2014 (10)
Before you dive into this post, please note that the river is swirling, suggesting this train of thought may need serious editing …
Yesterday, my first Mother's Day since Mom's death, proved exceptionally painful for me. For days, thoughts of going to the cemetary flooded my mind with confusion. Sadness I understood, but why confusion … and dread?
I also wondered why my spirit didn't sag on the first Father's Day after Dad's passing until this insight hit: At that earlier time, denial kept my spirit afloat in support of Mom.
Thirteen years ago, I didn't understand much about denial. And I knew nothing of intution tunneling toward insight in hopes of exposing fear, repressed in subconscious pockets of my mind. In hindsight, denial sustained my spirit for two years after Dad's death—and then something changed—a story for another time …
Getting back to yesterday, insight hit right before we left for the cemetary. Though Will kept saying: Annie, you don't have to go, intuition told me otherwise: Will, if I don't go, this feeling of dread will increase. I don't want my spirit to get stuck in a place that feels as scary as this.
At that point, insight hit; my head swam; my knees buckled; and I had to sit down. Will, I said, I think any thought of standing at the foot of Mom's grave is forcing me to absorb the reality of her death. (During the week of Mom's passing, we'd been surrounded by loved ones; our time at the cemetary felt surreal, and denial kept reality from impacting with a whollop.)
Oh my gosh—it's possible that I didn't fully absorb Dad's death till now, because I was so focused on taking care of Mom until extenuating circumstances caused my spirit to crash, bigtime. Will, that same reaction (my spirit crashing) grabbed me by surprise when your cancer surgery drew near.
The fact that the root of such debilitating fear remained unidentified for years after Dad's passing and for several weeks preceding and following your surgery makes me question whether my subconscious pattern of PTSD (unprocessed childhood terror) has been weighing heavy on my mind since Passover. If that's true, I need to figure out which unprocessed detail, associated with trauma, may be affecting my state of mind, today, so my spirit won't sink in quicksand, over long.
Though I'd consciously feared the death of loved ones, which is not uncommon, I'd believed myself unafraid of my death. (What's so scary about going to sleep and not waking up? I won't be here to know when that happens.) Maybe denial is blinding me to a truth too scary to face, again. Maybe I've feared disappearing into nothingness as quickly and mysteriously as my Grandpa and Janet did, several weeks apart. If that's true then I've been living in fear of dying, every day, since I was three.
I've read that after the loss of the surviving parent, a heightened awareness concerning both deaths can overwhelm the mind. What if, over these past two months an intuitive sense of this fourth stage of life has been percolating subconsciously, filtering drops of fear through cracks in my wall of denial until my conscious mind got to feeling soaked, through and through, with thoughts of my death, and the closer we got to going to the cemetary on Mother's Day, the more my spirit sagged under the weight of my mind swimming through quicksand, again.
It seems that recently, everytime we go to dinner with family and friends, conversations run rampant with talk of heart attacks and cancer, and as your next psa test is tomorrow, my fear factor keeps rising. Will, our cemetary plots are right next to Mom's and Dad's graves, and we've arrived at the door to old age.
In addition to that, extended family issues have heightened my sense of inner conflict and external conflict, creating a vice-like effect that makes my intelligence feel an empty tin can, crushed into nothingness inside m brain, and I'm in a quandry as to how to relieve my angst about that. I just can't organize my mind to think smart.
Having placed all of this on the table, I believe my spirit is sagging under the fearful weight of this fourth stage of life. You know the drill: Pay attention to your body's distress signals—shallow breathing, mental confusion, stomach in a knot, loss of appetite. If thoughts of old age are scaring me half to death then a mind set as stressful as that is in need of change, so I can integrate this fourth stage of life with those that came before.
Before you dive into this post, please note that the river is swirling, suggesting this train of thought may need serious editing …
Yesterday, my first Mother's Day since Mom's death, proved exceptionally painful for me. For days, thoughts of going to the cemetary flooded my mind with confusion. Sadness I understood, but why confusion … and dread?
I also wondered why my spirit didn't sag on the first Father's Day after Dad's passing until this insight hit: At that earlier time, denial kept my spirit afloat in support of Mom.
