James Ballantyne

Tag: Trauma

  • Shining a light onto my Depression

    Its ok to not be ok

    But what if ‘norm’ was a depression that I didnt realise was?

    I’m pretty sure now that I was depressed but I just didnt realise how this had been my normal experience.

    Thats a conclusion I came to a month or so ago.

    I had never thought of myself as being depressed, that was something other people experienced and not something I would want to or could conceive of being the lens to which I was experiencing life, maybe I was masking it.

    But I can imagine now how a cloud, mostly grey, was being taken into every room that I was in, and, not intentionally.

    Oh and I dont mean the obvious emotional breakdown moments, the teary moments that i’ve experienced in the last few years, as my emotions have welled up, have broken up through the layers of cold, hardened exterior.

    I’m more talking about the cold, prickly, exterior. The despairing hopelessness. The Self doubt and beating myself up on the inside.

    So let me wind back a bit.

    I read two books back to back just before Christmas, whilst also being in the process of therapy. (I tell a lie, there were probably 5 books on the go…but anyways..) The first was Stolen Focus, and the second was Lost Connections, Stolen focus was the gateway for me into the writing of Johann Hari (ive written about Stolen focus Here on my youthwork blog, as this is all about play).

    Lost Connections is Johann Hari’s personal exploration into his own depression story, how he was prescribed anti depressants as a late teen, the journey of medication, and his research into the causes, indicators and alleviators of depression.

    So, I read Johanns book with interest. But not with the thought that I was depressed, more that it intrigued me that he was going to talk about the importance of social relationships in mental health. But no, not that I was depressed.

    Buy the book from Hive bookstores here: Lost Connections

    If you’ve read my story (in the menus) you will know what’s coming, but it is very accurate to say that one of my survival strategies for dealing with a psychopathic mother, was to hide my emotions, including any semblance of happiness or joy. In fact I would go further and say that any moments of being happy were stolen: ‘I need to feel your joy for you passing your exams’ , and times when I felt happy outside of her influence were negated : ‘ I need to get all that toxicity out from when you were at grandmas’ – as there were and are photos of me smiling and happy at grandma’s. Any place where I was paraded or made an example of, I hid my smile, including family and school photos. If I was going to be on a mantel piece for others to see, it would not be with a smile.

    Yet I was aware I wasn’t smiling. It was ok when other people took the photo, like church events or elsewhere, but if it was photo heading to the mantel piece or taken by her, no smile.

    Thats just one example, there were many. But what it meant, and I knew that expressing any emotion was unsafe – it was stolen. Or I had to be responsible for soothing her emotions, yes thats what happened, me aged 5 and above was the one who soothed her upset ‘only you can make me feel better, not even Dad can’ was one message from when I was a child, a young child.

    Talk about being emotionally tortured. It’s what I had to do. And also, this was a survival strategy, even if I didnt have a choice to do it.

    It all makes sense now doesn’t it. It makes so much sense to the extent to which I was desperate, alone and wanted to end it all, aged 9. I wanted to wake up as someone else, failing that wondered what it would have been like to jump out of my bedroom window, or wait for a midland main line train to hit me. Aged fucking 9. Thats not normal is it?

    Funny thing, when I tried to talk about this in starting my testimony at a church event in my teens (17) no one actually believed me, thinking that I was making it up as I didnt think I had a good ‘Jesus saved me’ story. But, folks, it was utterly true.

    I couldn’t actually talk about how I was actually feeling, because I could hardly describe it, and very few people who I could talk to were safe, or would understand. It surely wasn’t normal to be scared of your own mother. But that was my normal.

    But I was stony cold, prickly, critical and only able to let my head have any responsibility in how I was dealing with daily life. Not hard hearted, but wounded, heart hiding, protected. I was trying work out things, trying to work out how to cope, having to be one step ahead to know what to do in a situation, always trying to predict.

    In some ways, this is all for me just ‘coping/survival’ stuff. I wouldn’t have categorised it as depression.

    That was my normal, and if you’ve been in any type of abusive relationship you will know what that is like. Adopting to their unpredictable rage, strategising safety.

    I wondered what it might have been like had I gone as a 10 year old to my GP and said, ‘is it normal to feel suicidal aged 9’? or ‘I feel like I have to hide my emotions around people who should be protecting and nurturing me?’ – but I didnt, anyway back to the book.

    Oh, and one more thing, this actually was the thing.

    I didnt know what I wanted to do with my life.

    Throughout school, throughout my twenties, thirties even, ask me, and I didnt know.

    My usual answer, was ‘Whatever God wants’ that was my get out, but that wasn’t what I wanted, I just didnt know.

    I had no idea that not having any concept of a future was a sign of depression, a key sign. As Johann explains, it’s like the future is wiped away, inconceivable, as the present moment is the only valid space (and the haunted past) to attempt to survive in. Getting through. Making it out alive. One day at a time.

