Cracking the Marble

There's an old saying that goes something like this; a sculptor can hit a block of marble 99 times in the same place with no apparent results; but when he hits for the 100th time, a huge chuck falls away revealing the beginnings of a beautiful work of art. In many ways this is how I see my recovery at this time of my life. I am utterly frustrated with the lack of any real progress from hitting the marble over and over again, yet at the same time I continue to lovingly hit the block of marble hoping that soon something will change. I will say though that lately I have been noticing infinitesimal hairline cracks developing on the face of my block. And I can say that this is why I have become so angry that I have had to, in essence, put my hammer down and walk away; and not by choice either.

This fundamental change has been brewing for some time now and is something that is being imposed upon me from powers greater than me that I can neither control nor influence. The Goddess knows I have try though, and from he very beginning too. For the past 2 1/2 months I have talked, complained, cajoled, and even proposed an alternative path, all in an effort to protect my health and my ability to use my hammer. But alas it has been all for nought.

At this point I suppose it would be appropriate to reveal the nature of this power but I think I will forgo that. Also, I think I will forgo explaining the gory day to day details either. Let's just say that neither of these things are the real issue for me anyways. The real issue for me is my mounting frustration at not seeing any verifiable progress in my day to day recovery albeit with infinitesimal cracks appearing. It's not like things haven't changed for me over time. They have. I can unequivocally say that I have less anxiety, more strength, and more agility than I did two years ago; but at the same time I can also say that these moments are still fleeting. However, I can also say that I have learned how to deal with the day to day effects of my abuse as it surfaces. I how know how to ground myself in the moment in very real ways and as effective as that is it doesn't really help in a long term sense; especially in light of these last few months. I can say with all honesty that these last few months have not been easy as many of my previous blog entries can attest. Let's be frank. These last few months have tested me in ways that I have never been tested before in my adult life. Yet I am sitting here, functioning and doing all the things that I know I should be doing.

So what is the real issue here?

And more importantly why does it exist?

I suspect that in part this is a lesson from my Higher Power showing me in a very real and concrete way that I am a much stronger person than I think I am. I suspect that part of the issue here is also the continuing process of my Higher Power's dismantling of my insane defenses; defenses that I created as a result of my childhood experiences. In addition I feel that this stripping away is changing and will continue to change my most basic ideas of what my recovery will look like going forward.

All in an attempt I feel to give me the necessary tools for the next phase of what is to come.

Walking away from my trainer has been particularly difficult for me at this time as we were just starting to work on a very vulnerable area for me, my pelvic floor. For the last 16 months both my former trainer and my present one have worked with me to build core strength. And all through that time I have not even been able to feel my pelvic floor let alone work on it. However I don't want to mislead by this statement. I really thought I was. In doing my daily regiment of exercises I thought I was targeting all of the core muscle groups; but I wasn't. At least that is until the last month. It was about that time that I started questioning in my mind whether there was more to it, a deeper level that I wasn't working. I remember asking my trainer about it too. That was about the time that the floor started opening up to me. Shortly after that my trainer and I started actively feeling into that most vulnerable of areas. In hindsight I feel that in many ways my ability to "feel" that area is the byproduct of my relationship with my trainer. He has, like my trainer before him, gone to extraordinary lengths to create for me a safe space in which to do my work. And I love him for it. Just as I love my former trainer. In very real terms they did not have to do it either, to create that space. They also did not have to open up to me, being vulnerable and trusting me, but they did, and in fundamental ways too. This for me is the beautiful thing about life at its most basic. It is that amazing and fascinating process of being present for another and trusting that they will be in return; with all of the baggage that inevitably comes with. I struggle with this every minute of every day as many of my friends can attest. For me, being present in my body in any fundamental way is very very scary. But open they did and I in return.

It is not surprising either that I was actually able to feel below my pelvic floor during therapy this past week. And what a frightening experience that was too. It didn't happen either as a matter of course or agenda. My therapy sessions are way too organic for that. It happened out of my therapist's innate sense of intuition. He just said "place your hands at the points that hurt the most around your pelvic area." Doing that was hard enough. Then he said "start sending healing light into the area." That is when the visuals started. My pelvic floor appeared in my minds eye revealing a waste land of arid desert. Broken and barren of all life. As I continued to send light my pelvic floor began to open up. At that point the horrific visuals started. Groups of humans began to appear, all in contorted poses, writhing in excruciating pain, mouths twisted, bodies decomposing. At first I remember mumbling "It's all too much, the pain is too much." But I stayed with it as long as I could. Eventually though I had to shut down in an attempt to ground myself. I was shaken by what I saw. It isn't easy to come face to face with that amount of pain. Looking back though, I feel that my brain probably had no real way of communicating the reality of that pain except to drawn upon my memories of art that I have either seen or studied. I remember saying to my therapist that it was like Dante's Hell, circles upon circles burrowing deeper and deeper into the earth filled with people suffering the most horrific pain and agony.

A sobering reality of yet another layer of my pain as the result of my childhood sexual abuse.

This is why I am feeling that the recovery tools I have come to rely on in the past are just not suited for this next phase of my life. And maybe that is why I am being forced to strip away most all that I have put into place over the last few years, so I can be free to create, to think outside the box, all in an effort to go back to that arid wasteland that is my pelvic floor. I told my therapist at the end of our session that my exercise of sending healing light into my pelvic floor was like letting a drop of water fall onto the Sahara Desert and expecting it to somehow nourish the ground. I told him that it seemed like a wholly futile exercise to me. He of course disagreed.

What is that other old saying; from tiny acorns mighty oak grow.

How did I get here

This is a very surreal moment in my life. I feel as if I just woke up in the midst of an alternative reality, a reality that is at its base fundamentally different yet essentially the same. Looking around, everything seems to be the same, like my apartment, my garden, and the neighborhood I live in. The same goes for the car I drive, the clothes I wear, and the job I go to most every day. However, none of it feels right. Nor is it the same.

This kind of reminds me of an episode of The Outer Limits. I can hear the intro now; there is nothing wrong with your television set...do not attempt to adjust the picture...we will control the horitzontal...we will control the vertical.... This is the way my life feels in the moment and no amount of shaking my head or rubbing my eyes will change it. It really is very disorientating for me and I don't know what to make of it.

In my quieter moments, when I turn the volume down, I can actually hear my own voice mumbling over and over again, WTF.

I remember once many years ago a guy saying that each moment of our life is in reality a unique convergence of energies that shine bright, focused into a single powerful point of light.

Hmmmm. Sounds to me like the guy had been eating a few too many special brownies.

Yet, I suppose, if I think about it maybe it could be actually true; even without the aid of.....

I think I would prefer the brownies instead.

So I guess it's time to ask, how did I get here?

Good question.

There's a game I like to play sometimes. It's called; If someone would have told me. It goes something like this:

If someone would have told me 10 years ago that in January 2010 I would be sitting here blogging about my life I would have said, your crazy.

If someone would have told me 5 years ago that my precious baby girl would be dead, I would have said your crazy and cruel to even suggest that.

If someone had told me 1 year ago that I would now be privy to knowledge about myself that would forever change my life and my perceptions of myself, I would have probably never spoken to that person again.

Yet here I am.

Exactly at that point.

Sometimes, I have to wonder just how wicked our creators sense of humor really is.

Sometimes, I even wonder if they are sitting out there, somewhere in the cosmos, laughing their collective asses off, saying how funny is that.

From where I sit; not so funny.

So where do I go from here and more importantly what do I do with it all?

Hell if I know.