Thirteen years ago, I didn't understand much about denial. And I knew nothing of intution tunneling toward insight in hopes of exposing fear, repressed in subconscious pockets of my mind. In hindsight, denial sustained my spirit for two years after Dad's death—and then something changed—a story for another time …
Getting back to yesterday, insight hit right before we left for the cemetary. Though Will kept saying: Annie, you don't have to go, intuition told me otherwise: Will, if I don't go, this feeling of dread will increase. I don't want my spirit to get stuck in a place that feels as scary as this.
At that point, insight hit; my head swam; my knees buckled; and I had to sit down. Will, I said, I think any thought of standing at the foot of Mom's grave is forcing me to absorb the reality of her death. (During the week of Mom's passing, we'd been surrounded by loved ones; our time at the cemetary felt surreal, and denial kept reality from impacting with a whollop.)
Oh my gosh—it's possible that I didn't fully absorb Dad's death till now, because I was so focused on taking care of Mom until extenuating circumstances caused my spirit to crash, bigtime. Will, that same reaction (my spirit crashing) grabbed me by surprise when your cancer surgery drew near.
The fact that the root of such debilitating fear remained unidentified for years after Dad's passing and for several weeks preceding and following your surgery makes me question whether my subconscious pattern of PTSD (unprocessed childhood terror) has been weighing heavy on my mind since Passover. If that's true, I need to figure out which unprocessed detail, associated with trauma, may be affecting my state of mind, today, so my spirit won't sink in quicksand, over long.
Though I'd consciously feared the death of loved ones, which is not uncommon, I'd believed myself unafraid of my death. (What's so scary about going to sleep and not waking up? I won't be here to know when that happens.) Maybe denial is blinding me to a truth too scary to face, again. Maybe I've feared disappearing into nothingness as quickly and mysteriously as my Grandpa and Janet did, several weeks apart. If that's true then I've been living in fear of dying, every day, since I was three.
I've read that after the loss of the surviving parent, a heightened awareness concerning both deaths can overwhelm the mind. What if, over these past two months an intuitive sense of this fourth stage of life has been percolating subconsciously, filtering drops of fear through cracks in my wall of denial until my conscious mind got to feeling soaked, through and through, with thoughts of my death, and the closer we got to going to the cemetary on Mother's Day, the more my spirit sagged under the weight of my mind swimming through quicksand, again.
It seems that recently, everytime we go to dinner with family and friends, conversations run rampant with talk of heart attacks and cancer, and as your next psa test is tomorrow, my fear factor keeps rising. Will, our cemetary plots are right next to Mom's and Dad's graves, and we've arrived at the door to old age.
In addition to that, extended family issues have heightened my sense of inner conflict and external conflict, creating a vice-like effect that makes my intelligence feel an empty tin can, crushed into nothingness inside m brain, and I'm in a quandry as to how to relieve my angst about that. I just can't organize my mind to think smart.
Having placed all of this on the table, I believe my spirit is sagging under the fearful weight of this fourth stage of life. You know the drill: Pay attention to your body's distress signals—shallow breathing, mental confusion, stomach in a knot, loss of appetite. If thoughts of old age are scaring me half to death then a mind set as stressful as that is in need of change, so I can integrate this fourth stage of life with those that came before.
I mean, if we were nourished by breakfast, lunch and dinner then I don't want to deny myself dessert at the end of the day. And if I prove so fortunate as to celebrate as many birthdays as my mom, it makes no sense to live running scared for the next thirty years!
Thirteen years ago, before I'd sought to deepen my understanding of subconscious fear, my defense system employed denial to protect my conscious mind from harsh realities, automatically. Hindsight suggests that my 'choice' to create and exist within an 'altered world' of my own has been in need of change since I was three.
Thirteen years ago, before I'd sought to deepen my understanding of subconscious fear, my defense system employed denial to protect my conscious mind from harsh realities, automatically. Hindsight suggests that my 'choice' to create and exist within an 'altered world' of my own has been in need of change since I was three.
Today, my defense system can only fool my intelligence, briefly, for this reason: Intuition signals my mind to search for insight, which shines its spotlight on repressed emotion weighing heavy on my spirit, suggesting that I've made significant headway toward exuming unprocessed fear each time I engage in a session of EMDR.
