What's in the gallery?

We dissolve stuck and rewrite patterns. We apply radical playfulness to life (when we feel like it!), embarking on internal adventures (credo of Safety First). We have a fake band called Solved By Cake. We build invisible sanctuaries, invent words and worlds, breathe awe and wonder.

We are not impressed by monsters. Except when we are. We explore the connections between internal territories and surrounding environment to learn what marvelously supportive delicious space feels like, and how to take exquisite care of ourselves. We transform things.* We glow wild.**

* For example: Desire, fear, worry, pain-and-trauma, boundaries, that problematic word which rhymes with flaweductivity.

** Fair warning: Self-fluency has been known to lead to extremely subversive behavior, including treasuring yourself unconditionally, unapologetically taking up space, experiencing outrageously improbable levels of self-acceptance, and general rejoicing in aliveness.

What's in the gallery?

We dissolve stuck and rewrite patterns. We apply radical playfulness to life (when we feel like it!), embarking on internal adventures (credo of Safety First). We have a fake band called Solved By Cake. We build invisible sanctuaries, invent words and worlds, breathe awe and wonder.

We are not impressed by monsters. Except when we are. We explore the connections between internal territories and surrounding environment to learn what marvelously supportive delicious space feels like, and how to take exquisite care of ourselves. We transform things.* We glow wild.**

* For example: Desire, fear, worry, pain-and-trauma, boundaries, that problematic word which rhymes with flaweductivity.

** Fair warning: Self-fluency has been known to lead to extremely subversive behavior, including treasuring yourself unconditionally, unapologetically taking up space, experiencing outrageously improbable levels of self-acceptance, and general rejoicing in aliveness.

Blogging Therapy: Finding your voice

I’m so glad no one has asked (yet) what you do when you lose a post, because I don’t have a good answer (yet).

Let’s just say — for now — that this is the second time I’m writing number thirteen in our weekly series about taking the scary out of blogging, so I can only hope that it comes out better this time.

And as always, it doesn’t matter if you’re a rockstar blogger or don’t have any plans to get started, because it’s not really about the blogging. It’s about stuckified life patterns, and ways to think about them.

You can always catch up on the series if you like (no obligation, though!):
Part 1. What if people are mean to me?
Part 2. What if I throw a party and no one shows up?
Part 3. Why even bother when there are already other people doing it better?
Part 4. What do I saaaaaaaaaaaaaaay?
Part 5. Help! Perfectionism! Gaaaaak!
Part 6. But I’m not an EXPERT!
Part 7. Don’t make me be vulnerable!
Part 8. I just don’t have the time!
Part 9. What if someone READS what I wrote?
Part 10. But I’ll never be popular!
Part 11. De-shouldifying.
Part 12. A bunch of questions.

Finding your voice.

When you’re not even sure what you’re saying, why you’re saying it or who you’re saying it to.

This seems to be one of the biggest barriers to blogging, if my inbox and the wonderful women in the Screw Therapy Start Blogging course are representative of anything.

It’s a mysterious thing, the blogging voice.

People want to know how I found mine, what if they never find theirs, do they need to find one and what if no one likes it!

And that’s just the beginning.

I could launch into a whole series of amusing rants on this topic (more or less), but let’s just try and keep it to a few useful tips and concepts this time. Oh, and a reminder. I’m totally starting with the reminder.

This is normal.

Just about everyone starting a blog worries about the voice thing.

Because blogging is weird that way. It’s new. It’s uncomfortable. You haven’t really gotten your bearings yet.

Plus there’s all this symbolic weight to it. You’re putting yourself out there. You’re admitting that yeah, you’re a creative person who can string words together. You’re experimenting with something new, and this adventure is being documented, and ohmygod other people could see it.

So I just want to remind you that you’re allowed to be terrified, nervous, anxious and whatever else it is you’re feeling.

Natural, normal and not the end of the world. These are questions that lots of us ask, and keep asking.

