and ….

    there were many sermons that would decry that ‘one of the tricks of the devil, is to say that he doesn’t exist, that hell isnt real’ – stoking the fear of disbelieving hell even more – even in slightly more compassionate theological evangelicalism in the UK, this was still a thing said.

    As a good christian boy, I believed it all. Every action was seen through a lens of being judged one day.

    So in effect I did a very good job of judging it each time myself.

    Did I hurt that person? Did I make a mistake? Could I have done better? That was embarrassing James…

    The fear of judgement, created my own personal judgement.

    Id push myself to the brink, because being self critical was a skill, and being ‘reflective’ was a thing people consider me known for. Asking questions.

    None worse than the judgement I gave myself.

    Judgement poured inwards.

    All questions, and almost no heart. Restless frustration that world should be a better place – whilst im wallowing in an ache of hurt, pain and internal suffering that im judging myself for. Spewing criticism outwards, as an outpouring of my own conditioning.

    Hell was what I was living, it wasn’t just in my own mind, it was the drama of all around.

    The last judgement. The decision time.

    Without question, part of my awakening process has been to see my faith in different ways, and though rejecting some of it, re appropriating other aspects, and so whilst I probably rejected the notion of ‘end times Hell’ a long while ago, realising that I was living in my own personal hell and taking power to change it, has taken a very long while.

    Since the moment in 2023, after an emotional breakdown, and undergoing therapy for the 4th time, I saw myself differently.

    (This is the story of that moment)

    It felt different.

    It was as if something awoke inside me

    I felt clean. I felt whole.

    I felt as if I had been swimming in shark infested water all my life, and now I was standing on an island in the sunshine that I didnt even know existed, I couldnt even see it. I felt light, joyful, whole.

    It was a feeling, a sense, a reality that has, with the exception of a few challenging situations, been a place that I have been able to stay in, to return to – because I know now that it exists.

    Some might call it awakening, or realisation of consciousness or the moment when I walked through my own personal shadows and hell, to gently loving let these parts of me go.

    The last judgement might just be the last time you make a judgement.

    I didnt believe it would continue. There was a part of me that would envisage me falling back into the waters, and theres been moments of my toes and maybe knees getting wet again. But these moments haven’t been met with self criticism, or failure, or disregard (you know that voice that wants to disregard the ‘good’ moments as blips, and suggest that ‘real’ is the struggle)

    The last judgement.

    Is a place thats possible to create- but its a place the finds you. I didnt go after it, there isnt a magic formula, it arrived when I was ready.

    Judgement is a place of safety, security and dependence, it’s also a place of fear and lack of self trust – and this stuff is hard to work through. But when it happens, you know, you just know.

    It’s like that inner spaciousness that gets bigger.

    It’s not just a crack where the light gets in- thats the start – , more an embodied lightness of being, where being is love and light – and its judgements, of self, of the other, of the past, of the future, of the world – that become the blockages in the light tube.

    Maybe they were the true ‘sins’ after all. Not the actions, but the judgements.

    But 45 years of self critical programming, I realise had to be reorientated. The language I used for myself, in how I spoke to myself – had changed in the preceding 5 years – but the voices of my inner protective dialogue hadn’t been dug out at their roots – and they were my default programming, I was unconsciously competent at beating myself up, for everything I did or didnt do. That was the voice. I didnt need God to do this for me – though deep down I believed in a God that was about to… I did it to myself.

    After the moment when my therapist heard my story of taking myself into the shadows, and telling me that ‘James, you are incredible’ and my response, instead of self denial, or reluctant acceptance, was ‘I think I believe you’

    I walked down to the bookstore and wrote the positive words of being incredible, down, and repeated and repeated. I bought a blank journal for 2024 and wrote down only positive messages of myself to myself each day, sometimes it was wrestled determination, but most days, using coloured pens, there were stars and hearts and rainbows and words of grace and love and joy and power for myself – from my imagination or the universe to myself……and a re-writing of my inner dialogue – to retrain or to give more practice – or to give more weight to my inner God, my inner heart, the voice of my soul.

    Using language to become acquainted with the beauty of love and life for myself. To create on a daily basis a space of the island within my being. Using words of love and not self judgement for myself. Writing it daily embodied my belief in it. Writing it daily fed the loving voice. And where there is love, there isnt judgement.

    I get how positive psychology is both derided and believed in – (this could come across as this). This wasn’t a path I chose, it just found me, as I realised that self belief was something that I could make for myself. But I couldnt allow myself to do so, whilst I was in place of self judgement.

    Fear of the beyond, where critical judgement wasn’t the dominant voice wasnt a known place, it was a prison of my normal…so it was easier to obey and stay at its mercy.