Each time intuition drives my conscious mind to tunnel subconsciously toward naming a specific fear that's been scaring my intelligence senseless, insight spotlights one of two dark spots, repeatedly. And as my understanding, concerning the effects of PTSD continue to deepen, dark clouds of confusion vaporize more readily than before.
Though tunneling into my subconscious proves vital to my well being, working to reprocess each layer of self protective defensiveness is such an energy drain that my conscious mind exhausts. Thus my need to dive, reprocess, rest up and coast before intuition drives me to dive, yet again.
If asked why I choose to dive, repeatedly, I'd reply: Each time a new insight lights up, concerning the ways that this pair of interrelated traumas continue to harass my sense of inner peace, today, my conscious mind tunnels from a place of darkness, heavy with dread, toward the bright light of day, where positive focus awaits my return, more quickly than ever before. And though it's true that I've experienced more downs than ups during these past thirteen years since Dad's sudden death altered our family dynamics in unforeseen ways that blew my mind, intuition (my sixth sense) continues to guide me to believe that there's method to my madness, which makes more sense with each forward step I take toward exhuming and defusing subconscious fears that had detoured my innate potential to develop and absorb fully baked, inner strengths, which prove to be mine, at long last.
Presently, while the solid structure of each negatively focused mindset is undergoing reconstruction, I am charged with tolerating the tension that mindful renovation demands.
As mindful renovation requires my full attention, my instinct to create a cocoon so that each step of metamorphosis can take place free of interruption proves critical for this reason: It's far from easy to tolerate this build up of tension associated with that metaphor where iron ore (raw vulnerability) must endure the intense pressure that produces a 'melt down' effect inside my mind while a negatively focused belief is reprocessing, layer by layer, toward developing into a brand new, positively focused strength, fortified with the endurance of steel. In order to endure this build up of tension, I seek solitude and rely upon THE LINE OF CONTROL.
Each time positive focus replaces another unprocessed, negatively focused childhood fear, my spirit refuels, energizing my intelligence to muster the courage to go toe to toe with some unprocessed aspect of reality, which my defense system had repressed, thus subconsciously burying a sense of terror, which would have overwhelmed me at the impressionable age of three. When terror remains in an unprocessed state, PTSD results.
Each time I gain a deeper sense of insight into the subconscious chain of events which proves necessary to produce lasting change for the better, another layer of self protection bites the dust; subconscious flood gates open and repressed emotion, processing through the conscious portion of my mind, is stored in a rebalanced state.
Though everyone does not experience flashbacks as devastating as those associated with PTSD, no one leaves childhood unscathed. With that thought in mind, it's vital to note that subconscious flashbacks, which flood our minds with foggy static, disrupt the agiity of our brainwaves ability to problem solve sensibly and respectfully on the spot.
BTW, you might like to know that it's not necessary to understand the steps which lead toward lasting change for the better, described above. In truth, I outlined that description for myself, because the intricacy of the human brain facinates me.
If you ask why you don't need to understand each step, I'd reply: Mother Nature hardwired your Neo cortex and mine to advance through those steps, autonomically. On the other hand, understanding the gymnastics that take place inside my head heightens my ability to grow less defensive, more emotionally mature, more quickly than if I had no clue that those gymnastics are taking place, not just while I'm awake, but while my conscious mind is asleep. And let me tell you this—no, wait—rather than telling, let me ask you this: Which inner strength do you think is the most difficult to develop?
Thank goodness, David flew in for the weekend. His loving presence on Mother's Day bolstered my spirit and Will's, too.
Thank goodness a cousin's birthday party saw our family celebrating with extended family, who embraced us with love, Saturday night.
Thank goodness, I chose to go where my mind and spirit felt temporarily buoyed by love rather than remaining cocooned, where my brain had felt squeezed inside that vice made of inner conflict and external conflict, peppered with unnamed dread.
Thank goodness, Will and David accompanied me to the cemetary, yesterday morning, where the floodgates came down and repressed sorrow rode out of my subconscious on shudders of anguished tears.
Thank goodness David, who did not expect a show of strength when my mind and spirit felt utterly bereft said: Mom—this is the first Mother's Day since your mom died; of course, you feel this way. Just rest easy.
I don't want to be a downer. We had plans for a movie and dinner with Steven and Celina. On the other hand, I felt the need to conserve what little energy I had left.
