James Ballantyne

Tag: self-love

  • The Lie we’re conditioned to believe.

    I will be ok. 

    Thats the lie. Right there. 

    Actually not quite. 

    Because thinking about it, ‘I will be ok’ was always true, as im still here now, and ‘I will be ok’ was what I used to say to myself a lot, when going through the bewilderment of emotional abuse and manipulation in childhood and in a long term marriage. When things got tough, or weird or both, and much was just what I had been used to since birth; ‘I will be ok’ would be what I said to myself. 

    And because im here writing this, I guess that isnt the liee then. That was grit and determination rearing its strengthening head. 

    The lie was this. 

    ‘I will be ok….if’ 

    ‘If’ that tiny little word. 

    ‘If’ could also appear at the end of the phrase

    ‘They might like me .. IF’ 

    or

    ‘They might be proud of me … ‘IF’ 

    or 

    ‘Things might be ok…’if’’

    But lets get back to the first one

    ‘I will be ok….if’ 

    Conditional Okay-ness. 

    Because thats what it is. Ultimately. It’s about having a self belief that is only satisfied when certain conditions happen. Conditional self- worth, self -respect, self-regard. 

    ‘I will be ok….. if im a little bit fitter’ 

    ‘I will be happy … if I write a piece that goes viral’ 

    ‘I will be happy…. on a sunny day’ 

    ‘I will be ok… if ‘they’ treat me ok’ 

    ‘I will be ok….. if _______ happens’ 

    ‘I will be ok… if get to put in my meditation, breathing, bath, journal, cook nice food, give myself some me time, breathe again, watch the roses grow and do yoga..twice… then ill be ok’ 

    ‘I will be ok……if’ 

    Because it’s a lie. 

    In his book ‘Living untethered’ (and also The Untethered Soul) Micheal Singer writes about how much of our lives are spend trying to avoid, navigate, deny or skirt around pain and challenges in our lives, so much that they dominate. So much so that we create a type of living in which the pain, the abuse, the darkness holds us in captive, and so we instead (I instead) would tell myself these little lies, the lies of conditional okayness. 

    Because I wasnt ok, I hoped and tried to will myself to be, but without facing the real pain, the real issues inside. I was temporarily ok….if my football team won, if I managed to get a good grade in an essay, if I could ride my bike…if , if, if, if… 

    I needed something to happen for me to have temporary ok-ness. 

    I needed something to cause me to feel a tiny bit ok. 

    I was requiring something other, to soothe… something inner. 

    I was needing ‘the world’ to fix/solve/soothe what was on the inside… without facing or dealing with the real issue. It was avoidant, I was avoidant, and yet ‘I will be ok..if’ is all around and so it was easy to go along with it… even if I was dying on the inside. 

    Because. If was depending on something to make me feel ok. Then I wasnt ok. 

    I was just in a cycle of it. 

    Being ok, needn’t be conditional. 

    It took me a very long while, at least 5 years of facing the stuff, journaling, listening to my emotions, giving myself time, safety, therapy, using the tools and having better self care routines, that helped me be in a better place. A place where I could trust myself a bit, a place where I was more aware of my sensitive nature, and awareness of the damage that had been done to me. (for more of this read my story here) . Yet, I was still trying to believe that I was ok. Yes I could relax, yes I was safe, but so much deep down, inside I was , and especially when I hit some low points, I would collapse and breakdown, which I did in 2023. 

    I knew I didnt believe in myself because the very thing that I needed, was the thing I criticised. Positive psychology. Thinking positively. Self affirmations.. yuk no no no. I can’t do that…it’s so Ammmerrican. It’s false, it’s ugh, no. 

    But I realised that my inner critic voice was still running the roost. Even with a lot of change. I still had ‘needs’ and ‘needed things’ to be ok. 

    I didn’t believe I was ok, not unconditionally ok. Self belief hung on a fragile string. 

    That little lie ‘ I will be ok…if……I change my job…if I write something…if I …..’ 

    And whilst im at it, ill not dwell on this here, but I might well have been told that ‘God loved me’ – but since that was also the belief of my abusive parent, and also church was a place I needed to belong, to be important, to be busy, to be intelligent, to know (and not feel) – two theology degrees later and a 22 year career working in faith groups in the UK… Unconditional Gods love, was lost in a kernel of conditional institutional performance and responsibility. It wasnt Gods fault. But too much pain and damage surrounded this heart, and so unconditional love or even unconditional ‘ok-ness’ was off the table. 

    So, it was easy to believe the lie. 

    I wasnt ok, and I was stuck in a cycle of believing that I would be one day ok…if…

    What I had to do was face the reality of myself, and my hurts, pains, defence mechanisms, sand strategies…and dig right deep, into the places of self loathing, self mistrust, self destruction… and find myself stronger, more loving, and more compassionate than all of them. 

    To start to rebuild a self that had been broken and tormented since birth. 

    To realise that ‘ I will be ok.. If’ 

    Was actually a lie. 