Okay, I’m done reminding. Big crazy internet hug to you. On to the Things To Consider.

Have you read my archives?

Here’s an expert tip. Go to any blog you love. Mine. Naomi‘s. Jenny‘s. Whatever.

Most blogs have a link to their archives. Yes, those are mine.

Go to the archives of a blogger you admire, go back to the very, very beginning and read the very, very first posts.

And no, this is not about whether they suck or not. You don’t want to get lost in that awful internal criticism game of “okay, fine, this is crap but it’s still less crappy than mine will be” because that goes nowhere but it goes there for a really long time.

What you’re doing is discovering (or reminding yourself) that even the best blogging voices are not born that way.

A blogging voice doesn’t rise from the ocean fully formed like super-hot non-blogger Aphrodite, or pop out of the head of Zeus like the strategic genius Athena who reigns over wisdom and warfare and also doesn’t blog.*

* Expert tip #2: Don’t write like THAT.

Anyway, reading people’s archives is always good for a laugh a terrific reminder that these. Things. Take. Time.

The best voices — the ones you love the most — have grown and developed and changed. Read our early stuff. Listen to our voices crack and stutter.

You’ll be amazed.

Think email.

The most important thing about a blogging voice is that it’s casual.

More like an email to a friend than a noozletter to a bunch of important clients.

The biggest mistake I see in blogs — especially business and “personal development” blogs is that they’re super preachy. Too authoritative. Too bossy. I do this in my earliest and most cringe-worthy posts like crazy.

And I reread them to remind myself (again with the reminders!) about the dynamic, ever-changing stream-of-life process thing.

Stuff changes. This can be alternately terrifying and reassuring, but in the end it can be liberating too — if you let it.

Your voice is a work in progress, like everything else. It will shift and move to accommodate different situations, and it will become something you’ll get to have a pretty intimate relationship with.

Wait, tell me more about this mistake thing. Don’t I want to seem authoritative and like I kind of know what I’m talking about?

Here’s the thing. You’re already an authority by virtue of the fact that a. you have a blog and b. you’re giving advice or answering questions or discussing stuff.

And what people crave from you (and me, and anyone) is connection. And intimacy.

The more you hide behind your podium of expertise, the more distance you put between you and the reader.

And not the sexy kind of distance. The off-putting, chasm-building, “I can’t connect with this person” kind.

We all ruin posts all the time by thinking we have to have a point every single time, or forgetting to admit that yeah, there are things we don’t know.

Puffed-up biggified experts who speak only in authoritative lists of seven ways to do this and eight ways to screw up that … they’re a dime a dozen. They’re interchangeable. They’re expendable.

We’re not coming for your expertise, really. There are all sorts of places to get that. Sure, the information is nice. But we’re really coming for you.

I mean that. We come to your blog because you’re there. For some time with you. For your voice. For that reassuring, comforting feeling of “hey, this is a safe place for me to hang out and get replenished.”

Write to someone you love.

When I started writing my noozletters, I used to write them to one of my favorite clients.

In addition to being a super cool person, she was a symbol for me of where my business was going. She was smart and funny and kooky and totally got my work and where I was going with it.

I wanted all my clients to be like her.

So when I wrote a noozletter, I’d pretend that I was writing an email to her, answering one of her smart, interesting questions.

That’s where my blogging voice began. It’s me, talking to people I like. Like you.

And I have to say, now all my clients are that cool, which means (to me, at least) this voice thing works in magical and mysterious ways.

Well, maybe not all that mysterious. But if you write to your Right People, they’ll be seriously overjoyed to find you.

It’s an ongoing dynamic process.

I know. We’ve talked about this. In fact, two weeks ago when I was talking about de-shouldifying, I said:

And just like your life and your business, blogging is a living, dynamic process. It will change. Steadily and regularly.

Life is flow. That is … well, it’s the way of things.