There's sound reason when my instinct to cocoon arises. My instinct to cocoon suggests that my subconscious 'believes' my intelligence is ready to reprocess and digest another slice of troubling information that proves vital to re-establishing the sense of peaceful equilibrium, which has been in need of restructuring over most of my life. So I face this choice: Take care of others, today, or myself? When I choose to take care of myself, I feel selfish. Unlovable. Why is that true? Who did that anger, once upon a time?
I decide to listen to my mind, body and spirit: Let's call Celina and Steven and change our plans. Relaxing at home with my family is not to be confused with cocooning alone. For goodness sake, it's Mother's Day—and I'm in need of down time.
If you ask why Mother Nature empowered the human defense system to render our thought processors dysfunctional, I'd reply: Rendering the human species dysfunctional is not her long term plan. Evolution is a very slow forward moving process, and the evolving development of the Neo cortex is still in the process of gaining control over lower animal instincts—fight, flee, freeze.
Each time intuition drives my conscious mind to tunnel subconsciously toward naming a specific fear that's been scaring my intelligence senseless, insight spotlights one of two dark spots, repeatedly. And as my understanding, concerning the effects of PTSD continue to deepen, dark clouds of confusion vaporize more readily than before.
Though tunneling into my subconscious proves vital to my well being, working to reprocess each layer of self protective defensiveness is such an energy drain that my conscious mind exhausts. Thus my need to dive, reprocess, rest up and coast before intuition drives me to dive, yet again.
If asked why I choose to dive, repeatedly, I'd reply: Each time a new insight lights up, concerning the ways that this pair of interrelated traumas continue to harass my sense of inner peace, today, my conscious mind tunnels from a place of darkness, heavy with dread, toward the bright light of day, where positive focus awaits my return, more quickly than ever before. And though it's true that I've experienced more downs than ups during these past thirteen years since Dad's sudden death altered our family dynamics in unforeseen ways that blew my mind, intuition (my sixth sense) continues to guide me to believe that there's method to my madness, which makes more sense with each forward step I take toward exhuming and defusing subconscious fears that had detoured my innate potential to develop and absorb fully baked, inner strengths, which prove to be mine, at long last.
Presently, while the solid structure of each negatively focused mindset is undergoing reconstruction, I am charged with tolerating the tension that mindful renovation demands.
As mindful renovation requires my full attention, my instinct to create a cocoon so that each step of metamorphosis can take place free of interruption proves critical for this reason: It's far from easy to tolerate this build up of tension associated with that metaphor where iron ore (raw vulnerability) must endure the intense pressure that produces a 'melt down' effect inside my mind while a negatively focused belief is reprocessing, layer by layer, toward developing into a brand new, positively focused strength, fortified with the endurance of steel. In order to endure this build up of tension, I seek solitude and rely upon THE LINE OF CONTROL.
Each time positive focus replaces another unprocessed, negatively focused childhood fear, my spirit refuels, energizing my intelligence to muster the courage to go toe to toe with some unprocessed aspect of reality, which my defense system had repressed, thus subconsciously burying a sense of terror, which would have overwhelmed me at the impressionable age of three. When terror remains in an unprocessed state, PTSD results.
Each time I gain a deeper sense of insight into the subconscious chain of events which proves necessary to produce lasting change for the better, another layer of self protection bites the dust; subconscious flood gates open and repressed emotion, processing through the conscious portion of my mind, is stored in a rebalanced state.
BTW, you might like to know that it's not necessary to understand the steps which lead toward lasting change for the better, described above. In truth, I outlined that description for myself, because the intricacy of the human brain facinates me.
If you ask why you don't need to understand each step, I'd reply: Mother Nature hardwired your Neo cortex and mine to advance through those steps, autonomically. On the other hand, understanding the gymnastics that take place inside my head heightens my ability to grow less defensive, more emotionally mature, more quickly than if I had no clue that those gymnastics are taking place, not just while I'm awake, but while my conscious mind is asleep. And let me tell you this—no, wait—rather than telling, let me ask you this: Which inner strength do you think is the most difficult to develop?
Thank goodness, David flew in for the weekend. His loving presence on Mother's Day bolstered my spirit and Will's, too.
Thank goodness a cousin's birthday party saw our family celebrating with extended family, who embraced us with love, Saturday night.
