I’ve been rearranging my inner living space. Shifting the sofa of perspective, cleaning out the wardrobe of memories, washing down the windows of my inner world. It’s thanks to a women’s circle I’ve joined and my projections onto the women. The gift and the medicine of the circle is that it is a huge – huuuuge – mirror. There are moments when I’m deeply pleasantly surprised by my effect on others and swirl in spirals of an oxytocin rush but there are other stomach wrenching moments of a monster rearing its ugly head.
Instead of lurching out of myself in apparent self-defense, I’m learning to face the monster moments. Julia Robinson is (under a narrow set of circumstances) learning to keep her mouth shut. A miracle in itself.
What I found was that one of the women, whose communication style is similar to my father’s, was triggering me like a mother-f”£cker. I projected, unconsciously, for a week or so, meanwhile in my endeavour to prove that I was ‘right’ found myself in the middle of (self-created) havoc and awkward emotions that ranged from pissed-offness to hurt.
One day I realised that I could just talk to her about it (whereas I cannot with my dear old daddy). So I did. And I realised that who she is, is not her communication style. In short, I realised, though when she speaks I hear my father, she is not him. And it became a lot easier. I realised this woman is empathic, intelligent and caring. The contents are not the container. Once I could see inside, I found that I like her.
But the gift of opening and facing the monster went further: I realised that when I suddenly, genetically, do the same things as my dad, though my programming may be similar, I am not my dad. Enter Freedom.