I’m embarking on a journey and I’m pretty excited! A journey into my soul. A journey to let my light shine out, bright – blindingly bright! I know it’s there, I feel it in my bones, so everyone better go get their sunglasses!
Writing It Out
I love to write and I intuitively wrote all my heartache out during the lockdown years, I suffered a devastating betrayal that led to divorce just before covid hit. I’d say ‘being set free’ is a better name for it, set free from the utter misery that was taking care of, what Sven would accurately call, an ‘extreme taker’. I promised myself then to continue in life only living in truth. Never again be blindsided, recognising I was implicit in my own blindsiding back then.
A few years on, and some new and some re-taught life lessons on, as part of that promise, I’m now embarking on a journey with Sven, the badass counsellor himself. I discovered Sven randomly on social media. Though is it ever random when a soul-teacher pops up in your life? No, I don’t believe so, having listened to the great teacher and intellect that is the incredible Martha Beck, author of ‘The Way of Integrity’. I enjoyed and resonated with Sven’s no bullshit, in-your-face, give-it-to-em-straight approach. It’s fairly natural that would resonate with an antipodean. I also think Sven’s teachings are accessible to everyone, he communicates complex truths in a super simple and attainable way. That’s a unique and special gift, so who am I to kick a gift horse in the mouth, I bought the book, ‘There’s a Whole in My Love Cup’ by Sven E Erlandson.
I knew from watching Sven’s videos that there’d be journaling involved to “flush out” (love that! being a clean-freak Virgo I’m super attracted to something that sounds like cleaning). so for the first time in my life, I’ve started journaling with the guidance of Sven’s words through his book. That’s led me back to wanting to write, blog-style again, on my experiences with this. I’m not going to write up Sven’s guidance and wisdom, get your own book – that wouldn’t be fair, that’s for him to tell. I’m currently his student and I’m simply going to tell my story, living this journey.
Day One
This morning I was grateful for the time I had to enjoy a slow morning start by reading and journaling from bed, surrounded by my beloved dogs. At first, I found it hard to even think of an answer to the first journaling question but the later, meatier stuff was easier. By the time I’d gotten just a few pages into (page 10) reading, my mind was fully blown with some significant home truths. I’ve always felt the truth, the real truth has a certain tone to it and you instinctively know it – it was those kinds of truths. It gave me ‘Fuck Yeah!’ moments that I was so pumped about I had to run next door and share these amazing insights.
Later on, I read about why people don’t face their truth and what we’re all yearning for in life. Some of the grittier roads people take I didn’t recognise for myself but I sure recognised it for my most recent ex. His DNA was all over those roads, he traveled them down and down carrying enormous pain from his childhood. I’ve listened to all that pain, let him cry for hours in my arms until he was spent, so I know the pain in him intimately. I knew then, intuitively, that the darkness in him wasn’t his, I used to say, “If only you could feel the beauty and gentleness of your true soul nature”, like I could feel it through my hands when they lay on his belly. Having studied and read a lot of books himself, he’d say, “I know, it’s learned behaviour”. Many people have had difficult childhoods but when I say his was bad, it was BAD, like really, really ugly bad and he carries it around. The wounds and pain run deep and spill out in anger, violence, sadness, and self-medicating addiction. Eventually, his self-loathing took him on a tailspin of self-destruction and he became dangerous to be around – so I left, I left and saved myself. He had said once, “Part of me wishes you’d leave and save yourself.”
It’s All About Me
Reading the book, I thought to myself, this would do my ex so much good and he’d love the macho alpha male delivery style, and I thought about posting him a copy…. Then I reminded myself that this is about me learning to stop trying to save and heal other people and start saving and healing myself. And I need to heal from the damn trauma that traumatised man put me through!
At lunch with an old friend yesterday, she said to me, “You’ve always been such a healer, but you don’t understand some people’s shit is just too entrenched”. I hadn’t gone about thinking of myself this way, it was interesting to hear someone who knows me well view. She’s right, I’ve always had a penchant for helping and trying to save others, and I recognise now that it’s got me into a lot of trouble. I’ve learned the hard way that damaged people can damage others. It makes me feel sad admitting that but it does make sense when I think I’d already believed healed people can heal others, I’ll caveat that with – only if they want to and are prepared to do the work. Maybe I’m naïve, or optimistic, or both, but I like the fact that this teacher Sven also believes anyone can save themselves, if they’re prepared to do the work. I came to this with that base belief, so let’s go! Time to make it about me and do my own work.
