Jennifer Lehr, MFT – Jennifer’s Blog
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<title>Jennifer Lehr, MFT – Jennifer’s Blog</title>
<link>https://feeds.feedburner.com/JenniferLehrMft
<description>~ Step Into Your Magic Life</description>
<image></image><title>Jennifer Lehr, MFT – Jennifer’s Blog</title>
<link>https://feeds.feedburner.com/JenniferLehrMft
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<title>Learning to Love the Hard Way</title>
<link>https://www.jenniferlehrmft.com/learning-to-love-the-hard-way/?utm_source=rss&utm_medium=rss&utm_campaign=learning-to-love-the-hard-way
<guid ispermalink=”false”>http://www.jenniferlehrmft.com/?p=2133</guid>
<description><div><img src=”https://www.jenniferlehrmft.com/wp-content/uploads/science-1925058.png” class=”ff-og-image-inserted”></div><p><em>Originally published in P.S. I Love You, a Medium.com publication, on May 12th, 2020.</em></p><h2 id=”6a6c” class=”fj er bn bj bi dj fk fl fv fm fn fw fo fp fx fq fr fy fs ft fz fu”><strong class=”ax”>Sometimes it is the only way.</strong></h2>
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<p id=”604e” class=”it jf ef bj iv b fk iw jg fm ix jh iy iz fx ja jb fy jc jd fz je ek” data-selectable-paragraph>We seek each other. Wait. Hope. Stare at the night sky, black, pinpricked by a billion stars, swirling galaxies. Somewhere, out there.</p>
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<p data-selectable-paragraph>***</p>
<p id=”80e9″ class=”it jf ef bj iv b fk iw jg fm ix jh iy iz fx ja jb fy jc jd fz je ek” data-selectable-paragraph>When we met, I knew. The pull of two pieces. Pieces of destiny.</p>
<p id=”9cd8″ class=”it jf ef bj iv b fk iw jg fm ix jh iy iz fx ja jb fy jc jd fz je ek” data-selectable-paragraph>“I met a man I could marry,” I said to my friend on the phone.</p>
<p data-selectable-paragraph>How did I know?&nbsp;I know, see. Seer. Sometimes.</p>
<p id=”5e17″ class=”it jf ef bj iv b fk iw jg fm ix jh iy iz fx ja jb fy jc jd fz je ek” data-selectable-paragraph>Sometimes the vision is half. Obscured. Just the next step revealed. Who would start the journey if they could see the entire path, the persistent painful grinding of the reformation of self?</p>
<p id=”c012″ class=”it jf ef bj iv b fk iw jg fm ix jh iy iz fx ja jb fy jc jd fz je ek” data-selectable-paragraph>Did I also see the demise? The decay? The divorce that would occur 14 years later?</p>
<p id=”0e4b” class=”it jf ef bj iv b fk iw jg fm ix jh iy iz fx ja jb fy jc jd fz je ek” data-selectable-paragraph>I was attracted to his dark silent presence, solemn. We looked at an exhibit of photos. He gravitated towards one of a sad, young boy holding a stuffed toy, a rabbit. We stood in front of it, took it in. I thought it meant he was sensitive and open, attuned to an inner child — the little boy he had been.</p>
<p id=”cd50″ class=”it jf ef bj iv b fk iw jg fm ix jh iy iz fx ja jb fy jc jd fz je ek” data-selectable-paragraph>Jeremy drew together my history, part my mother — solid, sensible, and part my father, prone to rage. Both merged into one.</p>
<p data-selectable-paragraph><strong>***</strong></p>
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<p id=”da01″ class=”it jf ef bj iv b fk iw jg fm ix jh iy iz fx ja jb fy jc jd fz je ek” data-selectable-paragraph>Not many months later, when we were still in the bloom of fresh love, he suggested, “Let’s go hiking with my brother.”</p>
<p id=”a52b” class=”it jf ef bj iv b fk iw jg fm ix jh iy iz fx ja jb fy jc jd fz je ek” data-selectable-paragraph>“I don’t have hiking shoes.”</p>
<p id=”b982″ class=”it jf ef bj iv b fk iw jg fm ix jh iy iz fx ja jb fy jc jd fz je ek” data-selectable-paragraph>Jeremy loaned me an ancient pair, clunky, dusty and brown. His mother’s. They didn’t fit well. My feet hurt. My ankles turned. I could not keep up.</p>
<p id=”75a0″ class=”it jf ef bj iv b fk iw jg fm ix jh iy iz fx ja jb fy jc jd fz je ek” data-selectable-paragraph>He yelled, his face closed in. “Hurry up.”</p>
<p id=”a472″ class=”it jf ef bj iv b fk iw jg fm ix jh iy iz fx ja jb fy jc jd fz je ek” data-selectable-paragraph>I don’t remember the rest of his words.</p>
<p id=”42a0″ class=”it jf ef bj iv b fk iw jg fm ix jh iy iz fx ja jb fy jc jd fz je ek” data-selectable-paragraph>Clumsy. Yuk. His disdain spread over me. A dark mustard cloud.</p>
<p id=”1ba1″ class=”it jf ef bj iv b fk iw jg fm ix jh iy iz fx ja jb fy jc jd fz je ek” data-selectable-paragraph>The first red flag I saw.</p>
<p id=”92a0″ class=”it jf ef bj iv b fk iw jg fm ix jh iy iz fx ja jb fy jc jd fz je ek” data-selectable-paragraph>His brother, a silent witness, as I retracted into embarrassment. The tall trees, multicolored rocks. The cliffs I would rappel down, terrified, surrounded by an arching sky. None could save me from my humiliation.</p>
<h3 id=”cf08″ class=”js jt ef bj bi ju jv jw jx jy jz ka kb kc kd ke kf”><strong class=”ax”>The beginning</strong></h3>
<p id=”9f2f” class=”it jf ef bj iv b fk kg jg fm kh jh iy ki fx ja kj fy jc kk fz je ek” data-selectable-paragraph>It starts always somewhere. For me, it began with my father. For women, it often does. The deep wound, the dark place, the need to be loved, the holding on.</p>
<p id=”dccb” class=”it jf ef bj iv b fk iw jg fm ix jh iy iz fx ja jb fy jc jd fz je ek” data-selectable-paragraph>He criticized me. “You’re ugly.” “You’re a mess. Go brush your hair.”</p>
<p id=”31ff” class=”it jf ef bj iv b fk iw jg fm ix jh iy iz fx ja jb fy jc jd fz je ek” data-selectable-paragraph>My father, tall, beautiful, brilliant. A Leo, a Sun. I adored him. Why did he say those things? What was going on inside? Why didn’t he care about his awkward suffering child, children?</p>
<p id=”4a83″ class=”it jf ef bj iv b fk iw jg fm ix jh iy iz fx ja jb fy jc jd fz je ek” data-selectable-paragraph>The planets revolve around our sun. The sun’s gravity keeps them encircling. While separate beings, they do not break out of orbit. The pull is too strong. I was my own separate planet; my father was my sun.</p>
<p data-selectable-paragraph>***</p>
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<p id=”3c22″ class=”it jf ef bj iv b fk iw jg fm ix jh iy iz fx ja jb fy jc jd fz je ek” data-selectable-paragraph>My relationship before Jeremy was with Sam. Sam was riddled with the obsessions of addiction. I tried to save him. Explained. Begged.</p>
<p id=”21d3″ class=”it jf ef bj iv b fk iw jg fm ix jh iy iz fx ja jb fy jc jd fz je ek” data-selectable-paragraph>The glass crack pipe, I grabbed it, tried to tear it away. We struggled, muscle, flesh, skin, determination against determination. The glass shattered, slashed my palm, blood, jagged red line. Scar of my life. Now visible.</p>
<p id=”d090″ class=”it jf ef bj iv b fk iw jg fm ix jh iy iz fx ja jb fy jc jd fz je ek” data-selectable-paragraph>Fighting with addiction is fighting the wind, a ghost. Nobody there. Just me. Who am I, this broken young woman?</p>
<p id=”607f” class=”it jf ef bj iv b fk iw jg fm ix jh iy iz fx ja jb fy jc jd fz je ek” data-selectable-paragraph>I go to Al-Anon, sit in meetings. I listen, absorb. “Let Go and Let God.” “First Things First.” “One Day at a Time.”</p>
<p id=”2110″ class=”it jf ef bj iv b fk iw jg fm ix jh iy iz fx ja jb fy jc jd fz je ek” data-selectable-paragraph>I take in these thoughts. They still the anxiety threaded through me, the strands that tie me up, pull at me, twist me, contort. Nights I lay awake worrying. My mind spinning circles with no outlet. Where is he? Why hasn’t he called me back? Is he safe?</p>
<p id=”71eb” class=”it jf ef bj iv b fk iw jg fm ix jh iy iz fx ja jb fy jc jd fz je ek” data-selectable-paragraph>Crack dens, dim with stained mattresses, semi-conscious beings lying helter-skelter, the body pulsing, the mind gone to some other universe. The orbit around the drug. The cycle of addiction not much different than the cycle of violence.</p>
<p id=”5f30″ class=”it jf ef bj iv b fk iw jg fm ix jh iy iz fx ja jb fy jc jd fz je ek” data-selectable-paragraph>Before the end with Sam, after I found her lipstick, and realized he had cheated (again) while away on a job, I confronted him.</p>
<p id=”774a” class=”it jf ef bj iv b fk iw jg fm ix jh iy iz fx ja jb fy jc jd fz je ek” data-selectable-paragraph>“She is a dancer,” he said. As if her sweet supple limbs explained what had happened. Explained how the man I lived with, the man who begged me to come back after rehab, the man who said he loved me, wasn’t faithful.</p>
<p id=”5e93″ class=”it jf ef bj iv b fk iw jg fm ix jh iy iz fx ja jb fy jc jd fz je ek” data-selectable-paragraph>It explained the attraction yes, the choice to act on the attraction, no.</p>
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<p id=”9b6f” class=”it jf ef bj iv b fk iw jg fm ix jh iy iz fx ja jb fy jc jd fz je ek” data-selectable-paragraph>The repair — the stitching together of fragments into solid form, the finding ground under feet previously askew, angled as if hit by a car — started during the crisis of my relationship with Sam.</p>
<p id=”65cc” class=”it jf ef bj iv b fk iw jg fm ix jh iy iz fx ja jb fy jc jd fz je ek” data-selectable-paragraph><em class=”kl”>How had I been so undone? How had I started with so little self?</em></p>
<p id=”9d33″ class=”it jf ef bj iv b fk iw jg fm ix jh iy iz fx ja jb fy jc jd fz je ek” data-selectable-paragraph>The subterranean dive into understanding the parts of myself that trapped me. Trauma haunts us. It lies hidden inside. Its dark messages seep into the cells like a squid’s black ink. The billowing murky cloud infiltrating everything, blocking out vision, blocking out the sun.</p>
<p id=”480a” class=”it jf ef bj iv b fk iw jg fm ix jh iy iz fx ja jb fy jc jd fz je ek” data-selectable-paragraph>I notice images, movies, and TV shows with hugging and holding, expressions of love. They pull at me. So foreign. My path would have unfolded so differently with a past like that.</p>
<h3 id=”c40d” class=”js jt ef bj bi ju jv jw jx jy jz ka kb kc kd ke kf”><strong class=”ax”>The quest</strong></h3>
<p id=”b830″ class=”it jf ef bj iv b fk kg jg fm kh jh iy ki fx ja kj fy jc kk fz je ek” data-selectable-paragraph>Mine was not to be the regular life of husband, kids, job. I had other purposes, other visions. Some part of me knew, saved myself for what life demanded of me. I knew better than to trap myself permanently. I knew better than to have a kid.</p>
<p id=”3060″ class=”it jf ef bj iv b fk iw jg fm ix jh iy iz fx ja jb fy jc jd fz je ek” data-selectable-paragraph>These relationships, each man a false sun. Only part of myself present. I could not find the rest of me.</p>
<p id=”1378″ class=”it jf ef bj iv b fk iw jg fm ix jh iy iz fx ja jb fy jc jd fz je ek” data-selectable-paragraph>My need for them to be there for me boundless. If they would only open their hearts, I would be okay. Each broken man showed up and brought out the broken in me. Shards that fit together. Shards that did not know how to create a whole.</p>
<p id=”fc59″ class=”it jf ef bj iv b fk iw jg fm ix jh iy iz fx ja jb fy jc jd fz je ek” data-selectable-paragraph>A pattern that took years to dissolve.</p>
<h3 id=”883d” class=”js jt ef bj bi ju jv jw jx jy jz ka kb kc kd ke kf”><strong class=”ax”>The first therapy</strong></h3>
<p id=”5128″ class=”it jf ef bj iv b fk kg jg fm kh jh iy ki fx ja kj fy jc kk fz je ek” data-selectable-paragraph>I knew something was terribly wrong. What do I do? We would have to talk. I gathered myself.</p>
<p id=”7ff2″ class=”it jf ef bj iv b fk iw jg fm ix jh iy iz fx ja jb fy jc jd fz je ek” data-selectable-paragraph>I did not call him for 3 days after that hike. I told Jeremy that we needed to go to therapy, that I couldn’t continue as it was. That what had happened wasn’t okay. He agreed to go.</p>
<p id=”8d2e” class=”it jf ef bj iv b fk iw jg fm ix jh iy iz fx ja jb fy jc jd fz je ek” data-selectable-paragraph>Because he agreed, I stayed. I thought it meant something. I thought he would change, look at himself. Sift through and move into the stories of his past. The shame trapped below the surface that exploded into molten anger.</p>
<p data-selectable-paragraph>In the cycle of violence, the tension builds. The explosion occurs, and the pressure is released. The bliss of the honeymoon period follows. Both parties caught. The less powerful one is carefully waiting for the loving partner to reappear. The thirst for love traps this person until they know that loving themselves is enough.</p>
<p id=”9ed4″ class=”it jf ef bj iv b fk iw jg fm ix jh iy iz fx ja jb fy jc jd fz je ek” data-selectable-paragraph>I wondered years later why I hadn’t, couldn’t walk away after that hike. What had kept me in? What persistent hope caused me to not see the truth?</p>
<p id=”2b2b” class=”it jf ef bj iv b fk iw jg fm ix jh iy iz fx ja jb fy jc jd fz je ek” data-selectable-paragraph>Life needed me to finish this chapter. I wasn’t yet strong enough to break out of the gravitational pull. I still thought I had a job to do, the work of mending something broken. Myself. Him. Us. I did not yet know that I would be freeing myself alone.</p>
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<p id=”0ce0″ class=”it jf ef bj iv b fk iw jg fm ix jh iy iz fx ja jb fy jc jd fz je ek” data-selectable-paragraph>Our therapist was slow, calm, stoic even, and leftover from my previous man, Sam. The one who eventually told me he couldn’t stop getting “blitzed,” couldn’t get off the road of destruction, the dopamine rush towards death. It felt too good.</p>
<p id=”3b4f” class=”it jf ef bj iv b fk iw jg fm ix jh iy iz fx ja jb fy jc jd fz je ek” data-selectable-paragraph>Thank you, Sam. You taught me that I wasn’t ready to die. You put me on the road of looking within and those first early steps in Al-Anon.</p>