    Because the truth is something else. 

    The truth is not that I am ok. 

    The truth is that I just am. 

    Regardless of what happens. I still am. 

    Regardless of what I do… I am

    And in me there is love, and joy, and calm, and truth… 

    The funny thing is, in the last year or so I notice myself saying things like ‘I need ______’ or ‘if I buy _______ ill be ok’ – its almost as if its an unusual thing, to notice, to realise and then I check in with myself. 

    I dont need to believe that I am conditionally ok. 

    And neither do you. 

    But it’s a lie we’ve been often told to believe. 

    Because it keeps us trapped.

  • Wonder-filled You

    Its sometimes easy to;

    Fall in love with the sky at night

    when northern lights glow like fire.

    Fall in love with the flowing river,

    that gushes over rocks so smooth.

    Fall in love with the mountains,

    giants of the earth, majestic and glorious.

    Fall in love with the tiniest thing,

    Kingfisher, Bumblebee, fungus or leaf.

    Notice, Feel, Stare

    Wonder.

    But closer still,

    Remember to love

    The wonder of you

    Yes, fall in love with wonderful you

    Gaze inwards and see

    The wonder of your heart, its love beating around

    Look, feel and sense

    The wonder of the life that stems from within

    A glimpse of your childlike innocence.

    The wonder of your body that holds you beautifully

    Wonder, just at that moment, to wonder

    Stare at your own magnificence

    Gaze at your own eyes

    as they wonder within.

    Wonder at your strength, your power

    Wonder at your self, Love, cherish, treasure,

    Remember and enjoy what its like,

    To fall in love

    With wonderful, wonder-filled you.

  • 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…

  • Men, Why do we find it hard to love our bodies? (Part 1)

    Trigger warning ; Childhood abuse, self harm, spiritual abuse.

    I saw this from the beautiful Kat Shaw Artist yesterday:

    Her work is incredible to predominately female audience, on the female body, healing and self image. I always love it, I love this one too.

    Yet it provided me a question;

    How many times as a Man have I been encouraged to love my body? Or to ‘love the skin’ I’m in?

    Mentally arrive at your own answer here too, how many times have you heard this about loving your body as a man?

    I hope it’s a lot, but my guess is it’s not very many.

    And what was your response when you heard it, who said it to you?

    Clearly this question was in my subconscious as when I woke at 2am this morning, and the bulk of what I write next started to take shape, and I think that this might be a series of posts on this.

    Let’s start at the beginning, what were the internalised messages, as a boy, that you received as a child, in regard to your body?

    Mine were the following.

    1. Nakedness was shameful. A story that was repeated ad finitum by my psychotic mother, to encourage shame, was the story that she and my friends mum found me and my best friend naked under a carpet rug, aged around 3, two innocent little boys. But this story was told with glee to embarrass and shame.
    2. My body could be hit as punishment. Whether her hand or his slippers, thats my body taking it. Taking the punishment my voice and mind caused through being said to be too clever or cheeky.
    3. My body could be made to feel pain deliberately in a controlled way to either create attention, or alleviate other pain – such as biting my nails until they were septic, scratching, picking spots also pulling out my own hair.
    4. Pain also got attention, I hid having verrucas for a week (I didnt know what they were on the balls of my feet, just lumps) after the horror and inconvenience of this ( I loved swimming) I clearly remember how enthused my mother was when it came to getting needles and tweezers out on a daily occurrence to supposedly deal with, but also inflict serious pain. ‘You know your mother likes to get the tweezers out and be the pain doctor’ as my Dad stood by and watched this bizarre scene.
    5. My body could be denied warmth and love as this was what was the norm, so I would lie in bed and feel deliberately cold, not deserving of warmth, or forcing all pain into my head and asking it to numb the pain. Self punishment of my body for a time when id been made to feel guilty about something.
    6. When there was a possibility that I would need braces to alleviate my crooked teeth and as the Dentist said ‘ to help him feel better about his smile and looks’ my mother said that ‘we’ll not worry about this and Im not travelling 12 miles a week to get them set up, checked and done, thats too much effort’
    7. No praise of anything I did that involved physicality, or softness of touch, hugs, love, in fact… this is what I gave my abusive mother…
    8. Clothes and looks didnt matter as a Man, Mum would control what my dad would wear and I as a child wore the most embarrasing clothes.
    9. My body was someone else’s to dictate and destroy, to shame and enact pain on.

    Most of these were from under the age of 9. I think the braces I was 11.

    What were yours?

    Other messages about my body came from church and school, and also inferred from other places too.

    They were all internalised in the context with above.