Of course your voice will change. As you write, it will become more you. It will loosen up, lose some of the stiltedness, some of the formality that comes from fear and insecurity and just not knowing.

It will change register — becoming friendlier as you get to know the people reading and become friends with them. Hi guys! *blows kiss*

So give it time. And love. And remember that hardly anyone will go back and read your early posts unless you decide to draw attention to them by linking to them.*

*Well, aside from all the people who have read This Very Post. They’re totally going to be peeking in your archives. Bwahahahahaha!

Let your first posts be exactly what they are and how they are. And one day someone else will read them and say, Whaaaaaaaaaaaat? You were nervous? YOU?

And that person will be inspired and moved to start their own thing and meet their own fears.

And it will be awesome.

You don’t need to find it. You’ve never lost it.

I don’t want to get all yoga teacher on you, but really. Your voice isn’t something to find. It’s yours. You already have it.

You just haven’t gotten to the point yet where it feels safe to access it and to sink into it, but it’s totally there. It’s waiting for you.

The flowing, moving, ever-changing thing that is your voice is already doing its thing, even if only inside your head. The voice that says sweet, funny things? The sarcastic grumblebug?

The conversations you have between the part of you that really believes you can do it and the part of you that is petrified that you’ll fall down and get hurt?

It’s all part of your voice. It belongs to you to do what you want with it. You know, with practice. Over time. But it’s yours.

That’s it for now!

Tomorrow I’ll be doing an End Of The Year version of my weekly Friday Chicken.

In the meantime, send some love to my amazing Blogging Therapy course participants and to all the other Fluent Self-ified readers who are secretly working on blogging it up over their holiday break.

And yeah, more Blogging Therapy next week. I mean, next year. Internet hugs all around!

Ask Havi #18: Television addiction

Ask Havi I had big crazy plans to wrap up a bunch of the Ask Havi posts over the holiday “break”. Hahahahaha. Yes. Well.

That hasn’t really happened. Other things happened instead, which turned out to be the right things.

I did get to a few though, and today I’m pleased to put up an especially meta Ask Havi question that (she types hopefully) almost for sure won’t make anyone cry.

It didn’t make me cry, so we’re already getting somewhere. 🙂

Here it is.

How long have you lived without TV?  Do you not have one at all, or do you have one that your gentleman friend watches and you don’t?  

I’ve felt very compelled to give up TV for, like, a year now, and I just don’t, partially because I adore some of the shows on TV (I’m such a sucker for crime and medical dramas), and partially because when I called to cancel my cable, I discovered that I pay less for cable + internet service than I would for internet service without cable television.  (Lame.)  

But the fact that the urge to disconnect from TV has stayed with me so strongly for so long makes me think that my spirit is really trying to tell me something.  

Maybe there are epiphanies waiting for me that I can’t connect to while TV is still a part of my daily existence? Ponderable.

Ah, decisions.

I can’t answer this yet.

Come hang out inside my head for a minute while I deal with some meta-issues first.

One of the problems I have while answering Ask Havi questions is that I can never decide whether to answer the question that the asker thinks they’re asking or if I should really answer the one that I think they’re asking.

The questions I want to answer — the ones that seem to be at the heart of the matter — almost never get asked out loud.

To me this question is asking two things:

  • Do I have to give up this thing I like in order to grow internally in some important way? I suspect that I do, but am kind of hoping I don’t … so what do you think?
  • If the answer to the first question is the one I don’t want to hear, but am willing to maybe actually try it … how do I do it? How do I end an addiction?

On the other hand, who am I to say that the asker really wants answers to the questions that I think she’s asking?

I mean, she’s an adult. She’s a smart cookie. Maybe she just wants me to answer the darn question already.

You see my conundrum?

And it gets worse. Because invariably the answers to the questions that I want to answer are longer and more complex. And my posts are way too long as it is. And asking for clarifications to every Ask Havi question would be just too much.

