Core Wounding

Has this journey been preparing me for this moment?

Today’s therapy session was a doozy. I almost walked out as I was so angry and uncomfortable. Not angry at my therapist, just angry inside.

For a while now, I’ve been looking at my options in “moving forward” in a direction of interest. I’ve been torn between continuing my education and career in psychology and moving into a new direction into the art world. A logical balance is going into studying and practicing Art Therapy, but I wonder if it’s too much of a compromise. So one plan is to stud art full-time. Painting, sculpture, photography, video, digital, media, and so on.

In looking at how to do this, I have put some feelers out in how to earn extra cash so I can get by. It’s scary to think of living in poverty again, and it’s scary to think that this might actually work.

But since I found out about my brother’s illness, I’ve been in a slow decent back into depression. I’ve been feeling like a total loser as I remember a life I once had where I loved my Social Work job, had my own apartment, cared and lived with my dog, and had a good income that allowed me some freedom. My life is so different now and it depresses me to be doing HR work, making almost less than half of what I use to, renting a room in a home with people I’m not compatible with, and my poor dog living with my sister, who I don’t trust.

In today’s counseling session, I could feel myself closing up and shutting down as I described my feelings of depression and frustration because of my current situation. My therapist asks me if I am sabotaging myself by shutting down and not processing my fear.

I could feel my resistance as she invited me to explore this fear. She begins to ask me “what parts of you are afraid and what are you afraid of”. I give her concrete examples, and she tells me this is not what she is asking.

She rephrased her question: “When did you first feel like you had to shut down and disappear?”

I burst into tears. This is the scary place. The place I’ve been too damn scared to go back to. The place I’ve been running from my whole life. The place I’ve been trying to re-write. The place I wish never existed.

I tell her my father’s rage made me disappear, but that I also learned from my 8 siblings that showing up was not safe. Everyday I learned that showing up meant criticism, name calling, and ridicule. Home, school, neighborhood, I got it everywhere I went. So I just stopped showing up. I began living in my head instead of out in the world.

This may seem like no big deal because “all kids go through this”. But for me it was the annihilation of myself by the people who were supposed to care for me. They taught me how to kill myself.

Going to school and studying Psychology helped me to learn that I was not stupid and that I could actually succeed at something. So when that crumbled, I lost the only shred of esteem that I worked so hard for.

In looking at focusing on art, not only is it frightening to think of living in poverty while I do it, it scares me to think that I may not be good enough to venture out into the art world.

The plan is to process my fear more during my next session. It’s scary as hell to go think of going to this place and I’m not doing it alone.

This fear, this place, this core wounding is the pivotal confrontation in my sheroes journey. It’s Dorothy’s second trip into the forest to kill the Witch.

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1 Comment (+add yours?)

  1. Trackback: Renewal « the lotus experience

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