Wound Up

One hundred and fifty miles later my day is coming to a close and I am glad. Headed in one direction this morning to see the doctor and the other direction this afternoon to keep my appointment with Father Charlie. I feel like I got the full meal deal with my physical, spiritual, and emotional selves looked at in one day.

I so wanted to do a perfect step 4. I kept feeling blocked when I sat down to write. I got the worst of things that were plaguing me down on paper but that was all I could seem to do. The worst of things were the most embarrassing of things. They were like weights around my neck, so they were easier to just put down on paper and be done with. I went in this afternoon feeling like I was deceiving myself, playing games, not being honest because it hadn't been a seamless flow from head to paper. Maybe I was supposed to simply be thankful for what did make its way onto paper and the incredible revelation that came as a result? Could I settle for progress instead of perfection? Yah think?

Nothing seems to fizz Father Charlie and for that I am grateful. He read my stuff, including a print out of my blog post of the other day, and simply took it in stride. Thank you, God. He talked about a person bringing their emotional, spiritual, physical and intellectual levels into tune. That I was in the tuning process. That suffering abuse makes tuning take a nose dive and I am in the process of bringing them into tune in a way that makes life doable. Not perfect. Not even perfectly in tune. But in harmony enough that life is enjoyable. I still want someone else to connect the dots for me and bring it into tune without having to go through the process. "Nothing doing" is Father Charlie's silent mantra. He knows he is not the conductor of my life.

At one point today he had me draw a picture of how I was feeling inside. I drew a red egg shape with a tight black spiral in the middle. I felt like I was keeping my emotions wound up tight. Close your fist as tight as can be and you have the idea of how wound up I felt inside. As I started drawing the spiral in its tight circle the tears started coursing down my face. I felt SO wound up inside. How big would I draw the spiral? Would it reach the edges of the red shape? But then it would be poking through the red and that would be painful. Would I close the spiral or keep it open? He asked me to sign and date the drawing and then give it a title if one came to mind. Then he asked me to take it home and put it on my fridge. He talked of how important it was for me to honour my feelings in that way. To look at the picture and reflect on it. He said he could see all kinds of things in the picture but that he wasn't going to tell me them. It's my story, my emotions. My journey. And in that moment I just wanted him to tell me what he saw so I could accept his interpretation of my feelings. "Nothing doing" was his unspoken response.

I have hidden behind words my whole life. Drawing how I felt instead of speaking it outloud was a new experience. I was unprepared for the unleashing of emotions. He told me he still drew pictures of his emotions when he needed to and he still hangs them on his fridge. He's at home with the process of being fine tuned.

It's been so many years since I had a drawing on my fridge. I have no memories of my drawings on the fridge of my childhood. My fridge is graced with a one woman, one piece art show tonight. The pictures will change from time to time but I think the show's going to last a lifetime.