<p id=”e627″ class=”it jf ef bj iv b fk iw jg fm ix jh iy iz fx ja jb fy jc jd fz je ek” data-selectable-paragraph>Sam had refused therapy. He didn’t want to change, to stop using, to stop cheating. I traded him in for the counseling.</p>
<p id=”d5ac” class=”it jf ef bj iv b fk iw jg fm ix jh iy iz fx ja jb fy jc jd fz je ek” data-selectable-paragraph>Now Jeremy and I were seeing that therapist together. She didn’t use words like “anger problem” or “abusive.” She was careful to stay in the middle.</p>
<p id=”133d” class=”it jf ef bj iv b fk iw jg fm ix jh iy iz fx ja jb fy jc jd fz je ek” data-selectable-paragraph>He was angry during and after every session. He hated talking about feelings, about what upset each of us. I tried to stay upbeat. He was going with me, after all.</p>
<p id=”e885″ class=”it jf ef bj iv b fk iw jg fm ix jh iy iz fx ja jb fy jc jd fz je ek” data-selectable-paragraph>I didn’t know why this had to be so difficult.</p>
<p id=”14d4″ class=”it jf ef bj iv b fk iw jg fm ix jh iy iz fx ja jb fy jc jd fz je ek” data-selectable-paragraph>“Please,” I say, “Let’s just try.”</p>
<h3 id=”cfd2″ class=”js jt ef bj bi ju jv jw jx jy jz ka kb kc kd ke kf”><strong class=”ax”>Unable to leave</strong></h3>
<p id=”0a82″ class=”it jf ef bj iv b fk kg jg fm kh jh iy ki fx ja kj fy jc kk fz je ek” data-selectable-paragraph>From my home now, years later, across the water, far in the distance, the Olympic Mountains reside. Sometimes they are obscured by clouds and invisible. You would not know they are there. Other times their cubist white peaks shimmer through the layer of clouds — a pattern of hard and misty soft. Or they may be wholly uncovered, showing off their beauty, their glistening shapes.</p>
<p id=”f5dc” class=”it jf ef bj iv b fk iw jg fm ix jh iy iz fx ja jb fy jc jd fz je ek” data-selectable-paragraph>The mountains are there whether I see them or not. This is also true in a relationship. Your jagged edges were sometimes obscured. Still, I was careful about what I would say.</p>
<p id=”5d32″ class=”it jf ef bj iv b fk iw jg fm ix jh iy iz fx ja jb fy jc jd fz je ek” data-selectable-paragraph>Therapy became another reason to resent me. Reticent. Reluctant. I was making him. He would do this because I asked, but he didn’t want to. Why did he go with me? Was it because he didn’t want to lose me? Our relationship became transactional. I’ll do this, but I’ll hate you for it.</p>
<p id=”06f8″ class=”it jf ef bj iv b fk iw jg fm ix jh iy iz fx ja jb fy jc jd fz je ek” data-selectable-paragraph>Of course, this wasn’t clear back then. After all, I still married him.</p>
<p id=”0cc1″ class=”it jf ef bj iv b fk iw jg fm ix jh iy iz fx ja jb fy jc jd fz je ek” data-selectable-paragraph>Even though I was tempted to cancel the wedding. Even though I had fantasies of cheating and ending it the easy/hard way. Yet, I did not give up. I could not walk away. Be alone. I needed love. The sun.</p>
<p id=”b531″ class=”it jf ef bj iv b fk iw jg fm ix jh iy iz fx ja jb fy jc jd fz je ek” data-selectable-paragraph>I realized there would be hard times. I knew from the weather. From rainy days. From the frozen winters. From my sister with chilblains on her cheeks, because she regularly walked 2 miles home from school in below-freezing weather, the wind whipping across the golden grass covered stiff in white. Our father was not willing to drive down the road to pick her up. I knew from my childhood, from the accidents, the fighting, and pain. I knew from the hard slap of a parent’s hand. I knew love wasn’t easy. I knew.</p>
<h3 id=”5e14″ class=”js jt ef bj bi ju jv jw jx jy jz ka kb kc kd ke kf”><strong class=”ax”>Love/hate</strong></h3>
<p id=”bcbc” class=”it jf ef bj iv b fk kg jg fm kh jh iy ki fx ja kj fy jc kk fz je ek” data-selectable-paragraph>My father, my sun. He was two men. Cleaved apart down the middle. The one I loved. The one I hated. The one whose big hand I would hold, whose long steps I would try to match as we walked back from the mailbox together. After his rages, I wished my father gone. I imagined grabbing the big kitchen knife. I’d make him stop. Make him listen, make him see.</p>
<p id=”d4ce” class=”it jf ef bj iv b fk iw jg fm ix jh iy iz fx ja jb fy jc jd fz je ek” data-selectable-paragraph>Other times I wished my parents would divorce. My mom did not leave my father. Where would she have gone? She loved him. But she carried a burden.</p>
<p id=”c5ed” class=”it jf ef bj iv b fk iw jg fm ix jh iy iz fx ja jb fy jc jd fz je ek” data-selectable-paragraph>Sometimes I imagined I had been adopted. How could these two people be my real parents? How could I have come from them?</p>
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<p id=”212b” class=”it jf ef bj iv b fk iw jg fm ix jh iy iz fx ja jb fy jc jd fz je ek” data-selectable-paragraph>We took a break from couples therapy. I continued with a new therapist. Eventually, Jeremy and I started again with my newish therapist. Me speaking, explaining, talking, trying to understand, and sort. Him, a dark fuming presence who just sat. Shut down. Closed off. This therapist let him. Mistake.</p>
<p id=”7beb” class=”it jf ef bj iv b fk iw jg fm ix jh iy iz fx ja jb fy jc jd fz je ek” data-selectable-paragraph>Maybe it didn’t matter.</p>
<p id=”ca86″ class=”it jf ef bj iv b fk iw jg fm ix jh iy iz fx ja jb fy jc jd fz je ek” data-selectable-paragraph>How could someone who loved me, who I loved, misunderstand me so completely? How could he not see me trying to keep us together?</p>
<p id=”20ff” class=”it jf ef bj iv b fk iw jg fm ix jh iy iz fx ja jb fy jc jd fz je ek” data-selectable-paragraph>I was determined to sort through what was wrong. To do what my parents did not do when we were growing up. To get help. To make what was wrong right. To clear the black cloud and let in the shimmering light.</p>
<p id=”44c4″ class=”it jf ef bj iv b fk iw jg fm ix jh iy iz fx ja jb fy jc jd fz je ek” data-selectable-paragraph>A sense of security and safety comes from our investigations into who we are, how we have structured ourselves, what informs our thoughts, feelings, reactions. The work I was doing, the work he was not doing. The end already embedded in this dynamic.</p>
<p id=”2926″ class=”it jf ef bj iv b fk iw jg fm ix jh iy iz fx ja jb fy jc jd fz je ek” data-selectable-paragraph>Sometimes the difficult relationship is the catalyst — the spark that sets the fire. Without the catalyst, the fire cannot start, the journey falters. I needed these relationships. I needed to do this work to become who I am.</p>
<p id=”4d17″ class=”it jf ef bj iv b fk iw jg fm ix jh iy iz fx ja jb fy jc jd fz je ek” data-selectable-paragraph>I didn’t yet see the future. I didn’t know what I was doing, what I was building. I didn’t realize I was slowly sorting, shifting, removing the debris of the past and the present — allowing for a new future. A new love. It would be years before that would manifest.</p>
<h3 id=”4c1f” class=”js jt ef bj bi ju jv jw jx jy jz ka kb kc kd ke kf”><strong class=”ax”>The beginning of the end</strong></h3>
<p id=”eb6e” class=”it jf ef bj iv b fk kg jg fm kh jh iy ki fx ja kj fy jc kk fz je ek” data-selectable-paragraph>It was my birthday. Jeremy parked the car so that it hung into a red zone.</p>
<p id=”5348″ class=”it jf ef bj iv b fk iw jg fm ix jh iy iz fx ja jb fy jc jd fz je ek” data-selectable-paragraph>“Could you pull it back a few feet?” I asked. “So I don’t have to worry about getting a ticket while we eat.”</p>
<p id=”a74a” class=”it jf ef bj iv b fk iw jg fm ix jh iy iz fx ja jb fy jc jd fz je ek” data-selectable-paragraph>He blew up. We ate in silence. My eyes glassy with tears. One of many incidents. I had not yet given up.</p>
<p id=”1064″ class=”it jf ef bj iv b fk iw jg fm ix jh iy iz fx ja jb fy jc jd fz je ek” data-selectable-paragraph>Eventually, I realize that couples therapy will not help us. It requires two willing partners. After years of therapy with Jeremy and plenty more by myself, I said no. I’m not doing this with you anymore. I’ve done my part. I am not the angry one, the disconnected one. Figure out your stuff. See what you can learn without me. I just want connection. What you need, I do not know.</p>
<p id=”540a” class=”it jf ef bj iv b fk iw jg fm ix jh iy iz fx ja jb fy jc jd fz je ek” data-selectable-paragraph>I had used my witch magic, but it wasn’t strong enough for those blind eyes. He would have to find his own way.</p>
<p id=”4ea5″ class=”it jf ef bj iv b fk iw jg fm ix jh iy iz fx ja jb fy jc jd fz je ek” data-selectable-paragraph>There is a door that must be opened. The door of looking within. The excuses, deflections, blame must fall away. The venting and complaints. The dark passage, the light now illuminating the cobwebs and phantoms. The aha of seeing oneself and one’s part. The movement from victim to co-creator and healer of one’s own life.</p>
<p id=”e9ba” class=”it jf ef bj iv b fk iw jg fm ix jh iy iz fx ja jb fy jc jd fz je ek” data-selectable-paragraph>He continues with some therapy without me. Perhaps he senses how close to done I am. I am detached. I have opened my palm and let the particles of dust blow into the hazy air. I do not know where they will land.</p>
<h3 id=”9bd8″ class=”js jt ef bj bi ju jv jw jx jy jz ka kb kc kd ke kf”><strong class=”ax”>The divorce</strong></h3>
<p id=”550e” class=”it jf ef bj iv b fk kg jg fm kh jh iy ki fx ja kj fy jc kk fz je ek” data-selectable-paragraph>I’m sorry you did not feel safe enough to look inside, sorry you made me bad. Sorrier you would not trust my good intentions or let me in.</p>
<p id=”c5af” class=”it jf ef bj iv b fk iw jg fm ix jh iy iz fx ja jb fy jc jd fz je ek” data-selectable-paragraph>You did not feel safe enough to trust, to release your hard bully belly, your tough impenetrable exterior. I didn’t feel safe enough to stop trying to get you to open, to dig down and excavate the layers of fossilized feelings that were burning a hole in your psyche. Brown, crusty, encapsulated around the pink hurting flesh.</p>
<p id=”b90a” class=”it jf ef bj iv b fk iw jg fm ix jh iy iz fx ja jb fy jc jd fz je ek” data-selectable-paragraph>Your sloppy drunk mother whose need for you demanded that you take care of her. The child spouse. The angry controlling father who could be no partner at all. How often does this happen? Future relationships potentially ruined for this child, unless s/he chooses the arduous excavation. And so it continues until someone says, “No, this is not good enough.”</p>
<p id=”c175″ class=”it jf ef bj iv b fk iw jg fm ix jh iy iz fx ja jb fy jc jd fz je ek” data-selectable-paragraph>I tried to help you find safety, tried to do it with you. The key that fits into the lock so that the lock snaps open. Instead, I had to do it without you.</p>
<p data-selectable-paragraph>***</p>
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<p id=”7b41″ class=”it jf ef bj iv b fk iw jg fm ix jh iy iz fx ja jb fy jc jd fz je ek” data-selectable-paragraph>Eventually, I am finished, done, complete. There is no more life force to put his way. Hope had long evaporated. The air of the relationship siphoned off. A vacuum left between us.</p>
<p id=”b7ab” class=”it jf ef bj iv b fk iw jg fm ix jh iy iz fx ja jb fy jc jd fz je ek” data-selectable-paragraph>I am scared. I am ending us.</p>
<p id=”34e5″ class=”it jf ef bj iv b fk iw jg fm ix jh iy iz fx ja jb fy jc jd fz je ek” data-selectable-paragraph>It was then that Jeremy tried to hold on. Made promises, bargained.</p>
<p id=”23ca” class=”it jf ef bj iv b fk iw jg fm ix jh iy iz fx ja jb fy jc jd fz je ek” data-selectable-paragraph>“No,” I said. After 11 years of marriage. That is when he turned.</p>
<p id=”9ab3″ class=”it jf ef bj iv b fk iw jg fm ix jh iy iz fx ja jb fy jc jd fz je ek” data-selectable-paragraph>“C**t.” “B**ch.” He assaulted me with names.</p>
<p id=”0098″ class=”it jf ef bj iv b fk iw jg fm ix jh iy iz fx ja jb fy jc jd fz je ek” data-selectable-paragraph>Who he became removed any possibility of repair. It was clear. We were divorcing then.</p>
<p id=”5586″ class=”it jf ef bj iv b fk iw jg fm ix jh iy iz fx ja jb fy jc jd fz je ek” data-selectable-paragraph>The fall was severe. His words cut through my psyche, razor-sharp knives that bounced and sliced, reverberating through me. I could not escape the attacks. On the shower floor lay clumps of my hair that had fallen out. My periods stopped. My weight below my skinny teenager’s weight. Cuts on my hands that would not heal, raw red open for months. A stomach that could not digest food. A body that no longer worked. And fear. The plummet into terror.</p>
<p id=”c63b” class=”it jf ef bj iv b fk iw jg fm ix jh iy iz fx ja jb fy jc jd fz je ek” data-selectable-paragraph>Would I survive? Could I survive? How do I get through this?</p>
<p id=”1987″ class=”it jf ef bj iv b fk iw jg fm ix jh iy iz fx ja jb fy jc jd fz je ek” data-selectable-paragraph>He accused me. I must be having an affair, he said. What else could explain it? He believed that he should keep everything from our life together. Didn’t recognize any contribution I had made. He would not see. What I did, how I helped. How I had tried to weave us together. The gift of myself that he refused.</p>
<p id=”caac” class=”it jf ef bj iv b fk iw jg fm ix jh iy iz fx ja jb fy jc jd fz je ek” data-selectable-paragraph>Who did he think I was? How did he not see me, understand my intention? My desire to make this connection work — to make it more than the gravitation attraction between two bodies. To bring light into this pull, rather than the drawing in towards a black hole. The collapse, the dissolving, the undoing of love.</p>
