I love it when you said, " We aren’t afraid of what is. We are afraid of what could be and what we don’t understand."
That is so true.
Also, the experiences you described with the doctor and therapists are just awful! What a terrible thing to be treated that way when you are just honestly wanting some help!
The first time I saw The Babadook I just laughed at the image of the monster. He looked to me like a paperdoll making finger shadows of himself. That's when I realized the difference between Fear and Dread and that the real monster is Dread...who lives entirely inside the walls of our minds. We are afraid of what might be (the future) and what might happen again (the past)...and that equates to dread on either side of the present moment.
As for my experiences with doctors and therapists, I live in a state of Dread (living in the past with the mindset of "what-might-happen-again". I am entirely aware of this kind of PTSD in my head. Haven't figured out how to tame it yet. What kind of worms does that kind of Dread eat?
I love how you took this prompt, Teri Leigh, and expounded your essay. The strikeout was brilliant in the first paragraph. Also, my heart hurt reading about your experience with those in the psychiatry and psychology industry. No one should be treated that way. It astounds me that so many still are stigmatized and not taken seriously about what works and doesn't work for them.
I think one thing I'm learning about sensitive souls is that we know exactly what we need for ourselves, and we are pretty damn good at articulating that and communicating that to others. However, others can't relate or understand our needs because they are so vastly different from their own, so they keep trying to give us what they would need, or what they have been trained to offer, rather than what we are obviously asking for. That was my experience with therapists. I was very clear...I want someone to listen and to hold me as I process and figure out my own Grief...but they were so engrained in their psychological testing, their need to diagnose, and their training about childhood traumas that they couldn't do what I asked. If they had, they would've found themselves in a situation of having me as one of their easiest clients ever.
Wow, isn't that incredible, Teri Leigh? That maybe if more of us - not just therapists but all of us - set aside our agendas, we'd discover that listening with the heart really is a powerful doorway for another person to walk through. I agree about being a sensitive person and how others don't always “get” what we need, even when we're clear about it. But what you wrote here really reminded me of the simple but transformative power of presence.
James, I always love when you appear in my comments. Michael Thompson taught me that the best writing is that which makes the reader "STOP" and you told me just that here. Thank you.
I really enjoyed writing this one. Halloween brings out this really interesting side of me every year.
Don't get me started with Paxil and others. My big Self longs, at this time of year, to play with my imagination and create a world where we know what is best for our Souls. I'm optimistic about this extravagent time for me. As I join the collective Family I've been grieving all my life, I feel the Magic of my Medicine (in all forms.) Thank you for your writings.
I could go on a very long rant on anti-depressants and the medical industrial complex myself, but I won't, at least not right now lol. Thank you for sharing Glee.
If my content calendar goes as planned, I'll be dedicating the whole month of May on HUSH talking about medicine and pharmaceuticals and their impact on sensitive souls.
Paxil was a tranquilizer to me. I remember waking up totally dehydrated after who knows how many days and thinking I had gone into a coma. And that was on a half dose for what was prescribed. Doc told me to drop it down to a quarter dose, and I spent a day walking around like a zombie!
I love your imaginative mind and your willingness to explore this time of year as a time to play with your ancestors!
It's fascinating how the medical fraternity, therapists included, all want to medicate away the darkness. We're both, and sometimes we need to sit in the sad, dwell in the grief, and unpack the dread. My deepest winter lasted 10 years. A time of immense grief. The darkness comes and goes, Vitamin D definitely helps in winter. Like you, I've learned to be curious and trust myself.
That's beautiful and sounds like a truly Balanced Life. I totally agree, I don't think it's right to always be medicating away the darkness. Maybe if we were all allowed to truly feel and express, the world might look like a different place.
The shaman tribe I studied with in Burkina Faso West Africa held Grief Rituals at least once a month, and everyone in the village comes together to grieve whatever it is that they have to grieve. It's just part of their normal life. I wish we had that.
I never thought of it this way til you said it "medicate away the darkness"...which means we are just numbing it and making it louder in some ways. I know that years long kind of darkness as well. Mine was about 6 years. before and after divorce.
Vitamin D definitely helps in the winter. The kind I get looks like little droplets of honey, and my hubs calls it "droplets of sunshine".
Western societies are exceptional at numbing feelings. We're not taught to feel our emotions, to allow the energy to rise and pass through us. Certainly my age group didn't have emotionally intelligent parents or teachers. If we numb the feelings, with drugs, alcohol, food, spending, sex... we remain numb to our full potential.
Teri Leigh, I'm another introvert stuck in a house with two extroverts.
They struggled during lockdown. I thrived. Fortunately, I had found my own effective coping mechanisms while I made peace with the long nights, so SAD was no longer my winter burden.
This is a great article. I already have a brief Cliff notes type of article started for Friday. May I put a link in mine sending folks to this one?
And I have an office in our basement. Every morning during the shutdown--I would go downstairs and work. It gave just enough quiet time to go meet the demands of the extroverts. LOL
An extravagant darkness sounds deliciously delightful. Like the darkest of dark chocolate.
um...YUM! I won't eat any other kind of chocolate.
and this morning, I laid in bed in that dark chocolate yumminess for an extra hour!
I love it when you said, " We aren’t afraid of what is. We are afraid of what could be and what we don’t understand."
That is so true.
Also, the experiences you described with the doctor and therapists are just awful! What a terrible thing to be treated that way when you are just honestly wanting some help!