Alright. We’ll try doing a double feature here. Your questions and my questions.

Question you asked #1: How long have you lived without TV?

My gentleman friend and I both grew up in television-free homes.

Neither of us had one when we met, and it was ridiculously easy to agree not to have one in the house. 

We will occasionally rent every single episode of Starsky & Hutch ever made a television series DVD from Netflix, which we watch on my gentleman friend’s laptop. And we regularly ingest movies that way — but that’s pretty much it.

We’re no strangers to television addiction, though.

We both went through periods in university where we were serious junkies. In fact, my own experience is that television addiction is always more intense in media-protected people like us than in “normal” people because we don’t have that youthful “TV-resistance” built up!

I spent most of my university years watching television. It was pretty much the best drug I’d ever found. If it was around, I wanted it on. And if it was on, I couldn’t do anything but stare at it.

After the divorce, my husband kept both of our televisions along with everything else we owned (would you like some fries with your bitterness, Havi?) and I was working two jobs and struggling to pay rent.

So I wouldn’t have been able to afford a television, and even if I had, there wouldn’t have been time to watch it. That pretty much solved that.

Question you asked #2: Epiphanies that television is blocking?

Maybe. It’s quite possible.

There’s (at least) one very clear way to find out, right?

Question that I think you’re asking #1: Is it time for me to stop watching television?

Well, it sounds like you’re getting a strong hit that the answer is “yes”. But since you’re asking me, you’re maybe not sure it’s a yes. Or you’re hoping it might not be a yes.

I can’t tell you for sure that it’s a yes, because that’s not my area.

So let’s sidestep this question.

If you knew for sure that letting go of the television pattern would open you up to new understandings about yourself, would you want to do it?

If no, then we’re done. If yes, then I would say take your time with it.

But that’s really getting into “second question I think you’re asking” territory.

Question that I think you’re asking #2: So how do I quit?

Well. This is really more the subject of a book than a post. Which is to say we’ll barely scratch the surface of it here.

That said, here’s the way to begin working with any habit:

All habits are the same. They’re collections of unconscious patterns, and it’s our job to make these patterns conscious. But in as sweet and loving a way as we can possibly stand it.

What this means is this:

You don’t want to forbid watching television. Because that will create resistance. And resistance creates stuck.

What you do want to do is to bring more conscious awareness into the pattern and into your relationship with television itself. (I’ve written about this already — in fact, specifically with television as an example — in the little-known self-work practice of watching TV.)

You turn the act of watching television into part of your practice.

Treat the act of sitting down and spending time with it just like you were practicing yoga or meditating. Make your relationship with watching television something that you get to work on.

With the intention that you’re ready to learn what it is that you need to learn so that you can release the need for this habit.

It starts with asking yourself clearer questions.

For example, you start asking to learn more about this habit, this pattern. What needs are this pattern filling? And what can you do to get better at meeting those needs with love and understanding and patience?

You ask yourself what you can do to be gentle and kind with yourself while you’re playing with these patterns.

You ask yourself what you can do to remind yourself that you’re trying to be as loving and forgiving with yourself as you can, if you can.

You ask yourself to remember that you’re allowed to have needs that are asking for attention.

All of these questions (ideally) help you remember that oh right, the more compassionate, patient, conscious Paying Attention you bring to the process — without resistance-building shoulds and guilt — the easier it is to shift things.

And not only to shift things, but to understand how you work and what you really need … and whether any of this really has to do with television at all, and if so, how much and so on.

So you’re really only going to answer my question with more questions?

Is that where you think I’m going with this?

Just kidding. I’ll stop. It’s not easy, because I’m Jewish, but I’ll try to not end all of my thoughts with question marks.

But I guess my point is that questions are almost always useful. And that often the thing we think we’re asking isn’t always the thing we want to know.

Which is why the best question — and this is the one I take with me into meditation or Shiva Nata when I need answers — is the one where you ask yourself what you need to know.