    Some of the things about the body, I heard that became implied in church were the following:

    1. The Body was weak and prone to temptation
    2. The Body was fleshly and dirty, compared to the spirit, the soul
    3. Jesus’ body was crucified, so that was ok, bodies are disposable, his mind and soul elevated
    4. The body is mortal, the soul is eternal, so only focus on the eternal
    5. The body is the Temple of the Holy Spirit, but barely attention given to what this actually means, except to use it to pray and read the bible, but it is just ‘housing’ for something more important.
    6. Some parts of the body sin, and could be ‘chopped off’ like eyes..
    7. The Lord sees what’s on the inside, the heart… your body shape, size doesn’t matter, but not in a special way, an irrelevant way.

    Not much body love happening here… right?

    And the implications for all of this for me, who already felt deep internalised body shame, self conscious, self neglect and pain that I had normalised…

    The other activities in my life, including sports and school, emphasised either the cultivation of the mind to do academic work, the physical aspects of the body for sports, some bits on healthy eating, and the facts about the body were just that, facts, how the body works, from the organs and muscles, to the smaller details of the DNA, cells, neurons and oxygenation, facts to be understood, not a body to be treasured or wondered at, just to learn about.

    Pictures of perfect male specimens started to adorn my walls, the footballers of the 1990’s in poster form. Ryan Giggs’ left foot, Mark Hughes powerful thighs, the massive hands and shoulders of Peter Schmeichel, and that utter confidence of the mercurial Eric Cantona. It wasn’t difficult to feel inferior, as though I tried to play football, I could in practice but in games I had too much anxiety and panic, and so pretty horrid nicknames were headed my way.

    And it was all my bodies fault.

    It could all be taken out on my body.

    My body didnt matter did it. And though I maybe cute and blond, i didnt like how I looked especially my teeth, and hid myself from any mirror.

    It wasn’t difficult looking at this with my eyes open, aged 46, at the damage this was doing.

    As I headed into teenage years.

    And yes, the myriad of Puberty.

    I liked what my body could do, sports wise, I was pretty fit and dived into sports, so swimming, and I wasn’t uncomfortable being practically naked each week swimming with others, I played badminton and pretty flexible, and football, and in the main, was in good physical shape. It wasn’t that I loved my body’s ability to do this, it was that I was competitive and determined to win.

    I remember a school nurse when I was 15 or so, it was ‘that’; check up, where they checked my whole body, so I stripped off except pants, and stood there, on the scales, and she commented; ‘James you have a very well toned body with broad shoulders’ and remembering this now, was the only body compliment I received between 0-18. I didn’t know what to do, but probably smile uncomfortably, and let her know that it was due to swimming a couple of miles a week. One of only a few positive body complaints I received as a young person, the other was from a youth leader who probably crossed a line when she told me I had ‘great legs’ and yes… given the sports.. but only two positive body messages in childhood. WOW.

    Wasn’t hard to see how easy it would be to disconnect from my body though. Mind and Spirit more important, body the source of pain, frail and weak. And I would berate my body if it couldn’t do sports beyond the pain, keep pushing it, keep pushing it. Or keep pushing it up late to study and learn.

    My body just the tool, the housing.

    How damaging was all of this though?

    What did it cause, self denial, self loathing, shame, self-neglect – and then self pain – from that constant nail biting until I was 17, comfort eating which started when I was 12 (late night bread/cereal was safe food, and required for the ‘growing boy’) and continued until I was 41, averaging 4 slices of bread each night, for 29 years, and thats not to mention the other times I would eat so unhealthily to mask emotional pain, the millions of reduced price doughnuts at Tescos for one example, or eating food in the car between leaving work and going home, to comfort the depression in both settings.

    I would try dieting, and it was have to be severe, and it worked for the odd month, but it wasn’t from a whole place, comfort eating soon followed again…

    So let’s go back to puberty…. eeeeuuugghhh, I know..

    Yes.

    Those body changes. All seen as humorous by those parents. The Voice cracking, squeaking, etc, trying to work out myself about shaving and also, the looking in the mirror; The spots. Oh the spots. I had learned to inflict pain. You can guess the rest.

    At this time also, though maybe also before, our eyes dont help us think that our own bodies are beautiful do they?

    Starting to notice, like and find and fancy other people. I’ll be inclusive, it may have been other boys to you, but it was girls for me. Eyes start to notice the shape of girls and not really know how to deal with what they saw. From their hips, legs, smile, breasts and bum and everything else. All of which is perfectly natural, but seriously hard to know what to do with as a disassociating teenager, with body in shame mode, trying to be a good christian boy and go to school with some well developing beautiful young women.

    And those eyes still do the same dont they, even in a healthy way, you may be reading this blog on the couch and your beautiful partner (male or female) is making you a coffee and they are hot in your eyes, they are your partner, they have something that raises your temperatures… so it can be difficult to love ourselves and our own bodies when our eyes see the beauty in other people before our own.

    I know most of this is my story. But anyone else relate?

    So.. the big question:

    Have you, as a man, ever considered that you could love your body?

