#2 ... I don't know when things got buried in me. My sense is I was under a year old.
#3 - April 8, 2010
I don't know the trigger. But I can't remember back to a feeling of loving.
I know the reality I've experienced. In a way, it's like a person with a spinal cord injury. Everything is there - but there's a disconnection, a gap, perhaps incredibly tiny.
I remember when I was 8, telling my parents I thought they were the best parents in the world. It was something my father cherished, remembered and retold for years. I remember, while I said it, of having the awareness of not loving them, not loving. How to say something like that? I had no idea. Most, I knew it would hurt my father. As for fixing things, I didn't have a clue. So why speak?
I don't know how far I want to go today. Maybe this is enough.
Anyway, I have been getting reconnected. Very strange, or rather not strange. Reconnection feels right.
But I go - how could the disconnection have gone on so long? - and not gotten much attention. I noticed it - somewhat. But I don't remember a therapist focusing on it.
And then I ask: would it have helped? Would I have paid attention? And much more, would it have done any good?
The right touch - it took the right touch of grief - and over the past nine months, the grief has ebbed and flowed, but stayed, still stays, ready to surface.
And changes happen.
I do have help - not words, but body-centered stuff - as if the not-love barrier is buried in the body.
Here's a story. A true story about a treasure buried for thousands of years ...