    Faith in yourself is the real faith. Real faith is to trust in yourself unconditionally , because you know who you really are, and you really are the truth

    (The Fifth Agreement)

    When you find the place of self truth, it will become apparent that the ways of living previously were prisons that you (and I) had made ourselves more comfortable in than we would like to believe. And one of those was the place of judgement – where someone, something, some system, some part of ourselves – is to blame or causes us to blame ourselves.

    Judgements are fractures in our wholeness, beliefs to keep us stuck in places of restraint and comfort, they feel easy – they lie easily and are believed easily – especially when we feel we need to belong in the very systems that permeate them (religion, family etc) as moral codes or stated behaviours….until we realise, or start to notice….that to buy into the judgement is to remain stuck, in someone else’s personal hell or even our own. Judgement creates it.

    Notice what happens when you stop making judgements.

    Notice what happens, when you stop yourself beating yourself up.

    Notice what happens when you feed the voice inside that is gentle warm and kind.

    Notice what happens when you completely accept yourself. Your body. Your actions. Your past. Your emotions. Your thoughts,

    Notice what happens when you let go of being judgemental

    Notice what happens when judgement feels wrong and not normal anymore.

    Notice what happens when the lie of judgement is exposed.

    The last judgement, might be the last judgement you might make – before life actually begins.

    Beyond judgement beckons, as place of deep agreement – where no-thing but love, light, life matters – it just is and it feels like heaven.

    Maybe the last judgement is the last tine you make a judgement.

  • Will you be brave and give love a chance?

    Will you be brave and give love a chance?

    One of the reasons we men dont want to deal with our shit is because we dont believe we have the capacity to love ourselves.

    In many scenarios, whether from driven, neglectful, absent or collusive, abusive parents, Love was absent, and instead rules and expectations.

    In School, that wasnt the place either.

    And then there was the competitiveness of existing, having to win at football, chess or reading, having to be the best, having to compete and complete…

    Having to grow up, having to stay strong, having to not be weak

    And all the while, that little voice inside, seemed to grow smaller and smaller, the trappings of externals whilst dying inside.

    Not believing in Love.

    Not knowing Love

    Unless conditional, unless dependent, unless loaded, unless

    Unless hidden even behind labels in sacred stories. Believe in God (who is Love btw) or Jesus, or Mohammad, or whoever, and have the strength and power of Love be hidden behind all of these, and even then, some of these institutions require loyalty or adherence (of rules, of routines) and preach love like its a strategy for expansion. Conditional love, and rarely love of the self, love of the body, love of the past, love of feeling, hurts or wounds. Just pray them away and come back for more, morality the enemy of growth, and maybe even the enemy of love.

    Or you chose a different path, another Vocation, Military, Farming, Teaching, Medicine… All where the purity of what you wanted to be, got lost in the system of numbers, discipline and rules.

    And the was presented as real. This is the real world.

    Dreamers and Artists those who love. Sensitive ones weak.

    Macho. Hurting. Insecure. Violence. Real Man.

    Ugh.

    Deny the hurt, hide it away.

    Soothe the pain by satirical comedy, busyness, the rat race that continually exhausts, failure for the weak, vulnerability for the soft.

    Cultural masculinity at its best. Show no pain. Keep going.

    Until the cracks appear. Until desperation. because:

    If theres no such thing as Love, then it doesn’t matter does it. Beat up your wife, beat up yourself, steal, take and destroy, because Love is absent, Love isnt real, Love is just once a year, and your loveless head, can’t cope with not being in charge. Its running a show thats destroying you, but because you dont believe in Love, you can’t believe that you have to capacity to love, then you dont face it, you can’t, its too fucking big and painful and you think that it looks weak, or a failure, or your mates will think you weird, or you dont have time, or you dont have….

    Deep down its fear.

    Fear…that Love might actually be what’s required….

    Deep down it’s too much.

    You’d rather believe in power than believe in yourself.

    Deep down you have a heart, but its hidden under layers

    Deep down you have shared that heart to help others even whilst wounded yourself….

    Help….not heal….

    Its deep, because its underneath so many layers and blockages that youve put in there, pain soothers, pain avoiders, and these have caused further shame, guilt and pain – addiction, violence, manipulation – all outward projections of deeper hurt, masking anxiety, depression, abuse, the weight of expectation, perfection and trying to please, or make someone proud who is never satisfied – name your pain and add it here. ____________-

    All that stuff feels heavy and feels impossible to love. Shame monsters feel big. We know we’ve done wrong to others, to ourselves…to keep what’s hidden underneath at bay.

    Can I tell you a secret.

    You have the capacity to love yourself, if you are alive, you have a heart.

    You have the capacity to be vulnerable, to ask for help, to begin a different path

    To shed the masks, the fake strength, the keeping going, the weight if pain and suppression, the false appearances that are aching at your soul.

