Did the Therapy Thursday thing one day early today (so… Wistfulness Wednesday?) due to my therapist having to travel tomorrow.
One of the things that came up was how I am trying to wake up that hot, bright, living core buried under all my layers of icy intellectualism and emotional evasion.
And I feel like I am doing that, in a sense, by pumping energy into that tender area at the core of my being where the Great Wound lies, and in doing so, in a sense, sending that energy back in time.
After all, that Great Wound Incident that birthed that poor scared little fox inside me happened when I was only four years old and so whatever I do to heal myself has to reach all the way back then in my personal subjective history.
That is also where what is left of the little boy I was before the rape can be found, and I am going to need to draw on his energy and his innocence pretty heavily in order to have some kind of place to start my renewal.
One can only cleanse with clean waters, after all.
The metaphor I used in today’s session was one I have used here many times before – what it is like when your hand falls asleep.
Once you notice it, you immediately start trying to wake it back up again because, even though it being asleep is not very painful, you know that the lack of sensation from that part of your body means something is VERY WRONG and you panic a little from the need to fix that issue PRONTO even though doing so will hurt.
Well a hell of a lot of my mind has been asleep for a long time. Not dead, like I have said before, but asleep – like it’s in suspended animation or coldsleep.
Very, very coldsleep.
And waking it up is going to hurt like hell. Pins and needles of the SOUL, mes amis, And none of the sleeping flesh I am trying to defibrulate back to life is going to wake up in a good mood. And at first, the temptation to go back to the peace of deathlike sleep will be very strong, but I know I won’t give in.
Because I truly don’t give a shit if I hurt any more. Bring it. Damn the torpedoes, full speed ahead. Temporary pain is a small price to pay for the permanent release of toxic demons from my very backed up personal Hell.
Catharsis is almost always worth whatever you pay to get it.
Besides, it’s high time I made all this numbness work for me. It can absorb the pain for me as I try to reanimate all my dormant human potential.
Whatever pain I feel as a result of my resurrection is nothing compared to how much I lust for the release of all this half-frozen poisonous BULLSHIT I have been carrying around like a backpack for 45 plus years,
Jesus, no wonder I have back pain issues.
More after the break.
Scared little fox
Let’s dig a little deeper into that wound while it’s still open.
I don’t want to. Which is why I am going to.
I sorta kinda tried to explain the whole fox thing to Doctor Costin today. Obviously I can’t really get the full idea across to him without explaining all of furry fandom to him, and I tried that once, and it did not go well.
Too many missing common reference points. Not his fault, we are of very different generations. At the time, he didn’t even use the internet much.
No way I can relate to that.
It made me realize just what a massive edifice of the mind furry fandom has become. It’s such a deep and integral part of me that I don’t think about it much, but to even contemplate trying to explain it to somebody makes me realize just how much shared context and mutual understanding is involved.
But I think I got the bare gist of the idea across to him.
The important thing at this stage is to concentrate on just how much I love the little guy. I love my sad, scared little freaked out foxy so much that I want to put him in my lap and pet him and groom him and make him feel all warm and comfy and safe forever.
In a weird way, I feel like I am on a mission to rescue him. Like this is one of those heartbreaking scenarios where someone is trapped somewhere and the rescuers can see them but can’t actually get to them yet.
Hang in there, little buddy. Help is here at last. It might take me a while to clear away all the rubble and rocks that lie between us but I swear that I am not going to stop digging for you until I can finally pull you into the present with me and keep you forever more.
In the meantime, take my love. Take my passion and my warmth too. Borrow my strength and my courage and my conviction if you need them. Know that I will not stop fighting for you no matter what because I am you, and you are me, and we are we, and we deserve a better life.
And I’m on the right path now, little foxy. The one that leads to us being reunited after having lost one another for so long. Once we are together again, we can help make one another whole at long last, and be together as one.
Sorry I lost you for so long. I took a lot of very wrong turns, and got lost myself.
Sorry you were out there all alone in the cold and the dark and the rain for all those years. It has taken me this long just to remember you exist.
But once we are together again, we are together forever. That’s a promise.
Nobody will ever abandon you again.
I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.