“What do I need to know right now?”
“Is there an easier way I haven’t thought of yet?”
“What’s missing?”
“What do I already know that I’m not paying attention to?”

And then you keep asking.

And reminding yourself that you’re allowed to take as much time as you need to understand whatever it is that you need to understand. And be willing to be surprised.

That’s it. I’m out of wisdom for this morning. Let me know how it goes!

Just the sweetest thing I’ve heard all year.

So this past Monday I printed a letter from a lonely young woman who was gearing up for a really hard, painful Christmas alone and wondering if I had any advice or suggestions.

It was a hard letter to answer.

I came up with what I could, and sent her a holiday gift of my Emergency Calming Techniques so she’d have something to turn to when things got tough.

But you know what was a big freaking transformational experience for me in all this?

Warning: about to get all mushy and teary-eyed.

You guys ended up saying so many kind, loving things in the comments that I was absolutely blown away.

Sure, I’ve known for a long time that this blog attracts an absurdly high percentage of bright, thoughtful, insightful, oddball people who like to hang out here.

But seeing this rush of care and recognizing how deep these resources of unconditional loving-kindness go … well, it was really moving.

And now I absolutely have to share the beautiful letter she sent back because I know you will appreciate it and enjoy it as much as I did.

Oh Havi, I’m not sure if “thank you” is “good enough,” but I know you’d think otherwise.

I spent some time today going over the Emergency Calming package you generously offered me — I don’t think I’ve quite tried anything like this before! I am a self-help fiend, but you offer…something different. Which is why I contacted you in the first place.

I absolutely didn’t expect the public “witnessing” and support that you offered.

And I’m a bit in awe over it. I can’t get the image out of my head that someone out there is lighting a candle for *me*; whether metaphorically or literally, either way it’s humbling. It’s helped me feel more connected.

There’s something about public grieving that’s truly powerful.

I could write a tome on how this has made me feel today, but I’ll save that for my blog — something your writing and approach have also helped me incorporate into my life.

Thank you for listening and generously holding/supporting me. I’ll carry that with me over the next challenging days. This is more than I could have hoped for (and asking and hoping tend to be risky for me!).

What that means …

You guys rock, is what I’m saying.

You helped someone you have no connection with to go from absolutely dreading the holidays alone to feeling like she could do it.

And more than that, with just knowing that we were there, hoping and wishing good things for her, she was able to surprise herself and pull through okay. Maybe even more than okay.

And one more letter!

So I also wrote to her Christmas morning, just to check in and see that she was okay.

I was pretty convinced by this point that she was going to be absolutely fine, but you know … just to be sure. And yeah, she’s doing great.

Jump up and down with me here:

Havi (and Selma) —

I have been feeling this wonderful calm today. I did a fabulous workout this morning, which included yoga as well.

And I felt a lot stronger after doing it – more aware of myself and everything around me. Basically, checking IN rather than checking OUT.

I’m going to treat myself to an uplifting movie, then make a delicious meal that reminds me of my friends/family and my gentleman friend.

So something must be happening in me that’s helping me through this time.

I’m alone today — that’s the reality. but so far, I don’t feel as lonely and lost as I thought I would. I think I was afraid of myself, of being with myself, and of not being able to give myself what I needed today, on this difficult day.

Your positive presence has changed all that. I’m going to mindfully light a candle this evening for my parents, who I miss sorely, and for you and the wonderful people out there sending love and well wishes my way (that feels overwhelming, and I’m tearing up, but it’s happy and grateful and feeling-loved tears!)

Lots of love to you and Selma too. My pug is right here next to me on the couch, happily snoring the day away.

Wow.

Isn’t that remarkable? This is totally the sort of thing I would have rolled my eyes at a couple of years ago and here I am now marveling at it.

Because there’s power here.

This is the power of a group of bright, kind, caring people coming together in this space. And I have the feeling we’re only beginning to see what a big deal this is.

