Collector's item
Physiotherapy yesterday. I told him about the big effect of his small touches the previous time and we did a body consciousness exercise, after which he gently put his hand on my solar plexus. Instant pain, a sharp, shooting pain, and tears streaming down my face.
I told him the same thing as my contact at Social Security; he's a safe place for me and that's why I cry so much. He also guided me through gently rubbing myself on the solar plexus, which made me break down and sob loudly.
The difference is huge; with my Ex I felt unsafe, to say the least, and now I'm slowly, carefully 'collecting' safe places.
Got the name of my psychologist-to-be, but she's on vacation so it's another three weeks before we get to know eachother - before I'll know she's right for me or not, safe or not.
At first it felt like yesterday it was hard for me to be sincere, to be myself, but being at a safe place, with the physiotherapist (whom I have known for some time) I felt something was happening. Maybe it was the quality of the energy in the room, or my conscious effort to shed the "I'm fine"-mask, knowing it was alright to be vulnerable, I don't know, maybe all combined. I softened.
The "I'm fine"-mask is from the same place as the sarcasm, the lame jokes, the physical comedy and the not-quite-sincere-over-the-top-enthusiasm I display when I don't know how to be in someone's presence. Writing about it is enough to cause pain in my solar plexus again; the area where I feel changes when they occur. Or truth. So truth does hurt.
Of course there's the added pain of not knowing what to do to help my Ex, who's slowly but surely self-destructing, and who's the great love of my life (until now at least), even though I feel very unsafe with him. I'm aware of the advantages the distance between us provides.
In a perfect world I'd either not know any people or nobody would hurt as much as my Ex or as I have. I still hurt, but I have the comforting knowledge that I'm progressing 'towards' something.
Comforting because I see myself change, so, even though it's not done in Awakening-World, I have something to give me hope and hold on to, light at the end of the tunnel. But, you know, even if my nightmare slowly transforms itself into a dream, I am not going to lose momentum, far from it. My motivation and drive are too strong. Even a pleasant dream won't be the end of the line for me, no sir.
Anyway.
Since my insurance pays for many more visits to the physiotherapist, per calendar year, we agreed that I will be going there once a week instead of every two weeks. That's right, just because I can.
No, we both see what it's doing for me. It's important for me to be more vulnerable, but that's something I'm only willing to practise in safe places, because as I told him, red warning signs, flags, sirens, lots of warning bells go off telling me it's dangerous to show any vulnerability, to be feminine, soft. Not weak; soft.
I've always tried so hard to be like the boys, then to be like men. Tough, strong, indestructible.
Yet all the while my strength was in my flexibility, my ability to bend, not break.
I'm scared, it scares me, the thought that I should or could be more feminine from now on, it scares me shitless because I don't even know how to do that, it's completely foreign territory to me.
"Be kind to yourself, gentle." My physiotherapist knows what he's doing. He's going through a process of his own and uses his experiences. Most importantly, he was one of the first people to actually openly admire my sensitivity.
I never thought that was a possibility, I've seen it as a hindrance for most of my life. No doubt dutifully accepting other people's opinion as my own. I was surprised, taken aback, when he was touched, even moved by my sensitivity. He saw the beauty of it, whereas I had learned to perceive it as weakness.
Wish my Ex would realize that people aren't necessarily right just because they are his parents. I'm not the only one in need of some femininity and soft touches.
I told him the same thing as my contact at Social Security; he's a safe place for me and that's why I cry so much. He also guided me through gently rubbing myself on the solar plexus, which made me break down and sob loudly.
The difference is huge; with my Ex I felt unsafe, to say the least, and now I'm slowly, carefully 'collecting' safe places.
Got the name of my psychologist-to-be, but she's on vacation so it's another three weeks before we get to know eachother - before I'll know she's right for me or not, safe or not.
At first it felt like yesterday it was hard for me to be sincere, to be myself, but being at a safe place, with the physiotherapist (whom I have known for some time) I felt something was happening. Maybe it was the quality of the energy in the room, or my conscious effort to shed the "I'm fine"-mask, knowing it was alright to be vulnerable, I don't know, maybe all combined. I softened.
The "I'm fine"-mask is from the same place as the sarcasm, the lame jokes, the physical comedy and the not-quite-sincere-over-the-top-enthusiasm I display when I don't know how to be in someone's presence. Writing about it is enough to cause pain in my solar plexus again; the area where I feel changes when they occur. Or truth. So truth does hurt.
Of course there's the added pain of not knowing what to do to help my Ex, who's slowly but surely self-destructing, and who's the great love of my life (until now at least), even though I feel very unsafe with him. I'm aware of the advantages the distance between us provides.
In a perfect world I'd either not know any people or nobody would hurt as much as my Ex or as I have. I still hurt, but I have the comforting knowledge that I'm progressing 'towards' something.
Comforting because I see myself change, so, even though it's not done in Awakening-World, I have something to give me hope and hold on to, light at the end of the tunnel. But, you know, even if my nightmare slowly transforms itself into a dream, I am not going to lose momentum, far from it. My motivation and drive are too strong. Even a pleasant dream won't be the end of the line for me, no sir.
Anyway.
Since my insurance pays for many more visits to the physiotherapist, per calendar year, we agreed that I will be going there once a week instead of every two weeks. That's right, just because I can.
No, we both see what it's doing for me. It's important for me to be more vulnerable, but that's something I'm only willing to practise in safe places, because as I told him, red warning signs, flags, sirens, lots of warning bells go off telling me it's dangerous to show any vulnerability, to be feminine, soft. Not weak; soft.
I've always tried so hard to be like the boys, then to be like men. Tough, strong, indestructible.
Yet all the while my strength was in my flexibility, my ability to bend, not break.
I'm scared, it scares me, the thought that I should or could be more feminine from now on, it scares me shitless because I don't even know how to do that, it's completely foreign territory to me.
"Be kind to yourself, gentle." My physiotherapist knows what he's doing. He's going through a process of his own and uses his experiences. Most importantly, he was one of the first people to actually openly admire my sensitivity.
I never thought that was a possibility, I've seen it as a hindrance for most of my life. No doubt dutifully accepting other people's opinion as my own. I was surprised, taken aback, when he was touched, even moved by my sensitivity. He saw the beauty of it, whereas I had learned to perceive it as weakness.
Wish my Ex would realize that people aren't necessarily right just because they are his parents. I'm not the only one in need of some femininity and soft touches.
posted by M. at 1:31 AM
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