    As it is… not as you think it should be

    All of it? Even if it can feel frail or has let you down

    All of it? even if it contains feelings that seem mysterious, or distractive

    All of it? as you are, not comparing it to the bodies who you find attractive

    All of it? even now, today, even after it may have tormented by others in the past, wrongfully (it wasn’t your fault, it wasn’t your body’s fault)

    And as Men, what have we learned to feel about our own bodies…it’s barely to love it is it?

    Men, why do we find this weird? Does it feel feminine? Does it feel soft? Does it feel impossible? It’s as if our bodies has housed all of our shame and we don’t know what to do with it, I didnt.

    I sense there is a lot more to write about this subject from both an emotional, physical, spiritual and sexual perspective.

    But I want to end this piece with this quotation, which I read yesterday, and tied with what I read above.

    ‘It takes so long to learn to take the place in your own life’ (John O’Donohue, Eternal Echoes).

    And this life includes our bodies. the inner wholeness within, the sense of peace and contentment, acceptance of and also, not using the language we have created to berate our bodies, instead loving our bodies with kind words. But it takes so long, far too long, and it’s about unlearning all the internalised messages from a long long time ago. They do not need to rule in our heads any more, another way of thinking about our bodies is possible.

    I’m a man, and have a heart too, can this not love myself and my body in a healthy way, and what would this feel like to have self acceptance, wholeness and love for myself.. within?

    Please do put some of your thoughts and reasons in the comments below or send me an email. This as I say is part one.

  • The (not so) wonderful thing about Tiggers

    Without question this was my favourite Disney song. My beautiful Auntie Heather, only 10 years older than me, had in her record collection circa 1982 a Disney compilation, as well as probably a whole load of other cool music that I had no idea of (or wasn’t allowed to hear).

    But the second track on the Disney album, moving the record player arm to the first groove on the record, was the one. The Original Tigger song.

    And probably to my Aunties great torment I wanted it to be played it over and over and over again in her bedroom when I stayed at my Grandmas house, I was about 3 or older…

    Fast forward 43 years.

    I currently am one of the lead trainers for safeguarding in the Methodist Church, and this week led a face to face session. In it the participants get the opportunity to use a variety of cuddly toys to explore how people respond in places if they feel unsafe or been abused, so there’s the turtle (retreat into hard shell) the hedghog (prickles), you get the picture, and there’s also the Pooh bear characters. The brilliant thing is that every time there’s always one new piece of insight from each group.

    The group had done all of the characters, except our friendly bouncy one.

    So, I from the front went ‘which table has got the tigger, as we all know the wonderful thing about tiggers….’

    And they sang along…

    Then a lady on the table said.

    ‘The thing about tiggers, its like the song, they are bouncy, they are fun, they are smily, but like anyone who is an abuse situation, they believe they are the only one’

    And the lady looked me in the eye, and I looked back, and a shared tear I think appeared in both. My little heart had a moment, when I just realised.

    I believed I was the only one.

    For so so so long.

    If I could see what was happening as abuse, I believed in the shame and isolation of being the only one.

    No one else was telling me that it might not be the only one who could have an abusive mother. And weak as a boy/man for this being the case.

    I felt I was alone and the only one who might be in an emotionally unhealthy/damaging marriage…as a man.

    I felt I was alone when women in work places bullied me – and that I should just ‘get over it’

    I felt I was the alone, the only one.

    I felt that I just had to survive it, that I had no choice but to cope.

    It was so confusing and bewildering that it was impossible to explain, and no resources to.

    Believing I was the only one.

    So in that moment in safeguarding training, I realised quite how much that Tigger song resonated, and as it did so gave me the opportunity to see, to know and to feel, and also to perform in the moment the self love and acceptance required.

    I wasn’t the only one.

    I wasnt.

    So many people had been damaged by her that I wasn’t unique in this.

    I wasn’t the only person to have narcissistic parents, as the book that saved my life testifies to.

    The day I realised my mother is a narcissist

    I wasn’t the only man to be hiding and surviving in an emotionally unhealthy/damaging marriage

    I wasn’t the only man feeling shame and the weight of responsibility

    I wasn’t the only man to feel on the run, incapable of being myself in relationships, just reverting to the hurt wounded teenage persona – there was a reason for this… it was the wounded me.

    I wasn’t the only man who who felt that going to therapy was weak..

    I wasn’t … but I felt it…

    And if this is you, neither are you, even if you feel it.

    Tigger needed friends to help him out of his uniqueness, the projection of being ok and not needing help or have someone else care, all hiding deep insecurity and potential counter- dependence.

    Friends with experience, friends with experience and books, the spaces online that I found eventually where groups talk about this and have resources are all healthy ways of undoing the alone thinking.

    And this week, the feedback was that it was one of the best training sessions they had had, and that it was led with sensitivity and depth. I wonder why.

    I wasnt triggered, (though maybe tiggered) it was just a gulp of realisation of the light shining on the whole, and the opportunity to hold and love that wounded little boy all over again. Yes the tears flowed on the journey home, but thats to be expected with me at the moment, love feels strong.

  • To the Shadows, Stranger and Friend

    Do I dare take myself into my own shadows?

