James Ballantyne

Tag: neglect

  • From Denial to Love: My Body Transformation

    Transformation is through the body, not away from it (Eckhart Tolle, The Power of Now)

    I think I read ‘The Power of Now’ about 3 years ago, im not sure if there’s been a month since when I haven’t gone back to it and given it a read as something has taken me back to it.

    There is much in it, and many have written on it before, so this is in no way a review. But, the part of the book for me that felt the most uncomfortable when I read it the first time, and I guess then the most challenging, was the section on the Body. In particular about the Body and Spirituality.

    The quotation above is in a section in which Tolle describes how the body was ‘left behind’ in aspects of western spirituality (in favour of the mind) and how this fragmentation can be repaired, and without it, that transformation, from the inside out, is impossible.

    My timings might be off, but when I read those words 3-4 years ago, I knew I had started in myself the tiny steps of repairing the inner disconnect.

    Part of this was to distance myself from the religious language and practices I had inherited that aided the separation (written about here in part 1 of this series on loving our bodies).

    Part of this had been in tiny steps to recognise the worth and value of my own body in maybe tiny physical ways; at that point I was valuing myself with nice clothes, enjoying the feel of baths to relax in, using Nivea moisturiser, eating better and healthier and at least valuing my body more than I had done previously.

    Part of this too, I think was that I had begun or about to do Trauma Therapy, which in every session I was able to sense coherence, in some emotional ways, inner re-wirings, which meant tiny shards of feeling settled on the inside in a way not before.

    The journey of body connection had begun, in tiny steps.

    And so, as I read The Power of Now at that time, it felt reassuringly natural, yet also uncomfortable and aspiring, to think, to feel or get a sense of renewal through the body. For I also knew then I still had a lot of work to do.

    My tendency as I said above was to disconnect from my body (with all the religious permission to do so) and blame it, enact pain on it and self soothe it in a number of harmful ways.

    So to talk about Spirituality through the body, when my body didnt feel emotionally safe, strong, peaceful.. when it didnt feel at ‘home’ in itself, still felt a long way away – yet, at the same time, having tried to do religiosity through the mind, I also knew/felt something had been lacking.

    It was like trying to have a faith life with the ‘self’ quadrant (of the four quadrants, self, God, community, creation) on just the beginning of bringing itself to the James spiritual life party. I mean it was better than it was, but it was just starting..

    The search for meaning and truth for me had been in external things, to the extent of neglecting, denying and damaging my body sometimes in the search for and of them, when I saw this in the Power of Now, I realised to what extent.

    But this felt real at the time ( underlined then)

    Through the inner body, you are inseparably connected to this unmanifested One life- birthless, deathless, eternally present. Through the inner body you are forever one with God

    (Eckhart Tolle)

    The other source for me of awakening the spiritual within has been John O Donahue, today I read and read the section in which this part is in:

    We should avoid the false dualism that separates the should from the body. The soul is not simply within the body hidden somewhere within its recesses. The truth is a the converse. Your body is in the soul, and the soul suffices you completely.

    (John O Donohue, Anam Cara)

    In a kind of beautiful way, I am finding it much much more difficult to share where I am today in all of this, than where I was three years ago, in that three years, a lot has happened, both dealing with external, but even more so, two lots of therapy later, the internal.

    For the first time in my entire life, this year, I have felt completely at home in my own body, like feeling stillness, sureness and confidence, as if, through all the work I know I have done, and with brilliant professional help, there’s safety within.

    Not the removal of emotions, like the moment of anxiety, or unsettlement, these have happened, they’re going to. It has neither been the continual sense of transcendence I might add, but more so, the safety to sense and feel, to feel myself as someone of value and immensity, to also sense my own mystery and depths, as well as feeling open and large hearted, like joy and wonder and love are constant companions, not bolts of lightening out of the blue.

    Like I am a whole being. Whole.

    Transformation has been through the body, and that process has been the slow reconnection, of my mind to accept my body, my heart to love my body, for me, to be, and realise myself as within, and not just thoughts or emotions, but me, conscious me inside.