<h3 id=”5983″ class=”js jt ef bj bi ju jv jw jx jy jz ka kb kc kd ke kf”><strong class=”ax”>Ex</strong></h3>
<p id=”9b1a” class=”it jf ef bj iv b fk kg jg fm kh jh iy ki fx ja kj fy jc kk fz je ek” data-selectable-paragraph>Who would listen? Some of my friends. Others picked sides. His family would no longer speak to me. Initially, my family sided with him. Poor hardworking victim. Mean wife.</p>
<p id=”aac1″ class=”it jf ef bj iv b fk iw jg fm ix jh iy iz fx ja jb fy jc jd fz je ek” data-selectable-paragraph>My mother begged me not to divorce. She, stuck in another generation, could not see, did not want to know what had gone wrong. I hung up sobbing.</p>
<p id=”5870″ class=”it jf ef bj iv b fk iw jg fm ix jh iy iz fx ja jb fy jc jd fz je ek” data-selectable-paragraph>I held onto myself for dear life. Gripped with all I was. The fight to not be bullied. The battle to stand up for myself.</p>
<p id=”16be” class=”it jf ef bj iv b fk iw jg fm ix jh iy iz fx ja jb fy jc jd fz je ek” data-selectable-paragraph>I was crushed. The weight of the accusations. The weight of being abused by someone I once loved. The threats and manipulations. I fell into pieces.</p>
<p data-selectable-paragraph>***</p>
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<p id=”3bef” class=”it jf ef bj iv b fk iw jg fm ix jh iy iz fx ja jb fy jc jd fz je ek” data-selectable-paragraph>Now he is my ex. Once, he was central to my life. Center. Middle. I revolved around him. The sun and the planets.</p>
<p id=”a50e” class=”it jf ef bj iv b fk iw jg fm ix jh iy iz fx ja jb fy jc jd fz je ek” data-selectable-paragraph>No more. Goodbye. The rush of fresh air.</p>
<p id=”a1f2″ class=”it jf ef bj iv b fk iw jg fm ix jh iy iz fx ja jb fy jc jd fz je ek” data-selectable-paragraph>I gained skills and tools on this journey. I became a full enough person. I would never again settle for not enough because I was no longer not enough.</p>
<p id=”f81d” class=”it jf ef bj iv b fk iw jg fm ix jh iy iz fx ja jb fy jc jd fz je ek” data-selectable-paragraph>I have finally and fully put down the load, the leftover bits that had not been banished. I have done my work and more. Guilt gone. The good girl vanished.</p>
<h3 id=”fccd” class=”js jt ef bj bi ju jv jw jx jy jz ka kb kc kd ke kf”><strong class=”ax”>Nourishing love</strong></h3>
<p id=”40dc” class=”it jf ef bj iv b fk kg jg fm kh jh iy ki fx ja kj fy jc kk fz je ek” data-selectable-paragraph>I had needed a lifeline. True love. An umbilical cord and placenta.</p>
<p id=”f30b” class=”it jf ef bj iv b fk iw jg fm ix jh iy iz fx ja jb fy jc jd fz je ek” data-selectable-paragraph>Someone who would tend a relationship with me. See it as a garden. Turn the fertile earth. Run their fingers through it and feel its substance. Put in the seeds, little packages of potential. Nourish them. Protect them. Enjoy the green unfolding. Nourish each other.</p>
<p id=”52db” class=”it jf ef bj iv b fk iw jg fm ix jh iy iz fx ja jb fy jc jd fz je ek” data-selectable-paragraph>I had needed someone who wanted to be part of my nourishment, who wanted me to nourish them as well. Are we not each sustenance to the other? Yes, I have a lifeline to the bigger universe, but as a warm-blooded being, do I not also desire a nourishing connection to another warm soul?</p>
<p id=”7de4″ class=”it jf ef bj iv b fk iw jg fm ix jh iy iz fx ja jb fy jc jd fz je ek” data-selectable-paragraph>Can we hold each other in our loving arms and enable each other to grow? Like a placenta, we supply some of the nutrients needed to the other and help remove the unwanted or hindering parts of ourselves.</p>
<h3>Life after divorce</h3>
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<p id=”35a3″ class=”it jf ef bj iv b fk iw jg fm ix jh iy iz fx ja jb fy jc jd fz je ek” data-selectable-paragraph>Eventually, after the divorce, I married again. A second marriage for both of us. Finally, an adult. Two adults. I find connection, nourishment, and emotional safety that I could not have dreamt of before.</p>
<p id=”9fc4″ class=”it jf ef bj iv b fk iw jg fm ix jh iy iz fx ja jb fy jc jd fz je ek” data-selectable-paragraph>Despite the initial ka-chunk of two pieces falling together, some loose ends, bits, and parts needed to be re-arranged. It wasn’t effortless. It even required a little more therapy.</p>
<p id=”c482″ class=”it jf ef bj iv b fk iw jg fm ix jh iy iz fx ja jb fy jc jd fz je ek” data-selectable-paragraph>The building of safety and trust is the slow patient task of an open heart. We split our pasts open. Tended each other. Our stories taught us who we both were and are. We choose our intentions. We choose to trust, to mend, to heal. We choose to make learning to love central to our lives.</p>
<p id=”0dfb” class=”it jf ef bj iv b fk iw jg fm ix jh iy iz fx ja jb fy jc jd fz je ek” data-selectable-paragraph>My second husband is like the placenta and the umbilical cord — blood flowing in, nourishing me. Helping me navigate this world. Me helping him.</p>
<p id=”fd70″ class=”it jf ef bj iv b fk iw jg fm ix jh iy iz fx ja jb fy jc jd fz je ek” data-selectable-paragraph>He is the one who didn’t have expectations that would trap me. The one who learned to speak my language, and I, his. Gestures, words curlicue, and play across the air.</p>
<p id=”ea8e” class=”it jf ef bj iv b fk iw jg fm ix jh iy iz fx ja jb fy jc jd fz je ek” data-selectable-paragraph>A chalice, full to the brim. The surface glinting, reflecting, illuminating. The blinding white glow of clarity. Between us. Within us.</p>
<p id=”926d” class=”it jf ef bj iv b fk iw jg fm ix jh iy iz fx ja jb fy jc jd fz je ek” data-selectable-paragraph>Below the surface, the warm liquid of love contains and holds. It provides the safety needed to see ourselves.</p>
<p id=”a46c” class=”it jf ef bj iv b fk iw jg fm ix jh iy iz fx ja jb fy jc jd fz je ek” data-selectable-paragraph>We are mirrors to each other. Enabling the unfinished parts of ourselves to transcend and transform, like a bonfire against the night sky, wood becomes flames, sparks reaching for the heavens, more significant than any distraction or negative influence.</p>
<p data-selectable-paragraph>***</p>
<p data-selectable-paragraph>For relationship help try WeConcile’s <a href=”http://blog.weconcile.com”>Blog</a>.</p>
<p data-selectable-paragraph>Or you might want to read more of her personal stories (like this one) <a href=”https://www.jenniferlehrmft.com/blog/jennifers-blog/”>here</a>.</p>
<p data-selectable-paragraph>***</p>
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<p id=”4cef” class=”it jf ef bj iv b fk iw jg fm ix jh iy iz fx ja jb fy jc jd fz je ek” data-selectable-paragraph><strong class=”iv km”>Jennifer Lehr, LMFT</strong>&nbsp;writes about relationships, personal development, self-actualization, and spirituality in relatable articles. Get these free insights and tips by&nbsp;<a class=”bw io ip iq ir is” href=”https://blog.weconcile.com/” target=”_blank” rel=”noopener nofollow noreferrer”>subscribing</a>&nbsp;to her occasional newsletters.</p>
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</description>
<pubdate>Fri, 15 May 2020 20:55:01 +0000</pubdate>
<dc:creator>Jennifer Lehr MFT</dc:creator>
<dc:language>en-US</dc:language>
<dc:format>text/html</dc:format>
<dc:identifier>https://www.jenniferlehrmft.com/learning-to-love-the-hard-way/</dc:identifier>
<category>Emotional Healing</category>
<category>insight and awareness</category>
<category>Marriage & Relationship Help</category>
<category>self growth</category>
<category>Self Reflection</category>
<category>Self-Help</category>
<category>Wounds</category>
<category>divorce</category>
<category>learn to love</category>
<category>Love</category>
<category>marriage</category>
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<title>Healing From Trauma — It is All About Support</title>
<link>https://www.jenniferlehrmft.com/healing-from-trauma-it-is-all-about-support/?utm_source=rss&utm_medium=rss&utm_campaign=healing-from-trauma-it-is-all-about-support
<guid ispermalink=”false”>http://www.jenniferlehrmft.com/?p=2103</guid>
<description><div><img src=”https://www.jenniferlehrmft.com/wp-content/uploads/Image-by-Enrique-Meseguer-from-Pixabay-.jpg” class=”ff-og-image-inserted”></div><section class=”gv gw iz ja jb”>
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<p><em>First published in Invisible Illness, a Medium.com publication on April 21st, 2020.</em></p>
<h3 class=”bx fv jx ki jz kj kb kk kd kl kf km cc”>How we experience is linked to the emotional support we receive</h3>
<p id=”905c” class=”mb mc ap by md b jx me jz mf mg mh mi mj mk ml mm gv” data-selectable-paragraph>“Why did you let that happen? Why didn’t you stop him? You could have blocked your brother with your body and saved the chick.”</p>
<p id=”a34b” class=”mb mc ap by md b jx me jz mf mg mh mi mj mk ml mm gv” data-selectable-paragraph>My mother’s words were harsh, the situation harsher.</p>
<p id=”dc61″ class=”mb mc ap by md b jx me jz mf mg mh mi mj mk ml mm gv” data-selectable-paragraph>Tears streaming down my face, my sister, myself, and my 2 brothers stood around my mother. We watched the baby pheasant lying on her cupped palm, its little eyes closed, a loop of glistening intestines burst through its abdomen. We watched its tiny body rising and falling, watched its breathing, in and out, rapid and then stilled.</p>
<p id=”ee7c” class=”mb mc ap by md b jx me jz mf mg mh mi mj mk ml mm gv” data-selectable-paragraph>I was maybe 9 years old. A local farmer had been mowing a nearby field and ran over and killed a mother pheasant sitting on her eggs. How we found out, I have no idea, but we took the eggs and put them under one of our nesting chickens. Although the eggs hatched, this particular chicken was not a great mother. So the baby pheasants began to disappear each night, one by one. We took the last one away from the chicken to raise ourselves. This ball of golden fuzz was a part of our family for a short while.</p>
<p id=”ace9″ class=”mb mc ap by md b jx me jz mf mg mh mi mj mk ml mm gv” data-selectable-paragraph>One day, I had taken the baby chick out of its box and was lying in the grass beside it, enjoying the sunshine. It was a sweet little bird with a dark stripe over its eye. It happily peeped as it pecked at the grass.</p>
<p id=”ed4f” class=”mb mc ap by md b jx me jz mf mg mh mi mj mk ml mm gv” data-selectable-paragraph>My little brother, who was 5 years old or so, came running towards me. I yelled for him to stop. He continued running and stepped directly on the baby bird. The shock vibrated through me. I don’t remember what happened next. I only remember watching it die. And I remember the blame.</p>
<p id=”866e” class=”mb mc ap by md b jx me jz mf mg mh mi mj mk ml mm gv” data-selectable-paragraph>I questioned myself,&nbsp;<em class=”mn”>Why had I let this happen? Why hadn’t I reacted faster?</em></p>
<p id=”ed34″ class=”mb mc ap by md b jx me jz mf mg mh mi mj mk ml mm gv” data-selectable-paragraph>I was a sensitive, imaginative, and intuitive child who loved animals. I could easily experience their pain, merge with them, and lose my separate self.</p>
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<h3></h3>
<h3 id=”87e5″ class=”mb mc ap by md b jx me jz mf mg mh mi mj mk ml mm gv”>Existential</h3>
<p id=”646c” class=”mb mc ap by md b jx me jz mf mg mh mi mj mk ml mm gv” data-selectable-paragraph>It was rural Pennsylvania in the ’60s. Our family had not yet reached the apex of stress they would hit when my siblings and I were in our teenage years. We didn’t really fit into this community of farmers and hunters. My mother’s friends were still in New Jersey. I think my father’s focus on his art left her lonely. My parents did not have support from their community, relatives, or even each other. Nor did they know how to emotionally support their children. Each of us held our individual selves up.</p>
<p id=”1b7a” class=”mb mc ap by md b jx me jz mf mg mh mi mj mk ml mm gv” data-selectable-paragraph>We were a family who saw ourselves through the lens of free will. We were not a family that understood the concept of a higher will or had faith. There was no understanding of how being nurtured and supported by others would enable us to develop and function. We did not understand what emotional support was. This meant not only that I was responsible for what happened, but that I had to get through this trauma by myself.</p>
<p id=”8784″ class=”mb mc ap by md b jx me jz mf mg mh mi mj mk ml mm gv” data-selectable-paragraph>My mother was an emotionally distant person. She undoubtedly had Aspergers. There were no hugs, no, “I’m so sorry, it wasn’t your fault. I know you are sad.” There was no reassurance or help in understanding what had occurred.</p>
<p id=”8b5c” class=”mb mc ap by md b jx me jz mf mg mh mi mj mk ml mm gv” data-selectable-paragraph>When we are held, comforted, the body relaxes and loosens, the mind stills. The breath softens. That is what I needed but did not get.</p>
<p id=”7bc8″ class=”mb mc ap by md b jx me jz mf mg mh mi mj mk ml mm gv” data-selectable-paragraph>Instead, I was thrown into an existential state where I was alone. I couldn’t deal with what happened by myself. I didn’t have the capacity. Without support, I merged with the bodily shock and trauma this little bird experienced. I could not see beyond it. I free-fell into the dark pit of self-blame. And moved into even greater hypervigilance afterward.</p>
<p id=”00a2″ class=”mb mc ap by md b jx me jz mf mg mh mi mj mk ml mm gv” data-selectable-paragraph>Like a nuclear explosion, this accident ballooned and vibrated through my psyche with no exit. At nine, I simply did not have the internal resources to grieve and let go.</p>
