So I had a good day starting to get stuck in. Just getting my hands dirty again.
And in a huge life parallel, there is so much internal work going on for me at the moment. I had a therapy session earlier in the week that left me with PAGES of writing in my journal since I came out of the session.
This exploration is like going to the fairground. I go on the roller coaster, highs and lows, screaming terror on the ghost train and haunted house, but you know it is not real, not really real, but I am feeling exhausted at running through such a gamut of emotions. The therapy session triggered this and I’ve experienced these emotions just sitting quietly on my bed journalling! For fuck’s sake!
I have always had a very vivid imagination and over react to everything.
What’s this all about? Well she talked about trans generational trauma. I kind of recognised this from some reading I had done, but in a nutshell, my biggest fear from childhood has been of turning into my mother, and in that therapy session I WAS MY BLOODY MOTHER!!!.
But actually, facing and dealing with one’s worst fear takes the teeth out of it. It is actually a hopeful process (something which I am reminding myself of, over and over!)
So here it is, there is a part of me, that hyper sensitive child, that has absorbed a version of my mother’s huge trauma and although I resolutely tried to bury it deep, now it is bobbing to the surface to be dealt with. All my life, from childhood on, I have wanted to “fix” my mother, mend her and I never managed to get anywhere near to it. But now, after her death, is my chance to fix that part of her that exists in me. It is like the ghost train at the fair ground, it is not actually real, even though I am screaming in terror, the train will emerge from the ride, into the sunlight. And I can get on that train and go round again, and again, to put those terrors to rest if need be.
I’m feeling a huge compassion and sadness for my mother, the trauma she suffered and the long term effects of that trauma. If she had been born in a different era she could have had extensive therapy, a week’s group work where she was embraced and reaffirmed, maybe a rebirthing experience in California followed up with psychedelic drugs in a yurt in South America??? It was never within my powers or responsibility to fix her.
I’m looking on my therapy sessions as great research for Zine 6.
I just wish I didn’t have to get on that bloody ghost train to do it!