    Is that my soul or my heart? does it even matter, either way, my experience this year, all year has been about becoming day by day more aware, more content, more at home, to sense more love, and peace, more joyous even, and be more open, on the inside.

    I wouldn’t have thought that possible 3 years ago. it was beyond comprehension 6 years ago.

    So today.

    I woke feeling still, and loved, and held, and content, like almost every day this year. I realised I had no plans for the next three days of a bank holiday weekend (I worked yesterday I’ll have Tuesday off too), and so I thought to myself, I would just be.

    So I made an intention to just tend to and enjoy the sense of peace in my body, for the outside; i cut my hair, did a facial scrub, shaved and showered, all deliberately and slowly, and then gave myself permission just to feel alive in my body by just wearing shorts for an hour, in my flat, to just feel on the external the same sense of alive and peace on the inside. To sense my body with utterly no shame. And like much of this year, feel utterly alive.

    I then picked up both books mentioned above, and have spent today, at home or at my favourite cafe in town, reading, feeling and noticing how different I feel now about my body on the outside, and about my emotional, heartful, safe inner body, and just in the peace of the cafe or home, breathed, sensed and felt renewed in the sense of deep connection within my own body. I feel utterly at peace and still in this moment of realisation, affirmation, bliss even, it feels, I feel wonderful.

    I dont really have to write about this at all, I get that, but even this has been a deep experience to try and write in black and white this tiny part of my spiritual, physical and emotional journey, and that transformation really has been through and not despite or outside of my body.

    This is the beginning of the realisation of oneness, which is love. At the deepest level of being, you are one with all that is (Eckhart Tolle)

    The Spiritual self was inside me all along, love was inside me all along, soul was inside me all along, I was inside all along…

  • Without

    I often get the question; ‘What was it like growing up with your parents?’ – especially those who have read my story.

    Ill tell you. In a moment..

    Im just reading Oprah Winfrey and Bruce Perrys book ‘What Happened to you?’ in which they describe what it would be like to ask this question (as opposed to ‘whats wrong with you?) in regard to responding to situations of trauma in society – especially amongst some of the most judged in society (notably young people). It has given me much food for thought, especially in regard to youth/community practice, and ill share more on that on my other blog.

    But the book also touches on a personal level.

    So Ill give you a trigger warning, Emotional and Parental Abuse.

    There’s a beautiful story near the end of the book in which Oprah recalls a friend of hers cutting up a strawberry in the kitchen in which the friend delicates cuts up the strawberry for the daughter in the shape of a rose, and calls them rose strawberries, it is in this moment that Oprah thinks to herself:

    This is what a mothers love is

    Oprah Winfrey, 2021

    It is when Oprah sees the example of love that she realises what she didnt have, that she grew up ‘without’.

    Without a Mothers Love.

    I have written before about how growing up with psychopathic parents meant growing up Alone. It was also about growing up ‘Without’ .

    Yet it was a bizarrely hidden ‘without’ .

    It was a ‘without’ behind closed doors. Behind the doors of respectability that didnt include any of the so called ACES (adverse childhood experiences), it didnt involve moving houses, countries or cities, or being in care. It didnt involve divorce or unemployment.

    It was like existing without care, protection, love, nurture, support.

    It was without being seen, being visible.

    It was without being able to ask, for anything

    It was without.

    It meant learning to exist with a shield, strength shield of ‘learning to cope without’ or denying the need of any of these things.

    Which is why I sought refuge into my head. And pretending that everything was ok. That I was ok.

    And buying mothers days was an activity filled with falseness, real birthday cards were blank ones.

    When I grew with a fear of seeing to be selfish – then I understood not to ask when in need of anything – to go without

    When I grew up told off for being ungrateful – then I understood not to ask for something in case it would appear that I wasn’t content with what I had.

    When I grew up without praise or affirmation – then I learnt to keep working harder without reward, in case there might be one.

    Growing up without meant – amongst other things – without pocket money (that’s what Granny does and I dont do that, also ‘you’ll just waste it’) . Money and possessions are a big deal with the psychopathic/narcissist, everything belongs to them.