What’s the Question?
So, how does a happy, independent, got-her-shit-together, raised-well person with a good brain, emotional intelligence, and a fantastic support network of long-term real soul friends – how does she end up having serious relationships with complex, deeply damaged, not-got-their-shit-together men? That’s the question that started it all and the answer I’m looking to find. I can’t possibly have my shit together as much as I’d like to think now can I, or why would I have ended up in what were ultimately abusive relationships. In those scenarios, yes I was the nicer one, the kinder one, the supportive one, the patient one, the placating talking-you-off-a-cliff one, but I’ve realised now that I wasn’t so nice or kind or supportive – not to myself. Holding hands with giant open-wounds of men was self-harm, that’s what I’ve started to think. I knew the emotional hits I was taking to hold them down, yet I stayed.
I’m proud of myself that the last one I left quickly, well fairly quickly, when he started to become abusive. However, I had seen the potential in him for it to go bad, pretty much from the beginning. There were signs to be optimistic also, we did some healing together, before the wheels came off and it all exploded in my face like tripping a landmine. That part should have been more obvious considering I’d started to tip-toe about like I was walking through landmine-infested country. Truth is, I was! Thanks to his memories giving him about a million triggers.
I ran, but then continued to support him emotionally. I was more concerned about his safety and well-being, I knew how deeply any sense of abandonment would cut him. So, I put his needs first and listened and placated and talked-down and soothed while my heart raced with fear. Eventually, my friends convinced me to cut all contact. It was a relief and I slept sounder, but I proceeded to worry about him and continued to pray for his protection, mostly from himself. If you knew some of the trauma and hurt he’d inflicted on me, you’d likely say, ‘Why weren’t you more worried about yourself?’ and this is a very good question – the one I’m looking to find the answer to by taking this journey.
I’m turning the corner now and focusing more on my protection and the protection of my peace. Still, it’s a gnawing question, why do I do this? Why do I think being selfless is ‘good’ and the idea of putting myself first ‘bad’ and ‘selfish’? I’m guessing there’s some rooting in my go-to-church-every-Sunday kind of upbringing. Picking up this book is kin to picking up a shovel to unearth the origins of my self-harming dysfunctional decision-making when it comes to romantic relationships. I saw his issues, knew the very depths and guts of them, and fell in love anyway, boots in all!
80’s Movie Night
At the weekend, my friend and I took a trip down memory lane with an 80’s movie binge. Now, I’m starting to think they have a lot to answer for! We watched Roadhouse (the original) and Breathless. The younger generation would spot the toxic traits and not mistake them for masculinity in today’s world and I salute their young wisdom. I watched with different eyes at 50 than my impressionable teenage self did all those years ago – these complex, good-looking, partying hard, violent men aren’t anywhere near as much fun as these movies would have you believe. In Breathless, Richard Gere’s character was a doppelgänger for my recent ex, so I’ll refer to him as ‘Jessie’ from here on in. And no, it wasn’t ‘fun’ or ‘exciting’, well ok, at the beginning it was, but then it just got scary and dark and now I’ve got some work to do to heal the scars he’s left me with.
That’s exactly what I’m doing, working to heal myself and sort out my bad habits. I won’t be considering dating again before I’ve done that. Jessie on the other hand will do his usual and stick a woman-shaped Band-Aid on it and carry on. In fact, as he whipped up the speed on his self-destruct whirlwind and began pushing me away, he was already auditioning my potential replacements. I know this because he turned up at my house, unannounced one evening, after I’d ended things and wouldn’t take his calls, to sit on my sofa and confess all – including, yes, it was him, as my friend had seen, on a dating site. I let him talk, said nothing for a long while until he ended with, “It’ll never happen again, I only want you, there’s nobody better than you,” and I replied, “Well you would know, you’ve done the research.”
My new life at 50 