<p id=”5980″ class=”mb mc ap by md b jx me jz mf mg mh mi mj mk ml mm gv” data-selectable-paragraph>Who do you blame in a situation like this? A five-year-old? The farmer who killed the nesting pheasant? Us for saving the developing eggs? Me for not knowing to throw my body over the baby bird?</p>
<p id=”cf61″ class=”mb mc ap by md b jx me jz mf mg mh mi mj mk ml mm gv” data-selectable-paragraph>The image of the little pheasant as it died on my mother’s cupped palm has haunted me for 50 years. It is one of the places inside where I do not trust the universe, where I struggle to believe the world is good. It is where I was blamed, and I blamed myself.</p>
<p id=”164f” class=”mb mc ap by md b jx me jz mf mg mh mi mj mk ml mm gv” data-selectable-paragraph>When the suffering is too intense, we move into blame. How do we untangle the trauma, the blame, and the guilt? How do we heal trauma?</p>
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<h3></h3>
<h3 id=”4822″ class=”mb mc ap by md b jx me jz mf mg mh mi mj mk ml mm gv”>Accidents and injuries</h3>
<p id=”396b” class=”mb mc ap by md b jx me jz mf mg mh mi mj mk ml mm gv” data-selectable-paragraph>I’ve always struggled with “accidents.” In my life, accidents have often been connected to trauma. And they have impacted my ability to trust that the universe is safe.</p>
<p id=”c1cb” class=”mb mc ap by md b jx me jz mf mg mh mi mj mk ml mm gv” data-selectable-paragraph>What is the relationship between an accident and what is meant to be, or destiny? I’ve wondered about this for my entire life. Are there accidents? One theory I’ve read put forth the idea that when your energy is out of balance, accidents can happen. Others indicate that there is no such thing as an accident.</p>
<p id=”0c14″ class=”mb mc ap by md b jx me jz mf mg mh mi mj mk ml mm gv” data-selectable-paragraph>I, of course, have feelings about this. On the one hand, I want to believe that everything is meaningful. The idea of an accident makes me feel unsafe. On the other hand, I struggle with so many horrific events in our world. If there are no accidents, then what is this place? How do we create meaning around what happens?</p>
<p id=”6157″ class=”mb mc ap by md b jx me jz mf mg mh mi mj mk ml mm gv” data-selectable-paragraph>According to lexico.com, an accident is “an unfortunate incident that happens unexpectedly and unintentionally, typically resulting in damage or injury.” It is “‘a happening’, from the verb accidere, from ad- ‘towards, to’ + cadere ‘to fall’”.</p>
<p class=”mb mc ap by md b jx me jz mf mg mh mi mj mk ml mm gv” data-selectable-paragraph>It is falling towards a happening. I see it as indicating a fall from grace. A fall into the deep underbelly of darkness, where light does not exist.</p>
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<h3></h3>
<h3 id=”5d67″ class=”mb mc ap by md b jx me jz mf mg mh mi mj mk ml mm gv”>The “bad” trip</h3>
<p id=”b1c7″ class=”mb mc ap by md b jx me jz mf mg mh mi mj mk ml mm gv” data-selectable-paragraph>Once, years ago, I tried DMT (synthetic Ayahuasca) with my shaman friend, Malcolm. I went straight down to hell, to a place with no light, no love, no god. The 45 minutes of this experience seemed to last for days. I clutched Malcolm’s arm for dear life. When I finally emerged, I was so grateful to be back into ordinary reality, to be with my friend and his cats.</p>
<p id=”ff2f” class=”mb mc ap by md b jx me jz mf mg mh mi mj mk ml mm gv” data-selectable-paragraph>It took years for me to integrate this experience. Eventually, as I looked back, I saw how my fear of death had evaporated. I had already been to somewhere worse than death. I had been to the underworld in its darkest form.</p>
<p id=”aae9″ class=”mb mc ap by md b jx me jz mf mg mh mi mj mk ml mm gv” data-selectable-paragraph>According to Martini Fisher, “For the ancient Greeks, the underworld represented a point of no return. However, there are some who managed to descend to the realm of the dead and who returned to the land of the living. This journey to the underworld usually provided the hero or upper-world deity with a special object, a loved one, or a heightened knowledge. The ability to enter the realm of the dead while still alive, and to return from it, is considered proof of the hero’s prowess and mastery over himself and the world around him…”</p>
<p id=”0705″ class=”mb mc ap by md b jx me jz mf mg mh mi mj mk ml mm gv” data-selectable-paragraph>I’ve had this experience in a variety of forms. From the traumatic incident of the pheasant chick to the immersion in the DMT trip, to years spent in a bad relationship, these experiences are linked.</p>
<p id=”adf0″ class=”mb mc ap by md b jx me jz mf mg mh mi mj mk ml mm gv” data-selectable-paragraph>In the case of the DMT trip, I went down, and I came back up, but the gold to be gained from that experience was still years away.</p>
<p id=”820e” class=”mb mc ap by md b jx me jz mf mg mh mi mj mk ml mm gv” data-selectable-paragraph>In the case of the problematic relationship and other difficult chapters of my life, I’d enter a nightmare. To emerge into a different reality, I had to change. These dark ‘chapters’ of suffering are somewhat different than an ‘event’ that erupts into our lives in the form of trauma. But there are also similarities.</p>
<p id=”8353″ class=”mb mc ap by md b jx me jz mf mg mh mi mj mk ml mm gv” data-selectable-paragraph>When we have an untenable experience, whether an accident or not, whether brief or over a long period, we need to find ways to hold ourselves together. In a sense, the experience becomes frozen in our nervous system. There is work to be done to release ourselves from this prison.</p>
<p id=”a343″ class=”mb mc ap by md b jx me jz mf mg mh mi mj mk ml mm gv” data-selectable-paragraph>To make use of these experiences, we need to turn towards and seek meaning and a more enlightened way of engaging with life. For example, when I was much younger and had dated a man with addiction issues, I learned that I was ‘co-dependent’ in a way that caused me harm. Al-anon not only helped me build the backbone I did not have but introduced me to the idea that I was not in control of everything; that there were forces more significant than me. With these new learnings, I began to practice a new way of relating to reality.</p>
<p id=”0943″ class=”mb mc ap by md b jx me jz mf mg mh mi mj mk ml mm gv” data-selectable-paragraph>As I look at the seemingly unfortunate and accidental events of my life, some of them clearly occurred because I needed to change course. These ‘accidents’ are easier to accept because I can see the purpose of them. It is those that seemingly have no purpose that I find accepting more challenging.</p>
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<h3></h3>
<h3 id=”0baa” class=”mb mc ap by md b jx me jz mf mg mh mi mj mk ml mm gv”>EMDR and healing trauma</h3>
<p id=”1568″ class=”mb mc ap by md b jx me jz mf mg mh mi mj mk ml mm gv” data-selectable-paragraph>Last year, I spent some time doing EMDR with a therapist. I went because I felt I needed to heal trauma. According to Dr. Arielle Schwartz, “EMDR [Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing] Therapy changes maladaptive neural networks by connecting the traumatic memory with new information. The distressing thoughts and emotions are blended with new positive thoughts and emotions; embodied awareness allows frozen sensations in the body to resolve through healing movements.”</p>
<p id=”c66c” class=”mb mc ap by md b jx me jz mf mg mh mi mj mk ml mm gv” data-selectable-paragraph>I found the process of EMDR uncomfortable but useful. I entered Michael’s office and sat down across from him. He had initially spent a full session getting an idea of the events that I felt were traumatic for me and getting a sense of my ability to self-support and not fall apart. He made sure I had an internal safe space and the ability to leave the traumatic state behind when I needed to return to my ‘regular’ life.</p>
<p id=”d66a” class=”mb mc ap by md b jx me jz mf mg mh mi mj mk ml mm gv” data-selectable-paragraph>And then we began. We would pick an event, and as he moved a ball back and forth and my eyes followed, I would think of that event.</p>
<p id=”fd3e” class=”mb mc ap by md b jx me jz mf mg mh mi mj mk ml mm gv” data-selectable-paragraph>Michael would ask me what was happening, what I was experiencing. Over and over.</p>
<p id=”e386″ class=”mb mc ap by md b jx me jz mf mg mh mi mj mk ml mm gv” data-selectable-paragraph>The event morphed until it became something different. Until instead of feeling like a victim of my father’s rage, or my mother’s control, I found a new vision, an image of my empowerment. Instead of cowering, I confronted. My emotional responses changed, and new internal experiences emerged.</p>
<p id=”a6af” class=”mb mc ap by md b jx me jz mf mg mh mi mj mk ml mm gv” data-selectable-paragraph>Throughout 10 or so sessions, we moved through several ‘bad’ memories — memories that had stayed with me and caused me both a sense of pain and a perception of feeling powerless and unsafe. Traumatic memories and traumatic states of being are not empowered places.</p>
<p id=”4967″ class=”mb mc ap by md b jx me jz mf mg mh mi mj mk ml mm gv” data-selectable-paragraph>I don’t know what shifted internally, but at some point, I realized I had more ground under my feet. There was a bottom supporting me. An intangible fear I had carried for years had diminished.</p>
<p id=”8150″ class=”mb mc ap by md b jx me jz mf mg mh mi mj mk ml mm gv” data-selectable-paragraph>I had forgotten the story of the baby peasant when I was working with Michael. Yet, now I am finding a new place to stand in relation to this event. I am healing from trauma.</p>
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<h3 id=”e51d” class=”mb mc ap by md b jx me jz mf mg mh mi mj mk ml mm gv”>Two worlds</h3>
<p id=”3a3b” class=”mb mc ap by md b jx me jz mf mg mh mi mj mk ml mm gv” data-selectable-paragraph>My world continues to morph, grow, and expand, despite areas where I am not yet in alignment, where I over strive and push too hard, where I struggle with limitations, where I don’t meditate enough or skip yoga, where I worry. I don’t live only in a life where I’ve suffered and struggled.</p>
<p id=”f03b” class=”mb mc ap by md b jx me jz mf mg mh mi mj mk ml mm gv” data-selectable-paragraph>I also live where the universe evolves with beauty, and magic blooms at the edges of my vision. I live in a world where I know I create my life, and I stand in that power. I live in a world where I know I have a purpose and a mission.</p>
<p id=”fb89″ class=”mb mc ap by md b jx me jz mf mg mh mi mj mk ml mm gv” data-selectable-paragraph>Which world do I wish to live in? Knowing the answer is easy. Turning my naturally obsessive gaze from the problem to the solution is much more difficult. As someone I know once said to me, “take the needle out of your arm.” She was referring to my obsession with trying to solve problems on the problem level instead of taking care of myself. Instead of setting an intention, doing the work required, and then allowing the universe to do its job.</p>
<p id=”dbbf” class=”mb mc ap by md b jx me jz mf mg mh mi mj mk ml mm gv” data-selectable-paragraph>I can turn from my obsession with trying and find other ways of thinking. I tell myself that I am developing as a human. That I am gifted by the many beautiful beings around me. That I can find faith and love. That I can make my path more joyful, and I can live in balance.</p>
<p id=”4439″ class=”mb mc ap by md b jx me jz mf mg mh mi mj mk ml mm gv” data-selectable-paragraph>I choose to trust not only that my vision will come to pass if it is the universe’s will, but also know that I am changed for the better by this journey. This journey is more expansive than my will. My engagement with this journey is where my power lies. My task is to live with joy even as I am confronted with obstacles, accidents, challenges. My task is also to heal from trauma. To do so requires support, both internal and external.</p>
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<h3 id=”ff41″ class=”mb mc ap by md b jx me jz mf mg mh mi mj mk ml mm gv”>Kindness and love</h3>
<p id=”75dc” class=”mb mc ap by md b jx me jz mf mg mh mi mj mk ml mm gv” data-selectable-paragraph>My world contains extreme kindness. My siblings, my mother, and I gathered to witness with love as the chick’s inhales and exhales stopped. We buried him or her. We cried. Although we were not then aware, in this circle of love, there was a gift to all of us. That gift stood side by side with the shock, pain, grief, and blame. It is as if there were two different realities.</p>
<p id=”1f4f” class=”mb mc ap by md b jx me jz mf mg mh mi mj mk ml mm gv” data-selectable-paragraph>The golden moment of sharing and honoring stood side by side with blame and shock — like the contrast of the good witch and the bad witch of the Wizard of Oz. We had fallen into the clutches of the bad witch; we did not realize the perspective of the good witch. The door to seeing that circle of love was not open to me until recently.</p>
<p id=”de9e” class=”mb mc ap by md b jx me jz mf mg mh mi mj mk ml mm gv” data-selectable-paragraph>Now I have the opportunity to unhook these two things, the grief, and love. I have the chance to release the blame, the guilt, the pain, and maybe even heal trauma.</p>