The first time I saw The Babadook I just laughed at the image of the monster. He looked to me like a paperdoll making finger shadows of himself. That's when I realized the difference between Fear and Dread and that the real monster is Dread...who lives entirely inside the walls of our minds. We are afraid of what might be (the future) and what might happen again (the past)...and that equates to dread on either side of the present moment.
As for my experiences with doctors and therapists, I live in a state of Dread (living in the past with the mindset of "what-might-happen-again". I am entirely aware of this kind of PTSD in my head. Haven't figured out how to tame it yet. What kind of worms does that kind of Dread eat?
I love how you took this prompt, Teri Leigh, and expounded your essay. The strikeout was brilliant in the first paragraph. Also, my heart hurt reading about your experience with those in the psychiatry and psychology industry. No one should be treated that way. It astounds me that so many still are stigmatized and not taken seriously about what works and doesn't work for them.
I think one thing I'm learning about sensitive souls is that we know exactly what we need for ourselves, and we are pretty damn good at articulating that and communicating that to others. However, others can't relate or understand our needs because they are so vastly different from their own, so they keep trying to give us what they would need, or what they have been trained to offer, rather than what we are obviously asking for. That was my experience with therapists. I was very clear...I want someone to listen and to hold me as I process and figure out my own Grief...but they were so engrained in their psychological testing, their need to diagnose, and their training about childhood traumas that they couldn't do what I asked. If they had, they would've found themselves in a situation of having me as one of their easiest clients ever.
Wow, isn't that incredible, Teri Leigh? That maybe if more of us - not just therapists but all of us - set aside our agendas, we'd discover that listening with the heart really is a powerful doorway for another person to walk through. I agree about being a sensitive person and how others don't always “get” what we need, even when we're clear about it. But what you wrote here really reminded me of the simple but transformative power of presence.
I’m with Jeannie - what an extravagant essay and journey, Teri. Like Adrienne said, this stopped me in my tracks - “We aren’t afraid of what is.
We are afraid of what could be and what we don’t understand.”
Thank you too for the vulnerability thread running through this whole essay 🙏❤️
James, I always love when you appear in my comments. Michael Thompson taught me that the best writing is that which makes the reader "STOP" and you told me just that here. Thank you.
I really enjoyed writing this one. Halloween brings out this really interesting side of me every year.
Don't get me started with Paxil and others. My big Self longs, at this time of year, to play with my imagination and create a world where we know what is best for our Souls. I'm optimistic about this extravagent time for me. As I join the collective Family I've been grieving all my life, I feel the Magic of my Medicine (in all forms.) Thank you for your writings.
I could go on a very long rant on anti-depressants and the medical industrial complex myself, but I won't, at least not right now lol. Thank you for sharing Glee.
If my content calendar goes as planned, I'll be dedicating the whole month of May on HUSH talking about medicine and pharmaceuticals and their impact on sensitive souls.
Yes, loving this topic!
Paxil was a tranquilizer to me. I remember waking up totally dehydrated after who knows how many days and thinking I had gone into a coma. And that was on a half dose for what was prescribed. Doc told me to drop it down to a quarter dose, and I spent a day walking around like a zombie!
I love your imaginative mind and your willingness to explore this time of year as a time to play with your ancestors!
It's fascinating how the medical fraternity, therapists included, all want to medicate away the darkness. We're both, and sometimes we need to sit in the sad, dwell in the grief, and unpack the dread. My deepest winter lasted 10 years. A time of immense grief. The darkness comes and goes, Vitamin D definitely helps in winter. Like you, I've learned to be curious and trust myself.
That's beautiful and sounds like a truly Balanced Life. I totally agree, I don't think it's right to always be medicating away the darkness. Maybe if we were all allowed to truly feel and express, the world might look like a different place.
The shaman tribe I studied with in Burkina Faso West Africa held Grief Rituals at least once a month, and everyone in the village comes together to grieve whatever it is that they have to grieve. It's just part of their normal life. I wish we had that.
I wish we had that too.
I never thought of it this way til you said it "medicate away the darkness"...which means we are just numbing it and making it louder in some ways. I know that years long kind of darkness as well. Mine was about 6 years. before and after divorce.
Vitamin D definitely helps in the winter. The kind I get looks like little droplets of honey, and my hubs calls it "droplets of sunshine".
Western societies are exceptional at numbing feelings. We're not taught to feel our emotions, to allow the energy to rise and pass through us. Certainly my age group didn't have emotionally intelligent parents or teachers. If we numb the feelings, with drugs, alcohol, food, spending, sex... we remain numb to our full potential.
Teri Leigh, I'm another introvert stuck in a house with two extroverts.
They struggled during lockdown. I thrived. Fortunately, I had found my own effective coping mechanisms while I made peace with the long nights, so SAD was no longer my winter burden.
This is a great article. I already have a brief Cliff notes type of article started for Friday. May I put a link in mine sending folks to this one?
to be an introvert in a house of two extroverts sounds like quite a challenge. I hope, in the name of Virginia Woolf, you have a Room of Your Own.
Please DM me a link to your Friday article and I'll promote it in my Notes.
Will do. Thanks
And I have an office in our basement. Every morning during the shutdown--I would go downstairs and work. It gave just enough quiet time to go meet the demands of the extroverts. LOL
that's perfect. My hubs is even more of an introvert than I am, and he loves his basement office. darkness within the darkness!
I’d be honored! Thank you!!!