    The other reason for me, was that my future was also something stolen. It was made conditional by that person again, as I had to do something to ‘make me proud‘ ‘not disappointing me‘ or I would have to ‘prove her wrong’ by things that had been decreed as things she was upset by. Stolen Future indeed.

    Another indicator of depression, described in the book, was the lack of being in control. This is fascinating. In the book, research is conducted into 1,000 people all working in the same building, from the very top, to the bottom, CEO to the cleaners. It was found that depression was linked to those who had less control of what happens, in short, insecurity of the future was linked to depression. Being able to dictate and decide gave people more responsibility and stress, yes, but not depression, because they could see the way ahead and have some say in it, Insecurity led to depression.

    It reminded me of Deci and Ryans work in that intrinsic motivators are linked to Relationship (connection/belonging) , Competence (being good at something/positive feedback) and Autonomy (being able to have decisions on the future) (in Human Being by Jocelyn Bryan) . I think this is extraordinarily interesting in relation to faith and systems of faith, especially in a time when status anxiety is rife. I’ll write more about this another time I think.

    Anyway, back to me.

    Well, back to the book to be honest, Johann outlines 8 ‘disconnections’ that are significant causes of depression, they are

    1. (disconnection from) Meaningful work
    2. Other people
    3. Meaningful values. (Capitalism and the need for stuff that kills the soul)
    4. Childhood Trauma
    5. Natural World
    6. Status and Respect
    7. Hopeful/Secure Future
    8. and ‘the Role of Genes/Brain changes in depression’.

    Each of the chapters is utterly fascinating, each is woven with his own personal story of what he needed to alleviate his own depression, something to blame, something that wasn’t himself, a chemical (low serotonin- this is a myth btw), a story. But each of these ’causes’ made a lot of sense. When he talked about depression and anxiety being very similar that resonated too, but what’s interesting for me, is the extent to which I hid and buried all of this, to not feel anything. The other thread being the social dynamic of depression, the lost connections with the human, natural experience. 

    I was ok, I would say. But dont we all say this?

    There was some I definitely scored myself high on. Given that its only been recently (4 years) that I have reconnected inside with the effects of childhood trauma and abuse, connecting with my feelings, and also, been able to consider myself as important and have status (and not a victim) , a lot resonated, not just the ‘future planning’ section.

    The book was another window, a light into my own life, a lens even.

    It was only when I could see all of this that I realise the extent to which my ‘normal’ could only have been an underlying depression.

    Reconnection has been the journey I have been on, probably without realising it, some of that has been to have deep, real , brave conversations, and learn to be vulnerable, some of that has been to seek professional help, and some of that has been to do the work, to reconnect in myself – all sounds simple doesn’t it, well, its so not, its a daily ongoing process. But reconnection (and gentle loving repair) is definitely a good word for it.

    I guess I didn’t realise I was depressed, or parts of me were, until I felt what it was like to feel happy, to feel calm.

    As my therapist said a few weeks ago, there’s now a bright room light shining on all of the museum artefacts of past hurts and parts, rather than trying to fumble around in the darkness trying to look at things with a tiny torchlight.

    As I sit here, I have candles glowing on my window sill, I have relaxing music playing, and I feel a calm inside, a peace inside, a sense of connection inside – that yes can be disturbed and im sure will be even today, but holding my hands to my heart, I sense the breath of love and life in my soul and body, a deep love that is holding me. And the warm glow of the sun shines on the trees, the love of the universe is awakening the darkness. Sounds blissful, and it is, but it’s been a hard road to get here.

    I write this with peace and hopefulness, with a sense of love for my past wounded self, my ignored and hurt parts, and where I am now.

    You need your nausea, you need your pain. It is a message and we must listen to that message. All these depressed and anxious people, all over the world – they are giving us a message. They are telling us that something has gone wrong with the way that we live. We need to stop trying to muffle, silence, pathologise, or soothe the pain. Instead we need to honour it and listen to it. It is only when we listen to our pain that we can follow it back to its source – and only there where we can see it true causes, that we can truly overcome it

    Johann Hari, Lost Connections (2018)

    And yes, I recommend the book, especially if you know or are working with people who are suffering from depression or anxiety.

    References

    Lost Connections (2018), Stolen Focus (2023) Johann Hari

    Human Being (2017) Jocelyn Bryan.

  • I Like Me

    I’ve been pondering on writing this piece for a few days now, wondering if it is suitable, wondering how to express it, especially as it’s kind of simple. Full disclosure, I have been back receiving therapy since October, on that journey of remaking, regrouping and rebuilding. One of the revelations from it, was the simple yet, deep self -love and compassion acceptance of myself, to the point where I can say and believe the three words above.

    Then this morning I saw the image I’ve included below, by my friend Andy, it was the spark to the flame of this piece. Do check his work out, he is an incredible artist.