Also: the type of insight that she’s come up with — that’s really the kind of deep, powerful, useful information that we tend to avoid learning at all costs.

Usually when I learn something like that about myself, it’s way after the fact and not when I’m right there in the hard.

I don’t know about you but I’m completely impressed.

Anyway …

Hope reading this brings some strength and support to whoever else needs some and hasn’t been asking for it.

And then I promise to go back to being bitter and sarcastic for at least the rest of the year.

Friday Check-in #21: Melting icicles edition

Friday chickenBecause it’s Friday AGAIN. And because traditions are important. In which I cover the good stuff and the hard stuff in my week, trying for the non-preachy, non-annoying side of self-reflection.

And you get to join in if you feel like it.

Snow snow snow snow snow snow snow!

Tramp tramp tramp tramp tramp tramp tramp!

Slurp slurp slurp slurp slurp slurp slurp!

Okay, that’s it for the sound effects. Let’s do this thing.

The hard stuff

Going to … “the next level”

So yeah, I’ve always completely despised the expression “take it to the next level“.

It sounds so icky and marketing-ey. And boring.

It’s that thing they tell you you’re supposed to do when you’re sitting at some awful SBA seminar with a bunch of suits.

But several months ago I looked around at my business and realized that whoah, everything was completely different now. It was a new level.

And now I’m shifting into yet another one. And it’s weird.

Not growing pains, exactly. More like a headache. It’s like realizing that your kid is actually a teenager and has a driver’s license and really, you should stop making him go to bed at eight.

Stuff I’m not good at.

Working on the Next Big Thing has forced me to do two things that are challenging for me.

1. Farm out way more stuff than I’m used to.
I already have two assistants and a designer. On this project I’ve brought in a consultant and a project manager.

It’s weird, is all I’m saying.

2. Do things I don’t excel at.
I’m a big believer in letting other people do the work that you’re not good at. But in this case, it’s my vision and no one else even knows what it’s supposed to look like.

Which means I spent a lot of time this week doing a lot of strategic planning stuff and explaining stuff and taking on all sorts of other things that I find incredibly frustrating.

My gentleman friend came to the rescue more than once with acupressure, pep talks, emergency yoga sessions and piping hot comfort food, but man, this was a really hard week for me.

The good stuff

Not being sick anymore.

Turns out winter is way more fun when you’re not all headache-ey and sniffling.

You can bake bread! And make squash soup! And do yoga by the fireplace!

I even ventured into the wild, for which I’m sure you will be very proud of me.

My gentleman friend and I put on our boots and went crunching through the snow and admiring icicles and such.

We walked all the way to the cozy living room of Dana the Spicy Princess (not for anything spicy, just to hang out because we love her), and we walked to the co-op, and we jumped up and down on frozen puddles.

Good times.

Also we walked thirty blocks to see a film on Christmas. Awesome.

Teaching.

The course I’m leading based on our Blogging Therapy series is So. Much. Fun.

Honestly. I can’t believe what a great group we’ve got and what terrific stuff is coming out of it.

I’ll update you later on some of the exciting things people are doing, but for now just rejoice with me. Amazing people. Good learning. Big progress. Pleased as punch.

Hot sauce!

They had homemade hot sauce at our co-op. Like, very homemade. Possibly in a basement.

It’s called Bad Monkey by Picklopolis. And it actually says on the label: “Does not contain monkey”.

So of course we had to get a ginormous bottle and put it on everything this week.

I could not be happier.

A note from my teacher!

As some of you know, my teacher spends half the year meditating in a monastery in the Himalayas, a couple months in the Ukraine and then the rest of the time traveling around the world teaching.

So I don’t get to see him (or ask him questions) anywhere near as often as I’d like to.

Getting a New Year’s blessing from him by email was really unexpected and so so so made my week.

It is impossible for me to imagine my life without him in it, but let me just say that if we had never found each other, I would not be doing what I am now.