    Without meant turning up to school with arm patched up clothes, packed lunches, and when the dentist suggested braces and travelling 11 miles to get them fitted and fixed every 3 months being told ‘ No you can’t have them that bad as I’m not going to do that’ .

    When I grew up trying to understand how to survive every action or moment without being told off, or ‘upsetting the mother’ – then realising what isn’t there love, care, attention, affection, visibility, nurture, protection doesn’t even figure. There was no giving only taking.

    Oh and it extended well beyond childhood.

    There was no offer to contribute towards any studies, (even though there was insistence to attend 1 graduation) , neither was any support , housing or financial during my marriage separation 4 years ago (but there was upset that I didnt ask) . These were experienced, without.

    It was also a without so many things, and yet as I use this phrase it reminds me that ‘with’ was one of their phrases around food. It would be after some fairly disastrous first course, that a second (pudding) would be unleashed. It would be some kind of over baked, under fruited, or reduced priced pie/crumble or equivalent, and to hide it various additions would be trailed out of the fridge, to hide the original monstrosity/admission of undervalue – so ice cream (value/vanilla usually), evaporated milk or custard – or at Christmas cream or the squirty cream – the ‘with it’ was a show, a covering. It was over done, to hide ‘without’ . At this point the challenge was to be true and ‘go without’ because what looked like ‘a lot’ – a table with 5 of cream, ice cream or custard – was lacking something core, but to deny it was to appear ungrateful, because there was a weird kind of choice on offer. Gifts were toxic. So actual need requests couldnt be asked for.

    That’s what growing up in a psychological abuse home was like.

    It was without care. It was without heart, soul, safety, space, or fun.

    There was ‘with’ – but it came at a price.

    So I read Oprah and Perrys book, and realise that what I have wanted to be able to give, I had to learn, but was not what I had any experience of. Growing up emotionally alone, meant going without, existing without, surviving without, making life work for me, despite them, not because of them.

    Growing up ‘without’ meant too that I was completely susceptible to any care and attention from others, I didnt have a ‘God shaped hole’ in my life – it was more emotionally psychological than that (not that I knew at the time, most of the time) , but I certainly filled this with ‘God-shaped’ activities, in becoming part of a church through my teens and beyond. Neglect is one of the biggest issues in Child Safeguarding.

    That ‘without’ has then played out in so many ways.

    As I grew up ‘without’ I had to force myself to consider valuing myself.

    To ‘treat’ myself

    To ask for help – and know it could be trusted

    To realise I couldn’t do it alone

    To realise too that I could receive love, blessings, hope and be able to see, feel and experience the love of the universe, God and others.

    Over the last few weeks I have realised that I would have struggled to read, or dwell in the ‘Blessings’ of the book that I bought a few weeks ago (by John O Donohue) – I would have discounted these as weird, ‘new age’ , ‘not very christian’ – all to hide the real truth, that I didnt want to accept that I could receive something good, or feel something good, a blessing.

    Learning to live ‘without’ – has meant having to now come close to and notice those things, notice, accept, and know. Sometimes I get angry that I realise how much I was fucked up by my parents. Sometimes, like this moment with Oprah and a strawberry it gives me an opportunity to pause again, face a truth, and remind myself, compassionately of who I truly am. To be grateful of how I survived, and my strength in doing so. To be compassionate on my wounded heart and its capacity to love.

    There are many scarcities in life, and shame is one of them, its anti dote is self compassion. So, as I close…

    May I breath in the love of the universe, kindness, goodness and generosity, may I be healed through attending to myself, and holding myself with warmth. May I hold myself with warmth as I attend to and discover what happened to me.

    Every moment acts as an opportunity for self compassion. This journey keeps on giving.

    Thank you and bless you for reading. May you receive and give love.

