Yes, it has been
several months (almost 15 weeks) since I began the journal. Working through stuff at my own pace. Haven't had the heart to write, until now.
Thinking (today)
about core beliefs and the feelings they protect or deliver. One of my beliefs in particular stands out at
this time -- I am a clumsy, ill mannered, short tempered, unlovable oaf. Emphasis on unlovable.
The thing is, this
belief seems blatantly irrational. I can
find within myself no obvious motivation.
But the maelstrom of emotions enveloping it creates the appearance of an
intimidating, even frightening and tedious task of sorting. By sorting, I mean expressing, living
into. Oh god, where to start.
I suspect the
earliest seed of that odious perl is the sense of feeling unlovable. My (unexpert) guess is sometime in early
childhood I figured out love is a goodness happening for everybody else. I must have recognized something (seeming to
me) meaningful transpiring among those around me. Something that was missing when I reflected
upon my own connection with others. What
was my need? A hug? A caress?
Maybe acknowledgement and attention?
When I honestly
recognize and accept this belief, tenderly compassionately holding my un-lovableness, I begin to feel a sharp ache in my heart. Almost as though it were a cramp in a single
focussed spot on the heart's surface.
That point constricts and pinches into a point of white heat and warm
waves disperse into the surrounding tissue.
In seconds, the focussed pain morphes into vague coldness and a raw
general achiness permeating the whole heart cavity, spreading chill into my
chest and acidic nausia into my belly.
It is a perfectly
awful experience.
