An Inner Conversation

An Inner Conversation

I often work with clients to embody their inner parts and allow them to express. This is instrumental to the healing process. When we allow those parts to express, we allow those past emotions to release. It may feel backwards or illogical, but that is how it works. In my own recovery journey, I do this many times per week. But something occurred to me recently. I have never shared my written inner conversations with you, so this week I will. To set up this scenario, we are currently in the middle of a snow storm. I am feeling some anxiety about it, so I decided to write a conversation with my fearful inner child. I hope this helps you to understand how this process works. Please understand this conversation comes after years of practice at inner part embodiment. When you get started, it may be difficult to switch back and forth quickly. That is okay. Just embody one part and write from them for a while.  It will be immensely healing. A Conversation Between Me and My Inner Child (8 to 10 years old): We are doomed. There is no way to escape. We can’t get out. This is just like before. We are completely stuck in this house, in this neighborhood, in this city. My plans can’t work like this. There must always be an escape route. Don’t you understand that. I hear you. I understand your need for a viable escape route at all times. But we are fine. We have power. We have warmth. We have food. We are safe in this home. The kids...
Searching for a Savior

Searching for a Savior

Determined to Escape When I was 8 years old, I was determined. I guess that’s not surprising. I have always been determined. But at 8 years old, I was determined to solve problems that no child should ever have to solve. I was looking for a way out of my family. I wasn’t just determined. I was desperate. And I thought I had found the way. That summer, I made a friend in an older college-aged kid. He was safe because he was gay. And at the end of the summer, he was leaving for college. I was convinced he would take me with him. I have no idea if he ever indicated he would take me. As an adult, I understand the absurdity in that. He would have been charged with kidnapping. Instead of going to college, he would go to jail and make enemies with my evil father. But as a child, I was convinced he was my ticket out of hell. I was sure he would save me. I finally had hope. Not surprisingly, when he left at the end of the summer, I was devastated. I was partially devastated because the only person I could trust (or so I thought) was gone. But I was more devastated that I wasn’t going to be leaving my family behind. I was stuck there. And my hope was gone. The pain was so intense, I made an unsuccessful attempt at suicide the night he left. After that failed, I made a decision to repress my memories. That was the night that I forgot the pain of my past...
The Parts I Struggle to Love

The Parts I Struggle to Love

I often mention the importance of self love and unconditional acceptance of all our parts. But I will be the first admit that not all parts are easy to love and accept. Sometimes I ignore a part because it makes my stomach crawl to consider I might embody those feelings. I have to work hard to bring them in to my awareness and embrace them with the same love I give the parts of me I can accept. I have so much trouble in accepting some parts it is hard to write it down here. But I know there is a chance that others struggle with accepting the same parts. So I will do it … for my survivor friends. 1) My inner cynic. I know how important it is to embrace what is and stop using all my energy to resist life. But I have one heck of a cynical part. There are days when I can feel the negative energy rising up in me. Sometimes I just want to watch a Matt Bellasai video and cheer him on. Sometimes I need to resist it all. Sometimes I need to complain about every little aspect of my life that isn’t perfect. And if I explain that away, I am resisting my resistance. 2) My inner serial killer. I wish this was a metaphor for something else, but it isn’t. You see, there are two types of rage. There is regular rage. I don’t have a problem with that. I can scream in my car. I can throw pillows. It helps me know when a new memory is coming....
Bridging the Gap in Conscious Parenting

Bridging the Gap in Conscious Parenting

The Movement I love the conscious parenting movement. Amazing teachers like Janet Lansbury and L.R. Knost changed my  perspective with their focus on respecting the child. I have to admit, the concepts came easy to me. I knew deep down inside they were right even though I did not experience that type of parenting as a child. I innately knew this was my parenting method as my conscious thoughts lined up with everything I was reading. I knew I was going to be that kind of parent, a respectful parent. I had already been in recovery for a few years from my childhood of abuse and trafficking so I knew I would be different from my family. I had removed the abusers from our lives for my children’s safety. I had already embraced yoga, meditation and some daily awareness practices. I was sure I was equipped to handle it. So I was surprised that, in practice, I wasn’t handling it. My kids were triggering me with their behavior. But their behavior wasn’t bad. It was normal for children. They were just being kids. They were pushing boundaries. They were expressing their individuality. And I was coming unglued. I was exploding at them for the smallest reasons. And I was so sad, guilty and anxious about it which made everything worse. I wanted to be the parent I was reading about. And I wasn’t. Bridging the Gap I decided that conscious parenting was not enough. I knew that my kids deserved respect. And I was aware of what I needed to do. But that wasn’t going to change my trauma...