A specific reason kept me from penning a new post over these past several days, and I'll reveal a more detailed account of what happened once we fly home from the west coast, which is where Will and I have been ever since David, whose personal strengths had reason to reach the end of his rope, called for help, ASAP, spurring us to pack up in readiness to fly out and be of help, just after sunrise the next morning ...
BTW ... As David's current predicament has remained unresolved over these last six months, that fact offered me reason to review and edit my last post, which had p, originally been penned and published before we, receiving our son's SOS, flew to his side ...
At this moment, while I'm filling you in about my absence, Will is ubering from our hotel to David's apartment to pick up and accompany our youngest son to his Orthopaedic appointment ... As for me, I'm about to stop writing in favor of going down for breakfast, because of this change for the better within me: Now that my engagement with EMDR therapy coaxed my subconscious to reveal my unidentified fear of sudden death (a loved one's or my own) the depth of my sensitivity to empathize with the pain of others to such an overactive degree as to have been unhealthy for me has rebalanced, which is why I feel a deep sense of compassion for David's pain without feeling so utterly enmeshed as to absorb his pain as my own, and with that change for the better came more: With conscious awareness of my ability to differentiate David's pain from my own, my subconscious mind did not arouse my primary, unidentified source of anxiety-producing terror, which had been based in the fact that I was too young to process my reaction to my beloved grandpa's and baby sister's unexpected deaths, both of which had stunned my entire family, several weeks apart, and each time that fear felt subconscious reason to manifest itself in its unprocessed state within my conscious mind, I felt the same degree of us healed, traumatized terror arise, which in the past had depressed my appetite so profoundly as to have caused pounds to drop off my body as fast as the flash of a frown had struck me as senseless as a flash of lightening might burn my brain's natural connection to logic to a crisp with such spontaneity as to have catalyzed my anxiety to spike as though another healthy loved one had just been discovered dead, and as long as this remained my subconscious pattern. An unidentified threat to my personal sense of safety would alert my adrenal glands to flood my body with so much adrenalin as to have released episodes of PTSD, because this series of automatic, mental gymnastics had become hard wired into my brain as a result of Janet's sudden, tragic death when I was three ... (No wonder why my intuition, which led me to read everything I could find about effective family communications, felt need to inspire my intelligence to team up with creativity to conjure up The Line of Control, so that I could empower myself to role model logical solution seeking skills while raising my sons). And thus do I give thanks for recent sessions of EMDR therapy, which saw my therapist coaching my sense of readiness to work toward healing that traumatized portion of my brain, and here's how I know that self assessment to be true: Throughout this past week, my overactive sensitivity to empathetic reactiveness did not spike so high as to absorb David's pain as my own as had been true in the past, and resultant of that fact, my think tank's sense of solution-seeking logic remained as clear, calm and skillful as is true when the brain's well-balanced, problem-solving attitude reigns supreme, quelling anxiety, which rising to limbic levels, would have high jacked my positively focused attitude, suggesting that my well practiced line of self control was not high jacked by a sudden spike of subconscious fear, which would have happened if the automatic arousal of an unhealed trauma had zapped my think tank with this version of yeateryear's taumatized misperceptive self assessment: If I can not heal my loved one's pain, I must consider myself as useless and as worthless as I'd felt at the age of three, when my parents long-lasting frowns terrified my undeveloped sense of personal security. As not one haunting hint of that subconscious fear had felt aroused during these past few days ... Well ... when I have time to write more, I'll fill you in on why I'd felt empowered to help David confront a subconscious fear that had began to attack the sum of his personal strengths, which had experienced sound reason to exhaust, over these past six months ... As for now, the grumbling rumbling within my tummy insists tis time to make my way to the dining room before the hotel stops serving breakfast ...
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