Okay, so this was going to be a more traditional anonymous Ask Havi about some of the different ways we can deal with heartache and pain.
But I was deeply touched by this woman who wrote to me, and I am so in love with the unique, quirky “I’m a real human being” way that she expresses herself that I wanted to share our correspondence with you in a more organic way.
She sweetly gave me permission to use whatever I’d like aside from her name, so I’m going to let you read her letter, my response, and her response to that. And then I will leave you with a heartfelt wish.
I think this is beautiful.
Here’s the letter I received the other week.
Hi Havi,
I just found your blog last week and I got the Destuckification package and the Dance of Shiva stuff, which I’m so excited about.
It looks absolutely crazy, but I like a little crazy, and with all the time I’ve spent on your blog in last few days (I can’t seem to keep off of it!) I totally trust your opinion. If you say it rocks, it must rock.
But that’s not why I’m emailing you. It’s because I just read your post about Healing Heartache (with a side of wackiness) and it totally threw me.
I don’t want to get too heavy with you but I just wanted to tell you how much that post meant to me.
I’ve recently gone through several coaching/therapy sessions over the last year, which weren’t necessarily great, but one of the early realizations was that, in addition to having a pretty crappy childhood, I never talked about it unless it was in a way that was fishing for sympathy, or the type of look-at-what-I’ve-been-through bragging.
Not a pretty realization to have about oneself. But, after that realization, there came an incredible wave of sadness.
It took me a while to realize that I was grieving for that little girl. I was so sad for her and I had to go through all that sadness to be able to see her clearly.
And in the process, I had so many experiences like the one you described in your post. Times where I went to her in my mind and talked to her or held her hand. It was awful, and hard.
And I’ve never heard of anyone else doing that until I read your post. So I just wanted to say thanks for putting up something that was so personal and close to you. It was amazing to read, it must have been tough to write, but it made a big difference to me. It’s nice to feel like I’m not alone and not so crazy.
And, if you have another moment, (I know I’ve already taken up a lot of your time), would you mind giving me a tip or two about “letting the pain feel safe“?
I’m working on self-compassion, and I’m working on meeting myself where I am, but that particular phrase, and really, the point of that entire post, seemingly to be okay with the pain, just struck me as so wrong-headed that it must mean I have work to do there. (Smile and sigh).
So, I’m willing to poke around there in my quiet moments and I just wondered if you had an idea or two that would help.
If you don’t have time to get back to me, or I’ve completely obliterated appropriate boundaries, I totally understand. No sweat. I just really wanted to write you this email. Maybe just for me. Thanks. Big hug to you and Selma.
And here is my answer.
Thanks so so much for your moving letter. It really means a lot to me.
It’s really beautiful that you’ve found your own ways to work through the healing you need. And even more amazing that you are going out and actively bringing self-acceptance into your life, and not putting up with things that aren’t serving you.
With letting the pain feel safe:
I definitely didn’t mean that we should just let the pain run wild or anything. More that you create a conscious space or container where healing can happen.
You kind of stop and say “Okay, this is me and this is my pain and yeah, there’s a lot of it … and this is where I’m at right now.”
What you want is for that pain to feel like it’s been acknowledged and known, so that you can start to let go of it.
It’s like, if you’re shooing a cat out of your apartment but the cat really has some message to give you, so it won’t go. If you let the cat look at you and show you its mouse or whatever, then you can open the door and it will leave.
So it’s not that you want the pain to be there forever, you just want to reassure it that you’re not going to kick it to the curb.
You’re going to let it be seen and heard (no more than you can stand, of course, only as much as is healthy and safe for you) so that you can say: “I see you and I hear you and I’m letting you exist so that you can leave me.”
Does that make sense? Or is that more confusing?
I’d also say: if this practice doesn’t resonate with you or it just pushes some buttons: skip it. If it doesn’t work for you, maybe it’s not right for you.
Don’t force yourself to work with ideas that aren’t helpful for you. Find the ones that help YOU feel safe and supported and loved as you work through all the stuff you’re working through.