<p id=”1035″ class=”mb mc ap by md b jx me jz mf mg mh mi mj mk ml mm gv” data-selectable-paragraph>How often do we get caught in trauma and tragedy instead of in beauty? How do we accept adversity and choose to see what is beautiful? Every day heinous acts are taken. Every day miracles occur. The universe is alive. Right now. Choose to draw to yourself the support you need, the support that is available to you. Get on the path to healing trauma.</p>
<p id=”d443″ class=”mb mc ap by md b jx me jz mf mg mh mi mj mk ml mm gv” data-selectable-paragraph>That little bird died surrounded by love. He passed quickly. I choose to release the trauma and find beauty. His short life impacted all of us. We wanted him to live, to enjoy, to have a full, happy Pheasant life. We cherished and enjoyed his little downy body, his little happy peeps, watched him peck grass. In the accident, the beauty was lost. That, too, was tragic.</p>
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<p data-selectable-paragraph>Trauma can also impact our relationships. To learn more read <a href=”https://blog.weconcile.com/2009/10/18/how-past-trauma-impacts-current-relationships-problems-in-a-relationship/”>How Past Trauma Impacts Relationships.&nbsp;</a></p>
<p data-selectable-paragraph>For an article on creating safety in relationships read <a href=”https://www.jenniferlehrmft.com/creating-safety-in-our-relationships-the-power-of-vulnerability-and-empathy/”>this</a>.</p>
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<p id=”06cc” class=”mb mc ap by md b jx me jz mf mg mh mi mj mk ml mm gv” data-selectable-paragraph>Join my email list <a class=”cu fj mw mx my mz” href=”https://visitor.r20.constantcontact.com/d.jsp?llr=pznhfmcab&amp;p=oi&amp;m=pznhfmcab&amp;sit=wtzfp5fdb&amp;f=71131b03-d149-4b09-97f8-2d7d59c14190″ target=”_blank” rel=”noopener nofollow noreferrer”>here</a>.</p>
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<p id=”d311″ class=”mb mc ap by md b jx me jz mf mg mh mi mj mk ml mm gv” data-selectable-paragraph><strong class=”md mv”>References:</strong></p>
<p id=”501d” class=”mb mc ap by md b jx me jz mf mg mh mi mj mk ml mm gv” data-selectable-paragraph>Accident: Definition of Accident by Lexico. (n.d.). Retrieved April 20, 2020, from&nbsp;<a class=”cu fj mw mx my mz” href=”https://www.lexico.com/en/definition/accident” target=”_blank” rel=”noopener nofollow noreferrer”>https://www.lexico.com/en/definition/accident</a></p>
<p id=”dfb6″ class=”mb mc ap by md b jx me jz mf mg mh mi mj mk ml mm gv” data-selectable-paragraph>Martini F. (2016, December 6). Descent to the Underworld: The Little-Known Practices and Symbols in Ancient Mythology of the Great Below. Retrieved April 20, 2020, from&nbsp;<a class=”cu fj mw mx my mz” href=”https://www.ancient-origins.net/myths-legends/descent-underworld-little-known-practices-and-symbols-ancient-mythology-great-below-021099″ target=”_blank” rel=”noopener nofollow noreferrer”>https://www.ancient-origins.net/myths-legends/descent-underworld-little-known-practices-and-symbols-ancient-mythology-great-below-021099</a></p>
<p id=”3496″ class=”mb mc ap by md b jx me jz mf mg mh mi mj mk ml mm gv” data-selectable-paragraph>Schwartz, A., &amp; Schwartz, A. (2019, January 28). How Does EMDR Therapy Work?: Dr. Arielle Schwartz. Retrieved April 20, 2020, from&nbsp;<a class=”cu fj mw mx my mz” href=”https://drarielleschwartz.com/how-does-emdr-therapy-work-dr-arielle-schwartz/#.XpTbflNKjUI” target=”_blank” rel=”noopener nofollow noreferrer”>https://drarielleschwartz.com/how-does-emdr-therapy-work-dr-arielle-schwartz/#.XpTbflNKjUI</a></p>
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<pubdate>Wed, 22 Apr 2020 18:27:02 +0000</pubdate>
<dc:creator>Jennifer Lehr MFT</dc:creator>
<dc:language>en-US</dc:language>
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<dc:identifier>https://www.jenniferlehrmft.com/healing-from-trauma-it-is-all-about-support/</dc:identifier>
<category>All Posts</category>
<category>Emotional Healing</category>
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<category>Wounds</category>
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<category>wounds</category>
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<item>
<title>The Numinosity of Love</title>
<link>https://www.jenniferlehrmft.com/the-numinosity-of-love-the-power-of-love/?utm_source=rss&utm_medium=rss&utm_campaign=the-numinosity-of-love-the-power-of-love
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<h2 class=”ao db fd fo ff fp fh fq fj fr fl fs at”>When we get caught, there is a reason</h2>
<p id=”bbb9″ class=”im in dy ap io b fd ip ff iq ir is it iu iv iw ix ed” data-selectable-paragraph>I am caught. Watching, I wait. Will they get together? How does this keep happening? They love each other. Please. This is the power of love.</p>
<p id=”6fad” class=”im in dy ap io b fd ip ff iq ir is it iu iv iw ix ed” data-selectable-paragraph>I have been caught before. This time it is with&nbsp;<em class=”iy”>Anne with an E</em>. After 27 1/2 episodes of misses and frustration, Anne and Gilbert have each finally been informed that they are loved by the other.</p>
<p id=”4f1b” class=”im in dy ap io b fd ip ff iq ir is it iu iv iw ix ed” data-selectable-paragraph>In the scene, Gilbert is racing, breath ragged, heart pounding, to Anne’s new place of residence. And Anne is racing out of her home to find Gilbert. She opens the door to see him running up to her porch. He stops. Angst, hope, uncertainty moves across his features. She puts down her suitcase and slowly descends the stairs to stand face to face with him. Her face is open, questioning, waiting. Gilbert touches her face and leans down and kisses her. He straightens, vulnerable, and asks her if she truly has feelings for him. She leans in and kisses him back.</p>
<p id=”999a” class=”im in dy ap io b fd ip ff iq ir is it iu iv iw ix ed” data-selectable-paragraph>I am, we are, the witness to love manifesting.&nbsp;The move from frustration and missed opportunity to vulnerability, joy, and completion. Like the bud opening to the flower, I watch these two characters become a couple. I carry these images with me. They live in me, tangle through my psyche. I am mesmerized. My gaze caught. My breathing paused. My heart opened.</p>
<p id=”56c9″ class=”im in dy ap io b fd ip ff iq ir is it iu iv iw ix ed” data-selectable-paragraph>When an image grabs me, I take notice. I am pointed to the inner layers that need my attention, to the parts not fully digested or even fully formed. I attend to the impulses, the feelings, the visions that are within me. I attend to the events that need to be re-lived, chewed, reformed so that they can be integrated into who I am.</p>
<p id=”fdab” class=”im in dy ap io b fd ip ff iq ir is it iu iv iw ix ed” data-selectable-paragraph>Connection and its perils, what it holds for each of us. This moment is somehow food for me. Perhaps because there are so many situations where love does not prevail.</p>
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<h2 id=”e1d9″ class=”ji jj dy ap ao jk jl jm jn jo jp jq jr js jt ju jv” data-selectable-paragraph>The numinous</h2>
<p id=”95c3″ class=”im in dy ap io b fd jw ff jx ir jy it jz iv ka ix ed” data-selectable-paragraph>These moments are not my regular life, but the world of the sacred, the deep meaning we all seek — the&nbsp;<em class=”iy”>numinous</em>. I shift from the mundane, from habit, everydayness and lesser feelings that include annoyance, overwhelm, or self-protection, to an awareness of longing and a deep sense of love and appreciation that underlies my world, my relationship with my husband and all of my life.</p>
<p id=”3889″ class=”im in dy ap io b fd ip ff iq ir is it iu iv iw ix ed” data-selectable-paragraph>As the lesser falls away, God infuses my sense of reality. The sky is bluer, the shimmer on the water more intense. I notice how the light passes through leaves, their vibrant green like the stained glass of a cathedral. Life is no longer ordinary.</p>
<p id=”27ca” class=”im in dy ap io b fd ip ff iq ir is it iu iv iw ix ed” data-selectable-paragraph>When Anne and Gilbert finally connect, the numinous or holy entered the door. I am overtaken by reverence for love is numinous.</p>
<p id=”58e8″ class=”im in dy ap io b fd ip ff iq ir is it iu iv iw ix ed” data-selectable-paragraph>Numinosity is the arousing of spiritual or religious emotion, the awe-inspiring. It is the presence and realization of divinity. It is a feeling, not related to the rational and sensory but is the feeling of awe when we realize our smallness in relation to that which is divine.</p>
<p id=”45d7″ class=”im in dy ap io b fd ip ff iq ir is it iu iv iw ix ed” data-selectable-paragraph>The everyday world is the structure within which I live. I exercise, eat, work, cook, talk, be. But my world consists not only of the concrete and rational but the ethereal and ephemeral, the fleeting and transitory. I live in a world where light shifts throughout the day, from the cooler light of dawn, to long shadows moving from east to west across our lawn, to the warm golden sun of the afternoon and then the colors of sunset and the darkening evening to the peace of the black sky.</p>
<p id=”cb2c” class=”im in dy ap io b fd ip ff iq ir is it iu iv iw ix ed” data-selectable-paragraph>I watch myself shift from dreams to getting breakfast ready. From meditating and following my breathing to the focus on writing and working. I have moments that feel utterly mundane and others where magic explodes. The numinous is where I can grasp at the edges of a different and more elusive reality. It is where I am caught in something unfinished or catapulted into a space that needs attention.</p>
<p id=”2068″ class=”im in dy ap io b fd ip ff iq ir is it iu iv iw ix ed” data-selectable-paragraph>Sometimes the numinous is negative. It may pull us into an obsession. It has entered into my life and taken over like a bad dream. I find myself trapped in needs or behaviors that hurt me, and I am powerless over them.</p>
<p id=”57e5″ class=”im in dy ap io b fd ip ff iq ir is it iu iv iw ix ed” data-selectable-paragraph>The numinous is more significant than me, and I cannot escape it. Instead, I must dive down into the dark compulsion, flailing in clouded water until I develop the skills to see and navigate through it and to eventually grow beyond its influence over me.</p>
<p id=”92a0″ class=”im in dy ap io b fd ip ff iq ir is it iu iv iw ix ed” data-selectable-paragraph>Because of this, I keep one eye focused on my inner reality. I am prepared to dig open, excavate what I find. Huge chapters of my life have been about this very process. Moving down into the abyss to free my human self, trapped on the surface.</p>
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<h2 id=”cd64″ class=”ji jj dy ap ao jk jl jm jn jo jp jq jr js jt ju jv” data-selectable-paragraph>My mother</h2>
<p id=”2519″ class=”im in dy ap io b fd jw ff jx ir jy it jz iv ka ix ed” data-selectable-paragraph>Both my parents were gods to me when I was a child. Their influence on me immense. I rejected my mother earlier than my father. But it was too late, for who she is, had already imprinted my psyche. Her emotional distance amped up my need for connection and created a starved little being inside me. I drew a picture of her once in an attempt to exorcise her. I was startled at her deformity and her need. That starved being influences me still.</p>
<p id=”3faa” class=”im in dy ap io b fd ip ff iq ir is it iu iv iw ix ed” data-selectable-paragraph>Mom was not trustworthy when I was a child.</p>
<p id=”6bcb” class=”im in dy ap io b fd ip ff iq ir is it iu iv iw ix ed” data-selectable-paragraph>“Come here, I won’t hit you,” she promises, looking at me. Her dark eyes are hard.</p>
<p id=”34e5″ class=”im in dy ap io b fd ip ff iq ir is it iu iv iw ix ed” data-selectable-paragraph>I approach tentatively. She grabs me, pinches me, hits me. I feel betrayed.</p>
<p id=”2348″ class=”im in dy ap io b fd ip ff iq ir is it iu iv iw ix ed” data-selectable-paragraph>I do a new piece of inner work around my mother. I want to release the impact of feeling unloved and untrusting of her. I imagined light filling my cells. I tell her I love her and that I want to be free of these feelings of not trusting. I no longer wish to be an un-mothered woman.</p>
<p id=”d623″ class=”im in dy ap io b fd ip ff iq ir is it iu iv iw ix ed” data-selectable-paragraph>I see a flock of blackbirds streamed out of my cells. Out they go, and off they fly. In the space they leave behind, new light rushes in. Something is shifting.</p>
<p id=”de3a” class=”im in dy ap io b fd ip ff iq ir is it iu iv iw ix ed” data-selectable-paragraph>My mother was also un-mothered. I intensely disliked my mother’s mother, Grandma Ida, when I was a child. She was bony, shrill, bossy, prejudiced, and opinionated. (Much to her disgust, we named one of our chickens after her).</p>
<p id=”4b92″ class=”im in dy ap io b fd ip ff iq ir is it iu iv iw ix ed” data-selectable-paragraph>Later, I learned that Ida’s mother had died when she was a child. Ida had been in and out of hospitals visiting her. She began cooking for her father when she was 6 years old until he remarried; her childhood shortened, her life one of limitation. From that understanding, her harshness made more sense. She softened in her later years. Although it was too late for us. My judgment of her too intense, I never formed a close relationship with her.</p>
<p id=”e2f6″ class=”im in dy ap io b fd ip ff iq ir is it iu iv iw ix ed” data-selectable-paragraph>I have empathy for my grandmother, for my mother. And I want to be free of the burdens of their lineage.</p>