    3 simple words.

    I

    Like

    Me

    Can you say them?

    Do you believe them?

    Those three simple words.

    I. Like. Me

    Image by Andy Gray, Email Website

    But I feel so empty?

    But I feel so ugly?

    But I dont feel good enough?

    If you knew what I had done I the past, you wouldn’t like me

    But. But.

    I’ve been told i’m full of sin and shame

    I was abused and neglected

    I feel overwhelmed and responsible

    I feel out of control

    I have so many feelings

    I can’t like me, I can’t , there’s just too much about me not to like

    Is that true? really is that true?

    My friend, that voice is lying to you.

    what about the daft things?

    like what?

    like when Ive forgotten to send that email, or I tripped over the cat, or put peanut butter in the fridge, or when I let those plants die and..

    I really beat myself up for letting the plants die…

    It’s ok, you give yourself such a hard time, listen but doubt this voice

    It’s time to realise that you don’t have to believe this voice anymore.

    There is nothing stopping you from being able and willing to like yourself.

    Genuinely, 100% genuinely. 

    Who is listening to the voice telling you that you’re not good enough? Thats you. And you are more, you are bigger and you are the listener of the voice.

    So, you can say the words, however, brave or courageous you need to be, its not weird at all – its just not been your norm, but now, now its time…

    Go on, say it, say it slow, write it down, look in the mirror with love and peace.

    I. like. me.

    There is no frailty, no addiction, no secret, no action, no torment, no worry, no fear, no concept, that is you.

    You are not those things, You are YOU.

    And you can like you.

    It is time to say the words.

    I like Me

    I like me, and I can breathe now

    I like me and when I sit it stillness, there is no torment, no mind fuckery

    I like me, and I dont need to do ..anything

    I like me…and I can rest

    I like me… and knowing this gives me freedom

    I like me… even with peanut butter in the fridge

    I like me…even if it cries

    I like me… even if it tries

    I like me….even if it feels

    I just like me.

    I like me… and I am not broken

    I like me.. and I deserve Happy and love and joy and all the best things

    I like me…

    When ‘I like me’ is more than a meme on Facebook, and self-care just a coping mechanism, but self love and compassion means a genuine sense of self acceptance (beyond self knowledge).

    I like me.

    If used properly, the same mental voice that has been a source of worry, distraction and general neurosis can become the launching ground for true spiritual awakening.

    The Untethered Soul, Michael A Singer, 2007

  • Deckchairs.

    No not these ones.

    You know the ones I mean.

    Not the beach ones, the ones that get filled with sand, or get fought over by those who’ve paid the tourist tax to hire then on a British cloudy (but was sunny that morning) kind of day.

    No, I don’t mean these ones.

    Im thinking about the ones that get referenced in the times of personal, collective, or organisational despair.

    Because, there’s nothing more despairing that when someone trots out that phrase. The one about Rearranging Deckchairs on the Titanic.

    For, at that moment, there does not seem to be anything more despairing. Imagine, (and it may not be that difficult to imagine, given that most of us have seen ‘that’ film) what it might have been like, seeing or feeling the iceberg hit, and being the ones to know that there would be only 2-3 hours left. Time spent trying to convince only those who had read the news that the ship couldn’t go down. But it could.

    If you weren’t able to read this, then neither you or I have been in such a situation, such a perilous state of emergency with almost no escape. (or you’re reading this and you survived a miracle).

    But let’s just imagine, for a moment, that this is you, what would you do?

    Given the utter pointlessness of the situation, do you clamber on to what is worth saving? Why not just sit an eat a meal in the slightly sinking cabin? Sing along with the band? Watch a favourite movie? Hold hands and enjoy the final embrace of a loved one? Dance or play the piano? Say a prayer? Save others, try and save yourself?

    Deckchairs – would re arranging them even cross your mind? At that moment?

    If we’re prone to depression, despair and cynicism – or when we might be told often enough that the company, organisation, institution or ideology is waning on its final death-knell – then it can often feel like there’s no way out, no alternative, no escape.

    And that can be what we tell ourselves, when things feel futile and pointless.

    But there is a subtle difference, always, between whatever our situation is, and to those stuck on that ocean liner in the early 1900’s.

    We have Time.

    And, in the main, we also have more Choices too. (even if we can’t think of them, thats our inner critic lying to us again)

    That time thing though, is the crucial thing.

    Even in the midst of despair and hopelessness, there is time, and, in the midst of that time, there is still you, able to note and notice the time.

    So what if the ship of your mental or organisational health is starting to tilt, wobble and begin to sink?