Also: I absolutely think the Dance of Shiva stuff will help untangle a lot of this stuff for you. Yay for you for even trying it. Yes, it’s soooo crazy and yes, you’ll love it. I think. I mean, it’s the best thing that ever happened to me.
Best to you, my dear. Be kind to yourself when you can!
To which she said:
“Ah, I see. That makes more sense to me. I like the ‘container where healing can happen.’ That feels safe and helpful, like I can be with it without it ‘getting’ me.
The pain and the fear — it’s like all the stuff I’ve ever heard about how to ‘silence’ your internal editor (e.g. put her in a jar and close the lid, snip the balloon string, etc.). Which never worked for me.
And then I read somewhere that my internal editor was just trying to help because she didn’t want me to embarrass myself, or get laughed at, or fail, and I was like, “Oh, that’s so sweet.”
And now I can totally talk to her. When she goes nuts with her criticism, I give her hugs and thank her for helping, but then I gently tell her that now is not the time because I’m working on my first draft but that I’ll be sure to call her when I’m revising, which seems to make her happy, and then I feed her Milk Duds.
She likes those, and all that chewing keeps her busy!
But it sounds like I need to treat other forms of pain and fear with the same kind of acknowledgment and compassion (which simply never occurred to me). I think I can do that. That kind of practice sounds doable. (Hmmm, needing to treat more things in my life with compassion … I think I see a pattern here.)
So, okay, big, huge thank you to you and Selma. And thanks for also saying I can skip whatever doesn’t work for me, too. I tell you, the going easy on me and breaking of old patters is so new and strange. But, I’m getting there! And looking forward to the Dance of Shiva DVD.
Big hug to you and Selma!”
And my response to that:
You know what? You have a terrific writing voice. And really important stuff to say! And you should be blogging! Ohmygod. When do I get to read your stuff?!
Am I right or am I right?
Seriously. This woman writes so beautifully and so openly and truthfully about her process. What a unique voice. What real-human-being-ness.
Which is totally why I let her letters “guest-post” today. Aside from the fact that I thought the material might be useful for you, I’m actually convinced that we could all learn a lot from hanging out with her.
So I’m hoping she’ll join the ever-growing group of people who are — incredibly — being inspired by my Blogging Therapy series to pull up a seat here on the internet and share their words with the rest of us.
And who knows what they’ll end up inspiring us to do, right?
In the meantime, I’m so going to use this woman’s wonderful letters as a reminder for me to give some more time to my own practice of quietly witnessing my pain and giving myself love and all that hard but good stuff.
My heartfelt wish for you:
May you have the ability to tap into whatever reserves of strength you have in the moments when you need them most. May you feel brave enough and kind enough to feed your inner critic with Milk Duds when that’s what she needs and to ask for help and support and a hug when that’s what you need.
And may we all be able to write about it. Because writing is healing. But now I’m getting into “blogging therapy” territory. We’ll talk about that tomorrow. Mwah!
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I know this is a different type of healing, but not to long ago I used my blog to write a letter to my Brother. My Brother passed away about 3 years ago and there were a lot of things I wanted to say to him and never did.
It was very therapeutic, and others found it therapeutic for themselves as well – much like what you have ran into here.
There is something to be said for blogging…
Jamess last blog post..Sometimes I Wish I Had A Clever Story To Tell You.
Her writing style is so natural and easy to read, and authentic. I hope she starts a blog – I would definitely be hanging out there.
I also want to hug her. Cus pain and all that stuff is so big and scary and overwhelming especially when you don’t know what to do about it. Go her for being able to reach out and ask for help!
Whoever she is, I really hope she finds healing 🙂
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Beautiful, Havi, thank you so much for this necessary reminder to hold our pain in thanks and mercy. And hugs and blessings to your friend for writing with such honesty and clarity.
Love to you,
Hiro
Hiro Bogas last blog post..Seeing Whole
A couple big things here — (man, you really pack a punch!) —
Besides the swell reminder that you, Havi, offer about the pain (which, thankfully, never seems to speak to me), your amazing openness about this woman’s letter, and your reply, and so on, has made a huge impact on me. YOUR openness and kindness and willingness to have your conversation-in-print with her all out in the open for us is giant slice of calm and confidence, and it makes a wonderful example. I can’t be eloquent (or even cogent) about it because that splash is still rippling in big tidal waves. Man Havi, you deliver a lesson even in the act of delivering. Thank you.