<p id=”74ad” class=”im in dy ap io b fd ip ff iq ir is it iu iv iw ix ed” data-selectable-paragraph>Even though she is no longer here, I realize that my mother loved and loves me, and I love her. I accept that these were her limitations. Her limitations are not mine. I know that despite my history with my mother, there is love between us now. I have felt her visit me. I talk to her sometimes. Tell her I am sorry we could not work out a loving relationship during her life. Tell her I love her. Forgive her. Forgive myself for not being able to love her better when she was alive.</p>
<p id=”064c” class=”im in dy ap io b fd ip ff iq ir is it iu iv iw ix ed” data-selectable-paragraph>I hope what she is learning in her current reality is fulfilling for her. And most certainly, I hope she is evolving. I think she is. Stepping out of the limitations of mind, body, ways of being, old ideas, how could that not be freeing?</p>
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<h2 id=”c26c” class=”ji jj dy ap ao jk jl jm jn jo jp jq jr js jt ju jv” data-selectable-paragraph>Two un-mothered women</h2>
<p id=”1a3a” class=”im in dy ap io b fd jw ff jx ir jy it jz iv ka ix ed” data-selectable-paragraph>They are a couple. I sit with them one day after a big misunderstanding and help them sort through what happened. I am aware of the privilege granted me whenever I step deeply into a relationship with another person or a couple. We untangle the events and old behaviors that put them in this misunderstanding. I help calm the trauma that was activated in each of them. I see how they each got lost and separated from each other. I help them understand what happened, what their triggers are. How to reconnect.</p>
<p id=”9419″ class=”im in dy ap io b fd ip ff iq ir is it iu iv iw ix ed” data-selectable-paragraph>This couple did not know how to turn towards and support each other. They became lost from each other, cocooned and hidden into their insular selves.</p>
<p id=”0b80″ class=”im in dy ap io b fd ip ff iq ir is it iu iv iw ix ed” data-selectable-paragraph>They do not understand what co-regulation means. They have never heard of it. They do not live in a world of attachment theory, nor how to put that theory into practice. They come from histories of having to fight and protect themselves to survive. The trauma they have each lived through has not yet been resolved.</p>
<p id=”1cb2″ class=”im in dy ap io b fd ip ff iq ir is it iu iv iw ix ed” data-selectable-paragraph>As we finish talking, I tell them what I wish for them. I want them to hear my hope and pull it into their hearts, carry it with them as new material from which they can draw. I want them to feel my love in this wish.</p>
<p id=”8cc1″ class=”im in dy ap io b fd ip ff iq ir is it iu iv iw ix ed” data-selectable-paragraph>I wish them a life where they do not go into a trauma state. I want them each to feel safe enough that they do not need self-defense, that they can connect and support each other, rather than pull away when they are triggered.</p>
<p id=”146d” class=”im in dy ap io b fd ip ff iq ir is it iu iv iw ix ed” data-selectable-paragraph>I want them to learn more quickly what I learned slowly bump by bump, over many years, as I traversed through challenging (and dysfunctional) relational terrain. I want them to understand that we create love by connecting. Self-defense is the enemy.</p>
<p id=”833a” class=”im in dy ap io b fd ip ff iq ir is it iu iv iw ix ed” data-selectable-paragraph>We are not meant to manage our emotions alone. We live deeply entwined with others. Starting with the mother/parent at birth, we rely on others to help us make sense of our feelings, reactions, and responses. When I touch my husband, or he hugs me, we are physically attuning to each of our emotional realities. We are conveying to each other,&nbsp;<em class=”iy”>I am here with you. You are not alone.&nbsp;</em>We are helping each other ground here, in these bodies, on this earth.</p>
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<h2 id=”94f8″ class=”ji jj dy ap ao jk jl jm jn jo jp jq jr js jt ju jv” data-selectable-paragraph>An alternative reality</h2>
<p id=”1b47″ class=”im in dy ap io b fd jw ff jx ir jy it jz iv ka ix ed” data-selectable-paragraph>I believe situations which call to me may exist as metaphors, alternate realities, past lives, or parts of myself. Their pull is similar to the call of a Siren, although with the purpose of bringing resolution to something as yet unresolved.</p>
<p id=”a228″ class=”im in dy ap io b fd ip ff iq ir is it iu iv iw ix ed” data-selectable-paragraph>When I used a Brian Weiss past life regression tape the other day, a specific image came up. As I went deeper and deeper into the guided hypnosis, a small dirty dark-skinned child emerged. I saw him. Saw his ragged clothes and the hard-packed dirt floor. This kind of visioning is not my strong point. The imaging is clouded. Yet I see enough. This child was me or perhaps is me in some inner reality. He died of starvation in this story.</p>
<p id=”c56b” class=”im in dy ap io b fd ip ff iq ir is it iu iv iw ix ed” data-selectable-paragraph>He had no resolution — what is the purpose of starving to death as a child? But from who I am today, I can see that his situation was about a village, society, group that did not know how to support each other. He lived in a time and place that did not understand abundance, sharing. Others were not seen as valuable. Life was about survival.</p>
<p id=”1756″ class=”im in dy ap io b fd ip ff iq ir is it iu iv iw ix ed” data-selectable-paragraph>As this understanding seeped into me, I knew I could apply it to my current life. I knew it would help erase the sharp edges of fear that, on occasion, grab me. I knew this image and awareness emerged because it was useful to me now.</p>
<p id=”7efc” class=”im in dy ap io b fd ip ff iq ir is it iu iv iw ix ed” data-selectable-paragraph>How do I starve myself? Or starve others? Where do I grasp onto scarcity, and fear? Where do I not see how supporting each other allows all of us to do better, be more successful? Do I truly know that creativity, love, and abundance are the ground of life if I choose and allow it?</p>
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<h2 id=”af6d” class=”ji jj dy ap ao jk jl jm jn jo jp jq jr js jt ju jv” data-selectable-paragraph>Sissy</h2>
<p id=”900d” class=”im in dy ap io b fd jw ff jx ir jy it jz iv ka ix ed” data-selectable-paragraph>When I was a child, a kitten was born on our farm. She was unlike the other kittens. We named her Sissy. Sissy was tiny, long-haired with enormous round green eyes rimmed in white. She was magnificently beautiful. I gazed at her in awe and amazement. I wanted to grab onto her beauty and pull it into me. In a sense, I desired to consume her. She is my first memory of a numinous experience.</p>
<p id=”7f48″ class=”im in dy ap io b fd ip ff iq ir is it iu iv iw ix ed” data-selectable-paragraph>Years later, after I had left home and come back again for a visit, she was sick, fragile with a massive abscess on her belly. I asked my mother to go with me to take Sissy to the vet. As we were about to leave, my father came into the house. He was outraged that I dare take our cat to the vet without his permission.</p>
<p id=”be5d” class=”im in dy ap io b fd ip ff iq ir is it iu iv iw ix ed” data-selectable-paragraph>He began screaming at me, “Who do you think you are? Who said you could do this?”</p>
<p id=”174b” class=”im in dy ap io b fd ip ff iq ir is it iu iv iw ix ed” data-selectable-paragraph>I was terrified of my father, but my small 118 lb frame stood up and shouted back at his towering and sometimes violent 6’4″ person. Furious, I screamed over and over, “You are a murderer, murderer, murderer…”</p>
<p id=”a67b” class=”im in dy ap io b fd ip ff iq ir is it iu iv iw ix ed” data-selectable-paragraph>Surprisingly, he turned around and escaped to his studio. Throughout, Mom was silent. We took Sissy to the vet. She healed and lived for another few years.</p>
<p id=”7f74″ class=”im in dy ap io b fd ip ff iq ir is it iu iv iw ix ed” data-selectable-paragraph>My father and I never discussed this event. While I came to understand the trauma that caused my father to react in this way, I could not cater to it. In hindsight, from the adult I now am, I would say, “Sorry, Dad, you are not the victim here. Figure out your stuff. Don’t dump it on others. Find some generosity, some perspective, some grace.”</p>
<p id=”0e24″ class=”im in dy ap io b fd ip ff iq ir is it iu iv iw ix ed” data-selectable-paragraph>Don’t we need to take care of those we love? Isn’t love the glue underpinning this world?</p>
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<h2 id=”a1f8″ class=”ji jj dy ap ao jk jl jm jn jo jp jq jr js jt ju jv” data-selectable-paragraph>The deer</h2>
<p id=”c626″ class=”im in dy ap io b fd jw ff jx ir jy it jz iv ka ix ed” data-selectable-paragraph>This past fall, as I drove to a yoga workshop, a deer ran in front of my pickup truck. I saw her jump out from my peripheral vision, but she was too close. I hit the breaks hard. I nicked her hindquarters. She fell into the ditch, shaking violently.</p>
<p id=”d044″ class=”im in dy ap io b fd ip ff iq ir is it iu iv iw ix ed” data-selectable-paragraph>I pulled over and ran out into the road sobbing, frantically dialing 911. “I hit a deer. I don’t know what to do.” I asked the dispatcher that they send someone out to check on her. I was afraid to go up to her, did not want to further traumatize her. I waited, my inner mind screaming,&nbsp;<em class=”iy”>I’m sorry, sorry, sorry. I’m so sorry. Please forgive me, forgive me, forgive me</em>.</p>
<p id=”c98d” class=”im in dy ap io b fd ip ff iq ir is it iu iv iw ix ed” data-selectable-paragraph>The animal control unit did not show up. After about 15 minutes, she got up and gingerly limped up the embankment into the woods. It was hours before I stopped trembling. I could not control the tears streaming from my eyes and I cry for much of the rest of the day. The apology mantra did not leave my mind.</p>
<p id=”00cb” class=”im in dy ap io b fd ip ff iq ir is it iu iv iw ix ed” data-selectable-paragraph>Was she okay? I hope so. Did she accept my apology? Did my apology help her? Did it matter?</p>
<p id=”8548″ class=”im in dy ap io b fd ip ff iq ir is it iu iv iw ix ed” data-selectable-paragraph>Yes. It mattered. It matters that we care. It matters that we communicate. It matters that our hearts are open.</p>
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<h2 id=”8d35″ class=”ji jj dy ap ao jk jl jm jn jo jp jq jr js jt ju jv” data-selectable-paragraph>The power of love</h2>
<p id=”e834″ class=”im in dy ap io b fd jw ff jx ir jy it jz iv ka ix ed” data-selectable-paragraph>Mothering. Caring. Holding. Honoring. Loving. Vulnerability. This is how we relate. These are aspects of the feminine principle (but not owned by the female gender.) Who are we without vulnerability, nurturing, connection to others?</p>
<p id=”f890″ class=”im in dy ap io b fd ip ff iq ir is it iu iv iw ix ed” data-selectable-paragraph>For me, the power of love emerges out of a background of not feeling loved. It comes from knowing that what I aspire towards is loving, giving and receiving, nurturing, trusting, and being trustworthy, appreciating, and seeing the beauty of others.</p>
<p id=”3615″ class=”im in dy ap io b fd ip ff iq ir is it iu iv iw ix ed” data-selectable-paragraph>The numinosity of the moment when Anne and Gilbert connect feeds the part of me that craves love and continually strives to bring the qualities of love forth. It feeds the part of me that knows what unloving is, and knows love manifest is the love we each seek. It activates the desire to heal all that is not love. This is the power of love.</p>
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<p data-selectable-paragraph>Check out <a href=”https://blog.weconcile.com/”>WeConcile’s Blog</a> for relational help and tips.</p>
<p data-selectable-paragraph>A favorite post of mine is <a href=”https://www.jenniferlehrmft.com/my-teachers-the-trees/”>My Teachers, The Trees.</a></p>
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<pubdate>Thu, 12 Mar 2020 21:34:42 +0000</pubdate>
<dc:creator>Jennifer Lehr MFT</dc:creator>
<dc:language>en-US</dc:language>
<dc:format>text/html</dc:format>
<dc:identifier>https://www.jenniferlehrmft.com/the-numinosity-of-love-the-power-of-love/</dc:identifier>
<category>All Posts</category>
<category>Emotional Healing</category>
<category>Empowerment</category>
<category>insight and awareness</category>
<category>self growth</category>
<category>Self Reflection</category>
<category>Trauma</category>
<category>couples</category>
<category>Love</category>
<category>marriage</category>
<category>relationships</category>
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<title>You Are on a Journey of Aliveness</title>
<link>https://www.jenniferlehrmft.com/you-are-on-a-journey-of-aliveness/?utm_source=rss&utm_medium=rss&utm_campaign=you-are-on-a-journey-of-aliveness
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<description><div><img src=”https://www.jenniferlehrmft.com/wp-content/uploads/chris-liu-beers-z6cFcCh60Aw-unsplash-scaled.jpg” class=”ff-og-image-inserted”></div><section class=”ff fg hy hz ia”>
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<h2 id=”b83b” class=”iv id av ar aq fd iw ix iy iz ja jb jc jd je jf jg”>Owning it will change your life</h2>
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<p id=”1bbb” class=”lv lw dt ar lx b iw ly iy lz ma mb mc md me mf mg” data-selectable-paragraph>We are alive; every breath, every action, every moment is alive. Every moment we generate energy — love, hatred, peace, joy, stress, determination, force. We may do this because of or in spite of the conditions around us.</p>
