The Experience of Healing
I think my rational mind is in a confused place, but my feeling self has some understanding of where I am and where I am going. I am healing, which feels like a stirred up mix of pain, love, anger, confusion, compassion, peace, insight, learning, grief, hope, and hopelessness all at once. Healing/returning to my true self is not easy for me, but it is becoming easier. There is more often a peace and acceptance, an understanding, that this is what healing feels like. I’ve been here before, I live here more now. And I am so grateful for that. Much of my life before this I feel I was stuck suffering. Maybe a more positive way to see it is – I was learning how to return back to my real self/heal myself by testing out and putting aside the many ways which would not bring me real healing.
In the last month or so I have picked up a few new/old hobbies and naturally that means I have been putting other hobbies aside for now. The hobbies I have been picking up and enjoying have been art (painting and drawing alongside my kids), learning to play the keyboard and studying how music works, and poetry. The hobbies I haven’t been spending as much time on are reading books and writing.
I used to read books almost daily. I spent most of my free time reading. But my pull to it has lessened. It makes me wonder was my reading often in search of some sort of emotional relief. I did often read self-help books of some form or another. Though I did occasionally read fiction, and oddly enough I do feel quite a pull to that now. Fiction feel different to my mind, an adventure, a story to follow, fun. Often my non-fiction reading was heavy. I highly doubt my days of reading non-fiction are over. I do love to learn, and books are a major source of information for me. But recently my energy seems to be pulling elsewhere, and though I observe how odd it is for me to be suddenly reading so little, I feel content following my energy where it leads.
And a hobby my energy has been leading me towards is playing the keyboard. I have been finding such a flow as I practice learning songs I love and learning to make songs of my own. I tried to learn to play the keyboard about 10 years ago, but never got far. It is the same story with drawing and painting, I have been quite into art before.
Seeing My Old Sketchbook From a New Perspective
A few weeks ago I got my old art sketchbook, from 5 or so years ago, out to get some paper from it. In the process of getting the paper I flipped through and saw my old drawings. It was an interesting experience as I felt such strong emotions. I saw my unfinished sketch of my cat, my brother as a little boy with our pet bird on his shoulder, a blue jay, etc. with such different eyes. I used to be so full of judgement towards everything, and very deeply towards my own creative expressions. But I didn’t feel that as I looked through my sketchbook, I saw my art with the eyes I look at my children’s art. A heart’s representation of the world as seen from its perspective, often the beauty it sees and the joy it feels. I felt a sense of “These are very sweet. I can see your love in these. They look wonderful.” I felt joy as I received these kind words said internally to myself. I felt my own love.
But then it arrived, the regret and sadness, for how I used to treat myself/judge myself and the consequences that judgement had. The sadness and regret of the sketchbook being largely empty. How much beauty could have been on these pages and how much joy of expression and creating I missed out on. Also, how much growth it would have brought to my art skills all those hours of practice.
Next arrived the feelings of confusion, the wondering why I had ever treated myself so harshly. Confusion often brings a sense of urgency to my mind, I feel a pressuring “I need to figure this riddle out now!”. And still mixed in was the simple remembering of how it used to feel to hear the endlessly same and repeating verdict of “It’s not good enough. This is bad. No one likes this. Everyone thinks you are embarrassing yourself.” What if I said that to my son when I set eyes on his art. My mind often becomes so lost in my own confusion, I wonder how could I have ever been so unconsciously and blindly cruel to myself? And quickly I then fearfully wonder, looking back, how cruel have I blindly been to others?
I feel my fearful mind can really run full sprint into its own confusion and drag all of me along with it and I feel a sort of undefined panic. I feel disorientedly confused, but also like I must act or figure out some answer immediately. I am starting to recognize my confusion and fears can pull me to rush into such a dark inner state. A state where I judge myself as being dangerous to others, as being bad, as being someone I hate and who is “worthy of hate” (though I don’t believe anyone is “worthy of hate”, yet somehow emotionally I seem to believe I am the exception). The fact that I do fall into such a dark place frustrates me. But I am trying to practice acceptance and patience. I am living, learning, and healing, one day at a time, one feeling at a time, one confusion at a time, right here in the present.