And to your generous writer: the piece that got to me was the three paragraphs about your inner editor and the Milk Duds! I’d never had an inner editor brought to my attention (I’m very “out” with my critiques) and this suddenly felt so personal. And when you mentioned the Milk Duds — my favorite way to power through a writing project — I felt ‘known’, and that’s a lovely acknowledgment.
And then Havi suggests that you blog JUST as I was saying that to myself! (Actually, I was saying: “they tell me to blog, nuh-huh, THIS girl should blog — she’ll actually touch people.”)
Havi — thank you. Milk Dud Writer — thank you. And get on it. You have a kind and authentic voice. You make a difference just by sharing your thoughts (and the whole inner critic thing wasn’t even the point of your correspondence!)
I’m looking forward to your guest post, am impressed with Havi’s nerve and insight and generosity with allowing a guest voice at this place we find so helpful, and I hope to read lots more comments from this cool gang about all of it.
I’m feeling completely overwhelmed after reading that, to the point of not really being able to even compose a comment that makes sense to anyone but me.
Think, maybe, that means there’s something in there that I need to pay attention to? (I guess I’ll go back and re-read it again, and try not to let myself squirm away from the important parts this time….)
Thanks for sharing….
ps
She should DEFINITELY blog, and GirlPie, YOU definitely should, too!
This letter exchange harkens Rainer Maria Rilke’s “Letters to a Young Poet,” one of the most inspirational books out there (at least to me) on writing (not to mention love, solitude, and other biggies).
I love that you shared this!
Do you know … one of my very favorite quotes in the entire world is from those letters. And it’s in my office, given to me by my friend Dr. Max Becker in Berlin:
Forschen Sie jetzt nicht nach den Antworten, die Ihnen nicht gegeben werden können, weil Sie sie nicht leben können.
Und es handelt sich darum, alles zu leben. Leben Sie jetzt die Fragen. Vielleicht leben Sie dann allmählich, ohne es zu merken, eines fernen Tages in die Antworten hinein.
I just tried to google up a decent translation and couldn’t find one that did it justice AT ALL, so I’m translating it the way I would translate it. Not poetically but just the sense of the words:
Don’t search now for the answers. They cannot now be given to you because you cannot live them. And it’s about living EVERYTHING. Right now you need to live the questions. Maybe then, gradually one far off day, without even noticing it, you’ll find yourself living out the answer …
Dawn, thank you for this reminder. I am really moved.
What an awesome story and sharing Havi, and what beautiful advice.
Just what the world needs.
I agree — tell Ms. Wonderful Thang AND her Milk Duds that we want to hear more.
As for you, everyone I tell about you and your blog falls madly in love.
How cool is that?
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Excellent post. Both you and your “guest poster” are really getting it. The key to personal change is none other than good ole’ fashioned love. We tend to complicate things and forget about this though, so reminders are nice!
Duffs last blog post..Deconstructing Personal Development, Part 3: State Management, Positive Thinking, and the Cultivation of Mania
Oh, this is wonderful! I especially like:
“but then I gently tell her that now is not the time because I’m working on my first draft but that I’ll be sure to call her when I’m revising”
I have a very vocal inner critic – though inner editor is a much nicer way of putting it – and this is a great idea for giving her appropriate ways to contribute.
Actually I tend to think of the critic in terms of Caroline Myss’s Judge archetype – I love Caroline’s approach, because it acknowledges that these parts of us have both light sides and shadow sides. For years I thought that voice was just a nasty nagging critical voice, and then I read Caroline Myss and realised that actually, it’s just that I have a very strong Judge, and that’s not inherently a bad thing. It means that I spot problems, and can fix them. It means that my work is of high quality. It means I’m discerning. I just have to keep an eye on the shadow side.
So I love this idea for actively giving the Judge *appropriate* places to contribute – I think it should make it much easier for her not to turn to the Dark Side.
