So, I am going to begin posting some blogs about the abuse that men experience. In this current environment where we clearly see how women have been put down and stamped down and downtrodden for just about ever, I feel it important to keep the magical mix in the crucible aligned with The Temperance card, the Both-And card of the Tarot. Also, maybe the shaming and abuse of men gets submerged under the legitimate and triggered outburst of women? Hey, we’re all people, and people who take their shit out on people? Nope, not just ignoring that anymore. Triggers occur, though my hope is that I can share here in a way for others to benefit from my experience. There is no higher ground when attacked, though their is Empathic Silence There’s a Maybe you should have vetted your victim better. ’cause you’re going to get dropped right back… by no reaction at all. It tends to deposit the incendiaries back where they came from. And, without judgment. As Robin Williams expressed, Everyone you meet is fighting a battle you know nothing about. Be kind. Always. Sometimes, it’s the people who are the worst that need an ear the most. Empathic Silence may provide a perspective of being heard that someone has not received before. Still be mindful of dangerous situations of course.
First off people have asked me about my actionable, what I did before the Brainspotting Therapy began to provide relief and unfolding. People have asked me WHAT I did I do when I came to the realization that first my creativity, then my imagination outright full-boat, had desiccated and gone away to some unknown place within? What, did I, as an Architect, Tarot Reader and Author, Astrologist, Painter, and Poet do when I was bathing in the horrendous fear of having no longer having my primary tools, creativity and imagination, none of what I needed to do my work?
Well. I was terrified. HOW am I going to pull off all my career(s) when I only have problem-solving left?!!!! Dafuq? Or, is it it, Dafuq! ?? I can’t be an Archetypal Cosmologist without… Oh, STOP whining. COOL, though not the way someone typically compromises to sync. I decided to… Well, 1st to squelch that Manager Part inside that chastised me for whining. One should treat oneself better than that. Not acceptable. Give me workability or give me you’re gone. None of that half-baked shame stuff. Too gooey, like Briar Patch Gumbo. No thank you.
What did I do when the across-the-board scale of the Imagination and Creativity pair not-so-suddenly disappeared?
Well, I cried. Literally. And, that clued me in. I suddenly was aware that I was crying, and the perspective of having perspective while in the thick of it… it showed me the larger place I had entered… being able to discern my place and feelings WHILE emoting. And, I decided to do something about it to address the long-form I HAVE NO CLUE HOW LONG THIS WILL LAST. Though, it feels like a lasting night. Queue in the movie, Pitch Black. I decided to MAKE SURE that I didn’t lose that, too. So, I put a stop to the desiccation. Creativity and imagination were enough to lose. I’m not letting this go any further. Now that I noticed in my numbness… So, I decided to watch music 1 hour of music videos twice a day where the voice an/or music brought on the ablution tingle cascade in my body and/or turn on the tear duct spigot. Simple. Deceptively simple. Yup, I was dying. And, more yup, I’m going to die going THAT way. It only took 6 months of that to turn the tide to go the other way. That began the Long Road Home.
Before and during and since I took the bull by the horns when I began Brainspotting counseling… Though, what, as a laymen, did I I do before?What did I do during and after when creativity and imagination were MIA? Well, I cried. And, I made damn sure I cried every single morning and every single night as I outlined above. It was a discipline of the ritual to use what was left or lose it. Soul Gardener came on line to help.
If I couldn’t have creativity or its over-arching sanctuary that is imagination, one thing was for sure: I am NOT going to lose my feelings. So, morningly, and nightly I implemented the plan above with, I may no longer have creativity or imagination, though I’ll be damned if I leave that to Fate. I’ve almost died too many times to give up. So, I didn’t. I drew in a new discipline of the ritual: Cry every morning; cry every night.
So, what did I do to make sure, how did I dial in the crying? With joy. American Idol and The Voice audition videos were a great start. The ones that give you cascade tingles of ablution, and if that happens follow that person’s videos through to…. wherever they went… or the vids that were then suggested or over on the right from which to choose. Sound too simple? Well, try not having creativity or imagination due to PTSD from sucking on the poison teet of a Sociopathic Narcissist for which I can only hold myself responsible for the poor relationship choice that I stayed in of my own accord. No victims allowed —that should be a sign.
Please feel free to comment, though do know that I grew an Empathic Silence Tool to work with As well. If you find yourself commenting AT, please revisit your denial. If you are commenting TO, please be mindful of your place. If you comment WITH perspective…. Thank you!
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