    Maybe rearranging the deckchairs might take a colossal effort at that time, panic setting in, but it’s important to do something that seems menial, just to give other people somewhere to sit. Maybe it is time to sand down the decks and give it a proper paint job too, because thats just what you need to do in the midst of that state of despondency, just to paint the floors, be useful and do so maybe even with the tiniest of proud smiles on your face. Well done you, that takes effort just to do that one thing. It wasn’t pointless at all, was it, no, not for you.

    There might well be other things to do, on that sinking ship, that show bravery, courage and creativity – or maybe were creative, that showed bravery and courage: drawing, painting , songwriting – or just looking out from the deck at the sea beyond, trying to catch a glimpse of whales, puffins or other sea birds flying in the distance, just because thats what you love to do – and loving what you do in the midst of that despairing spiral might just be exactly what you need to do. One brave showing up for yourself step at a time. Binoculars might just give perspective.

    Dancing on the ships deck might seem the most ridiculous, but there are no rules at that point of paralytic fear and hopelessness, if you want to dance and smile, shake it out, then let the critics judge, its only your recovery that matters – and even if we might feel that the situation is a disaster , we might as well enjoy ourselves, might as well see what happens when we give ourselves time to have fun – like go to that movie, football match, or play darts on the ship deck.

    Life is going to throw us curveballs all the time, some as serious as Titanic ones, some far lesser, sometimes these challenge our expectations, sometimes they question our realities, sometimes, maybe all times, we have time, we still have complete responsibilities for the choices we make, we can try something new, reassess, and emerge far far different, and look back and realise, that it wasn’t pointless re-arranging deckchairs on the titanic after all.

    Maybe, just maybe, it was the absolute right thing to do, in that very moment after all.

    and… surrendering to the final inevitable, might just mean that the important things, like those birds in the binoculars, come into sharper focus than ever before, like joy, wonder and life..

    References

    A Therapeutic Journey by Alain de Botton (2023)

  • Writing the Rainbows

    I sometimes, no, often, get myself into a spin.

    It happens, that when something is challenging, difficult and messy (mild words for ‘WTF is going on?’)

    I write. I write for myself, with words you will never see.

    I write for myself – and they end up in the draft pile

    I write for myself, with words that you sometimes see

    I have thoughts and ideas of stuff I could write about and come back to later.

    I also, in the moments through the mind swirl of the WTF moments, develop new creative interests.

    Oh, I just realised.

    STFU James.

    I haven’t existed without ‘that’ mind swirl.

    There has barely been times when the damaging effect of my psychopathic parents doesn’t have some underlying, or explicit effect, that I might be in the midst of processing, learning, and regrouping myself from, the ‘big’ feelings.

    But what I find interesting, is that I struggle to write, or even want to write when im not having to wrestle, churn or try and deal with something.

    Its as if there’s creative energy from within it.

    Expression through Depression for want for a better word.

    And there’s something interesting too.

    I find it really easy to invalidate my own work – not because it’s not any good.

    But because of what I was going through at the time.

    It’s like ‘ I dont think I’ll publish that, because I was definitely having a WTF kind of day?’

    Yes I should check what motives I have for writing, and sometimes I get that wrong, I know – I mean not every one of 1000 blogs in 12 years is with a perfect motive, some cross the line – especially if I have been angry with the government ;-)

    But it’s like saying that The Verve shouldn’t have written Bitter sweet symphony when in a depeessive state and waited until they were feeling ok… and as for Damien Rice..

    Maybe I have been conditioned to only validate what I write when im feeling good – so not to overshare too much darkness? But is that hopeful or real? Because you really want to hear how I am ok now, but felt shit a few weeks ago, and look at me, giving a great redemptive arc story.

    Maybe there’s inspiration in the sticky muddy mess of life, and creativity through and in the pain, maybe thats more human. Maybe polished, is just that, polished, pretend and shiny. Maybe I should just write, because that may be what I am good at. Maybe there is no perfect time to write, maybe actually there will only be ‘in the midst’ of long term processing and remaking (I still reluctant to use recovery as a term tbh) , and there will be pockets of light punctuating the revealing and discoveries. Maybe there’s something about the gritty struggle as much as when it’s like riding s bike downhill with the wind in the back. The glimpses of blissful consciousness concurrent in fields where poppies and thorns grow.

    Isnt that what good poetry or songwriting is all about anyway?

    Creativity in and through the rainbows of clouds, sunshine and rain.

    Holding the float out to surf on the calm and choppy waves

    To let the flow of creativity ride, sink or swim on the waves.

    Time to write about surfing, sinking or swimming through the waves,

    Time to write about life in all its becoming wholeness

    Time to release the wrestling with writing, and let it flow.

    To open up the doorways into which the channels of life flows.

  • Awakening

    For everything under the sun, there is a time

    This is the season of your awakened harvesting

    When pain takes you to where you would rather not go.

    Through the white curtain of yesterdays to a place

    You had forgotten you knew from the inside out

    And a time when the bitter tree was planted.