Thank goodness, I chose to go where my mind and spirit felt temporarily buoyed by love rather than remaining cocooned, where my brain had felt squeezed inside that vice made of inner conflict and external conflict, peppered with unnamed dread.
Thank goodness, Will and David accompanied me to the cemetary, yesterday morning, where the floodgates came down and repressed sorrow rode out of my subconscious on shudders of anguished tears.
Thank goodness David, who did not expect a show of strength when my mind and spirit felt utterly bereft said: Mom—this is the first Mother's Day since your mom died; of course, you feel this way. Just rest easy.
I don't want to be a downer. We had plans for a movie and dinner with Steven and Celina. On the other hand, I felt the need to conserve what little energy I had left.
There's sound reason when my instinct to cocoon arises. My instinct to cocoon suggests that my subconscious 'believes' my intelligence is ready to reprocess and digest another slice of troubling information that proves vital to re-establishing the sense of peaceful equilibrium, which has been in need of restructuring over most of my life. So I face this choice: Take care of others, today, or myself? When I choose to take care of myself, I feel selfish. Unlovable. Why is that true? Who did that anger, once upon a time?
I decide to listen to my mind, body and spirit: Let's call Celina and Steven and change our plans. Relaxing at home with my family is not to be confused with cocooning alone. For goodness sake, it's Mother's Day—and I'm in need of down time.
If you ask why Mother Nature empowered the human defense system to render our thought processors dysfunctional, I'd reply: Rendering the human species dysfunctional is not her long term plan. Evolution is a very slow forward moving process, and the evolving development of the Neo cortex is still in the process of gaining control over lower animal instincts—fight, flee, freeze.
Then, I'd add this factor, which complicates matters even more:
Creative thinking over-achievers, who tend to hold themselves responsible for pulling society's entire bell-shaped curve forward on the historical timeline are in need of developing a lion's share of inner strengths for this reason:
Whereas the impressionable minds of children prove as easy to remold and imprint as silly putty, adult thinking patterns are deeply imprinted, short-sighted and solidified, causing established mindsets to resist any change that requires depth perception and far-sightedness.
When the dynamic duo of inner conflict and external conflict fight for dominance inside my mind, overlong, anxiety erodes the foundation of self trust upon which my self confidence relies. Thank goodness, I've learned that high self esteem does not give up while swimming through quicksand.
At those times when I feel like throwing in the towel and going down for the third time, I seek out professional guides, trained in EMDR, who stand on the shore, tossing me a tow rope, which I have to catch onto in order to pull myself out of emotional quicksand each time one of two unprocessed traumas emerges from it's subconscious unprocessed state.
Every time an unexpected situation signals unprocessed terror to arise, the portion of my brain, traumatized at the age of three, signals my defensive system to flood my brain with adrenalin, which drowns my intelligence—again.
Ever since Will's surgery, I've gotten good at recognizing those times when a post traumatic emotional reaction takes me by surprise. And with recognition, I can wrestle that little blood sucker to the mat. Since knowledge is power and since I know my intelligence can win each next match as it has in the past, I have reason to enjoy my just-desserts, repeatedly.
Nothing that's alive stays the same.
Everything grows strong and healthy and thrives or
Weakens, shrinks up and dies
Relationships are living things
You don't have to take good care of every relationship
Just the ones you value enough to keep
The first relationship in need of a tune up is the one I have with myself
Oh! The brain's complexities can be utterly overwhelming!
Each time my defense system floods my thought processor with adrenalin, I lose sight of logic. Rather than calming my mind to ask questions in hopes of gathering pertinent information, my most basic instincts leap to wrong conclusions, which darken the admirable character traits of others—or my own.
Creative thinking over-achievers, who tend to hold themselves responsible for pulling society's entire bell-shaped curve forward on the historical timeline are in need of developing a lion's share of inner strengths for this reason:
Whereas the impressionable minds of children prove as easy to remold and imprint as silly putty, adult thinking patterns are deeply imprinted, short-sighted and solidified, causing established mindsets to resist any change that requires depth perception and far-sightedness.
When the dynamic duo of inner conflict and external conflict fight for dominance inside my mind, overlong, anxiety erodes the foundation of self trust upon which my self confidence relies. Thank goodness, I've learned that high self esteem does not give up while swimming through quicksand.