<p id=”6838″ class=”lv lw dt ar lx b iw ly iy lz ma mb mc md me mf mg” data-selectable-paragraph>This morning, I drove into town to take a yoga class. I often listen to inspirational podcasts and YouTubes when I drive. Today I listened to Abraham Hicks.</p>
<p id=”9264″ class=”lv lw dt ar lx b iw ly iy lz ma mb mc md me mf mg” data-selectable-paragraph>As I drove by the lake, the mist was rising. The hills behind the lake were partially cloaked and peeking through the mist. The sun was breaking through the clouds. The water was calm. I felt gratitude for the beauty, the textures, colors.</p>
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<h2 id=”6260″ class=”mp mq dt ar aq dv mr ms mt mu mv mw mx my mz na nb” data-selectable-paragraph>Chasing the future</h2>
<p id=”8912″ class=”lv lw dt ar lx b iw nc iy nd ma ne mc nf me ng mg” data-selectable-paragraph>As I appreciated how my drive enabled vistas and visions I would not have seen otherwise, I listened to Abraham explain that the journey is where it is at. This is a message I needed to hear because I am often trying to get to the future, and I lose my sense of appreciation and gratefulness for the present.</p>
<p id=”5c2b” class=”lv lw dt ar lx b iw ly iy lz ma mb mc md me mf mg” data-selectable-paragraph>I believe that for me, chasing the future started early. My childhood was filled with yelling, blaming, and resentment. I felt trapped, and I wanted out. Thus began my exit out of the present moment. I moved into my head, into books. I moved into my imagination, into hopes and quests. Difficult experiences were pushed out of my mind. Over time, I became a doer. Being seemed like the stepchild of doing and so I forgot how to be.</p>
<p id=”77b2″ class=”lv lw dt ar lx b iw ly iy lz ma mb mc md me mf mg” data-selectable-paragraph>I was told once, as I was slogging through a project, that it was alive, that the energy I was bringing to this project would impact how the user experienced it. That stopped me in my tracks. I could no longer show up stressed or half-conscious and push though (although I sometimes still did). I had to find a different way to do it. The goal could not justify a badly lived journey.</p>
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<h2 id=”c263″ class=”mp mq dt ar aq dv mr ms mt mu mv mw mx my mz na nb” data-selectable-paragraph>The work of increasing awareness</h2>
<p id=”a510″ class=”lv lw dt ar lx b iw nc iy nd ma ne mc nf me ng mg” data-selectable-paragraph>I’ve spent years meditating, practicing yoga, doing creative work, taking workshops, various training, refining my awareness and learning to focus on being here right now. At the same time, we live in a world of feelings: fears, shames, desires, and joys. These feelings add complexity to our reality.</p>
<p id=”bf7a” class=”lv lw dt ar lx b iw ly iy lz ma mb mc md me mf mg” data-selectable-paragraph>Being alive and present means experiencing all of this. Being present is not bliss, but the slow untangling of being with what is, while refining how we engage with it.</p>
<p id=”659d” class=”lv lw dt ar lx b iw ly iy lz ma mb mc md me mf mg” data-selectable-paragraph>I don’t want to be on my deathbed and wonder what happened to my life. I wish to reside in it fully. I want to see its beauty and wonder. I want to step into the magic of what is possible.</p>
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<h2 id=”c315″ class=”mp mq dt ar aq dv mr ms mt mu mv mw mx my mz na nb” data-selectable-paragraph>Bringing in magic</h2>
<p id=”b93f” class=”lv lw dt ar lx b iw nc iy nd ma ne mc nf me ng mg” data-selectable-paragraph>How do we do this? How do we experience all of our feelings while we also recognize the unique beauty of each moment and not abuse that moment, not tarnish it because we feel bad, or afraid, or want something else so badly?</p>
<p id=”49de” class=”lv lw dt ar lx b iw ly iy lz ma mb mc md me mf mg” data-selectable-paragraph>Recently, I had been feeling depressed. I felt like a heavy gray fog had settled over me. I couldn’t shake it. I brought this up with a healer I work with. She suggested I find the part of me that felt lost, alone or abandoned and work with that part. I closed my eyes. I saw a child, grubby with a dirty, raggedy dress. I focused on her. I imagined pouring love into her. After a few minutes of this, she began to notice the environment around her. She saw the sky reaching down towards her. She saw the trees were aware of her. She saw the earth holding her. She saw the spirits of her physical environment responding to her. She no longer felt alone, encapsulated in isolation.</p>
<p id=”f349″ class=”lv lw dt ar lx b iw ly iy lz ma mb mc md me mf mg” data-selectable-paragraph>When I came out of this active imagination exercise, my depression had lifted. I saw myself engaged, in relationship to all that was around me. Like a shadow connected to my feet, everything was connected to me and responded to me. As I notice and respond to what is around me, what is around me notices and responds to me. This is a place I can revisit. This is the magic of healing.</p>
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<h2 id=”06d4″ class=”mp mq dt ar aq dv mr ms mt mu mv mw mx my mz na nb” data-selectable-paragraph>If you are not with yourself, where are you?</h2>
<p id=”ece7″ class=”lv lw dt ar lx b iw nc iy nd ma ne mc nf me ng mg” data-selectable-paragraph>The work of awareness is ongoing. We can own our journey as something we have power over. We can notice each moment and adjust our course according to what we are experiencing. We can decide to change our path or change our attitude. Moment by moment we can find our connection to what is around us and within us. We can begin the journey of increasing our aliveness in each second. We can integrate the various parts of ourselves and know we are not alone.</p>
<p id=”f8a7″ class=”lv lw dt ar lx b iw ly iy lz ma mb mc md me mf mg” data-selectable-paragraph>I want to walk that fine razor’s edge where I live each moment as beautifully as I can, while also respecting the complexity of all of my feelings. That is my goal. Loving that walk. Engaging with my present. Finding my gratitude and bringing magic to all parts of me.</p>
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<p data-selectable-paragraph><em>First published on December 10th, 2019 in Change Your Mind Change Your Life, a Medium.com publication.&nbsp;</em></p>
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</section>
</description>
<pubdate>Tue, 14 Jan 2020 18:06:40 +0000</pubdate>
<dc:creator>Jennifer Lehr MFT</dc:creator>
<dc:language>en-US</dc:language>
<dc:format>text/html</dc:format>
<dc:identifier>https://www.jenniferlehrmft.com/you-are-on-a-journey-of-aliveness/</dc:identifier>
<category>All Posts</category>
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<title>An Open Heart, Becoming Our Best Selves</title>
<link>https://www.jenniferlehrmft.com/becoming-our-best-selves-finding-an-open-heart/?utm_source=rss&utm_medium=rss&utm_campaign=becoming-our-best-selves-finding-an-open-heart
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<description><div><img src=”https://www.jenniferlehrmft.com/wp-content/uploads/people-2605835_1920-1.jpg” class=”ff-og-image-inserted”></div><h2>The journey through the obstacles to an open heart</h2><p id=”502c” class=”ia ib ec ar ic b id ie if ig ih ii ij ik il im in” data-selectable-paragraph>We have stories alive in our minds, our bodies, our souls — writhing and pushing against each other. We are filled with the ghosts of our ancestors and others who have walked before us. &nbsp;The traumas of our childhoods lurk and inform our experience. We hear the beckoning of the future, alive with our desires and strivings, propelling us forward. The world of others intrudes on ours — a kaleidoscope of realities and relationships.</p>
<p id=”3c40″ class=”ia ib ec ar ic b id ie if ig ih ii ij ik il im in” data-selectable-paragraph>We live in layers: in multiple realities. The world exists around us and within us. The microbiome in our guts. The various bacteria, viruses, fungi, and other tiny organisms in our bodies. Some health-promoting, others debilitating. We know of universes and galaxies, moving, growing, dying.</p>
<p id=”42af” class=”ia ib ec ar ic b id ie if ig ih ii ij ik il im in” data-selectable-paragraph>These realities undulate, collide, and harmonize, influencing each other. As we contact and interact with each of these realities, we have the opportunity to find and open our hearts or close them. We have the chance to find a greater love for ourselves or for another. We have the chance to find our open heart.</p>
<h4 id=”3da2″ class=”ia ib ec ar ic b id ie if ig ih ii ij ik il im in”><strong class=”ic io”>Our physical reality</strong></h4>
<p id=”4131″ class=”ia ib ec ar ic b id ie if ig ih ii ij ik il im in” data-selectable-paragraph>I, for example, live surrounded by a tapestry of beauty. My home looks upon Puget Sound, and most mornings, I watch the silken water shift and move, grays and pinks laid out like swatches of soft fabric, and later the tides breaking the colors into ripples of darker greens and whites, eddies and swirls. The gulls swoop, sun glinting off their smooth feathers, the bufflehead ducks dive, popping up to the surface and cormorants sit on mooring buoys and abandoned piers, looking like giant bats as they hold out their dark wings to dry in the air. Outside, as I breathe in moist air and gaze upon trees reaching to the sky, my spirit enlivens.</p>
<p id=”bca5″ class=”ia ib ec ar ic b id ie if ig ih ii ij ik il im in” data-selectable-paragraph>I abode with my dearly loved and eternally cheerful husband, Mike, and two small rescue dogs, Nutmeg and Bula, who shift between excitement, love, and reproachful neediness: another element of the web of my realities. They are the immediate backbone of my physical reality and emotional support but not the whole story.</p>
<h4 id=”a13c” class=”ia ib ec ar ic b id ie if ig ih ii ij ik il im in”><strong class=”ic io”>A less than perfect life</strong></h4>
<p id=”af6f” class=”ia ib ec ar ic b id ie if ig ih ii ij ik il im in” data-selectable-paragraph>My uncle died this past week. He was 87 years old and had been ready to die for quite a while. “Why is this [dying] taking so long?” he asked my sister several years ago. He studied the afterlife and wondered what it would be like.</p>
<p id=”fe50″ class=”ia ib ec ar ic b id ie if ig ih ii ij ik il im in” data-selectable-paragraph>He had lived life on his own terms. He had done what he came to do. Grappled with love and lust. Made a fortune and squandered it. Developed and patented a product to absorb oil from boats and oil spills. Imagined other realities. His keen intellect did not save him from emotional pain, from his difficulties in the realm of relationships, from his deep experience of feeling unloved. His faults were significant. Despite that, I cared for him deeply.</p>
<p id=”61d2″ class=”ia ib ec ar ic b id ie if ig ih ii ij ik il im in” data-selectable-paragraph>What was unfinished in his life would need a new start — to learn how to love, how to let go of the glistening desire that had little to do with relating to others. Despite how he abused himself with alcohol, he had a body that wouldn’t let go.</p>
<p id=”1576″ class=”ia ib ec ar ic b id ie if ig ih ii ij ik il im in” data-selectable-paragraph>His wishes were finally answered. He slipped in the bath and was knocked unconscious. The unlikeliness of the exact angle of his pose allowed the running shower to fill his lungs. He drowned.</p>
<p id=”71b4″ class=”ia ib ec ar ic b id ie if ig ih ii ij ik il im in” data-selectable-paragraph>At first, horrified, I could not sleep. Did he suffer? Was it okay to pass this way? Is there something I could have done? I hadn’t talked to him in a few weeks. Had he been lonely?</p>
<p id=”ced7″ class=”ia ib ec ar ic b id ie if ig ih ii ij ik il im in” data-selectable-paragraph>But as I processed, I realized that his death was quick, and he was ready. For him, this was a good way to leave. Better than the slow decay in a nursing home. Quality evident to be more important than quantity. This chapter now over. This life of brimstone and excess ebbed away. The polishing of the rough stone finished for the time being.</p>
<p id=”2ab4″ class=”ia ib ec ar ic b id ie if ig ih ii ij ik il im in” data-selectable-paragraph>Several days later, as I was walking under big trees, I attempted to tune into his spirit. I felt a vast exuberant, almost celebratory energy. I imagined his spirit felt freed at last from the restrictions of the physical, as well as old emotional and thought patterns.</p>
<h4 id=”7ece” class=”ia ib ec ar ic b id ie if ig ih ii ij ik il im in”><strong class=”ic io”>How past trauma informs the present</strong></h4>
<p id=”85ea” class=”ia ib ec ar ic b id ie if ig ih ii ij ik il im in” data-selectable-paragraph>Uncle Bill was my father’s only sibling. He reminded me of my father and had some of the same characteristics. Both 6’4″, charismatic, they were larger than life. Unafraid of speaking their mind or affronting another. Both capable of being filled with rage. Neither concerned with what others thought of them. Both scarred and damaged their children with their anger and violence.</p>
<p id=”94ae” class=”ia ib ec ar ic b id ie if ig ih ii ij ik il im in” data-selectable-paragraph>They were holy terrors when younger. My father broke a man’s jaw for urinating on the bathroom floor when he had clean up duty during the Korean War.</p>
