Acceptance..

When I was engulfed in the darkness of depression, I was miserable.  Interesting though, I didn’t know I was miserable.  It was existing, day by day.  When I hit rock bottom and made the decision to end my life as I couldn’t find any value in it. When I decided for my friends and family that they were better off without me.  I was totally in a different mindset.

To change that mindset, I had to accept myself and forgive myself for my actions.  What is acceptance?  For me it meant that I had to let go of the self loathing.  Let go of the need to criticise myself and start changing my thought process.  Change my thought patterns.  Identify my feelings.  My Fucking Feelings.  That was a huge break though for me.

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The dictonary meaning of the word acceptance you will see here.  For me, number 2. the process or fact of being received as adequate, valid or suitable.. hmm, it should read the process or fact of being received as an amazing, beautiful creature that the people of the world have been waiting to receive her gifts! I take the last meaning, The willingness to tolerate a difficult situation also.  I had created a terrible situation for myself, in my head, it was diabolical.  Once I let that belief go, the realisation that my situation wasn’t as terrible as I had once believed, started to diminish.  Not tolerate though, I had to accept my situation.  Once I was in full acceptance of everything, that is when I noticed it changing.

Sitting in the oddly shaped purple chair in the Psychologist’s room.  I was distracted by the sound of trickling water.  My therapist has a little water feature in the back corner of her room.  It is usually soothing and a modality of calming my nervous energy when I sit there talking about myself.  As talking about myself and my feelings is not a comfortable thing for me.  I actually detest it. I have been very successful in concealing my feelings all these years, that it feels like she is extracting parts of my soul.  I love her though, we connect well, she is gentle when I need it and ruthless and unrelenting when I need my bullshit called out.  However I also must acknowledge that the process of attending a psychologist has also healed the darker parts of my persona.

That day though that soothing trickling sound was making my need to use the bathroom more urgent than it should have.  She asked me how I felt after we had a discussion about something.  I didn’t know.  I couldn’t identify which feeling it was.  That made me upset.  Being a little bit of a control freak, I didn’t like the fact that I couldn’t do what she asked.  

My task for that week was to identify my feelings.  Then sit in them.  It was horrible.  Emotionally draining. I hated every minute of it.  A few times I did the old trick of pretending they weren’t there.  Then realised I had to feel them, so I did it, made myself identify them and sit in them.  I continued to do it. 

I started feeling again.  Really feeling, knowing what I was feeling.  Hurting, really hurting.  Crying, sobbing, guttural wretched disgusting sobs of distress.  The years of suppressing my emotions had finally reaching breaking point.  Emotions that were buried deep within the confines of my protective walled prison had broken..

 


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