    It won’t be a walk on the brightside

    Far from the lights

    into the wild spaces

    The lost areas

    Do I Dare?

    What am I afraid of?

    What might find me there?

    What might be lurking in the midst of me?

    Fearing the fears themselves

    Who is leading me there

    Who is taking me

    Who is holding my hand

    When I walk, what will I find?

    And what happen when I face the strange encounter?

    Of what’s hidden deep within

    That moment

    Approaching the dark veiled mystery

    That pain that holds power

    The dark, the hidden

    Do I dare go there?

    In the maze of labyrinthine mystery

    Do I dare be led by the stranger?

    To the darkness held within

    Swamps of voices, Caves of emptiness

    Failings and shame making themselves known

    But what happens then, when the stranger leads me

    To that depth within

    Who is stranger leading, if not me, and my friend too

    So, that darkness is less the enemy

    When approached by stranger and friend

    Stranger unafraid to go there

    And friend there, as love, deep inside

    Stranger leading, friend following

    And gentle the process of walking

    In the shadows, stranger and friend

    to myself

    and what’s to be loved inside.

    (James Ballantyne, 2024)

  • Careful, the universe might give you what you wish for.

    Dangerously there were two words that I started 2023 with.

    It was as if, they were the words that were about to shape my life, weirdly.

    One of the words I wrote about, a little bit. The other I didnt.

    I wasn’t a bit fan of ‘manifesting’ or ‘goal setting’, for a mixture of reasons, one felt too charismatic and dare I say it, American, the other I realise now was because of inbuilt depression.

    Want to know what the two words were?

    (I guess thats the point of this piece)

    One of the words was Happy.

    The Other was Surrender.

    And… little did I know what was about to happen in the year.

    Because, I started the year in quite a good place.

    But it sort of felt just a bit fragile, I was having happy moments. I was having moments of ‘overcoming stuff’ that in the day to day I was enjoying the bliss of this, the wash of self love, and also beginning to feel a bit more me, and a bit more confident.

    Yet, the early confidence of 2023 was fragile. I could tell. It wasn’t matched with self belief, it wasn’t matched with a sense of inner wholeness, it wasn’t confident.

    As I said, the words were Happy, and Surrender.

    From April until August 2023. I crashed.

    Big time crashed.

    I had fought a fight and lost badly, and the inner voices returned.

    And it felt so so dark.

    Had I gone too soon with trying to be Happy?

    No.

    Did I have more healing to do?

    Yes

    Was the universe shaking it all up so that I could Heal even more?

    Oh fuck yes.

    Was it hard. Absolutely.

    As bleak and as dark as anything before. As anything since I was 9. The year I had to shut out the voices.

    But now I heard them again.

    Happy and Surrender.

    really?

    Happy and Surrender.

    Surrender and Happy.

    It’s so hard to explain now, but the spiralling fall that was taking place was debilitating.

    Happiness felt like an unachievable illusion

    Surrender felt like falling, failing, giving up.

    I was treading water with lead bricks attached by ropes to my feet.

    Walking a tightrope that was on fire

    Bleak, Dark, humiliation and all the feelings. All of them.

    And yet.

    And yet, I also realised at the time, with gritted teeth, that the voices, the inner peril was being revealed to me so that I had no choice but to deal with it.

    No choice.

    After 6 months of not really writing to myself, I re started journalling again, when I say journalling, I mean writing out the rage, the hurt, the anger, the pain, the feelings of humiliation, little James’ pain. This was the beginning of starting to write to little James, writing that tentatively started to shape the book im writing.

    I had to ask for help.

    I had to accept, surrender even, that I needed help.

    Everything was triggering me. Everything.

    I could tell how self absorbed I was in my own damaged head. In my own woundedness.

    Help arrived in a number of ways.

    Yes, professional help in terms of beginning therapy again. But also finding a safe space to write and give myself distance from the places that felt unsafe or too draining.

    The raw path of vulnerability opened up the beautiful. I noticed the gifts of the universe in response. I began to feel held.

    Happy and Surrender.

    Strength from surprising places, notably from within. One Vulnerable step at a time.

    Some of the breakthroughs might warrant a whole piece on them.

    At that wasn’t really the point of this piece, the point was that 15 months ago there were two words that seemed to be announcing themselves to me at the beginning of the year. Happy and Surrender.

    And the relationship between the two, in my healing process in the last 15 months is quite astonishing.

    Surrendering to the darkness did not mean giving in, giving up, or believing the voices, even if they were loud and I felt terrified, small and humiliated.

    Surrendering meant accepting that those inner voices were the consequence of pain and a damaged wounded childhood and I needed again to love those wounded parts, listen, and be open to whatever the path might be, navigating through them.

    Surrendering to the path through the darkness and slowly but surely holding myself in love as the path was being walked on slow step by slow step. A path of self-compassion and warmth as the anti-dote to self hatred, blame and criticism.