<p id=”1beb” class=”ia ib ec ar ic b id ie if ig ih ii ij ik il im in” data-selectable-paragraph>From my father, I heard the stories of their youth. The whippings with the buckle side of a belt, sometimes with the chain of a dog leash. I knew where their rage came from, the dark feeling of unfairness that clouded their psyches. I saw the trauma hardened over, how it morphed in different ways for each of them: the excessive drinking, the need to be seen, the drive to accomplishment, how the determination to be not the victim caused the bully.</p>
<p id=”0041″ class=”ia ib ec ar ic b id ie if ig ih ii ij ik il im in” data-selectable-paragraph>As a child, I used to sit with my father in his studio as he painted. I don’t remember exactly how I reassured him, attempted to lift off him, his depression. “It’s okay, dad. Your work is important.” I tried to explain that his work was amazing, and he didn’t need the world to tell him for it to be true. But, I felt powerless in the face of his shadowy thoughts. His anger, frustration, and bouts of depression ominous. And at times, severe.</p>
<h4 id=”4ca8″ class=”ia ib ec ar ic b id ie if ig ih ii ij ik il im in”><strong class=”ic io”>The mind</strong></h4>
<p id=”897c” class=”ia ib ec ar ic b id ie if ig ih ii ij ik il im in” data-selectable-paragraph>Similar to the twists and turns of rough black bark, the tree, shaped by age and wind, so too, there is the movement of my mind. It plans, pushes, and wants. It does not release into relaxation. It does not always know peace. It comes out of a history that has not been easy.</p>
<p id=”2273″ class=”ia ib ec ar ic b id ie if ig ih ii ij ik il im in” data-selectable-paragraph>My feelings. My thoughts. I work with them, talk to them. I tend them. I tell them we are okay, that we do not have to push so hard. I explain as if they are little children.</p>
<p id=”ca75″ class=”ia ib ec ar ic b id ie if ig ih ii ij ik il im in” data-selectable-paragraph>My mind has been with me since the beginning, I am taming it slowly, learning how. Years have passed, and we are now finding a gentler kinder place to be. The track marks of anxiety are less, mellowed into contentment. And yet, sometimes, the dark mud of depression still pulls me under. I wonder how I will get through all that my mind demands of me. Sometimes I believe everything should be finished instead of seeing the slow patient dance with time.</p>
<p id=”e3a5″ class=”ia ib ec ar ic b id ie if ig ih ii ij ik il im in” data-selectable-paragraph>I have wondered about what we call God, the universal force, or the divine. Perhaps the divine is who we are becoming, the beacon we are striving towards. I am not talking about the noun God, but the verb that encompasses our actions and choices: the choice to love, the choice to harm. For certainly, in this cacophony, what we have is choice.</p>
<p id=”2f1c” class=”ia ib ec ar ic b id ie if ig ih ii ij ik il im in” data-selectable-paragraph>How do we choose to respond to this symphony of demands and realities? How are we influencing all that lies within and around us? Are we creating love? Are we desperately grabbing onto the illusion of solidity and permanence — rather than tending to our souls? What are we seeking? Where are we caught? Are we willing to attend to the process of addressing all that makes us smaller?</p>
<h4 id=”8e7b” class=”ia ib ec ar ic b id ie if ig ih ii ij ik il im in”><strong class=”ic io”>Desperation</strong></h4>
<p id=”50f9″ class=”ia ib ec ar ic b id ie if ig ih ii ij ik il im in” data-selectable-paragraph>I found out recently via my sister, who heard from my father’s now-deceased best friend that at some point in my adolescence, my father carried a can of gasoline into our house with the intent to burn it down (and us in it, I believe.) I wasn’t surprised to hear this story, and I was. I loved my father desperately. But he was so caught in his sense of despair and anger. It saddens me to think he was so desperate to free himself from the confines of his life. It saddens me to know that he couldn’t find a way for his children to be part of his joy and purpose. Yet, I understand.</p>
<p id=”2fe2″ class=”ia ib ec ar ic b id ie if ig ih ii ij ik il im in” data-selectable-paragraph>I imagine him walking through the house in a terrible state. His mind ablaze. What about us? Did he see images of his burnt children? His burnt wife? Did he see our soft skin charred black? Did he hear our cries?</p>
<p id=”a3c7″ class=”ia ib ec ar ic b id ie if ig ih ii ij ik il im in” data-selectable-paragraph>Did he plan to go up in the flames? Did he wonder what would happen if he were caught? Would he really be free if he weren’t?</p>
<p id=”3be7″ class=”ia ib ec ar ic b id ie if ig ih ii ij ik il im in” data-selectable-paragraph>What was the relief he imagined? What was the freedom he thought he might find? How would he feel about what he had done? The guilt, the wreckage, our absence: could he have survived that?</p>
<p id=”a937″ class=”ia ib ec ar ic b id ie if ig ih ii ij ik il im in” data-selectable-paragraph>I remember his sense of being curtailed. How he saw the time and energy the demands of his life and his children took as holding him back. He wanted a life without have to’s and responsibilities. He did not know how to accept the love he was surrounded by, how to breathe it in, so it slowly illumed his flesh, turned it warm and pink. He did not know how to be nourished by love. His eyes were focused on being affirmed by a larger world.</p>
<p id=”0e62″ class=”ia ib ec ar ic b id ie if ig ih ii ij ik il im in” data-selectable-paragraph>He acted out, fought against his sense of entrapment. In a fit of rage, he might kick the dog, break a chair, or taunt one of his children. Although he always felt terrible about it later, he didn’t prioritize emotional health and so didn’t get to the source of his anger and change it. He wasn’t able to make peace with his life or be in gratitude for the beautiful parts — of which there were many. The ghosts of his past had left him scarred.</p>
<p>(Since publishing this, I have heard that my aunt has a different story for this event. According to her, my father had the gasoline to burn something other than the house. My mother upset him, and he, in an irate state, chased my mother who was still in her nightgown around the house.)</p>
<h4 id=”0653″ class=”ia ib ec ar ic b id ie if ig ih ii ij ik il im in”><strong class=”ic io”>Disparate parts</strong></h4>
<p id=”2aea” class=”ia ib ec ar ic b id ie if ig ih ii ij ik il im in” data-selectable-paragraph>Demons are sinister angry things. Lurking and ready to cause harm when the opportunity opens. They are the dissatisfied parts of our psyche detached from the innocent child and embodied into their own formation — taking on a singular identity.</p>
<p id=”e73f” class=”ia ib ec ar ic b id ie if ig ih ii ij ik il im in” data-selectable-paragraph>These parts also reside in my psyche, the convolutions of torment where one cannot find peace. I have my own tortures. Places where I overwork and do not play. Where I drive myself. “I feel overwhelmed,” I wail desperately at times. My mind pushing and betraying the peace of what could be. Why cannot I trust the present moment? Perhaps this unloving of myself is part of my DNA, passed down from my paternal line?</p>
<p id=”e5e8″ class=”ia ib ec ar ic b id ie if ig ih ii ij ik il im in” data-selectable-paragraph>Although I was scared by my father and afraid of him when I was younger -afraid of anger in general, others, and my own, I’ve learned from him too. How to take up space. How to claim my voice. How to stand large and not back down. I am, after all, my father’s daughter. And I am willing to claim the power he held.</p>
<p id=”2f4c” class=”ia ib ec ar ic b id ie if ig ih ii ij ik il im in” data-selectable-paragraph>Yet, my life is a milder version than theirs. My life demanded something different from me. I did not push away my more vulnerable parts in favor of self-protective aspects. I did not create a wall behind which to hide my sensitivities. I was one who would cry at the mildest implication of hostility. I identified with the downtrodden, and so was the protector of the weak, not the bully.</p>
<p id=”2642″ class=”ia ib ec ar ic b id ie if ig ih ii ij ik il im in” data-selectable-paragraph>I walked out of my adolescence, a broken person. I have been stitching together the fragments of myself for many years. I am a stitched together being… but as I breathe life and love into me, the seams mold together, and I become more than a collection of fragments. I become more whole and capable of creating love, beauty, and appreciation in my life and relationships. I think of Thich Nhat Hanh’s words. Breath in love, breathe out peace.</p>
<h4 id=”f524″ class=”ia ib ec ar ic b id ie if ig ih ii ij ik il im in”><strong class=”ic io”>My work</strong></h4>
<p id=”b115″ class=”ia ib ec ar ic b id ie if ig ih ii ij ik il im in” data-selectable-paragraph>My work, which started in that childhood chair talking to my father, led me to assist others in this process of healing. During my years as a therapist, sitting with someone, listening to their story, their sorrow, and struggles, seeing the patterns; I enjoy helping smooth out the more jagged terrain. I enjoy assisting a human put the demons to rest, as they slowly let go of the hard edges, the brooding anger, the old terrors, and morph into a more complete being; a being not trapped, but capable of breathing joy, and light out into the world.</p>
<p id=”6123″ class=”ia ib ec ar ic b id ie if ig ih ii ij ik il im in” data-selectable-paragraph>Our world is not easy. It never was. The fight to survive by all embodied beings has dominated the experience of life. These animal instincts follow lines of power, the more powerful using it to their advantage.</p>
<p id=”3574″ class=”ia ib ec ar ic b id ie if ig ih ii ij ik il im in” data-selectable-paragraph>The history of human depravity is clear — perspectives that hide the truth of a world where all are deserving. Ours is a world where people have not yet begin the process of stitching themselves together with love because they have not yet released their tight grip on what they think they want.</p>
<p id=”cc6e” class=”ia ib ec ar ic b id ie if ig ih ii ij ik il im in” data-selectable-paragraph>For me, it is like staring at a flame burning down the house. The only hose is the slow patient work of helping others move from an interior world of chaos to one of beauty. My prayers emerge, please open your heart. Please find your love, your vulnerability. Please let go of the power that does not honor each of us.</p>
<p id=”be0a” class=”ia ib ec ar ic b id ie if ig ih ii ij ik il im in” data-selectable-paragraph>I long for a simpler time. A time without TV or the Internet. A time without cell phones. This appeals to the part of me that wants to exit the overwhelm of contemporary life with information from many realities comingling with my direct experience. The part that wants more noticing of the texture and color of the leaves layered over the mountain. The frost crisping the tops of the grass. The red of the rosehips and the white of the round snowberries in the fall.</p>
<h4 id=”c551″ class=”ia ib ec ar ic b id ie if ig ih ii ij ik il im in”><strong class=”ic io”>Tending</strong></h4>
<p id=”d8ef” class=”ia ib ec ar ic b id ie if ig ih ii ij ik il im in” data-selectable-paragraph>I am fortunate because I have a perspective that spans centuries and lifetimes, individuals, and peoples. I not only have the perspective of my own life, but stories of my elders, and of other times and places. I have access to that which has come before me, and what I imagine lies ahead of me. I have access to other worlds. There is so much to enable my path of self-mastery.</p>
<p id=”5c16″ class=”ia ib ec ar ic b id ie if ig ih ii ij ik il im in” data-selectable-paragraph>I see our humanness unfolding. I see the wild streak of desperation in the eye, and the slow, gentle caring of those who tend others. I see the growing understanding of tending our emotional realities.</p>
<p id=”f70a” class=”ia ib ec ar ic b id ie if ig ih ii ij ik il im in” data-selectable-paragraph>The trajectory before us is visible. Those people who love what they can. Those who cannot love, but can only hold on tight, forever fearful of loss, often caught in control and sometimes in deception. I see the giving and taking, the clouds passing over and obscuring, and then parting again, revealing the sun, the shaft of light illuming what it touches. I see the movements of emotion and human struggle, like the undulation of tumultuous waves.</p>
<p id=”6795″ class=”ia ib ec ar ic b id ie if ig ih ii ij ik il im in” data-selectable-paragraph>I continue to practice the holding of many realities and the learning to love through all of it. I continue a gentle caring towards myself and those who need me. I slowly tame my wild mind and open my heart — the gateway to god.</p>
<p data-selectable-paragraph>To read my newer posts on Medium.com, go <a href=”https://medium.com/@jenniferlehrmft.com”>here</a>.</p>
<p data-selectable-paragraph><em>First published in P.S. I Love You, a Medium.com publication on November 25th, 2019.&nbsp;</em></p>
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<pubdate>Tue, 26 Nov 2019 18:53:19 +0000</pubdate>
<dc:creator>Jennifer Lehr MFT</dc:creator>
<dc:language>en-US</dc:language>
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<dc:identifier>https://www.jenniferlehrmft.com/becoming-our-best-selves-finding-an-open-heart/</dc:identifier>
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