Nor would I have most of the information that I have to share. Nor many of the qualities that make this space what it is.

Selmakkah.

Really, who doesn’t like a festival of lights?

Because my duck is totally into it. Picture at the end of the post.

That’s it for me ….

And yes yes yes, of course you can join in my Friday ritual right here in the comments bit if you feel like it.

Yeah? Anything hard and/or good happen in your week?

And, as always, have a glorrrrrrrrrrrrious weekend. And a happy week to come.

A Selma the Duck Hannukah

Ask Havi #17: Another question about pain.

Ask Havi This is a big one.

I know we’ve had some kind of painful Ask Havi posts recently. In fact, more than one person has said that this blog has consistently made them cry over the past few weeks.

So apologies in advance. This is a hard question, beautifully asked. And it’s an important answer. I’m going to do my best.

Please keep in mind: this is not a complete answer. I’m sharing with you the parts that I believe could be most useful to you in your own practice.

Love to everyone on this Christmas Day (or Shenanigans Day as some of us are calling it — see the comments of yesterday’s post if this makes no sense).

A question

Hi Havi,

I’m nowhere near as eloquent as many of the people who read your blog and send you awesomely written stuff but I’m hoping this will catch your attention. If only because I am stuck beyond stuck. I am stuck squared.

With the Dance of Shiva practice and reading a lot of great blogs, I’ve been discovering a lot, but at this point I feel like I’ve dug a deeper hole and no one is around to help me out. And I just don’t have the energy, motivation or feeling that I can do it on my own.

I’ve figured out that I am very very lonely. And that many of the things I’ve done and decisions I’ve made in my life were rooted in this loneliness and trying to make it go away.

The guilt I feel for some of the things I did is always there, like plastic wrap all over my body that is making it hard for me to breathe. But most of the time, I pretend it’s not there.

The thing is, I didn’t do anything really bad, I don’t feel like a bad person but that I affected people – maybe in the wrong way – all to make myself feel better, less lonely.

You see, I don’t remember a whole lot from my childhood and what I do remember is vague and brings up a lot of yuckiness, extreme feelings of loneliness. Then I find myself saying “come on, others had it way worse than you – don’t be a victim and get over yourself already“.

I know this is a pattern and I need to be okay with where I am but ugh…stuck.

So, what I’m wondering is whether or not I need to remember stuff from my past to understand the patterns. Can we figure stuff out without really knowing what we went through exactly?

My mother told me something that happened when I was very young and I have no recollection of it at all, and it was pretty bad. She says that I don’t remember much of my childhood because I’m blocking it out, that it would be too hard for me to handle. It’s not like I was in the worst situation or anything but I just never felt I had anyone to comfort me to be there for me.

I’m afraid that if I try to remember, I will do irreparable harm to my relationship with her but I also want to move forward.

Thanks so much for your help with everything and for deciding to put yourself out there for all of us.

And an answer

Hi sweetie.  

First of all, big hug. Safety and solace and connection to you.

It sounds like you’ve got a lot to deal with right now. I’m hearing that you’re feeling a lot of pain and a lot of fear about where interacting with it could lead. 

There are really two questions here. (Well, there are more than two, but there are two I can try to answer right now.)

One is “should I try to remember the fear and pain?”

The other is “should I try to understand the fear and pain?”

These are two different things so let’s take them one at a time.

First question: Should I try to remember the fear and pain?

No. Definitely not.

I want to say this twice — at least — because it’s so important.

You do not need to remember the pain in order to heal.

You do not need to remember the pain in order to heal. This is a huge misconception.

You could have total amnesia and could still work on yourself and your patterns to the point that you’d be able to resolve your present moment stucknesses.

Without ever necessarily remembering what happened.

It is not vital that you remember it. It might happen at some point as a result of part of the healing process, but it is not necessary that this happen.

You already have the tools you need.

