Why should I go to Canada when it feels like I'm about to die horribly?
Well... for lots of very good reasons. Most importantly, for my future freedom and loveliness.
Well... for lots of very good reasons. Most importantly, for my future freedom and loveliness.
This was just a thought, just a little image that seemed to sum up the way I go about the world - tense and trying not to be, but tense and afraid. I imagined my meditation group, we were all sat inside the small hut. To my right were some lovely women settled and lovely. In front another lovely lady. There were three men and they loomed in my head like hungry wolves.
During my EMDR session I asked, what would happen if I relaxed? I saw the men attack like wolves on a carcass.
This is a good example of core beliefs that are formed during abuse in childhood. To my rational head it makes no sense. A bunch of buddhist men, swarn to care for every living being as their own child, (although that doesn't stop them being pretty grumpy at times) are as far from a pack of murderous wolves as it is possible to be. And I know very well that my tension doesn't do anything other than keep me tense and give me indigestion. But deep down, it seems, that's just not what I know at all.
When I'm dealing with flashbacks, I'm slowly uncovering, just like Columbo, what I know in my heart - things that feel as true as, my feet go at the end of my legs or gorse bush flowers taste like peas.
They're not always clear straight away. I have to ask questions.
'I can't go outside.'
'Why not?'
'Umm, because I get panic attacks. I have a problem with anxiety.'
'What makes me panic?'
'I don't know. I have a social phobia. The people... talking to people. What if I have to talk to someone or...'
'Why am I so frightened of people?'
'People are dangerous they hurt people.'
'All people?'
'I don't know. What you asking me for? I told you, I have problems with anxiety. Why can't I just stay inside? I get panic attacks. What's the big deal...? Men hurt people.'
'What men?'
'I don't know, some do. How would I know? It just happens.'
'What men?'
'All men. I mean, I know not all men, but my head just says all men.'
'What would happen?'
'I don't know. I'm having a flashback. I can't breathe.'
'It's a memory, stick with it, how does it feel?'
'It hurts, I can't move, I can't make it stop.'
When I'm challenging myself to do the hard stuff, the stuff that triggers flashbacks, I'm going against these core beliefs. In the beginning it was stepping out the front door, today it's going to Canada. It feels like I'm going to die. The more I persist the harder it gets. I start feeling like suicide would be a less painful option than facing the unknown where I could be tortured by some attacker. But I choose to stick with it, because I know how things work.
When the flashbacks come and I do EMDR I'm in the process of changing these beliefs. At their heart there is usually a memory.
The good news is, well the amazing news is, memories are just thoughts. They're not happening now, they're imagined. If they're imagined, then why not be a superhero or give myself the power to instantly heal, or shrink my attacker and squash him with my hefty right boot?
In EMDR that's usually what I see or feel when a new coping mechanism kicks in. I get the memory first and then the memory changes. Recently, instead of being hurt in my memory I calmly stepped aside and watched my attacker scratch his face up on the tarmac. I was doing tai chi. I was relaxed, but not powerless. I was fighting. I was starting to know that if I relax I'm not just a powerless lump to be punched - that if I relax the wolves won't attack.
So then what happens? I step outside with my passport and suitcase. I challenge what I know again. The flashback comes. Not as strong this time. Sometimes I need to repeat the EMDR. The new, better coping mechanism kicks in. I'm doing tai chi; my body is calm. I carry on.
And then? I step outside. The flashback comes. It's not as strong again. The coping mechanism comes, quicker this time. I'm calm. I carry on.
And then? I step outside again and again until, I see the flashback pass like nothing. I'm calm. I'm happy. I'm doing what I thought I never could do. I'm travelling the world. I'm walking down a street that I've never been down and I'm relaxed; open to new possibilities and all the wonders that life can bring. I carry on.
In eight days I fly to Canada.
During my EMDR session I asked, what would happen if I relaxed? I saw the men attack like wolves on a carcass.
This is a good example of core beliefs that are formed during abuse in childhood. To my rational head it makes no sense. A bunch of buddhist men, swarn to care for every living being as their own child, (although that doesn't stop them being pretty grumpy at times) are as far from a pack of murderous wolves as it is possible to be. And I know very well that my tension doesn't do anything other than keep me tense and give me indigestion. But deep down, it seems, that's just not what I know at all.
When I'm dealing with flashbacks, I'm slowly uncovering, just like Columbo, what I know in my heart - things that feel as true as, my feet go at the end of my legs or gorse bush flowers taste like peas.
They're not always clear straight away. I have to ask questions.
'I can't go outside.'
'Why not?'
'Umm, because I get panic attacks. I have a problem with anxiety.'
'What makes me panic?'
'I don't know. I have a social phobia. The people... talking to people. What if I have to talk to someone or...'
'Why am I so frightened of people?'
'People are dangerous they hurt people.'
'All people?'
'I don't know. What you asking me for? I told you, I have problems with anxiety. Why can't I just stay inside? I get panic attacks. What's the big deal...? Men hurt people.'
'What men?'
'I don't know, some do. How would I know? It just happens.'
'What men?'
'All men. I mean, I know not all men, but my head just says all men.'
'What would happen?'
'I don't know. I'm having a flashback. I can't breathe.'
'It's a memory, stick with it, how does it feel?'
'It hurts, I can't move, I can't make it stop.'
When I'm challenging myself to do the hard stuff, the stuff that triggers flashbacks, I'm going against these core beliefs. In the beginning it was stepping out the front door, today it's going to Canada. It feels like I'm going to die. The more I persist the harder it gets. I start feeling like suicide would be a less painful option than facing the unknown where I could be tortured by some attacker. But I choose to stick with it, because I know how things work.
When the flashbacks come and I do EMDR I'm in the process of changing these beliefs. At their heart there is usually a memory.
The good news is, well the amazing news is, memories are just thoughts. They're not happening now, they're imagined. If they're imagined, then why not be a superhero or give myself the power to instantly heal, or shrink my attacker and squash him with my hefty right boot?
In EMDR that's usually what I see or feel when a new coping mechanism kicks in. I get the memory first and then the memory changes. Recently, instead of being hurt in my memory I calmly stepped aside and watched my attacker scratch his face up on the tarmac. I was doing tai chi. I was relaxed, but not powerless. I was fighting. I was starting to know that if I relax I'm not just a powerless lump to be punched - that if I relax the wolves won't attack.
So then what happens? I step outside with my passport and suitcase. I challenge what I know again. The flashback comes. Not as strong this time. Sometimes I need to repeat the EMDR. The new, better coping mechanism kicks in. I'm doing tai chi; my body is calm. I carry on.
And then? I step outside. The flashback comes. It's not as strong again. The coping mechanism comes, quicker this time. I'm calm. I carry on.
And then? I step outside again and again until, I see the flashback pass like nothing. I'm calm. I'm happy. I'm doing what I thought I never could do. I'm travelling the world. I'm walking down a street that I've never been down and I'm relaxed; open to new possibilities and all the wonders that life can bring. I carry on.
In eight days I fly to Canada.
RSS Feed