  • The Root that Took

    The Root that Took

    I feel like a potato at the moment

    Being peeled

    Layer by layer

    Skin first, feeding it’s way through the blade of the knife

    Gentle hand, gliding it’s way around the exteriort

    The skin

    To the flesh

    The white or grey

    Bruises, wounds

    Growths, fungi, mould underneath the skin

    Amongst the raw white flesh

    Wounds hidden away

    Affecting the growth

    Affects the flesh

    Amongst the white

    Peeling away

    Getting to the centre

    Getting to the root

    It’s all connected to the root

    The flesh, the fungi, the bruises, the mould,

    The root

    The root that sunk deep inside the core

    The root that detaches easily

    The root that has no connection

    The root in which no protection against bacteria or attacks were given

    The root that carried toxins from the soil

    The root that damaged growth

    The root of poison

    The root that took

    The root that sucked goodness for itself

    The root that supplied shame, hurt, fear,

    The root that neglected

    The root that always took

    The root that fucking took

    The blade is cutting through, yet soft hands are gently remoulding the flesh

    Loving and caring for the fungi, the bruises, the scars

    Bringing life

    Scraping off the root

    Sinking the flesh into healthy soil again

    Safety, love, connection, gentleness, kind.

    Repairing from the root that took.

  • What actually did I learn from my Parents? (Part 1)

    What actually did I learn from my Parents? (Part 1)

    How did (my brothers and) I learn kindness, trust and loving fun when not a single one of these was a consistent part of my parents marriage?

    Anne Lamott, Dusk Night Dawn (2021)

    This is a fascinating question. Dont you think?

    Ive often wondered similarly. I think Anne Lamott book has given me permission to explore this further:

    How did I learn about love? – when feelings were hidden or false

    How did I learn about kindness- when the dominant parent only stole

    How did I learn trust – when, to this day, it wasn’t a word used at all

    How did I learn…anything at all?

    I don’t remember being taught anything at all?

    I remember being told of for not being able to do something. For not ‘growing up’ and being able to do something.

    I didnt see love, only felt fear.

    And when I think about it, what did I learn at all?

    I learned to stay quiet, make no noise, dont be inconvenient – only room for one person with temper and anger in the house.

    Tip toe on around the eggshells.

    I learned to conform, or be punished

    I learned to put myself to one side, learning to orient around the other.

    I learned to hide the good parts of me, revealing only I safe places

    I learned that I had to grow up fast

    I learned loyalty

    I learned sides

    I learned to shut down

    I learned to be self reliant

    I learned that I had to leave childhood behind – and be mature

    I learned to accept little, limited and not question – to manage without

    when others had.

    I learned survival

    I learned I couldn’t be helpless, couldn’t ask, couldn’t want or need.

    Thats interesting isnt it.

    I learned that I couldn’t be helpless.

    There was only one child allowed in the house. Trophy children aren’t allowed to be messy, be themselves, have emotion, be understood.

    Ive just finished reading ‘Dibs in search of self’ (1964) I found it fascinating on a number of levels. In one interaction between Dibs (aged 6) and the Play therapist, she (Virginia) notes that on one occasion Dibs asks her to ‘help me with my shoe, help me with my coat’ – In a rare moment of helplessness. Helplessness was a luxury that I couldn’t afford. I just had to know things. If I was told once how to do something, that was it, expected to know, like the toddler tasks of wiping my own bum or tieing my own shoelaces. I remember looking with scorn at the children at primary school who couldn’t do their laces. I mean couldn’t everyone. No, what I couldn’t see was that they had the luxury of helplessness, they didnt have to grow up and know. I had to.

    If I had to ‘just know’ how to tie my shoelaces. I had to work out most things for myself. I knew there was no point in crying for help, it wasnt going to come.

    I couldn’t be helpless, so I judged others for being able to be. I learned projection from age 5. To hide what I didnt have.

    So, what about kindness, what about love? What about gentleness, joy or peace?

    Its funny that for an evangelical childhood home – how these were absent.

    There was soothing and accommodating. There was helpfulness. There was hiding. There was avoiding.

    Maybe I didnt need to learn love. I just needed to uncover it. Maybe that more part of my (and your) core and its waiting to spring from the deep of layers of pain or shame or hurt or guilt. But it still makes me doubt? Am I loving enough – do I need to have learned it to give it?

    im in a space where I’m reflecting on what I learned, or how I learned from my parents.