    Happiness was a risk. It still feels like a risk, a tender shoot to love and care for.

    A new toy to protect.

    Easier to talk about pain, shame and darkness – that isn’t going to be stolen.

    Happiness is fragile. Happiness feels conditional. Happiness requires surrender.

    Because, after all, what was the point? What was the point of wanting to be whole, healed and better? Just to exist and survive? Just to write about it and get the views? Just to stay stuck in it?

    I dont think so.

    Happiness and Surrender – what did I need to surrender to, in order for there to be inner happiness in my heart, soul and mind?

    A happy mind? imagine that… not an over thinking, over sensitive, triggered one.

    And, 4 months since the end of regular therapy. 9 months of the slow step by step inner healing process (of this phase of it).

    Whisper it quietly, or shout it from the rooftops, a deep sense of Happiness, of Joy even, has found me, a kind of clarity and strength and peace in heart, soul and mind, that hasn’t been my life experience ever. It’s weird, so so weird, but incredible all the same.

    Happiness and Surrender… You dont always get what you wish for, at least not in the ways you might expect, but sometimes the universe, the loving mystery of the universe has it, and it has you too.

  • There are no shortcuts.

    I had expectations for today.

    Last Saturday I was working, today I am not.

    When I was out walking during the week I was talking to a dog walker who was telling me about the Otters in Darlington on the main Skerne river, saying that the best time to see them was in the mornings. So I thought.

    Ill get up fairly early, walk along the river, take some lovely photos of Otters, and this will be magical, and then head to my favourite coffee spot in town to then do some writing on my book.

    So I did get up earlyish, after a not a bad nights sleep, ate breakfast and walked into town.

    And along the river, from town all the way into South Park. And guess what.

    Nothing.

    Nothing.

    Well, no otters anyway. No magic miracle for me today.

    How long to wait? not very, just a walk down the river and back. No movements into the water (by anything different than a Mallard) and no movements in the bushes different to pigeons, doves, blue tits and a wren skuttling around.

    So I left.

    Disappointed.

    And I got to my writing cafe in a low mood. Frustrated.

    I mean, nature should be rewarding me for my efforts to find it surely?

    Thats how it works?

    And then I would feel the blessings of this magic moment and be inspired to write all day and do some great creativity. But instead I am writing this.

    I am writing this, after I spent an hour just journaling about disappointment, and getting close to it.

    Getting close to disappointment.

    Unmet resentments, I deserved better from nature this morning, didnt I?

    It’s not fair?

    I was looking for a quick win, a solution

    What was being shown to me, was another opportunity to just let be, to feel.

    To not give the world the responsibility of adhering to my needs and wants, for the thing to be ‘the thing’

    If only I saw an Otter then id be happy this morning?

    If only X then Y

    If my team wins, then that will give me a lift – that was basically my soothing strategy since 1990

    along with the classic ‘ If only I prayed harder, or louder, then this would make things better’

    But these are all shortcuts.

    Bypasses.

    So I sat in the cafe this morning. Writing out my pretty petty disappointment.

    And heard that voice again.

    That reminder of being loved and love not because of anything in the world, but because I just am. No-thing matters.

    A reminder to let go, to surrender, to the patience of the magic.

    The patience of self kindness, self compassion, of the journey of inner mystery and wholeness.

    To let love inside win, its slow acts of healing.

    There are no shortcuts.

  • Why might ‘Self-Love’ be difficult for Men?

    Can I speak for all Men? Probably not, so If you are a man and reading this then forgive me that I might be saying something that doesn’t apply to you. If you’re not reading this, then chances are you might not want to face the subject of ‘Self -Care’ , or that you dont want to read this particular blog, but ill be confident of one thing. One, or more of theses reasons will apply to you, cause you to wince in recognition, or cause a reaction, that may be defensive. Maybe you are a partner, sister or brother of a particular Man, and you can identify some of these. If you are, then be gentle with him. Facing some of these things is pretty terrifying for the first time, be brave to and hold him gently.

    Before I share further. Some of these apply to Women, fully as much as Men. Absolutely. But as a Man im going to just identify some of the ‘Man Issues’ about this.

