I love a sound journey and was prompted to go to a gong session in Muizenberg. I was very depressed and felt stuck. Sandi, who is now a close friend facilitated the amazing vibrations that reach right into your soul. After the session I told her, "I feel so dark and want to end it all. I'm tired and can't seem to work out all the emotions. Trying to survive and protect oneself is exhausting. I feel uncomfortable in my skin and at odds with myself.
Sandi asked, "what is your other name?" I lifted my head and looked at her and said Gwen!
Her next question......"Where is Gwen?"
This conversation brought to mind a scene from when I was five or thereabouts. There had been a misunderstanding between my mom and dad about the pickup point after her weekly cooking lesson. All three children were with them in the little beetle and as soon as we got home were put to bed. I couldn't ignore the shouting and screaming and crept along the wall and lay on my tummy peeping into the lounge. He had her over his legs and was hitting her with a belt, over and over again. I backed away very slowly. I had seen my mom some pills for a headache and I went to the medicine cupboard in the bathroom and took down the box.....Disprin! I peeled the silver paper off and put all of them into a little glass, mixed water and swallowed the lot. My dad was a minister in the Presbyterian church and we were told that we loved Jesus and Jesus would always help us, tell us what to do and save us. I hid under my bed, tight against the wall. I heard his shout when he found the scene in the bathroom and he stormed into the room and when he saw that I wasn't in the bed, he reached under and pulled me out from my hiding place, lifting me up by my wrist. I got a good beating, the worst of which was that he always screamed, "I'm going to kill this child!" as he hit with a flat hand on your bum.
When he was done, mom was the one to come in and stoke my forehead and tell me not to worry and all will be better in the morning.
The next day we had visitors and luckily my dad was busy with them on the patio. We ate mielies, which he loved and my bottom milk tooth had been loose and came out at the first bite, there was red on the mielie. I was very anxious, keeping an eye on where my dad was at all times. I got all the little chairs around a table and positioned some of my dolls on the chairs and made a pot of tea. This after any traumatic experience was the norm - lets have a nice cup of tea!
I had a problem and couldn't ask Jesus to help me as I was taught because my dad was very friendly with him and.......I felt unsafe and needed help. I invited the devil, who in my mind was a real and very naughty character but had to have some power if everyone was scared of him. I told him my problem and asked him to keep me safe.
I realise that from that point onward, I was in angry survival mode. I was still hit and punished for tiny infringements and the physical abuse never changed but I did. I pushed all the soft feelings down, I became sullen and stubborn. When I realised that I was seen to be pretty, I utilised that and became attention seeking and precocious when it was safe enough. I was sexualised as a young child and fell under the eyes of the babysitter who enjoyed her job, unchecked by my parents.
Gwen the feminine, gentle soft, pretty and forgiving, had been split off and put in a cage in my heart/psychi. If I wanted to survive I had to be hard, so I became aloof. I had to watch so became hypervigilant, I had nightmares and walked in my sleep looking always for somewhere to hide. When needed I was attention seeking and disruptive - Mandy, the masculine energy. I was very wary of authority figures and at school I could see my body sitting in the chair from the corner of the room right at the top where the wall meets the ceiling. I couldn't hear very well from that far up (I was in high school) I would play the piano for hours and when it came to being on stage at an eisteddfod, I would shake so hard that it was difficult to keep my fingers on the keys and I felt like I was in a jar of honey. I got a bad mark on a Math test and knew that I would get a beating. My arm started to tingle, my vision blurred, my tongue went numb and I couldn't think at all. My parents were called and I was taken to the doctor and he just shook his head and shrugged his shoulders. Every time after that, when I was too stressed out I would get this debilitating migraine.
A week or so after the mind blowing realisation of Gwen, I came face to face with her.
My guides alerted me that I was to be present. (the room goes totally silent and I'm called to attention)
I sat in silence at my bed waiting. A holograph of a beautiful smiling women of about 60 standing in front of me became evident. A pretty lady with long grey hair. She was in white, a very pretty long dress
and a gentle demenour. I realised that this was Gwen. My whole body was in agreement. I thought Gwen was five years old and she said no, I have been aging along with you. You owe me an apology. I understood in a second the full ramefecations of what I'd done. It hit me like a ton of love, that I wasn't ready to accept at that moment. I saw how many people I had hurt, how many boyfriends I had emotionally cut. How I pushed love away, how hard I had become, resentful and deeply suspicious. Independent, physically strong, cycling, swimming, gyming and always aware that I had shoes that I could run in. When I was triggered, I ran and hid.
Gwen took a step towards me with open arms. She hugged me that my legs were like jelly and my heart was bursting. I felt so beautiful. I felt soft and pretty and wise and warm. We had merged. It took a while to get used to this feeling. I had to remind myself every day that every action was a new action blended with a softer reaction after a space of time. I went to see Sandi but soon after one day she looked at me and said, I see Gwen.
I feel so blessed - this is when I realised how real the journey is. These things happen to help us cope. I have since watched so many children of trauma being given tools to 'protect' themselves.
https://thelifeofmgm.blogspot.com/2023/02/bwrt-brain-working-recursive-therapy.html