At those times when I feel like throwing in the towel and going down for the third time, I seek out professional guides, trained in EMDR, who stand on the shore, tossing me a tow rope, which I have to catch onto in order to pull myself out of emotional quicksand each time one of two unprocessed traumas emerges from it's subconscious unprocessed state.
Every time an unexpected situation signals unprocessed terror to arise, the portion of my brain, traumatized at the age of three, signals my defensive system to flood my brain with adrenalin, which drowns my intelligence—again.
Ever since Will's surgery, I've gotten good at recognizing those times when a post traumatic emotional reaction takes me by surprise. And with recognition, I can wrestle that little blood sucker to the mat. Since knowledge is power and since I know my intelligence can win each next match as it has in the past, I have reason to enjoy my just-desserts, repeatedly.
Nothing that's alive stays the same.
Everything grows strong and healthy and thrives or
Weakens, shrinks up and dies
Relationships are living things
You don't have to take good care of every relationship
Just the ones you value enough to keep
The first relationship in need of a tune up is the one I have with myself
Oh! The brain's complexities can be utterly overwhelming!
Each time my defense system floods my thought processor with adrenalin, I lose sight of logic. Rather than calming my mind to ask questions in hopes of gathering pertinent information, my most basic instincts leap to wrong conclusions, which darken the admirable character traits of others—or my own.
When two brains crash head on, suggesting that both are in need of a tune up, conflict resolution grows ever more improbable if the main root of their conflict remains undetected. Eventually growing tension causes separation to loom heavily overhead …
Though we often hear—perception is a person's reality—that does not mean perception lines up with reality (deeper truth). Defensive perceptions tend to jiggle like jello, while the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth stands firm.
Sometimes I find myself saying, out loud:
Message to logical side of brain—I have gained the strength necessary to identify the truth of my deepest fears and unmet needs, so please set me free of self protective denial that tends to last overlong—I can handle the truth!
Then—knowing full well that my brain is not hard wired to release subconscious fear on demand—I laugh at the folly of commanding my ego to slough off layers of self defense, spontaneously. Sloughing each layer of my defensive wall calls upon strengths, such as: Courage to tunnel, again and again—Humility to gather additional knowledge—Mindfulness, patience and another stiff shot of humility if I come to see that my reasoning was full of holes. Lots of inner strengths are necessary to tunnel through defensive walls, which layer up, year after year.
How many layers in all? As many as Mother Nature instructed my ego's fear of failure to amass throughout my lifetime. You see, I can't be true to myself till sessions of EMDR encourage my conscious strengths to strip layers of subconscious denial away, exposing that which I fear most at my core. When subconscious fear is absorbed at the age of three, that suggest lots of layering, right?
My mother learned to fear verbal conflict during childhood, which is why, over most of her life, she chose womanly wiles over voicing her opinions aloud. While watching Mom converse with Grandma and Dad, I'd unwittingly adopted my mother's aversion to open conflict along with many of her traits, most of which prove positive and endearing to this very day. On the other hand, when openly expressing joy, I'm very much my father's child.
Then—knowing full well that my brain is not hard wired to release subconscious fear on demand—I laugh at the folly of commanding my ego to slough off layers of self defense, spontaneously. Sloughing each layer of my defensive wall calls upon strengths, such as: Courage to tunnel, again and again—Humility to gather additional knowledge—Mindfulness, patience and another stiff shot of humility if I come to see that my reasoning was full of holes. Lots of inner strengths are necessary to tunnel through defensive walls, which layer up, year after year.
How many layers in all? As many as Mother Nature instructed my ego's fear of failure to amass throughout my lifetime. You see, I can't be true to myself till sessions of EMDR encourage my conscious strengths to strip layers of subconscious denial away, exposing that which I fear most at my core. When subconscious fear is absorbed at the age of three, that suggest lots of layering, right?
My mother learned to fear verbal conflict during childhood, which is why, over most of her life, she chose womanly wiles over voicing her opinions aloud. While watching Mom converse with Grandma and Dad, I'd unwittingly adopted my mother's aversion to open conflict along with many of her traits, most of which prove positive and endearing to this very day. On the other hand, when openly expressing joy, I'm very much my father's child.