What’s important is that you have the tools you need right now to work on your stuff. You may not always feel like you’re able to access them, but they’re there.

You have many gifts and strengths right now, and one of the most important ones is the power of observation.

You can learn and practice the ability to gain a little distance from your pain by — paradoxically — allowing it to be there.*

You have the ability to journal and document your thoughts and feelings, to observe what triggers you and what comforts you.

You have the ability to practice being kinder to yourself. To notice which patterns are self-destructive and to remind yourself that you won’t always have these patterns.

You have the ability to give yourself permission to not remember and to not have to remember.

I’m not advocating that you try and repress it — god forbid. Just that you release any shoulds that say you need to relive it.

If a memory comes up on its own, this could be a healing experience. But you can absolutely heal without having to go back into the pain.

*These concept of getting closer to yourself through moving away from the pain, and moving away from the pain by giving it permission to be there … this is something I’ve written about quite a bit. Some stuff to read:

Second question: Should I try to understand the fear and pain?

Maybe.

If understanding the fear and pain is part of trying to treat yourself with love and understanding — and it’s something that’s possible for you, then yes.

It might well be that as part of this process of giving yourself love, you will get better at being able to relate to some of the pain and the fear.

You might end up with much more understanding for yourself, and if so, that’s great.

What I think you “should do”, if you’re asking me … is to practice being kind and patient with yourself. If you can. Not to force it.

But if you can stand to have a little more niceness in your life, to give yourself as much as you can bear.

You’ve been through some really hard stuff, and whether you remember it or not, some part of this experience is still messing with you. That means that part of your life work is to unravel some of the guilt and the pain and forgive yourself for being human.

What does this mean — to unravel the guilt and the fear and the pain?

I can only tell you what it means to me.

You may not know this but I share a lot of your history. The things I don’t remember. And the guilt over decisions made or actions taken later on that were based on related pain and fear.

What this means for me is that a huge chunk of my own self-work process is working through that pain and vulnerability. And the guilt.

Sometimes this means recognizing that hey, I’m afraid of things that other people aren’t afraid of and that’s okay.

I’m not going to let anyone else tell me that my fear isn’t reasonable. Of course it’s reasonable.

It’s reasonable because it’s mine. It may be temporary, yes. It may be something that I’m able to resolve, but if it’s real for me, it’s legitimate.

Sometimes this means
allowing myself to be sad without knowing why. If I need to mourn something from my past, I can do that.

Sometimes it means recognizing that in this moment I am feeling too angry and too upset to be able practice forgiveness. In that case, I practice allowing myself to have this anger for now.

Sometimes it means
recognizing that it really is time to forgive myself. And so I practice. If I can.

But I’m really patient with myself. I don’t ask myself for more than I can give. I ask for help when I need help.

And hugs when I need hugs. And for people to leave me the hell alone when I need to be alone.

One more point about the stuck.

You said, “I need to be okay with where I am but ugh…stuck.”

Aha! That is your clue, my dear.

You do not “need” to be okay with where you are. You are ALLOWED to NOT be okay with where you are. It is natural and normal that you are in resistance. Of course you’re not okay with where you are.

This resistance is creating the stuck. So agree to the resistance — to the fact that it’s there right now. You’re entitled to be in resistance. It makes sense that you have resistance.

All the other healing you need will come to you.

It will come from your decision right now that you’re ready for it to happen. It’s coming right now from you asking for what you need and agreeing that it’s time for things to start moving and shifting.

You don’t have to remember. You don’t have to do anything. Practicing being ready to accept kindness is enough. And if you’re not there yet, you’re not there yet.

It will come.

Love to you.

And to everyone reading. If you have something kind and supportive to share with the brave writer of this letter, I’d love it if you would share it here.

And a tiny postscript and some more links:

I know there’s a plug-in that recommends related posts, but here’s some other stuff I’ve written that might be really helpful for you to read:

The Fluent Self