    Theres a part 2 on this coming soon too..

    But – what about you – what did you learn, and how did you learn from your parents? if anything at all?

    Anne Lamott, Dusk Night Dawn, 2021

    Dibs in search of Self, Virginia M Axline 1964

  • Surviving Psychopathic Parenting (Part 23) Growing up Emotionally Alone

    We are all together alone, and these are just wishes, and I am just dreaming

    Perfect Place, Voice of the Beehive 1991

    That was one of my favourite songs as a young teenager. I still have the cassette tape.

    Something clearly resonated.

    A song that said something about being together, and alone.

    Thats what my family was like.

    We are all together, alone.

    Growing up alone.

    Thats what I had to do.

    People dont spend time with you in your family home when your Mother is a monster.

    People stay away.

    There are rare family get togethers, where everyone treads the same ongoing eggshells. Waiting for the landmines to be walked on.

    And when you do spend time with people – as soon as they leave the house

    Monster mother invalidates them.

    ‘They’re only here to sell something’ or ‘They should make more effort to see us’ or as they leave, after an argument, an abrupt ending – then they never come back.

    Then theres the role playing.

    The Categories that everyone in the family is given and has to fit into. So and So is ‘always’ doing this, or ‘________ is such a bully’ or ‘do you think _______ will ever grow up?’ Roles of scapegoat, bully, favourite etc played out all around – that as a child I couldn’t see. But it meant there was little connection.

    So people stay away.

    But its not just the extended family who stay away.

    Within the family – its wholly divided up.

    Its the only way a monster maintains their power.

    Dad cant be trusted, as he’s her helper and investigator – and sworn loyalty

    Siblings hide too. They, she is as alone as I am.

    And then that leaves me.

    Growing up alone.

    Finding family in the books, Charlies Family with a chocolate factor, Matildas School teacher, Dannys practical fun dad Dad with the sparkling eyes. Finding Family in other peoples families, the youth leaders and their foster children (and their own), finding family with other adults in the church. These were the safe people to have family with.

    Friends weren’t safe, not all the time.

    Unless a friend didnt want to come back to my house. Then it was ok.

    ‘Why doesnt ________ come back to the house?’ – err no, why should they? – I prefer being at theirs being anywhere but here She would play nice with them in person – like the Birthday parties from when I was 8, or when id here ‘Your mum isnt as bad as you say she is’ – nope – thats because in that hour she kind of put on a false mask.

    So, in the end, I avoided having friends, close friends too. It was kind of a safety mechanism, for me, and for them. Id have friends that we would do school together or where they didnt mind me going to their house, their park/community etc. But id learnt very quickly that the only way to be safe was to keep these people away, keep secrets.

    I have been describing this series as surviving psychopathic parenting, and I think after 23 parts to it, you have been able to tell what its like, and, piecing together all the parts, will create a picture, do look up the menu above for parts 1-22.

    It is growing up alone.

    And strangely, also, growing up in a false type of alone as no one actually realises or can comprehend that you are alone. ‘But you have both parents’ or those few moments of ‘being family’ and everyone is together. There is no happiness or joy in any family photos. Nothing. Hiding behind the surface of what ‘looks’ like a normal, nuclear, are people, victims of abuse, children, who are utterly alone.

    The double whammy of not being able to describe it, but feeling that constant ache, that constant emptiness of being completely utterly emotionally alone.

    Emotionally self dependant. Had to rely on whatever I knew of myself.

    It’s so multilayered, that even now its hard to describe. How a monster in one family divides everyone up, how they offer nothing but neglect, how they project behaviours, how they make accusations, so that you recoil, how they play victim when threatened, how they dominate, so that in reality, everyone feels alone – no one can trust anyone, the rumours go all around…

    I mean: How on earth can a child describe emotional aloneness that pervades everything? – when it looks like the ‘family’ is together.

    If this ring true for you, in a domestic abuse relationship, with either partner or parents do seek help, and if this provokes thoughts that you would want to investigate further, do look up the resources on the menu page above.