    The very first time I felt a surge of self love and realised a feeling of true self worth was the day I decided to go to therapy. A tiny step of bravery and fear, a tiny tiny shard of self love, to begin the very beginning step of facing and bringing hurt and pain to light. It’s not for everyone, and I needed a safe place to start.

    Most of you will have that, somewhere, and trust me on this, you might need new friends, or new people who can be your cheerleaders, or have ‘been there’ – once you begin this path, you’ll be surprised who shows up and where it takes you.

    Because you can.

    Healing isnt weak, it’s the bravest thing you can do.

    Sometimes we’re so addicted to the cycle of pain and denial that we wear it like a cloak, preferring blame and victimhood as a norm.

    Dont believe me when I say you can love yourself?

    You dont have to. Thats your choice.

    But stay in unbelief and stay as you are, and nothing changes.

    Love is such a powerful force in the universe and stronger than you think.

    It’s been there all along. Aching to be listened to….maybe it’s time to let it.

    You have the capacity to love yourself, because Love is you.

    It’s been you all along.

    And…..it will save you in the end.

    You just were told otherwise, and believed in it to conform, to hide.

    Yeah, and this all has in some ways applied to me.

    We are all in this together.

  • When Healing words do (and don’t) matter.

    When Healing words do (and don’t) matter.

    Theres a funny but profoundly interesting moment in Brene Browns fairly famous ted talk (link below) ‘The Power of Vulnerability’ in which she describes how as a researcher in vulnerability and shame, she undergoes, well, resists the undergoing of the practice of vulnerability (because of….shame)

    She goes on to share how she sits in front of a therapist, and is trying to work out what is or isnt happening to her.

    Her therapists describes it as a ‘breakdown’ , to which Brene, probably fuelled by the Eat Pray Love stuff, says ‘ oh no, its not a breakdown, its a spiritual awakening’

    and, whilst its funny, it also leads to a deeper truth.

    Words in Healing matter, sometimes.

    Sometimes though, they dont quite capture it.

    The descriptive language of whatever the process is to whatever the new (or re-new) is, has a myriad of descriptors and metaphors. Some can be really helpful to some, some can be really unhelpful, some stick, some dont.

    Most describe a journey, a movement,a change – from the ‘dark night of the soul’ to the ‘pilgrims progress’ , from caterpillar to butterfly (via the v important chrysalis) , or to the remoulding and reconnecting of Japanese china with gold welds – brokenness to wholeness in a more beautiful/useful way than before.

    Theres something profound to realise that theres both something in, and also lacking in the descriptive words that include; Healing, Recovery, Breakthrough, transformation, reconnection, awakening, wholeness journey, wellbeing , growth, remaking, restoring, breakdown… (add even more)

    And the ‘wellbing and self-help’ section in Waterstones bookstore has expanded threefold in the last 5 years- self help is the new sexy, and most, if not many describe very similar practices of change, just starting from different points, anxiety, depression, abuse, trauma….there is a hunger overall for the solving of the problem, and quite a few people, from celebrities to self determined spiritual gurus proclaiming answers into the void, using similar processes for slightly different problems. (and lets not talk about the ‘Let Them’ theory book…. the rebadging of ‘acceptance’ as a concept thats as old as the ancient saints)

    But…. language matters and yet at the same time, language is sometimes insufficient. The pain of what we go through and its experience seems to be belittled by the work ‘breakdown’ , and spiritual awakening, whilst seems more positive does feel like ‘Eat Pray Love’ and a desire to ‘find oneself’ through doing experiences- when one wasnt entirely lost in the first place. Yet awakening can also be a good word, describing the new seeing of things, describing clarity…

    For you, for me, our experience of life that require the seeing, clearing, healing, recovery and all the messy bits in between will all be different. As I read, and largely enjoyed Karen O Donnells book on Spiritual Practices for Trauma survivors this week, I was reminded that the way in which language can be helpful for someone who has had a ‘one off’ traumatic experience (and the shame/silence afterwards) – and so can consider their lives in ‘before trauma/trauma event (ie miscarriage, car accident, bereavement) /post trauma’ timeline (it will always be more complex than this, so just for brevity, forgive me) – and words like ‘remake’ and ‘post’ trauma, seem more relevant, than to someone (like me) who has had many traumas (divorce, unemployment, homelessness for example) yet underlying all of it was the trauma of a childhood of being raised by a psychopathic mother – and so, I dont have a sense of a healthy life ‘before’ trauma, when I was born into it. In effect, this is what my soul chose for me….. (and even that has taken a while to accept) – but from a timeline of before/middle/after…. it’s as if I was born in the ‘middle’ … the C of cptsd is quite critical…. but the D needs changing as rarely is the emotional or bodily reaction to a trauma a disorder….usually its very natural (just unwanted in a capatalist world thats disconnected from the sacredness of the body)

    Maybe theres something in everything. If no one descriptor is perfect, then a multitude will, and surely if in a place of acceptance and seeing, language is only meant to affirm and encourage, and what’s going on for us and how we make our lives become more loving to our selves, others, the world and the divine soul of the universe and within our souls is mythical, mystical and messy, and there are sometimes no words, but all words. Maybe it’s that language is insufficient because our soul, heart and body know and that knowing is beyond language.