    You are coming to see how your looking often darkened

    When you should have felt safe enough to fall toward love

    How deep down your eyes were always owned by something.

    That facd them through a dark fester of thorns

    Converting whoever came into a further figure of the wrong

    You could only see what touched you as already torn.

    Now the act of seeing begins your work of mourning

    And your memory is ready to show you everything

    Having waited all these years for you to return and know.

    Only you know where the casket of pain is interred

    You will have to scrape through all the layers of covering

    And according to your readiness everything will open.

    May you be blessed with a wise and compassionate guide

    Who can accompany you through the fear and grief

    Until you heart has swept the way to your true self.

    As your tears fall over that wounded place

    May they wash away your hurt and free your heart

    May your forgiveness still the hunger of the wound.

    So that for the first time you can walk away from that place

    Reunited with your banished heart, now healed and freed

    And feel the clear, free air bless your new face.

    (For someone awakening to the trauma of their past, by John O Donohue)

  • ‘Auto, Bird and Landscape’

    ‘Auto, Bird and Landscape’

    I was out walking yesterday, going to Seal Sands, RSPB Salthome and and also on my way back Cowen Bewley Woodland Park. Over the last few weeks I have been learning a little about photography, I was encouraged by a colleague about my photos, which he saw on my camera, I bought a short book on photography and have watched a few videos on you tube. So yes, even though ive been taking photos using relatively decent camera for over 3 years, for fun. I went on my latest walk armed with slightly more knowledge about taking photos, as well as a little more knowledge about some of the technicalities.

    In a way in regard to taking photos, I was barely ‘doing the technical’ basics, just using a camera to capture what I had seen, where I had been or what I liked.

    And, even without any knowledge of the technicalities, I still took some good shots.

    But even on my 2nd camera, I hadn’t done any homework on how to use it, I just used the automatic settings, which in the main were, Auto, Bird (watching) and Landscape.

    Tell you the truth.

    I was scared of the buttons. I was scared of pressing something and breaking it (childhood voices in my head again), scared too of ‘getting obsessed by something once id opened it (another voice) . And so, though not unlike the MacBook I’m typing this on, I had a fairly expensive (*though not in camera terms) camera, and wasn’t using in its real capacity.

    Without completely remembering these were probably on Auto, Bird and Landscape settings.

    Sometimes I even used the food or Moon settings too. But all the automatic settings on the camera. And they’re not bad.

    Every now and then a birdwatching person would ask me about my camera, and then tell me that I should use the Manual setting. To which I responded with, Oh I’m just new to this, or ‘oh yes’ ill give it a go. Feeling slightly sheepish or inadequate, and to be honest, feeling inadequate wasn’t really an incentive to change.

    I was scared. I was feeling inadequate. I was dismissing my need to change. I didnt have any access to what I would need to help me learn.

    What I noticed today was the parallels between my photography experience, and my life experiences.

    Being scared, feeling inadequate, dismissing my need to change and not having access to what I needed so that I could change, were at least four reasons why when I was deeply struggling for a very long time, I was on Automatic.

    I was on Automatic settings in regard to my emotions, in regard to my responses and triggers. Automatic.

    I had no knowledge of myself, and no value of myself, just like my knowledge of the camera was at a surface level. The toughest layers to crack of my onion were the outer ones.

    I was scared of what I might have to deal with, and what I had been dealt with, scared of the monsters that had done them.

    Feeling hollow, inadequate, shame about what I now needed to ask for help with, and much more besides that has been revealed in the long road of the last few years.

    Pretending and Hiding. Like an Technically brilliant camera, that deserves to be treated more than just in Bird, Auto and Landscape. I mean some buttons on it deserve even to be tried. Just to see what happens.

    So what changed?

    Well, regular readers of my blogs here will have probably read already, vulnerability, rock bottom, a breakdown, love and support , safety and then access to self learning , that’s what my path has taken.

    In regard to photography? Being encouraged and being seen, accepting the guidance of someone who shared their experience and time, and me giving this interest of mine a bit more time and attention, like buying a book on it, and watching some you tube videos on it.

    Im learning. From Auto, bird and Landscape, to now working out what ISO, Shutter speed, light meter and aperture all is, and also thinking more about light, perspective and colours, have all been what ive started, just started to play with and experiment with.

    Because my camera isn’t going to break if I play with the buttons, I just get some weird looking very bright or dark shots like these…

    And, nothing is wasted by experimenting. Actually in real time these shots help me make more adjustments. Today I tried lying down against the edge of a frozen lake, and to get close to the gulls and ducks, spending 30 mins lying on a frozen platform was fun, and being at eye level with the subjects made for better shots. Using a few different settings I got these ones.

    These were the shots I took today.

    Maybe getting good photos takes more vulnerability, to be open to learning, and sacrifice. The deep stuff doesn’t get revealed otherwise. The results might just be worth it too. Maybe that’s a lesson for the whole of life too.

