What a week. What a freakin’ week. I’ve been rather quiet this end – well, blog-wise, not any other wise. I would go into deets but right now I can’t be arsed. Right now all I want to do is share my latest EMDR session yesterday.
EMDR is the bomb. It really really works, folks.
I got home from my session and I just sobbed, and smiled, and sobbed and smiled some more. I sobbed because I’m happy…it’s changing…the ‘okay’ that everyone always told me would come and would happen is slowly/quickly becoming a reality I am increasingly getting a taste of. And a permanent reality that I can see right there on the safe and cosy horizon.
One of the main reason I sobbed when I got home is because I feel like I deserve a medal for what I did in my session. I worked with morocco. I worked with that trauma. The one that actually has ruled my day and my body but I have kept so hidden and secret out of total fear for what it is and was. So for that, I deserve the holiday that I am going on tomorrow. I sobbed because I feel free…the freedom is here, touching the tips of my fingertips. And as the EMDR continues to work over the next week, this safety will be nestled in my whole hand. This I cannot even begin to explain. I can now let this trauma go. It can be something that has happened to me, just like other things that have happened to me. It doesn’t need the control and the charge that is has had until now. When a trauma is so secret and so huge and so fucking scary, and GROSS, I feel it is really easy to just not look at it (OBVIOUSLY). It is easier and safer to focus on the softer traumas. The ones that are still hideous but not as mind numbingly terrifying and overwhelmingly full of details, emotions and stuff you need and want to share…but you just don’t know where to start.
Now I feel like I could talk about it. Another thing I deserve a medal for – my metaphorical medal cabinet is getting chockablock (on a side note, I think we all need a metaphorical medal cabinet. Maybe I’ll start to note my medals down, that’d be nice, wouldn’t it? I think you should all do that too.) – is that I stopped myself forcing myself to share the details with her. In EMDR your eyes are going back and forth whilst you think of the trauma or the feelings that are ‘up’ in relation to it…or simply wherever your mind goes. And I had the urge to talk about the details but I didn’t want to do it with her, but I did, but I didn’t…I went round like that and then I just let myself go and she reassured that I didn’t have to talk about it. This shit still works even if you don’t speak. Even if the therapist doesn’t even know what they are working with! But, for me, talking is something I love and need to do. Some people ain’t such a sucker for words… I. Am.
I can now talk about the dirtiness, the GROSS-ness, the terror that I almost died, the fucking craziness that it even happened. I can TALK about it with those I love and feel safe with. This…this is undescribably huge. And weirdly exciting because it means healing is coming.
This medal for reaching this point that actually I can talk about this and protecting myself whilst I do so, is so huge and a gold & chunky motherfucker. (See above. I drew this in my journal shortly after getting home from the session.)
We worked with my fear of my bursting and overflowing levels of creativity. At the moment I get so overwhelmed with how much creative energy is running around my system. Words are just flooding to my fingertips, wanting to burst their way onto the page. But so often I don’t do anything with it, or I only do a little bit, because I feel scared because there is just SO much! I get overwhelmed, exhausted and then fall asleep or spin around the room in anxiety because I haven’t done anything with the creativity. She reassured that it’s because so much of my energy has been going on being stuck with this trauma, stuck in the past, stuck in hypervigilance and protecting me…this stuckness is now becoming free and so it is only a matter of time that I realise it is safe and I learn to just continue on and release it, to type on the page even if I feel like I could never do the million words justice – to just keep typing, keep expressing and let the overwhelm soften away.
We worked with the shit that went down this week. Only slightly but just enough to feel like it was acknowledged. We worked with the scenario that if my mother showed up on my doorstep and how I would feel. (This is what happened – my mother found out where I lived and sent me vouchers through a company. Freaked. Me. Out. But also, weirdly, because of EMDR, there has been a distance between me and the terror and the connection with her…this is phenomenal.)
Today, the following morning after the session, I feel like SHIT. I feel like I’ve had a severe bout of chronic fatigue. I am in so so much pain. Last night I cried myself to sleep with the pain that was running a gentle riot all around my body. And it’s back again today. I don’t really know what to do. I am supposed to go away for my birthday, which is tomorrow, but I now wonder whether it is the right thing to do because I currently feel like an arthritic ridden 75 year old. That ain’t no fun. All I’m going to do is curl up in a ball and tear up a little bit and meditate/doze…and ponder whether I get on that train.
This pain definitely has something to do with the fact that I flew head first, superman style, off my bike yesterday two minutes before my EMDR session…it was so embarrassing and so painful! But, I did also feel like a superhero (Superwwoman?) because I do not know HOW I didn’t get more injured…like, really. I FLEW head first as my bike buckled beneath me (my handbag had been dangling from the handlebars and it got caught in the brake and jammed. Note to girls – DON’T RIDE YOUR BIKE WITH YOUR FLIPPIN’ HAND BAG.
So, I know that this big ass shock will be contributing to this pain, because fuck everything hurts. But I also have a feeling that it is to do with the physical release that this last session brought. I can feel it so so physically. The freedom…the taste of freedom in my body that I didn’t even realise wasn’t there. This freedom that I didn’t even know something like Morocco takes away from you. I’ve been living the last two years in unbelievable closedness and disconnection, and now that freedom and connection to my inner safety is suddenly here, it just kinda makes sense that my body would take a bit of a whack. This pain feels like it’s the shift and the transition. But fuck, it hurts like a bitch.
Soften a bit, please pain. But freedom, you can definitely stay. And I have a feeling you really will.