rain and wind - storms without as well.
Yesterday was therapy and art therapy, me tired. Yet, for the first time, I think I finally succeeded in grounding myself, bless my little feet of cocktail sausage toes for their infinite wisdom. They are my advance scouts (is that redundant?). It was soooo slow, the movement and it moved throughout my body, this slow, settling calm. Unreal and, finally, real. How quiet, lovely.
And we laughed and caught the moments whenever I went to my standby, my head, forever the explainer of all things (known or unknown so it would seem) and this was very good practice of being present. Then it was on to the art therapy (insert dramatic music).
Painting, to Enya (she [art therapist] had my favourite CD of Enya). Now I usually am too distracted by music to really connect to making art, but I went for it, I guess the word for yesterday was "Try" (and thank you dear old friend CH for your message: "If you don't know what to do, do something, see what happens". So I did, almost 3 hours of talking, painting then dialogue with what I had painted. Skeptical, quasi-detached then fully committed and connected, it was a moving and helpful experience. She helped me identify when the creative "block" happened, and at first I didn't know, but now I do, I was in full flow and then felt the world slammed shut in my face and the message I heard was "We don't want you". Sadly, a familiar message, harsh and powerful, felt like truth. No one said this, what they said had nothing to do with me, I know that in my head, yet my little sweet self who only wants to be loved despite her/my strangeness, decoded "you do NOT belong". Yessirree, that there's a block.
So there is movement. Despite my jadedness, it did feel good to talk to the paintings and see what I had inadvertently made, there was a glorious yellow bird (well, pterodactyl) soaring, there was a recumbent (yes, super-chill) dragon helping me understand the possibilities and limits of fire, and some walls and a sweet little turtle swimming in joy. It was all me, all of them, all with messages and encouragement and reassurance and support, yet all from me. Glorious indeed. Thank you L.
Then this weekend I am going to a friends to maybe make music, but at least talk art. So feeling most fortunate.
Music and Art are crucial for my survival and sur-thrival (ok, made that one up)
Post from 2011 - Who am I if I'm not suicidal? What is life like? Where am I uncomfortable because I'm not suicidal? It feels anxiously flat, a nervous nothingness So I feel ...
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