My big red writing hoodie is actually a fleece. I had a fleece I used to wear when I started writing Trapped, because I used to get emotional, and cold, and shivery. Perhaps it had something to do with beginning work on the first draft in the depths of January, when the light was improving, but the ground was still icy and hard. I got accustomed to wearing this garment like a security blanket, every time I was writing at my computer.
Over time, I must have written out so much sorrow, grief pouring onto the page like thick treacle: coming to terms with all the rubbish that I have tolerated, the negative emotions, expectations and ideas that have clouded my lens over the years, and have spoiled my life correspondingly. I was probably in mourning, too, for all the time I wasted being unhappy. Unhappy about being unhappy….what a waste of time.
Last week, I zipped up this jacket crossly, thinking to burrow down for safety and feel insulated from my latest bout of existential uncertainty. Perhaps all writers have them, and they are a pain. But, feeling strangely dislocated, I found myself simply getting crosser, more angry over nothing. “Unusual” I was reflecting, “How odd, I don’t understand this…why am I behaving like a total idiot?” It was like being both Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde.
An answer landed in my lap. My jacket, which had held me securely through a great many traumas, was suffering from ptsd for clothes. Perhaps it had absorbed all that anger, sorrow and incredulity, which I was then dishing out. Either it was full of bad memories and emotions, clogged up with negative feelings; or else the association of that jacket with unhappiness was very strong. Either way, my fleece had to go. I had to throw it out, which I did immediately. I felt much better afterwards!
In my wardrobe there may be other clothes I should release, because wearing them makes me unhappy. It is not simply that they are old fashioned, tired or frumpy, but also that they may carry vibes that I would rather not hang on to. Which may be the best reason to spring-clean my wardrobe that I have ever come across.
Now the outer waterproof, for which the fleece was the lining, is my only coat. Perhaps I should think of purchasing another: Blue, maybe, with a zip and useful pockets for house keys and hankies. And lots of cheerful memories to store in its fibres.
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August 13, 2014
What I learned about abject humiliation
Fran Macilvey acceptance, allowing, choices, emotions, honesty, hope, life, love, understanding Fran Macilvey, Fran's School of Hard Knocks 6 Comments
What I learned about abject humiliation.
Sunday was a wash-out, and Monday was little better. Few sunny rays pieced the grey clouds, and I was resigned to feeling low and thinking that I had best learn to grow old gracefully, as Autumn was clearly on the way, and there was nothing much I could do about it. Hoh hum! I felt about as grey and depressed as the dark clouds on a cold, gloomy afternoon.
Then two things happened in quick succession. First, it occurred to me that most of the feelings of humiliation with which I was beating myself up, most of the embarrassment I was experiencing about clambering up dirty stairs and asking for help to get down again, about collapsing on the pavement in the rain, falling in puddles and achingly finding a way to clamber upright….most of the embarrassment I felt about that was invented.
Of course, I get sore and bruised, and my trousers get torn and dirtied and I have to go home and change because the mud is just too heavy and wet to carry around. Of course, other people don’t have this constant, grating uncertainty, nor the obsession with staying upright and tidy, nor the worry of falling and not being able to get up again. My left hip has no power in it.
But – but – but – but – BUT STOP. None of what I believe or think they think is real. None of the feelings I have needs to be excused or explained, and, most importantly, no-one is judging me harshly, criticising me, or expressing an unhealthy interest. No-one has negative opinions about me. No-one is critical. As I said in a comment to a comment
I realise that a great many of my unhappy feelings are the result of seeing judgements – and prejudicial judgements, at that, how prejudiced of me! – which are simply not there.
I am glad that I still have feelings, and that I am not ashamed to cry, and that I leap in the air when I am happy. For saying things like, “Now, that’s enough, dear….” I scolded my husband. If I want to feel overwhelming joy, I shall feel it. If I need to feel genuine, heart wrenching sorrow, I shall do so. And no fears of what another thinks or says will stop me. Thank God I got that sorted.
Later that evening, I found this post on my WordPress feed, which turned out to be the second thing. If anyone would like to find a great video to watch, here is one with Louise Hay and many of my other heroes, which got me back on track. Thank you, Ivy Mosquito, for finding this, and posting it when you did.
https://ivymosquito.wordpress.com/2014/08/11/this-is-my-answer/
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