  • My healing started the day I realised that my mother is a narcissist.

    Sometimes days have a special significance dont they. I remember clearly the day I got my A level results, the days when my children were born, days of celebration, and where I was when I heard significant news, like my grandparents deaths. Positively recently I remember so much about the day of my wedding with Christelle (it wasn’t that long ago)

    But there is one other day in my life that had a significant impact upon my life… it was the day I realised what narcissism is, and the extent to which my mother is one.

    There is a slight blurring to this story, however, is that in 2006 I was reading a paper whilst I was doing my Youth work and Theology degree at ICC, Glasgow which described the difference between listening with a young person with empathy, and taking a story that a young person shares and using it to launch into your own, this was described as being narcissistic. That was the first time I had heard this word. I did also underline the word on the paper and write in the margin ‘Remind me of anyone’ . A seed had been sown.

    The other blurring in the clarity is that it was only a few years later in 2008 when fairly serious incidents that revealed this behaviour. The fall out from this was that ‘nothing changed’ or responsibility was taken. But at that time I didnt equate or delve into what narcissist behaviour was, was just in a swirl of denials.

    Anyway, back to the story, rather than the pre amble.

    I was in a cafe just outside Durham with one of my best friends, it was just after Christmas, the day after Boxing Day, 4 years ago. I was recounting how the few days of Christmas had gone, as there was a lot of tension around the family home at the time. For some reason the subject came up that I hadn’t spent time with my parents or spoken to them over the Christmas time, and I said something about how weird they were.

    My friend asked me whether I thought, no actually she said, ‘Your Mother is a narcissist isn’t she?’

    I may have done my usual and passed this off, or said ‘yeah I know’ or something like that. I didnt know, or didnt realise the extent to which this truth had affected my entire life, or would be part of what my life recovery would take.

    I knew that she was difficult. I knew that she sucked the life out of every room. I knew that she was emotionally unstable. I knew that also she had the capacity to upset everyone. I knew that she didnt listen.

    But a Narcissist? What’s that ?

    What I hadn’t done until that point was begin the process of doing the work.

    Firstly of recognising the problem. Secondly of releasing myself from the responsibility of the problem and changing myself. Thirdly of naming it. Fourthly and this is the ongoing bit – of realising the extent to which I have ongoing recovery to do because of the deep personality issues that dominated my childhood.

    None of this could be done until I had the space to see it.

    And I could only see it when someone who had experience of it could identify it.

    My friend recommended to me the ‘pink book’.

    This book:

    Link here if you would like to buy a copy

    A week later the book arrived as I received a copy.

    In it Nina describes the characteristics of healthy parents (none of which I could recognise) and then 4 types of Self Absorbed Parents, 3 of which I could identify in mother, but definitely strongly one of them.

    Though the book didnt stop there.

    Nina described the way in which I had reacted and responded to my parents, and my own self destructive, self limiting responses to them – to either pacify, soothe or avoid – also flight, or fight/anger responses. She went on to describe how to protect the self, in the midst of the narcissistic interaction, and afterwards. There’s also coping strategies for each type of parent.

    This was my first ‘self help’ book I had read.

    It was like scales and weights falling, as I could see clearly for the first time the extent of what I had tried to cope with, alone, and also how I had reduced myself in the process, of 40 years, yet at the same done what I thought I should do for my own survival.

    I thought that the stuff I suffered with my mother were impossible to describe, too weird, too crazy to recognise, yet this book described my experiences. It describes what emotional control, abuse, belligerence and victim playing looks like. And I had experienced it all.

    I wasn’t alone. I wasn’t the only one.

    That was so important.

    And if this might be you, know that you aren’t alone either.

    I confess to not doing all of the exercises in Nina’s book, the scoring charts in the beginning were enough for me to be able to do some accurate identification.

    But It wasn’t that I now had someone to blame. It wasn’t that I now took this information and stereotypically ‘blamed my childhood’ , and I hope that from what ive ever written on this blog I haven’t done that, I certainly haven’t tried to. What the information did for me was to help me see who I was, how I coped and survived, and what I now needed to do, and how I had been affected by it.

    The important thing was that it was that I could let go of things I had felt responsible for.

    And four years later, can feel more compassionate about my child James, teenage James and mid twenties and thirties James – who was trying to do life with a void, a void that had had things taken.

    And now I knew. I had avoided wanting to know, feeling the pain to be too great, even though a number of people had been trying to tell me, I hadn’t listened, not fully.

    Part of my healing journey, was the day I realised that my mother was a narcissist. There were other significant moments, but this was definitely one of them.

    Thank you for reading, if there’s something in this that you resonate with, do seek out professional help and therapy if you can, acknowledging this is a first step, making a move of self love to begin a healing journey is courageous and beautiful. I have other resources in the menu above including other books, and there’s a lot on you tube on responding to narcissism. Know that its time. Today is a good first day to start to recover and heal from this.

