Being too much in your logic and left brain curtails the healing process. I know this at first hand because of what I experienced recently, coming through the other side of a major onslaught of paperwork linked to an ugly legal battle I was egregiously forced into. It was the absolute antithesis to my healing journey and I despised it (although fortunately for me I am good at fighting and I came out of it unscathed). But the experience pummelled my soul with a cudgel; my system just wants a rest. I can feel it.

With any kind of busy left brain pressure, you’re so busy doing, thinking, rushing around mentally from one thought to the next, orchestrating, striving, conspiring, planning – that your healing gets squashed and stuffed down, crumpled away into the crevices of your unconscious. I believe this is true most for most of us in society actually (I talk about this in my last post Big Kid (Adult Child)). It’s designed that way which means there are literally millions of walking wounded in this world, in a waking sleep, glossed over with incessant doing, oblivious of the healing that’ll one day pop up like a jack-in-the-box with a boxing glove for a very rude and painful awakening.

The thing is it’s only when you STOP….that you allow the pause. A sacred pause I like to call it, and it’s usually within that sacred pause that something pops up reminding you of your unhealed parts. When that happens, you have to go with it (and not hurrily push it aside).

My busy-brain problem lately is that I’ve literally been drowning in mini mountains of legal paperwork that has hijacked and consumed my days and nights for the last 3 months, eating up my mind, cranking up the cortisol and stealing precious hours away from my life that I’ll never, ever get back. That situation came to a conclusion of sorts last week (although there are frayed ends that will dangle for a while) but the main burden is off with a few anxieties still lingering.

Stopping for breath opened up space again. Here’s what ensued from my sacred pause a last week…

I was deleting emails from my sent box (it’s one of those accounts that only give you a certain amout of storage for free and then after that, you have to pay for it). Whilst I was digging around in my sent box on my phone, I scrolled back to as far as it would allow to see what could be deleted. It just so happened to stop at an email from JKR (I’ve mentioned her before: the cowbag who I thought I had a close and meaningful friendship with who dumped me overnight in my hour of need, triggering a deep, unhealed inner child wound). When I saw the email, I suddenly felt an uncomfortable ball of energy stuck in my solar plexus area and the wound began to simmer up within me. It instantly reiginted a deep and festering female family betrayal and abandonment would from when I was around 12 years old. And because I’ve never had closure from the family (or the cowbag friend), I felt the pain and rage began to boil. When I think back to that 12 year old, I can’t recall the upset and the tears she had at that time. The trigger perhaps is the reminder of the pain that’s stuffed away, of how the 12 year old girl felt when she realised that those closest to her who she loved the most had abandoned her overnight in a dangerous cesspit of racist hyenas wanting to terrorise her and her mum. The re-enactment of that time is invoked by the trigger, perhaps to be able to feel the pain and process the unprocessed emotions, to validate the pain body and to release the emotion (which is key). But the pain took over, the warrior came forth wielding the sword, and feeling dysregulated, I wanted to have my final say…

I thought to myself that I should give her a piece of my mind. It’s been over a year so why not. Go on. She deserves it. Make her feel as shit as you did. Twist the knife. Fucking bitch.

Feeling dysregulated, here’s what I hastily and ragefully, wielding my swords, typed out (then edited) Then wrote (then edited). Then deleted. Then wrote. Then edited. Then waited a day. Then cut and paste it on here:

“Was just going through my sent box deleting emails when I came across this. I was going to ignore it but sometimes it’s good to delve into the corners of the unconscious to project what actually needs projecting and vocalise what needs to be vocalised. 

I recall you saying that you were having “palpitations” and feeling vulnerable and threatened by the XXXXXXX folk harassing you. And I spent the whole day helping you out (in my folly, never for one moment thought I was being used).  Of course I thought (incorrectly) that you were a ‘meaningful’ friend with depth.

How ironic that the very next day when I had the exact same feelings (vulnerable and threatened), I get callously and distastely cut off (literally overnight you couldn’t write it!) a kick in the teeth when I’m already down. I bet you wouldn’t have done that if I was a bloke. Women are notoriously inhumane to one another aren’t they? Worse still, you weren’t even brave enough to message me back when I asked for an “adult conversation” to clear things up. Passive aggression at its finest. Doesn’t that border on covert narcissism?

Talk about immoral compass. Anyway, it spoke volumes about you. Don’t worry I’m never going to get in contact ever again. Just thought I’d give you a piece of my mind whilst I the opportunity came up….don’t bother replying, I don’t want to hear from you“.

It actually sounds quite childish reading that now I’ve calmed down. It’s the kind of email The Narc would have sent me to try and push my buttons, lashing out. I wanted to lash out at her so she feels my pain and get a piece of it, handing it back to her like a boobie prize, an ugly gift, and, in the process, for me to cleanse and assuage the pain a little.

But it doesn’t work like that.

She might smart for a moment and spit a few feathers but then she’ll carry on with her life. There’s a degree of arrested development with those wounded parts. But then it is the 12 year old girl in me who is still healing so no wonder it sounds childish, like a teenage rant. And the protector part probably isn’t much older.

I didn’t send the email and I’m glad I didn’t. It would only have meant a) me giving away my energy to her, and b) her still having control over me energetically. Why give her the benefit? What I should have done in that moment of being triggered, rather than charging in with the ranty email, is sit with the pain, observe what I’m feeling, let it express and validate it, wonder when I first felt like that, examine where it came from. That’s how the the pain will assuage and the wound will heal. You’re meant to feel the wound to care for it and give it the TLC that it needs and never got in that moment.

Fortuitously, just a few moments later after not sending the ranty email, I stumbled acrosss a Youtube video that I so needed to hear in that moment (no coincidence). It’s magical when life delivers you effortlessly what you need in your moments of need. It was about becoming whole and staying detached. It’s called Stop Being Available. Here’s the link: https://youtu.be/F5jhc1Y65Lg?feature=shared – about preserving your own energy, bringing whatever is in your unconcious forward and to stop the need for external validation. Jungian in it’s philosophy but worth the watch.

Everything ties together – it doesn’t matter how you’re healing. It’s different language but the same thing. The wounded child sits in the unconscious and the unconscious controls you. Distractions, any kind of distractions, especially the busy brain logical stuff, removes you from your healing and the wound stays stuck there. What we all need is sacred space where the wounds can pop up. Space doesn’t always need to be filled with doing. That’s probably why many people find it difficult being alone. Too much space to think. But it’s space for something and there’s an inner world that needs tending to as well. Changing the internal landscape = changing your energy = changing your consciousness = changing what comes into your life. A ripple effect. It starts with daily droplets of self care, compassion for the wound, curiosity for the pain, holding space for yourself. But remember a busy brain isn’t a good thing. A busy brain = unhealed.

If baring my soul to you (and the world) has moved or touched a part of you in any way, then your support would be very welcome. To help me on this healing journey, perhaps you’d like to buy me a coffee (although mines a tea) via the link below:

https://buymeacoffee.com/healingmychildhoodtrauma