I do not want to do morning pages anymore. 12 weeks? It’s been like 3 days.
I feel like just typing asdflaks;dfja;efaoisdjfalsdk;jsdf over and over for three pages. I feel like throwing the laptop across the room. No, I feel like browsing the internet, some Facebook here, some Netflix there. Maybe just engrossing myself in a book until bed.
[Look, I KNOW typing them on a computer instead of writing them by hand is a bad idea – it introduces a lot of distractions – but I’m having even more resistance to hand-writing].
I don’t know why I am already so resenting the time I spend doing them. I don’t know why I am procrastinating until evening rather than writing “morning pages.” I don’t know why I am so resistant when the time comes to click the keys and put letters onto screen. I don’t know what will come out, I guess. I don’t know why I can’t just think and type and write. What am I afraid of seeing come out?
Yikes. My stomach just lurched when I typed that.
While procrastinating, I spent some time doing research on different training programs that are available in the Seattle area. I found a promising looking site/teacher for “healing touch” energy medicine, as well as a reiki training class. The “healing touch” instructor’s name seems very familiar. I feel as if I have seen her name on another intuitive’s site or perhaps have seen advertisements at a fair for her services.
I’m interested in exploring this more to see if the training is useful and fruitful for someone who is not already in the health care field. Meaning, would I be able to even see clients? Do I even care if I’m able to see paying clients? Perhaps that’s not something to focus on at this point.
I realize part of me already knows what to do, but I don’t feel confident working on others, because I have no explanation for it. I’ve not been taught, I’ve not been certified, I’ve not been legitimized by someone else. My heart swelled with pride at a quick mental image of myself as a healer, a helper, of others. I self-corrected and disciplined myself, insisting it is wrong to be prideful and to want an outcome where I feel important or powerful. But, I almost immediately realized it isn’t wrong, because that warmth wasn’t about desiring great power. It was about being seen, noticed, remembered. Being valued at all. Maybe even being important. Not important like the leader of the free world is important. But important to some. Important to others. Someone who would be dearly missed if gone.
This surely goes back to childhood, to psychic, emotional and physical injuries that were inflicted on me by dad, by mom and by others. I was told before that I need to get angry about this, to feel and process and release that anger. I always replied that I just couldn’t see it happening, I just can’t summon up the anger. Well, tonight I finally did. Admittedly, it was mild. Barely a stirring as I read about chakra development stages and realized how much dad had screwed me over and screwed me up in literally every phase. There for a split second, I felt it. In the center of my chest, but also high in my gut, a rush of warmth and a clench of tension.
How dare he? How dare he? How DARE he?
It’s baffling to me that my siblings have become so religious when they had the same parents and same upbringing as me. How can they not see this all as hypocritical, at best, but possibly even more sinister and harmful? Was the abuse I received more impactful than that they received? Perhaps. I would think though that they saw and felt enough to know something was very very wrong, something was WRONG with the person who promoted himself as our spiritual superior. Our spiritual guide.
Master. That’s a better word. He never guided us — he ordered us around. I racked my brain to think of any situation in my childhood where my dad ‘guided’ me. Does grabbing me by the arm or gripping my head hard to jerk me in his direction count? No? Okay then.