    1. Because it sounds weak. We’d fix a broken car, and we’d store our car in the garage to look after it, maybe even vacuum and wash it each week/month/year, and take it for a service. Loving something that’s an object, a purchase, a status even seems perfectly acceptable. Self-love feels weak as often we’re not so proud of our bodies, our minds, our previous actions, our attitudes. If it wasn’t ‘Self-love’ and instead it was ‘Power-clean’ ….
    2. Because it means accepting vulnerability. Tending to our needs and self might have to mean realising that we need something, that something in us is in need of attention, there’s a weakness.
    3. Because it might mean accepting defeat. I believed I would be able to survive anything and deal with anything. Stoical survival, keeping going, trapped in a landscape of coercive control, institutional expectation, thinking there was no option, no way out, no alternative, no help, no one else…. at what cost? I wasn’t winning anyway. Self love might mean realising that ‘trying your best’ is enough, and exhaustion and being emotionally drained really isn’t what you are here on earth for. If you want to understand more about trying your best, look it up in the ‘ 4 Agreements’ by Don Miguel Ruiz.
    4. Because it might mean accepting that the person who indentifies it…might be right. Someone else can see what we are going through, someone else in our lives might be telling us to slow down, take a break, stop, do less… Someone else might also be representative of a voice we might not want to listen to. We might have to admit that that voice of our partner, friend or family member might be right. That might take huge courage if we have prided our selves with self sustainability, self dependency, self strength.
    5. Because we spend more time responding to the needs of others, and ignoring our own. Since childhood, I was safe when I tended other peoples needs. When I didnt I was accused of being selfish. These were my deep down reasons. It meant pacifying the monsters. But on other occasions, there were the needs of others in a regular way, such as childrens activities, concerns and issues, colleagues, and with any of us who work in caring roles.. all the people we work with, young people, vulnerable adults, and our colleagues who do so. When we are good at listening to others emotions and needs, we become brilliant listeners, supporters and take on huge amounts of responsibility. … I could also hide my own… for the sake of others… Sometimes id catch myself say ‘Oh Im Ok’ if someone asked. But also, I would avoid being around people who might ask this.
    6. Because it might mean trying to act from our emotions, and articulate them. How many times do I start conversations with ‘I think’ verses ‘I feel’ .. thinking is easy, thinking is about brains, power and intelligence, about success and work.. I think therefore I am…. but actually.. I feel and maybe I become more complete. Starting with ‘I feel’ can take a huge shift.. and this gets me thinking…. sorry,… this gets me noticing and feeling… what words do we have to articulate feelings, that as Men we can use. Buried deep inside us might be the little boy that cried and was told off. The boy who was made to feel embarrassed or ashamed, or The boy who was rewarded for not showing emotion.

    Feeling emotions isn’t as scary as you might think it is. It takes bravery and courage though. Feelings are more than just anger. Self-love might require us to understand our emotions and the needs behind them.

    I feel angry when………. and I know I need………..

    I feel shame when ……….. and as a result I need…..

    I feel tired when…….. and I need……….

    I feel drained when….. and I need ……..

    I feel confused when…….. and I need ………

    I feel misunderstood when ……….. and I need……….

    I feel ……………….. and I need to love myself by doing …………………

    There are other emotions and operating from them is like a brand new language, and our language can help us describe the emotions. It is new.

    7. Because we fear what it life might be like operating from emotions … This new language for emotions (Emotional Intelligence by David Coleman might be a good resource to start with) , creates a new world for us. Life is different, for me, its full of colour, as opposed to stony grey. There is nothing to fear about what it inside of us and part of us.

    8. Because it’ll mean I have to take myself seriously as a whole being.. and im not used to that.. Im used to being part of the machine of work, part of the ‘rat-race’ , doing, providing, success, achieving. My work, as a youth worker, became as much an identity, a safe place, for me, I could be lost in thought, lost in the next challenge, constantly busy, then adding even more to that, like study, or hobbies, or even, writing… Yet huge parts of me were left undiscovered, hidden, and more often that not I was operating in my own shadows. Self-love, means to love and accept ourselves as the humans we are, frailties, complexities, emotions and all. I am enough, and you are too.

    9. Because it hasn’t been safe for us to share or be emotional, when we’ve experiences with our parents, partners or others. (unless frustration at football, or hiding in a dark cinema to cry)

    10. Because we believe we can wait. We can wait until we retire, we can wait until tomorrow, we can wait until its too bad, we can wait until its desperate, we can wait… look there’s something else to focus on instead… we can wait.

    11. Because it sounds, and feels feminine. Getting in touch with ‘our feminine side’ is often roundly criticised and pilloried in the media, many of the books and resources on self love and awareness are targeted for women or written by them. Many, not all. It’ll mean losing the macho, and attending to the malleable.

    12. Because we’re too busy. And business is an addiction. Life being fast keep everything at bay, including our needs and our selves. Even the temptation to be fast runs through everything that could be slow. Bird watching leads to tech competitiveness or getting the perfect shot… walking can end up being an olympic sport… or a hobby to reach the highest, m furthest, newest climb… Slow hobbies in the midst of fast lives can easily become another space for speed, performance and achievement.. and what’s lost… that moment for ourselves again.

    13. Because in the drive for perfection – we turned ourselves critical ..on ourselves. Oh how I love being super critical, asking questions, all in the name of reflection…. but look deeper and I know this is a safe place for me. Look deeper still and I can see how being critical of others stems from being critical of myself, beating myself up to try and be something, someone, better, more than I was yesterday. Try caring for yourself and see what that critical inner voice tries to do.. Loving ourselves means letting a different voice lead the way..and critic voice rarely goes away without a fight…

    I write these and recognise myself in most if not all of them, to some degree at different points in my life. Unlearning the old habits of self – neglect is an ongoing battle. As I look at the list above, I know there are gaps, this isn’t about perfection…I feel this is something important to talk about and share, I also wonder whether there might be good habits for self-love and care for us men that would be good to share too.. what do you do to remember to love yourself? do put these below

    Thank you

    If you want to or need to explore these further, do find a trusted friend, a therapist or someone who can help you to validate your needs and feelings and give you a brave safe space to.