(Incidentally, my preference for being in control is just the shadow side of my Queen archetype, too. 🙂 )
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At some point I started starting to get that everything inside me, every part or aspect of me, is for good. Maybe different parts of me have different ideas of what I should or shouldn’t do but it is VERY helpful to realize that the motivation under them all are for my good. Some parts seem very young or adolescent. Some parts seem very controlling. They all, want to help and have ideas. And I can listen but don’t have to do what they say. They LOVE being heard. Who doesn’t!
So my version of your container thing, is to be Calm and Aware Presence and from there be with and listen to whatever is up. It’s easier said than done sometimes. After all it’s hard not to identify totally with something in me in a total freak out. It’s like I’m the one having the emergency and i’m the paramedic too.
Sometimes, when I have a hard time being just a millimeter bigger than my freak-out or my drama or my what-have-you, it helps me to bring to mind a character from fiction or movies. I know people have God and etc. But for me, lately, it’s been Maya Angelou. Now there’s a woman as strong as a fortress and as kind as an angel and, well, it helps she’s a poet and wise and what a way of using words… Sometimes it’s the character Dagmar from Lars & The Real Girl, which, incidentally, is a must-see movie, truly, for you or anyone hanging out on your blog. Sometimes it’s my stuffed bear, Humlum.
Love to us all!
heidi
Heidi Fischbachs last blog post..Mona Lisa eyes
Maybe I’m the only cat person reading but that bit about having to acknowledge the mouse for the cat to leave just made me completely understand what you were getting at. But then I have cats. And sometimes (not often, actually) they bring me small dead animals. But if I acknowledge the spirit in which they have brought them to me, they are fine and take them away again (or leave them somewhere that i can dispose of them later).
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“Leben Sie jetzt die Fragen” — oh how I love this quote (and Rilke in general).
I’m putting it on my computer so as I work I’ll remember that my job is to live the questions, not freak out ’cause I don’t have the answers I feel I *should* have.
Thanks for the beautifully moving post.
Cates last blog post..Use Worldmapper to Challenge World Perceptions
Spooky, that “live the questions” quote was tacked to my bulletin board for many years. Somewhere it got lost in a move, I haven’t seen it for probably 10 years.
Sonia Simone | Remarkable Communications last blog post..How to Survive the End of the World
Thank you, thank you, thank you!!!!!!!!!!!!
Havi, it seems like you always know exactly what to say and when to say it! This post couldn’t have come at a more perfect time. I am slowly becoming more in touch with what is going on inside and learning that it’s okay, and it’s also okay to share. That is a real biggie for me, sharing what I’m feeling.
We really do need to hear more from Ms Milk Duds, she seems to bring out some good in all of us!!!
Melissas last blog post..Get It All Out!
What I love about your style Havi, is that you help me to remember to be kind and gentle with myself during the process.
I also think the place you invited Milk Dud Writer into with her pain, the idea or notion to begin by simply acknowledging it… a piece, a portion, but just acknowledge it, is a remarkable reminder at how conditioned we are to move quickly in “some” direction for relief… I usually march right to the kitchen, or stay up too late surfing the web or watch too much TV. Everything you said about pain is so true. Our wounds are our calls for self-love.
I love that the Rilke quote got tossed into this. I found a refrigerator magnet this summer and read it for the first time and had to have it.
I want to share with you and your readers the portion of the quote leading up to it because it seems apropro here on your blog about being kind and patient with yourself and the process of healing.
“I beg you… to have patience with everything unresolved in your heart and try to love the questions themselves as if they were locked rooms or books written in a very foreign language.”
Thank you for another wonderful post.
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I don’t know about anyone else, but I’m giving myself a big hug after reading this (and the healing heartache post).
It doesn’t help that I’ve just been writing up some happiness coaching stuff – I’m now totally bushwacked!
Some highlights for me:
The cat – oh yes, that’s my mental image for when ick happens now.
The Rilke quote – holy crap! Havi I swear your blog is a universal channel of somekind. Whatever we need, we come here and find. I’m really not sure what it means to ‘live the question’ (who am I? what do I want?) but I can’t help but feel like you’re speaking directly to me when I read that!
I think you all rock and I love you all!
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