![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
BlogSpot Entry
May. 15th, 2002 10:42 amWednesday, May 15, 2002
Well, I had a very good therapy session today (well, techically, yesterday). I actually cried. A lot. And screamed. When I had calmed down a bit, she asked me how I felt. I said I felt out of control. She was extremely pleased with that. My psychological training understands that, but I just can't fathom it. This is GOOD? I know it is intellectually, but the part of me that's learned so well to control everything is looking over her shoulder with scared eyes for the feelings police. Followed closely by the thought and action police, of course.
I talked about that meditation. She didn't really comment on it.
I said something in the car on the way home, but I can't quite remember it, and Glenn can't either. It was something like (warning, heavy paraphrasing ahead - and it sounded so PRETTY the way I put it the first time, I'm sure of it) thinking I needed to lose it like that more often. That isn't right. I know it's not. I was being sort of overwhelmed by the experience. And I remember saying that I wanted to not lose the childlike wonder I'd kept all these years. And something else... the thing I can't think of. And I remember being sort of filled with a scared awe. Like I had just done something wonderful, and part of me knew it was wonderful, but my Mask couldn't quite get it, so it was trying to assimilate it, with that same sort of sense of wonder I described before. And I know I was thinking something along the lines of having to do something, even though it felt foreign to me, because part of me knew it was so GOOD. And I was trying to assimilate those thoughts, and I heard cheering in my head. I looked, and listened closer, and it was her - the Wounded Child, whom I've taken to calling the Little Girl.
And Glenn said something beautiful, which I'm going to paraphrase (I think) because I don't feel like getting up to get the Palm Pilot. He said that he believed that when the Wounded Child stops hurting, it grows up into the Higher Self. I thought that was wonderful and wise.
Anyway, things aren't perfect, but I'm really happy there was this breakthrough.
In more mundane news, we are leasing a new apartment... the rents will overlap for a while, but this new place is SOOO nice, and shitloads of amenities. I'm thinking about setting up an altar there for the Little Girl. Maybe little toys, books... change 'em out periodically, and give the older ones to charity or something. (She's pouting at that - I remember when my mother took one of my favorite dresses for charity once.) Well, anyway, something.
I'm going to go to bed now, get a good night's sleep, and wake up in the morning and clean my house. It's long overdue.
--K'La
Well, I had a very good therapy session today (well, techically, yesterday). I actually cried. A lot. And screamed. When I had calmed down a bit, she asked me how I felt. I said I felt out of control. She was extremely pleased with that. My psychological training understands that, but I just can't fathom it. This is GOOD? I know it is intellectually, but the part of me that's learned so well to control everything is looking over her shoulder with scared eyes for the feelings police. Followed closely by the thought and action police, of course.
I talked about that meditation. She didn't really comment on it.
I said something in the car on the way home, but I can't quite remember it, and Glenn can't either. It was something like (warning, heavy paraphrasing ahead - and it sounded so PRETTY the way I put it the first time, I'm sure of it) thinking I needed to lose it like that more often. That isn't right. I know it's not. I was being sort of overwhelmed by the experience. And I remember saying that I wanted to not lose the childlike wonder I'd kept all these years. And something else... the thing I can't think of. And I remember being sort of filled with a scared awe. Like I had just done something wonderful, and part of me knew it was wonderful, but my Mask couldn't quite get it, so it was trying to assimilate it, with that same sort of sense of wonder I described before. And I know I was thinking something along the lines of having to do something, even though it felt foreign to me, because part of me knew it was so GOOD. And I was trying to assimilate those thoughts, and I heard cheering in my head. I looked, and listened closer, and it was her - the Wounded Child, whom I've taken to calling the Little Girl.
And Glenn said something beautiful, which I'm going to paraphrase (I think) because I don't feel like getting up to get the Palm Pilot. He said that he believed that when the Wounded Child stops hurting, it grows up into the Higher Self. I thought that was wonderful and wise.
Anyway, things aren't perfect, but I'm really happy there was this breakthrough.
In more mundane news, we are leasing a new apartment... the rents will overlap for a while, but this new place is SOOO nice, and shitloads of amenities. I'm thinking about setting up an altar there for the Little Girl. Maybe little toys, books... change 'em out periodically, and give the older ones to charity or something. (She's pouting at that - I remember when my mother took one of my favorite dresses for charity once.) Well, anyway, something.
I'm going to go to bed now, get a good night's sleep, and wake up in the morning and clean my house. It's long overdue.
--K'La