    There are more resources in the menu above and also links to various mens mental health and abuse organisations too.

  • Learning the Choice to be Happy

    Learning the Choice to be Happy

    Tell me… what are 5 things that caused you to feel happy today?

    5 things?

    You’re joking aren’t you. 5 actual things. 5 moments where I wasn’t stressed, tired, weary, feeling like im in survival mode, drained, exhausted, pressured, stressed, thinking, over thinking, beyond overthinking to the point of being somewhere else….

    Happy. Really?

    5 things?

    Yes.

    5 things.

    Can be as utterly small as you like, can be as tiny or insignificant. it doest matter, all that matters was in that moment it caused you to feel happy.

    Yes, even that bumble bee that flew past you, the rainbow appearing behind the clouds, the way your dog looked at you, it just made you happy. For a split second.

    5 things.

    I didnt realise it was possible either.

    I didnt realise Happy was actually something.

    Duty – yes.

    Obedience – Yes

    Doing the right thing – Yes

    Surviving – Yes

    But Happy? Really?

    Happy.. oh no, that’s not for me.

    And you know what… when I didnt realise happiness was for me, I couldn’t give the opportunity for happiness for other people – without being critical, without feeling jealous, without being able to enjoy it, for others. I say these things about me, because I also wonder whether this might be more than just me too.

    Let me ask you a different question.

    What about this… What if I told you that happiness was a choice?

    A choice you can make now?

    What if you could have the power to choose to be happy?

    What if this was a powerful choice, yes a choice, that you could make?

    Because, being miserable, playing the victim and projecting blame on others is equally a choice too. But lets focus on Happy.

    When asked on 31st January each year something that makes us happy, it might well be the relief that its the end of January.

    But at the start of January, dont we say ‘Happy new year’ – Happy..may this year be full of happiness for you. It doesn’t take long for Happy new year to turn into the drudge of January. Happy seems to have disappeared from view. A long time ago.

    But 30th January, 4th February and every day in July can be happy too… cant it?

    What would it take? Madness? Courage? Determination?

    What might we notice when we make this choice?

    One thing I noticed, is that when I tried to make an active choice to be happy….

    I got a lot of opportunities to practice this.

    For instance, the very day I bought this book

    Which was in a bookstore, in San Diego Airport on 4th January, as I left my soul mate Christelle and I headed back to the UK.. in a specially curated Happy section for the new year

    It was also the very moment that as I paid for the book and left the bookstore, that I realised that my already cancelled once, now delayed flight was delayed even further. Literally on the board as I left the bookstore. So, all the feelings about leaving Christelle, and now delays.

    Immediate practice to choose my response.

    This delayed flight, led to another cancelled flight, led to overnight in Seattle, another day of travelling, and eventually back to the UK and my flat quite a few hours later. Circumstances giving me choices.

    What did the longer journey give me the opportunity to do – practice happiness…and to read about it. The universe is like that, gives us gifts in which to practice.

    There’s many things I began to notice after the day I decided to intentionally focus on my own happiness. Another is that it is very easy to forget. Hence why its taken 31 days to write this.

    Yup, the road of good intentions is littered with distractions, as well as challenging situations.

    Ive needed reminders. So..

    A few days per week so far this year, because I haven’t remembered every day, and I did buy myself a note book, that I haven’t filled in yet either… Ive asked Christelle the 5 happy things question, and she’s asked me it back.

    It’s almost like retraining my own mind, soul and spirit to notice the happy moments, the happy moments occurring in the now and everyday.

    I can hear the resistance. But what if I surrendered to this? If happiness is not now..when might it be…really?

    I was one who was a critic of those who said that being happy was possible or real or a purpose in life, I get it.

    But what spills out of us when we’re not happy? Who is this good for? Just our ego and anything or anyone else?

    What if… this:

    I believe the very purpose of our life is to seek happiness. That is clear. Whether one believes in religion or not, whether one believes in this religion or that religion, we are all seeking something better in life. So I think, the very moment of our life is towards happiness…..

    Dalai Lama, 1999

    So… about those 5 things..? (why not write them in the comments below)

    Give it a go. Seek Happiness. Open up yourself to its possibility

    Happiness, deep inner happiness is possible.

    Its closer than we think, actually its changing how we think.

    Happy New February.

    Happy you.

    Happy me too.

    References

    The Art of Happiness – Dalai Lama and H Cutler 1999

    The Courage to be Happy – Kishimi, Koga 2016

    The Power of Now – Eckhart Tolle – 1999