The author can be found rummaging through life looking for nourishment in the early hours of the morning. He is slowly going sane by using his actual life and relationships to wake up.He lives in Cape Town with his teenaged daughter, two bassett hounds named Thelma and Louise and Digit... the cat. He hugs trees, has experienced numerous dark nights of the soul, collects incorrect Chinese packaging and tracks curious things to their lair.
Learning to Love with everything I havePsychotherapy September 12, 2013 - 6:55 am No Comment
Its been a while since I’ve sent a part of my self out there to the silence.
The following post is a montage of some of the clinical material that has walked into my office over the past couple of months, it is also semi-autobiographical. I never fail to marvel at the external manifestation in my practice of an internal space I am wrestling with. If I happen to be slogging through a particularly difficult time in my relationships, or with a mid-life hurdle, a cluster of souls stumble through the door with similar issues. We’re all in this together. In keeping with the theme of learning to fall apart, I offer the following (part of this was inspired by something I read which resonated profoundly with me).
I sit amongst the carnage of a part of my life as it was, witnessing its gasping last moments. I trip over the blood, guts and bones of my broken dreams and illusions as I walk through this old house, deciding what needs to go and what I will take with me.
My breathing is laboured and I can feel that the end is near—rather than avert my eyes away from those parts of me that are dying, I stay fixated, my heart grounded in place, allowing myself to fall apart, over and over again, until it is time to drop into a dead sleep each night.
Each time death knocks at my door, my resistance to the darkness falls (a little); each time, I get stronger and I know that if I can stay with my breath, in the hardest of moments, in the thickness of pain and sorrow, I will wake up to a new day, each day.
But the nights are long and there are wolves…and fear rattles in my bones and pushes, pushes his ferocious way to the surface, trying to force love out of the way because fear is a hungry, greedy bastard.
My mind scatters in his presence, days run into each other, I lose time and can’t think straight, I have to catch myself before I spiral into hopelessness, its hard, very hard.
Yet, the only thing I can be right now is alone, because I must hold space for what is unfolding (which is me; my heart and a whole string of heartbreak moments that need to rise up before they can die the true death).
I am afraid.
I am afraid to be alone.
I am afraid that I will be alone, forever.
And so…alone I stay.
I know that soon, one day, being alone will become a dance and something to embrace; I will unfurl my wings and let them spread wide in my new space, tattered and torn, yet stronger then ever before.
I speak openly and honestly no matter how shameful or embarrassed I feel because I know there is freedom in truth and I know that some things must die in order to evolve.
And a message is whispered into my ear by the spirits and avatars that surround me, reminding me that the only way is through —and that there is one thing to do when a heart breaks and that is to love with everything that I have.