  • Why I struggle to sleep on a flight

    Why I struggle to sleep on a flight

    There are some people who can sleep on an aeroplane.

    But I, sadly, am not one of them.

    Since February 2020 I have now had the experience of many transatlantic flights to both Montreal and San Diego to meet, visit and spend time with Christelle. At least 12 flights over 6 hours long.

    I had the ‘joy’ of the cancelled flight in July (re arranged to a direct 9hr flight :-)) , and last week a double cancelled, staying overnight in random city (Seattle) only for 2 more flights the next day experience.

    This was me at Seattle…

    Early in my flight experiences I didn’t have many ideas of ‘what to do’ and how it works, so I think on my first Montreal flight I packed a bag full of food, as I didnt click the ‘food option’ but then on the BA flight got a decent 3 course meal, wine, beer and snacks, to my surprise.

    But I often note other people to see what they are doing, like the use of the complimentary cushion, blanket or what’s on their TV to see if that’s something I would like.

    Its not just what other people are doing. I like to know what is going on.

    Every bell noise in the plane, I’m checking to see which of the lights has gone on or off, or whether this causes any sudden movement in the airline crew. What calls are being made. I like to know what’s going on.

    The sleepers I guess dont care, they sleep.

    But for some reason I care, or at least I feel as though I should care or be responsible, or be ready.

    Even after an overnight of 4 hours sleep, and then on the second night flying from Detroit to Heathrow and losing 5 hours, I slept for less than 2 hours, but I at least slept a bit, I think. But it took for me to be completely exhausted to finally sleep, though never feeling that I was actually asleep. The display on the TV went from ‘4hr 40’ to arrival, to ‘1 hr 45’ and I know id been dozing only for much of it.

    What I did this time was have an eye mask on, and ear plugs – and yes ive tried these things before, but they did work for the 2 hours or so this time. It helped me close away from the light and noise that represented things and situations I might need to be aware of.

    Maybe that’s the same as everyone else. But, horror of horrors, there are some people on long distance flights who sleep so well they dont eat or drink anything complimentary? I mean what’s that all about? Who are these people? ;-) Hiding under a blanket and out for the count. Maybe they in that moment are doubly exhausted, and they can just crash.

    But there’s something else.

    There’s three things that come to mind as I reflect on my ‘plane’ sleep experiences.

    The first is my experience of climbing.

    Although I did have some outdoor experiences as a boy, climbing wasn’t one of them, it wasn’t until I was part of the leadership team on young peoples camps in Scotland that I took part in climbing, at two compass centres and on a trip to Edinburgh. I was a nervous, shaking wreck on the first two occasions, trying to get my feet into the ‘sockets’ and my arms reaching up, with barely any arm strength. The third time I went I made a mental note to myself. I would trust the rope. I would trust that the staff had done their work properly to set it up safely, and as a 29 year old I would be ok. But the main thing was, was that I would trust the rope. And I so enjoyed that third climbing experience. Trust.

    The second is that Biblical story of Jesus being asleep in the storm, whilst the waves crash around their boat, Jesus slept, and yet the disciples exclaimed how it could be the case. I guess that some of the disciples stayed awake knowing they felt they had to be responsible for Jesus, given that they knew a little about who he was. As well as try and keep their boat afloat.

    The third thing is that I remember taking ages to get to sleep as a child. I had to stay awake as I simultaneously felt responsible and scared of my emotionally immature psychopathic mother. So, in between reading books, I would be listening at each loud shouting conversation in the kitchen, in the floor below..and it was only one screechy voice that was making the noise. Id be awake listening for each time the hall door would open (as then id turn off my light) or know that the 2nd stair creaked, and then I would turn it off. And then there would be footsteps all the way to my bedroom door, because that’s also where the bathroom door was, next to mine, so I had no idea if I was about to be told off. Often I would be awake long after they would themselves be in bed. It was safe. Many books were read.

    There was no sleep when there was a monster to be aware of.

    Being aware of danger. Trust the rope (plane). Feeling responsible.

    There is a different kind of awareness I often feel on a plane too.

    Its a gap, a space.

    And though I often take books to read (very old school) , what I often find is that I have felt travel tense until I get to the gate and on the plane. However I dont have anything to worry about, there’s travel to the airport (trains to Newcastle or London), security queues and going through it, and any check in required, it doesn’t sound much, writing it, but even with trains on time or a short tube from somewhere in London to Heathrow, I still have some residual travel anxiety. So, getting into my seat on the plane, each time, I get a sense of relief, and also a sense of excitement of the travel to Christelle, which up until then has been mixed with the travel anxiety.

