I am taking an 8 week lecture course based on the book “The Artist’s Way”. The homework this first week was to start “Morning Pages”, take myself on a date and to read through chapter 1. There is a review of the basics; the morning pages and the date, then chapter one which challenges the reader to create affirmation statements, explore your life in 5 year increments, and turn your inner critiques into affirmation statements. They said this could lead to some emotional turmoil while you learn to set free your “inner child”. I am making this sound horrible and very simplistic, as there is way more to this than what I have so very briefly summarized here.
This past week I have felt on the verge of tears. Not fall apart, need help holding all my pieces together tears. You know those whole body convulsing, grief wracked tears that drain everything through your eyes, nose and mouth. More, I am so sad tears. Sad for my loss. You know those quiet moments when it all of sudden hits you that you can no longer talk to or see a person you loved dearly because they are dead tears? The ones that sneak up on you when you’re remembering all the fun you used to have and the memories drip down your face. Those kinds of tears. The ones that remind you, you are still not quite done mourning.
My inner critic rages, it yells and screams “that it will never be the same again!” as these tears silently sneak up on me. I calmly ask my critic, “What is ‘it'”? It yells again, “The boobs! The boobs will never be the same.”
“Well yes,” I reply, “we knew they would not be the same.”
“They are ugly!” it hollers.
“They are different, not necessarily ugly. Not the same and sure they don’t match, but does it really matter?”
“Of course it matters!” that critic says. “Who will love you with mismatched boobs? Who will want to touch you with one saggy right boob and one oddly shaped left boob? Who tell me, who?”
As the tears slowly swell out of my eyes, I tell that critic, with my breath starting to hitch in my throat, and a calm I feel slowly trying to take over, coming up from the very depths of my soul “Everyone”. This sounds like a beautiful voice in my head. The voice of a mother soothing a fretful child. A voice filled with love and patience. A soft voice, one that in its silence overwhelms all critics, all anger, all hate. A voice that can withstand all evil and triumph. A God voice. A quiet still voice that lets the tears slowly seep from my eyes knowing it will be OK.
The critic in my brain is harsh, angry, and mean. It says, “You don’t even let your husband hold you, you know he is repulsed by all of this. He is ashamed of your fat and bloated body and doesn’t want to touch you. You are out of proportion now, no matter what you do, you will always be out of proportion. Your breasts will never be the same ratio to the rest of you. You exercise and lose weight, they will get smaller too. It will never get better.” These words burn through my brain, hot, singeing my neural connections, hurtful and edgy, trying to cut the calm the other voice has provided. They make my gut clench, my breath stop in my throat, like it doesn’t know where to go – in or out. It continues, “And even if you wanted him to hold you he couldn’t because you are always so hot. The minute he puts his arms around you, you start sweating and it just makes both of you uncomfortable. Why would you even try to gain comfort from him?”
My inner child responds in a tiny voice, a scared voice, one that is timid; “He holds my hand anytime I need him, and even when I don’t. He shows how much he loves me in so many ways. Just this morning he spent hours searching out images and cleaning them up for me for a project I am working on. If I need a cuddle, he would cuddle with me, even if we do get hot. All I have to do is ask.” As these words pour through my brain I feel that child voice getting stronger, braver, and secure in the rightness of these words swirling in my head.
There are so many other things this critic tries to tell me, but I shut it down. I can only do so much at a time or it will overwhelm. I am allowed to work on one thing at a time. I have decided I am going to address my exercise issue. How I have such a hard time sticking with exercise. I want to feel strong and fit. Plus if I am strong and fit, it doesn’t matter what my boobs look like. The rest of me will be sculpted and beautiful. So these are the affirmations I am working on, and I know my hands and feet currently limit my physical activity, but I am working on that as well. I have the referral for the neurologist. I will call the office next week and schedule that appointment.
In the mean time I am taking the gabapetin, which is a drug that can help with neuropathy pain. I am working on sleeping better using melatonin in conjunction with the gabapetin (gabapetin makes you sleepy). I can sit on my exercise ball and do some core work without putting too much pressure on my feet. I am working on my spiritual self, not just with the lecture series, but within my own meditations and separate writings to explore my feelings and where I now fit in this universe. I am praying and concentrating my energies on my healing, all my healing not just physical.
And I know how loved I am. I am told every day. I am reminded every day. My inner critic may be using this time to try and take over, to take me to a dark, bleak place that I have not been in many, many years, but I have the tools I have used over the years, and I know how to search out new ones as I need them. Hence the lecture series.
Yes, my breasts have changed, and there will probably be more changes in the near future once I am able to start radiation therapy, and I am still mourning those changes, but I am also working on healing my heart and soul over these changes. Hubby is here with me, helping me every step of the way. He is my cheering section, my coach, my shoulder to cry on, my anchor. When I need a gentle reminder, he is there. When I need a swift kick in the rear reminder, he is there. When I need a shoulder, he is there. When I just need a hand to hold, he is there. And when I need to be on my own, he understands and is there waiting for me when I get back.
So I let those silent tears come, let them slowly build then spill over the rim of my eyes to leisurely roll down my face, taking with them the painful jabs my inner critic hurls at me, and I can start again reminding myself there is an end and it will be beautiful, even if I can’t see it yet.
On a lighter side, we had The Grandson with us for a few hours last night. He likes feeding the ducks, so I researched the best foods for wild water fowl, and bought a mixture of organic grains and raw vegetables they can eat and made a duck food mixture with oats, millet, sprouted wheat, peas, corn and lettuce. Of course The Grandson was all for going to the park and feeding the ducks and geese, and or course playing at the playground.
We also gave him the choice of what to get for dinner. He chose to pick up pizza and eat while watching “Coco”. While driving to the pizza parlor to order our pies, he changed his mind from “Coco” to “Wall-E”. On the way home that changed to “Up”. Once we were home and setting up our plates of pizza and getting the trays set up to put plates on so we could eat, he changed his mind one more to “How to Train Your Dragon 2”. So we all sat on the sofa, eating pizza and watching Dragons 2. I still love the scene where Stoic slowly walks up to Valka and as he caresses her face he says “You’re as beautiful as the day I lost you.” Gulp, OMG, brings tears to my eyes. I am loved like that.
Life is not listening to the inner critic