  • Seeing Yourself Clearly.

    Seeing Yourself Clearly.

    There will come a day when you stop believing in your own smallness.

    The great suppression that you were colluded into, when you played small to stay safe, when you played small to get paid, when you played small, played the part of the extra in someone else’s drama. Hiding your gifts, hiding your voice, hiding your immensity, chasing love, chasing one more thing to something other than a gnawing sense of inner tiny.

    In stormy waters you are going to feel small, and those who want you to feel inadequate, ashamed, powerless, guilty often keep chucking the stones into your pond, or start up the wave machine, or turn the water into acid, gently corroding you bit by bit. For some, you born into a pond full of nasties, creatures roaming in the deep, heavy rocks, and tiny little vulnerable you, barely able to breathe as the water around surrounds, swallows and tumultuates.

    You cannot see yourself when dodging the rocks, trying to swim, trying to stay alive and afloat, your concentration and energy is on staying alive and afloat – whatever it takes, and colluding with their small opinion of you is one such way. You have to believe your parents view of you, because you require them to feed you, or your partners view if they’re threatening you, or the places of escape and safety from these, jobs, churches, whatever, when you’re in need of a rescuer or saviour, you’re also vulnerable.

    One storm after another, and the great collusion continues, small you rages in the corner like a jack Russell at a vegetarian ball. The great suppression erodes so much that if you can’t believe it when you are believed in, or it feels uncomfortable, or it is dismissed and denied. Believing in our own inferiority, self oppression, and all of a sudden the stone thrower has won.

    John O Donahue writes about the different ways of sight we have, and in considering how we might have an inferior eye, as we look at ourselves we might say:

    To the inferior eye, everyone else is greater. Others are more beautiful, brilliant and gifted than you. The Inferior eye is always looking away from its own treasures. It can never celebrate its own presence and potential. The Inferior eye is blind to its own secret beauty. The human eye was never designed to look up in a way that inflates the other to superiority, nor to look down reducing the other to inferiority

    John O Donohue – Anam Cara

    I lived for so long small. Feeling weak, small and inferior on the inside. Feeling shame for having needs, feeling shame for my body, shame and belittled for having emotions, others upset internalised as my fault and responsibility, and carried all of this from childhood into adulthood, carried on the ongoing wings of various incarnations of faith that required me to stand small inside in the face of the all powerful God, and still continually feel inadequate or a sinner, on a constant loop of need, fuelling my inner smallness and insecurity, and giving me far too many reasons to stay feeling small inside. God perfect, me inadequate.

    When we forget our own immensity, or we have been conditioned from birth never to have it, it’s a long road to find realise it, because its not trusted, its not just self care we need, but self trust is harder to find. When we act from self smallness we are desperate, needy and tossed around on other peoples waves, unable to see ourselves, looking out for others – approval, acceptance, protection…

    Lovingness and Compassion alone dont produce insight. They smooth the waves of emotions. When those waves of grief, pain, lamentation, worry, fear and anxiety, envy, jealousy, dislike and resentment have finally come to rest, there is a clear reflection without any obscuring ripples in it, like a mirror, the mirror of the mind. That mirror of the mind makes it possible to get a clear vision

    Ayya Khama- Being Nobody, Going Nowhere.

    Safety comes first, emotional safety. Then feeling all the feelings, the grief, pain, envy etc have come to rest, they are not avoided, dismissed or sidelined, they are felt. Beyond the rage and tears, and in the place where you can ride the stones, if they can’t be avoided or escaped from…yet.

    In the place of rest is a clearer reflection.

    When we don’t believe it when someone tells us that we are incredible and beautiful, we need to be angry about those who have convinced us into feeling small.

    Once you stop making yourself small to fit into others.

    Once you stop agreeing with their insecurity, because they have to coerce you into staying small.

    Once your small thought is given the redundancy slip. That job is not required anymore.

    You realise, tiny step, by tiny step

    That inside you is huge.

    Divine, Universe, Consciousness in its expanse

    No apologies for being you darling human.

    The dawning of your new large inner age is upcoming.

    Time to rise, time to live.

    From brokenness to wholeness

    A new beauty arises when you finally believe.

  • In the Nothing, There is Everything.

    In the Nothing, There is Everything.

    Over the last few years, one of the hobbies I have taken up since Covid has been bird watching, and generally enjoying nature more and more. But bird hides, these are fascinating places, and I have a few favourite ones. Yesterday I had a bit of a lucky day, seeing a hobby, greenshank, bittern and an osprey.

    ‘Theres nothing going on’ is so often a deliciously tempting phrase to set the tone in a bird hide, this translates to ‘Whilst there is a panorama of unpredictability of natural life outside, there isnt an unusual bird today to get excited about’ just the seemingly usual birds. In the tempting demand to make life consistently exciting and full, the chase can be on, to go to the places where the ‘interesting birds are.

    Modern life, and modern expressions of faith, often want to fill, rather than keep the empty spaces open, the gap, the pause. We’re frustrated when the ‘gap’ between trains is too long at the station, when theres a gap in the curtains, when there a gap in the TV schedule, church services full of activities in their 90 minutes. Silence feels uncomfortable. Yet…

    What would be music without its gaps?

    There is inside each of us, a sacred pause, a gap, a space. A place where thoughts are watched like birds in a bird hide, some stick around a bit, others fly past fleetingly, some hover, pounce and leave marks. Yet in that place of watching, there is a gap. A gap, like undrawn curtains where the light is. A gap like an artist sees between objects that give the objects their identity. Inside you and me, the sacred gap accompanies our every waking moment, waiting to be noticed, like the things of the thoughts themselves.

    And that sacred pause is where the power is, the joy is, a wonder, mystery, and where love is, its where our consciousness envelops the divine eternal oneness, its where no-thing exists and everything exists all at once.

    And it’s there all the time.

    Find life in no-thing. The Sacred Pause.

    Where – No – thing separates.

    Because it connects as one. Whole being.

    In the nothing there is everything.

  • Finding Peace at Neros.

    Finding Peace at Neros.

    When it comes down to it, the only place where there is peace, is in the sanctity and sanctuary of your own heart.

    Beyond the noise of a million thoughts that delegate themselves self importance and demand a million answers to.

    Am I good enough?

    Am I real? What shall I do now?

    Can I make the right decision?

    What shall I write today? will I find my table at Neros? (as if its mine)

    As I walked in the rain to Caffè Nero this morning, present-ness diffused by the inner suffering of a thousand and one thought voices. Hoping for a clear walk and focus on writing for the morning, yet too many thoughts swirled instead. Hopes and expectations, anxieties and excitements, fears and dreams, certainties and uncertainties all rolled into not one, but many thoughts.

    Then standing in the queue for coffee, choice to think about.

    Macchiato, Cappuccino or Latte.

    Nope. Stick to the normal ‘Flat White’ today not the day to be different or brave.

    And then I sat down.

    And journalled.

    Most of what youre reading now.

    There is only peace in the sanctuary of the heart.

    Beyond thought

    Beyond the sights, the sights of colours and shapes, the busyness of a million movements around, people in sports clothing (ready to do the local 10k), the efficient and caring service of the caffe Nero staff, on this busy frenetic Sunday. I watch as their hands upturn cups, pull levers, find muffins, make unusually early luxury hot chocolate. I notice with eyes. Eyes focussed outward, on the process of coffee that draws my attention.

    Momentarily away from the choice in my mind.

    And then I remember the peace and stillness. Conscious remembering of the possibility of peace.

    So, that its then when I write it down. It’s what I read this week, from a book on buddhist meditation.

    There is only peace in the sanctuary of the heart.

    It can’t be found anywhere else. Yet we look.

    The green space is full of suffering if our mind isnt in it

    The coffee shop is full of peace..if our heart is open to it.

    The pathways that offer peace by their words id often dissolved into anxiety by their actions, and shame by their attitude.

    Peace, beyond all understanding. Beyond all thought.

    There is only peace in the stillness of your heart. In that sanctuary beyond.

    Beyond the wrestle, beyond the hustle, beyond.

    Beyond a thousand thoughts that demand an answer.

    Beyond thinking, is that feeling

    Untrusted, brave, hidden, aspirational

    Seemingly impossible Peace.

    It isnt found. It’s there all along.

    Everything else just needs to get out of the way.

    And Peace chosen instead.

    For a million thoughts want a million answers to problems that are rarely there.

    Thinking on peace, creates the moment.

    Irrationally and bravely.

    It’s there inside you all along.

  • Trauma and the Fragility of Dreams.

    Trauma and the Fragility of Dreams.

    Its the possibility of having a dream come true that makes life interesting (Paulo Coelho)

    ‘Whats the dream?’ once asked my university tutor, over eight years ago. It was a question I meekly answered, along the lines of ‘to be well known in theodrama’.

    It was the first time, aged 38 that I had been asked this question. It was a question I couldn’t answer. Dreams were not possible. Dreams were too selfish. At that time, and up until then and some years after, I didnt have dreams, dreams about what I wanted to be, or do. It’s probably the same part of me that couldnt engage with ‘The Purpose driven life’ book that did the christian rounds back in the early 2000’s. Whilst I could also criticise it for the being capitalist American goal setting drivel, it was also that deep down, purpose and dream were something that I couldnt have.

    Dreams werent allowed growing up, unless they were the same as the expectations my parents, mostly the abusive dominant one. Yet, dont mistake that for them being driven and forcing me to ‘be a vet, or doctor, or psychologist’ no, that would be too clear cut – because so many people ive spoken to in the last few years talk of parents who pay for their university to ‘make sure’ that their child becomes a certain thing (doctor /vet etc) . My parents wouldn’t do that (because that would mean actually offering financial support) no, the expectation was to just ‘not upset your mother’ and ‘dont let her down’ , without any actual support to do so. It wasnt that they couldnt afford it, they didnt want to.

    This meant that my choices for career had to be both self sufficient, and somehow please and not upset. It most definitely wasnt a ‘dream’. It was about somehow making her happy, or fulfilling my role as golden trophy child so I could be boasted about (for going to university) to her coffee shop churchy friends, or instead be complained and moaned about (which is almost certainly more likely) for upsetting her.

    Allign this also with belonging to a faith, and having an identity in which I was desperate to please God, and do ‘his will’ and so, in this space and having no dream for any other career, I wanted to continue being a youth worker, after being a junior youth leader in my church. It seemed to be something I enjoyed and was good at. Was it a dream? Was it even a calling?

    I hoped it would be a sensible and ‘good’ thing – but no it aroswed their fury…. – and did it make ‘them’ happy. Dear God no.

    12 years later, and even having written books on youthwork and done an honours degree, (all paid for myself with £0 from them) I am asked when I am going to get a proper job like a teacher on a regular basis. Or whether the degree I had paid for (and completed as a mature student with two small children) was worth it. Though it didnt stop them coming to my graduation and ruining it, with the celebratory present to me being a meal out in a cafe for lunch in which I was asked to pay 1/2. (that went a long way to pay off the £9000 fees, I tell you)

    Anyway, I digress.

    What i only realised a few years ago, and its been reiterated to me in the last 6 months too, is the level of coping that is required in situation of high emotional, physical or financial stress (and a lot of my first 40 years included these at varying degrees of high) is that its only possible to think or plan one hour, one day or one week, or one pay month at a time, and even then, being in a constant place of turmoil, navigating eggshells, fears, avoidance and drama – life is only about being in it and soothing it – through whatever means.

    Future planning felt conditional. Some of my thought patterns were things like:

    If I become a ________ then we’ll have money and then _______ will like me.

    If I do _________ and then ________ then I might have temporary relief from being hurt.

    If I do _________ then ill get a qualification and more money and with more money itll mean things will be easier.

    If I do ________ then God will be happy with me

    If I do __________ then my parents might be actually proud of me.

    None of this was ever about dreams. It was about trying to please others, trying to soothe others, trying to be safe, trying to earn something that with emotionally abusive people, was actually not possible. But I carried on. Thats was the pattern.

    And then I would get angry and think to myself that I had done something that would hopefully help….but it was met with only further rejection or criticism, so, then I would try harder.

    It wasnt dreams, it wasnt purpose – it was existing inside a tortured shell that was trying to earn impossible affection, validity and recognition.

    Thats what survival does.

    And that had been my conditioning since birth, and until the last few years, I hadn’t realised how unnormal it was, or the effect of childhood trauma on being able to think about the future in a clear purposeful way.

    I read ‘Codependency no more’ back in 2019/20. In it Melody Beattie, describes how healing from this, is about slowly remembering that we can have our lives to lead (and not be waiting for someone else to change/get better/not be addicted) , and start setting small goals, and maybe even have dream lists. Even at this point in my healing, I found this a really difficult thing to do. It was alien to be to set a goal. To make plans. Yes I was in my own flat, yes I had all the opportunity and space in the world. but I hadn’t yet given a future a thought, and in that space I was just enjoying being, and enjoying being safe.

    Goals and plans did include being able to go for walks, or holidays. But not quite dreams. It was all week to week. And then Covid hit.

    Bottom line is that I was scared to have dreams. Scared because for so long any dream was conditional, and any dream was something I would have to more than likely have to support myself alone. And for so often dreams meant a kind of work that I didnt have the confidence to keep going in, or had the voices of self criticism that would cause it to end. Any encouragement was in the main self determined, and that was frail, especially when those thoughts had been indwelt with self protection and fear. Dreams means desire, and desire was also quashed as being selfish.

    Can you understand the mess of my head?

    In Johann Haris book ‘Lost Connections’ he shares, when talking about children who had experience of abuse and depression in their lives:

    At some profound level M had discovered that , extremely depressed people have become disconnected from a sense of the future , in a way that other really distressed people have not’

    They are, in all intense a purposes living in the here and now. What he tried to set about was whether this was cause or effect. It’s significant though, that if motivational growth is dependence on Autonomy, Belonging and Competence (Deci/Ryan) then if that Autonomy is about being able to create, plan for and make choices about the future, and growth happens when this is the case. What happens when that is taken away – consciously or subconsciously. This happens in organisations too, purposeless organisations become depressed and anxious.

    For about 14 months I had been living in a state of being that included enjoying my job, having a sense of distance from my childhood past and feeling safe, secure and getting to a place of relative security. In that time I had began to be able to give time to the possibility of a dream, and give a lot of time for this dream. I was able to think ahead… and thinking ahead was a gift, as this helped to balance the times of anxiety and ‘the past’ coming back – and have one tiny foot in future possibility to keep hold of.

    For the last 6 months that has barely been possible. Ive been hit with a number of situations, relating to facing the past again, its situation and injustice, that has meant that what I have needed to do is to dig deep into ‘just being’. Whilst some of that hasn’t quite ended, theres relatively clarity in the mud of it all. But what happened as a result?

    Its funny, its one thing trying to live in the now, in the present – but theres one thing about living in the present when the future is open and full of possibility, another when the past has seeped in and the future feels clouded. It’s still the present from a time perspective, but it’s a space full of anxieties, flashbacks and uncertainty, digging deep one day at a time. Dreamless, with the only dreams being the nightmare of the past being relived.

    I couldnt think about the future. I stopped being able to write creatively (part of the dream has been writing a children’s book) , I was writing responsively, expressively and about the hurt or the recovery or the learning through the moment by moment of it all. But sitting down and being able to write, or focus on the dream, was difficult, almost impossible. I was ok, in my day to day, but future thinking was nigh on impossible, though I tried to valiantly keep the flame alive.

    I didnt realise the extent to which being able to have dreams was a luxury, and privilege. I didnt realise that it wasnt selfish for me to have dreams or purpose, that was about me, and not just for others. Working on a dream stimulated me, gave me life, gave me purpose, spark and creativity, and took me one step into an unknown future, that I was in a good place about trying to get to.

    The only way we can save our dreams is to be generous to ourselves (Paulo Coelho)

    Dreams are important. They make life interesting.

    They take effort. But they require soft open heartedness. To be generous to myself in search of them, to know they will happen, to give myself grace in the pursuit of them. Grace I had, but had to unlearn self criticism and the voices.

    Dreams are important to have a step in a future that can keep the past thoughts away at times, not deny them, not bypass them, but balance them, because it can be so easily, with a traumatised mind, to have two feet stuck in the past, stuck in other peoples drama, stuck in responding to others.

    And now that ive got to a place in time beyond the dealing with and responding to past related stuff…. it’s time again… to give time for the dream.

    Having a Dream is way more complicated and important than it seems.

  • You Can’t force your Jigsaw (But do open the box)

    You Can’t force your Jigsaw (But do open the box)

    Each of us has bits of us that we dont really like. Theres the bits of us that got damaged by our parents or family when we grew up, whether this was abuse, neglect, abandonment, the choices of our parents and the hurts of these. Theres the bits of us in school, the parts where we adapted, the parts of us that we’re wounded, hurt. Theres the parts of us that we’d rather not talk about in polite company, the parts of us that turned to sex or drugs or alcohol or something other to soothe the pain, or the parts of us that hid away, the parts of us that acted in fear, anxiety, acted in vengeance and transferred inner anger from parents or jobs, onto partners, children or pets. Theres the parts of us that made choices when in survival mode, choices to be busy, choices to give to others from neediness, choices to take advantage of others, choices not to view another persons dignity and humanity, only as a service t our own. Then theres choices and actions in denial, to run away from dealing with the pain, to avoid it, to hide it.

    We all have them.

    Your pain might feel huge. But you are definitely not alone.

    All making our heart, our mind, our bodies…feel not quite right, or very quite wrong, or just stuck, or weary…

    All with a root of shame, or guilt or anger.

    And we would rather not go there.

    Then theres that inner voice that accompanies them all.

    Shame, Loathing, Guilt, Perfectionism, Control, Fear… all protecting the parts, all making a good argument for ‘not going there’ .

    And so often the morality we encounter – the shame of what we encountered, or what we did, or what we didnt do, who we hurt… feels too much to accept, feels too much to be able to get real about.

    We’d rather hide than face the truth

    We’d rather mask and hide than go there.

    We’d rather continue on, with that ache inside, than give light and warmth to a state of being thats hurting ourselves and others, yet its doing exactly that, and we’re spinning out of control.

    ‘So often… Morality is the Enemy of Growth’ (John O Donohue)

    The moral obligation to look good

    The moral obligation to be strong

    The moral obligation to ‘battle’ through darkness (or sin)

    The moral obligation to not feel shame, is to not feel anything.

    Yet, as a result that ache and pain haunts like a shadow, becoming more and more entrenched when challenged.

    I know. I didnt want to go there. Trying to keep a status quo whilst dying inside and running away from the pain, and the shame of what I was doing to soothe it. Until I cracked between it all, and lost everything, and yet…. realised that when everything was lost, I found something much more precious… eventually.

    Because those parts of us we’d rather hide are like parts of a jigsaw, and along with our hearts, our minds and bodies, theres fragmentation and fracturing within, caused by all the damage, to us and by us.

    And jigsaws, especially those with brittle edge pieces dont fit or mould together with force. Like trying to get two cuttlefish pieces to interlock.

    Friend. It isnt an inner battle you have to win.

    Battles are for armies.

    It isnt a war on the inside between the parts, even if they are raging, and making a noise. Their voice is often so loud.

    Your wounded parts are part of you, but they aren’t you.

    You hold the blow torch.

    Your heart is the gas.

    Love is the flame.

    And your parts and their raw, pained, rugged edges, mould together not with force, but with love, love that powers, love that emirates, love that emerges from your heart….once you finally, surrender, accept and listen to its call. Love from within resolves fractures and pain. Its warmth that melts the edges and aligns them into your soul and heart, its love that unifies your fractures and fragments, Its love that brings wholeness.

    Being a friend to the parts of you, the shame of your past that you’d rather not admit to, is a path marked with the deepest, most passionate and erotic love you can imagine, making love to your inner parts, melting their pain away with tenderness that is possible, even if thats new.

    Pain leaves with tears, leaves in a warm car, on the road to your own soul, to be met with harmony and kindness.

    The darkness you’re doing a battle with, in that tough man masculine way, won’t leave until you and your armour back down, and instead surrender to heat, light and love, and yes, that means losing control.

    But right now your pieces feel all over the places and control is an illusion anyway, shards of temporary colour disconnected, carried in a box that doesn’t want to be opened.

    Dare you lovingly open the lid…. and may love guide you in the integration of your whole, melting, welding, searing and bringing you to a harmony within, harmony your soul is already grasping for in the moments of pain you’re trying to hide.

  • The freedom to think differently.

    The freedom to think differently.

    (John O Donohue, Eternal Echoes)

    Then you know.

    When you know.

    That. You.

    Have the freedom to think differently.

    Differently from those who want to determine your thoughts.

    Differently from those whom you have to please.

    Differently from those who have taken it on themselves to be your thought and belief police.

    Differently too….. from the very thoughts that cloud your vision of who your thoughts say you are.

    Differently too from the programming of those thoughts, and their effects.

    You….in your youness…. can choose.

    You…. in your youness …..have freedom

    You ….in your youness are separate from the thoughts

    Pause. Between the stimulus and the response (Victor Frankl)

    You can put that pause there.

    Right now, you can choose to look out of your window and think about what you see…. whether thats a tree, a building or a cloud.

    You have that freedom. The gap is yours. The gap….might be you.

    Until that point of knowing… the thoughts that you didnt realise are doing it are shaping you…..yet…..when….then….all of a sudden….. theres a you emerging beyond, before and within thought.

    Consciousness spilling into the poignant pause, and you can, truly can….listen to the pause.

    The place where you reside. In your youness.

  • Joys…are there to be felt!

    Joys…are there to be felt!

    To feel it

    I had to feel it.

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

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

    Today, the sand on my feet belonged to me.

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

    And put my feet into the water.

    Blue Sky meets the Crisp cold north sea.

    Ripples of sand, water and sun dancing

    And my feet part of it all

    Feeling

    To feel it, it had to be felt.

    And I remember a time before.

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

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

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

    watching others in the water

    watching dogs run in and out

    taking photos of the sea.

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

    scared to feel.

    Until one day I decided to take off the shoes.

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

    I wasnt going to get told off.

    I didnt need permission

    I could feel

    I could run in. I could make splashes

    I could get my t shirt wet

    It was ok to feel.

    It was safe to feel.

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

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

    Joys are there to be felt.

    Joys are there to be felt!

    Thank you for reading!

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