    A breath. An awareness moment on the plane. I go from being anxious about my own getting on the flight process – to then feeling like I am needing to be aware and responsible for other people on the plane. Hence the no sleep. Weird huh. But what I dont have or do on the plane is have wifi – I just charge my phone, eat the food and take time selecting and watching a movie or three. (Yes I have now watched the entire LOTR and Harry Potter films)

    Awareness. Presence. Even on a plane.

    This morning I watched this

    How to be present in 2023 – Eckhart Tolle

    in it he talks about responding to that great challenge… The Cancelled flight. Also about how to have a kind of alertness on a plane. ✈️

    Im learning. I noted how I responded to my double cancelled flight issue of last week, that’s for another piece I think. Life spills over even on 48 hours of travel.

    Tolle talks about the right kind of alertness. About acceptance and surrender.

    Maybe noticing all my feelings is part of all of this. It isn’t taking me long to note how I’m feeling anxious, or overly alert. Sometime my survival skills kick in, other times I give myself the time to stop, note and feel, and remember to breathe. Continually practicing presence.

  • My 5 top self learning books of 2022

    Ah yes, you say not another end of the year review blogs, segments or pieces. I’ve wondered for a while what I might write that’s appropriate for the ‘end of 2022’ as a review piece.

    I think I’ve read over 30 books this year, nearly all with some kind of self-help / journey / learning theme , and beyond what there’s been everything else that I’ve read I’ve felt and learned in the year, so maybe this is a bit of a reflective combination piece, some of the best books and most important learning from the year, for me.

    So, starting with the best books, I’m.not sure how I’ve narrowed these down to 5, but these are the ones that gave me the most wow moments, the most underlined with pencil marks or post it’s, or that stayed on my coffee table to read and read throught the year

    1. The Choice, Edith Eger

    2. A New Earth, Eckhart Tolle

    3. Dibs in search of self by Virginia Axline

    4. Heartwork a book of Self compassion by Radule Weininger

    5. The space between us, A book of blessings by John O Donohue

    I look at the choice of these 5 books, and realise that they encapsulated many of the paths my self learning has taken this year, there have been moments where I felt I needed to come close to understanding my childhood trauma and it’s effects, and understand trauma generally. Dibs is a brilliant book. It helped me see myself and also the children and young people around. The

    I knew The Choice would be one of my top books of the year, even as it was one of the first I read in 2022, so much wisdom and story included in it, so much to learn on recovery from Trauma and the rebuild. The Choice is so good that I struggled to find anything new in Man’s Search for meaning (Victor Frankl) which I also read this year., Meaningful though it was.

    It’s definitely been the case that over the last 18 months or so I have read more in relation to spirituality and personal growth. The Power of Now was a game changer for me when I read it about 18 months ago, A New Earth has stayed on my coffee table and been picked up regularly for most of the year.

    Part of that Spiritual growth has taken me to Self compassion. It’s been the learning theme I have ended the year beginning. It’s a path that has revealed much to me so far, as I’ve stepped to one side of being self critical, self loathing, guilt and responsibility, it’s introduced me and reminded me that I can receive, I am worthy, I am of value, as are my emotions and feelings. And though I know all this, I’m realising there’s a difference between knowing it and living as if I believe it to be true. Heart work, the book, was like being sat with a duvet by the fire, it felt a safe book to read and then gently sense the parts of me that were being revealed through the stories, as well as sit with the exercises that she suggests. And this is before I give myself time to do the journal that she suggests to do.

    John O Donohue appeared like a mystery from a charity book shop in November, and given me an opportunity to practice self compassion through creating the space to read and meditate on the blessings.

    There are some other honourable mentions, Matt Haig’s midnight library and How to stop time were both very good, and I loved Ruth Ozekis ‘The book of form and emptiness’ . I’m re reading The Universal Christ (Richard Rohr) for the second time to Christelle as I think there’s alot in it to enjoy. (Reading aloud does enable a new perspective) The Seat of the Soul, and Spiritual Partnership by Gary Zukav were both good too. Links to all these and others are in the resources page above.

    So there we have it, my top 5 self learning books of the year, these were the ones that caused my heart to feel opened, to be a spiritual experience in just reading them and provoke and accompany me on this life journey.

    May you, may I have a blessed, learning and compassionate 2023.

  • A Time to Heal

    Im reading the book ‘What Happened to You?’ Conversations on Trauma, Resilience and Healing, by Bruce Perry and Oprah Winfrey, at the moment, its a powerful conversation between them that includes stories of humanity, and the effects of trauma. Worth a read, and ill put a link to it in the resources page above.

    But this, for today is what I thought id share, on page 216, after Oprah shares a story of how a man who was exposed to childhood neglect then acted violently began to change whilst in prison.

    What would it look like if we asked -‘What happened to you’ rather than ‘Whats wrong with you’ – or had the attitude that wanted to listen…How would this change my life, and those around me?

    So… This: