Taken at Glastonbury Tor, UK
Many of my recent blogs have talked about new discoveries I’ve made about myself — there’s much more to come — however, this blog will reveal a belief I’ve had for a long time that has now been shattered and was the catalyst for a whole new course of experiences. A few nights ago, my wife and I had a small discussion that triggered an ancient, deep wound. A wound that I dare not touch in the company of other people and, if left unchecked, would scare even a lion; at least I think it would.
My wife felt disappointed and sad as a result of circumstances with one of her friends and for some reason I was plunged into depths of the past to the time when my father first went was into prison. The memories encapsulated with the force of a Mike Tyson blow in the first round. Tears flooded out of my eyes faster than I could control them; anger, rage, body heat, muscle tension at the flip of a switch! My wife immediately grabbed me and held me in her arms, in my mind I couldn’t believe what had just happened to me. At the same time, I remembered when I was a child, standing in front of a large iron barred door, watching my father be taken back to the prison complex; my mother and baby sister standing next to me as I roared with tears of despair. To watch my father be taken away and not being able to do anything about it was self-implosive.
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I cried hard; telling my wife that I wouldn’t wish on anyone the kind of loss I felt when my father was taken away. To feel, not only the loss of the person you love most, but like your entire world has been thrown up in the air— at only the age of five or six. In many ways I question what would feel worse: To feel the pain of loss through death or the pain of loss of having someone you simply can’t touch, see or talk to anymore?
I stopped crying for a while, my wife and I got some dinner and, before I could sit down, the grips of sadness and gloom grabbed my heart, their reflexes as quick as if you were trying to catch an object before it could smash to the ground; tears, yet again, streamed out as I crouched over my chair, tear drops slamming onto the seat cover. I knew at this point I had to pay attention to this and give myself empathy. My wife asked me what she could do to ease my sadness, but I explained to her that simply being present with me was enough. I told her a specific memory I had at age sixteen:
A number of my family members came with my mother, sister and me to visit my father in prison. Everything was fine and the visit was great, we talked, laughed and I listened to father reminiscing with my aunt and mother. At the end of the visit, I watched my father closely as he walked away. It was then the sadness boiled up and I began to cry uncontrollably. My aunt held me as snot filled tears flew all over my face. I wept all the way back to the car and sobbed some more on the two hour drive back home.
As I was telling my wife this story, I saw this pain coming from a treasure box and I began to visualize that box being absorbed/integrated into my heart space. Revealed to me, was a lot of anger being kept in the box, due to not having my father around. I learned a few weeks ago that anger was the result of a need not having been met — a need for my father to be present in my life.
* * *
After a while of talking about my feelings as they were occurring, I felt much better and we went back to what my wife was talking about prior to my volcanic-emotional melt down. I felt a deep seeded connection with my wife that night and a huge release in my heart as well— great timing. The biggest revelation is that I no longer have to carry this pain alone, nor feel like I have to. The old way of thinking was that I had to do everything by myself, that way I wouldn’t feel disappointed and let down, something I took very seriously when it comes to my emotions. However, now, it’s very important to rely on others and share the metaphorical monkey we carry on our shoulders. I can truly say I’ve finally found someone in my life that is helping me to open the door of trust; a door which is no longer a door, but a steady flow of energy to all those who are around me.