For two weeks now, therapy has been a deep dive into very abstract, nebulous, intangible waters. Or at least it felt like it was set up to be a deep dive, at first. But the outcome has been more like all I could seem to get myself to do is wet my toes, test waters…and freeze.
For two weeks now, I have have had a moment that made me shut down, stop in my tracks like a deer in headlights, and just shut down.
For two weeks now, I have had a full body experience of what it is to be a slave to my constantly overworking mind. And how much it can turn on and off what my body (and heart) is capable of feeling. Because from that moment on, for two weeks now, I felt nothing. I felt totally detached and disconnected from myself.
I find myself wondering what I am resisting, because this feels like a defence mechanism, an unconscious reaction to protect myself from…something. I’m not sure what. But my sense is it’s a perceived, not real, threat.
I don’t know what I imagine will happen if I push through that point, if I choose to step into the unknown that my mind is making me shut down and shut myself off from.
Why is letting go so scary? Why is it so necessary to make meaning of this experience? Why is it so hard to believe the unknown abyss is where meaning may very well be?
Right now though, the abyss feels like a dark, lonely place. And I don’t feel like I can swim these waters. When I imagine letting go, and jumping in, I feel like I will drown. I feel afraid — of being taken down by a weight, of not being able to handle it on my own, of having to go it all alone, of being alone.
Last week, I became aware that I was resisting something. I shut down and I let it be. I distanced myself form it. This week, I feel like I’m sitting beside myself, mindfully watching this big blob of unnamed abstractions that are scaring me, fully aware of sitting right beside it. And avoiding it.
This is the kind of uncertainty and a state of not-knowing that tests me the most. I have been here before, but I have seldom allowed myself to stay here longer than what is my natural limit, beyond which my mind kicks in and begs me to start making some sense. Today though, I feel like I need to sit with this, a little differently. Not to push it aside in the name of letting it go, but to really look at the nothingness, and to befriend it. And to get to know what that makes me feel like.
For two weeks now, I have been carrying around this constantly bubbling feeling thats a combination of excitement and trepidation. The kind of feeling I get before I do anything new. I feel like I am at the brink of something (I have felt this way for a while now), but that something is intangible, unseen and just out of my reach. I don’t know what I have to do to get there, and I don’t know what it will take of me if I do go there. So, for now, this will do. Until I am ready to go in, this will have to do.
The question I keep asking is, but how do I do all of that?
The only answer I keep encountering or arriving at again and again and again is that there is nothing to be done. The trick is not in the doing, as much as it is in the being. And I feel like I am being called upon to learn yet another aspect of being that has so far been completely unknown to me.