At this stage of my life, I hope to stir a grass roots movement enticing families to embrace five tools which diffuse power struggles, thus inspiring folks of all ages to converse openly and mutually respectfully toward peaceable conflict resolution.
*If it's true that little monkey see what big monkey do, then little monkey, who feels respected by big monkey, is apt to grow up, reflecting respect, in return.
*Having raised three strong, young men, I strongly suggest that adults who hope to earn their children's respect grow ever more aware of role modeling consistent patterns of self control (ego-control).
*Over most of my life, I was blind to the fact that in order to earn the respect of others, it was necessary to see where I had yet to respect myself.
*If it's true that little monkey see what big monkey do, then little monkey, who feels respected by big monkey, is apt to grow up, reflecting respect, in return.
*Having raised three strong, young men, I strongly suggest that adults who hope to earn their children's respect grow ever more aware of role modeling consistent patterns of self control (ego-control).
*Over most of my life, I was blind to the fact that in order to earn the respect of others, it was necessary to see where I had yet to respect myself.
Today's post, concerning ego control, has been written to highlight my hope that those of you, raising tomorrow's leaders, may see the folly of shoving inner conflict and external conflict under the rug. When push comes to shove, sweeping inner conflict (power struggles between emotion and intelligence) and external conflict (power struggles with others) under the rug is like closing your eyes to brain cancer. Do nothing proactive—watch it get worse.
At times when life seems too bumpy, my spirit feels limp and lumpy, and I want to stamp my foot, like GRUMPY, thank God, I can choose to flip that switch inside my head and make better use of my time and energy searching for insight to spotlight whichever subconscious fear may be gnawing at my ability to balance emotion with logic, today.
Last week, during a session of EMDR, I reprocessed a recent encounter that troubled me deeply. Ever since that session, the intelligent portion of my mind has been proactively reprocessing misperceptions, which had verbally disparaged my best character traits. As these verbal misperceptions tapped into a very scary, unprocessed subconscious memory, I burdened myself with an undeserved guilt trip that cast my spirit into quicksand, again. (A detailed account of that unprocessed subconscious memory will emerge as this story continues to unfold.)
As this post has expressed the fact that EMDR helps me to strip away layers of denial—suggesting my ability to restructure and strengthen vulnerabilities which had injured certain portions of my self esteem at the age of three—I'll place my soap box in time out and resume my story. So, let's see, where were we?
Oh yes—we were observing my mom and dad approaching a fork in the road where the private thoughts of two people, sitting side by side on the front seat of their car, begin to drive in opposite directions—suggesting that while my Dad believes he's the only one in the driver's seat, my mother, who seems acquiecent, is spinning her wheels in another direction in hopes of sidestepping a power struggle in the making …
Needless to say, camaraderie relies upon mutual trust for lasting stability
Needless to say, relationships worsen when trust takes a dive on both sides.
In this case, self trust, holding hands with women's wiles, will win the day …
(Whew! Today's post offered up a train of thought lengthy enough to wrap around the block!)
Last week, during a session of EMDR, I reprocessed a recent encounter that troubled me deeply. Ever since that session, the intelligent portion of my mind has been proactively reprocessing misperceptions, which had verbally disparaged my best character traits. As these verbal misperceptions tapped into a very scary, unprocessed subconscious memory, I burdened myself with an undeserved guilt trip that cast my spirit into quicksand, again. (A detailed account of that unprocessed subconscious memory will emerge as this story continues to unfold.)
As this post has expressed the fact that EMDR helps me to strip away layers of denial—suggesting my ability to restructure and strengthen vulnerabilities which had injured certain portions of my self esteem at the age of three—I'll place my soap box in time out and resume my story. So, let's see, where were we?
Oh yes—we were observing my mom and dad approaching a fork in the road where the private thoughts of two people, sitting side by side on the front seat of their car, begin to drive in opposite directions—suggesting that while my Dad believes he's the only one in the driver's seat, my mother, who seems acquiecent, is spinning her wheels in another direction in hopes of sidestepping a power struggle in the making …
Needless to say, camaraderie relies upon mutual trust for lasting stability
Needless to say, relationships worsen when trust takes a dive on both sides.
In this case, self trust, holding hands with women's wiles, will win the day …
(Whew! Today's post offered up a train of thought lengthy enough to wrap around the block!)
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