A shadowy, chilly day, but I wore pink cotton long pants, because they FIT again! yes! and a white puffer jacket to be spritely. We had luxuriously long walkies because there was no rush today.
I realize now that I’ve been feeling rather helpless with the amount of pain I’ve been in, and that is never a good feeling, combined with the actual pain itself. The pain medicine also makes me dissociate more, so all that together, has made me a bit off this week. Good to be able to go over how I’ve been coping with all of that in counseling, and how physical therapy will both help by making me feel less helpless with direct exercises I can do, and bring a bit more pain with the adjustments and new activity, that this is a journey, a process, that is temporary. I knew there would be pain with pt, but didn’t expect pain with the collar coming off. Oh well. If a friend ever goes through neck surgery, I can help. Heh.
We also went through a journal entry from March 4, when I was still describing my heart rather morbidly, if you remember as the cocoons, with the devastation underneath, children running through. My counselor stopped for a moment as if language had suddenly come to her. You have and have alway had a clean and innocent heart. That dumbfounded me. Stopped me dead in my tracks. Wait. No. Me? Not even as a child could I imagine such a thing for myself. I’ll have to meditate on that, I said. I tried to think of how that would feel, shook my head, myself. It just doesn’t make sense for me. And then as I slightly accepted it for the child alters, my college alter(s) stepped for and said, What about us? and she said, Yes even you, because how long before you remembered? 1998. I was definitely on auto pilot for so long. But I individuated in 1984-85 and became more aware of my actions, of independent actions …
This is just going to take some time. I just have so much guilt and shame attached to myself. I’m going to have to meditate on compassion and acceptance, and that I deserve a clean heart, innocence. Wow. I just don’t feel like I deserve it. Even after all this time. Maybe it will be easier to think of it from a Buddhist perspective, where I’m able to see the world and all its problems so much more easily, surely, I can see myself and all that has happened, all I’ve done, good and bad, for I am normal, a good and bad person, just like everyone else, through that Buddhist lens, whole.