Healing My Relationship Insecurities

About 2 years ago I started my life as a healer. I've had around 712 reiki self-treatments, plus treatments off friends, treatments at reiki shares, and I also invest in once a month reiki sessions with a healer too. Not to mention the workshops; the crystals all over my house, the reiki I send to situations past and present and the reiki that comes through me when I give healing. That's a lot of healing. It's no wonder my healing experiences are so intense.

It would all mean nothing if I wasn't prepared to do the inner work that accompanies it. It's occurred to me recently that the easier 'surface work' (as I call it) has now all been done. That means the very obvious work, the things that could be spotted at 50 paces, have all started to heal.

Now I'm getting to the proper darkness. The murky, horrible, painful stuff that none of us like to admit exists. In fact a lot of us would be so blind to it, we'd say it doesn't exist for us. Oh, but, it does...it's in there somewhere, lurking....

It all started where it can always be found, in my fear energy. I'm carrying a huge amount of fear that I'm not loved. I should drop it, but it's so familiar I find myself unable to.

Yet I'm living with someone who I've loved for 10 years. Not that time has anything to do with it - you can love someone more for 10 minutes than for 10 years, in some cases.

Examination of this fear has led to so many discoveries about me and my insecurities, of which I have many. Even as a seasoned healer, I don't know where to start. Consumed by the darkness and swallowed by the pain, I haven't been able to communicate what's happening to me. 

It goes something like this:

I'm frightened that I might think we're in love, but we're not.
I'm frightened I'm not lovable and loved.
If I'm not loved (or loving) I shouldn't stay.
I'm frightened of endings.
I'm frightened of staying if I'm not meant to.
I'm frightened of staying if this is the sort of inner work it brings.
I'm frightened this relationship is reminding me of my vulnerabilities.
I'm frightened to share this in case I'm the only one.
I'm frightened of being the only one.
I'm frightened there's no-one in this world for me.
I'm frightened if it's just me, I won't survive.
I'm frightened if I do survive, I won't be happy.
I'm frightened this healing is going to end 'us'.
I'm frightened my partner won't join in this healing and it'll separate 'us' and I'll be on my own.
I'm frightened there is no 'us'.
I'm frightened this isn't healing, but an ending in disguise.
I'm frightened if that's true, I'll never love like this again.
I'm frightened that only people who face their own darkness will understand this process.

It seems I'm frightened to be on my own. If you know me, you'll know I love time on my own, but that is entirely different to what I'm talking about.

The fact is, I like that I've got someone I can rely on, someone taking care of me, a guaranteed hug every night, someone I don't have to explain myself to...to some extent someone I don't have to make an effort with. 

I've got someone who fascinates me and someone who gently restores the balance when it all goes out of sync.. It's a comfort. And amongst my many fears, I feel I need comfort. We all seek comfort in some form or another. 

Where is this healing leading me to? The obvious answer would be a relationship split, since that's where my fear lies. I find myself wondering if we're falling apart to fall back together again, or just falling apart? I can feel it because I'm sensitive. He can't. 

I find myself crying at all hours of the day. I find myself crippled with pain at what I'm finding out about myself and the ensuing turmoil. It turns out I'm also frightened of the unknown. Nothing is more frightening than the unknown on my own. 

Where fear lies, I often find our biggest breakthroughs. The question is, will we breakthrough or will we breakdown?

Whenever there is healing, there is opportunity for growth and change. The growing pains are just that - painful. The change is often beautiful.

The process can be the hardest one in the world. That's why so many won't do the inner work. At times like these I wish I didn't do the inner work too. I long to go back to sleep, to the safe, sheep-like mentality of a 9-5 job, oblivious to all that holds me back. I find myself envious of those who don't have the hurt. I get angry with my soul for agreeing to this path.

I still find myself doing what I always do now, standing at a crossroads when every direction points to pain. I sometimes doubt I can go on, but deep inside I know that I will. Like some kind of autopilot, my soul will push me through.

Whatever the future holds, I hope I can be honest enough to bare my open wounds for the benefit of all.

Nothing is real but love. 

Me, My Grandad and I

Grandparents often hold a special place in our hearts. They offer more acceptance of us, more belief in us and less of the urgent responsibility that parents carry to mould you a certain way.

None more so than my grandad from my mums side.

When I was little and we'd visit, I'd sit quietly taking in the family dynamics; I was more sensitive than most and would try to place where I fitted in amongst the family setting. You could call me The Black Sheep of the family, I've always had a strong desire to go my own way, buck the trend, break the taboo...

I'd find myself saying or doing the wrong thing or being misunderstood time and again. At times like these I would come across a place that felt like shelter and that place was grandad. It was a silent hand hold, a wink or a funny face at me when no-one was looking, a squeeze of my shoulder as he went past or choosing me to help him in the kitchen.

I'd help him make tea and as he was such a joker, he'd get me to stir the brew three times and bang the cup with the spoon twice to get the "best blend" - a practice I believed to be true for far too long!

Even though I loved going to see him, I used to cry when I went to stay there as I hated change to my routine, something he found funny and would try to get me to laugh too. He never tried to change me though. He loved me as I was and I knew it. He laughed even more when I used to cry when I left after staying. 

He created a routine of our own so me and my sister didn't have to worry. We'd go to the video shop to pick a film out and we'd pick the same videos every time. He would gently try to persuade us to be brave and try a different film, but would simply laugh when we chose Annie and The Sound of Music AGAIN!

Me and my grandad at the Christmas family meal.

Everything was fun with him because he never stopped joking and refused to see the serious side of life. This was the perfect balance to my hyper sensitivity and I used to wish I'd grow up to be like him.

My uncle, my grandad and me at my other uncles wedding.

The last time I ever danced with my grandad.

For a while he was in the Freemasons and when he was promoted, he held a Ladies Evening. I was so excited as it felt like other people could see how important my grandad was, otherwise, why would they have promoted him? I was only about 10 years old. He made me and my sister the Ladies of the Evening. It was like confirmation that he thought we were awesome and I was so excited to be part of it. Secretly he told me it was a load of rubbish and fuss for nothing. It was very like him to keep even the most grand thing down to earth. He left them not long after as he found it too money oriented.

Once we moved away from Liverpool, weekly visits were no longer possible. I went my own way and though it was clearly a 'bad' way to go, he let me, knowing it was for my greater good. He always let me return when I needed him and never questioned me on it. My safe place was always reserved.

In later years when nana passed away, I took up weekly phone calls with him and this is when I got to know him best of all.

Not only did he have a heart of gold, helping people out for free, but he also had a positivity and acceptance of life that many seek but never find. 

He was a healer, a teacher and also was psychic like his parents, though he never pursued them as a career as he didn't want money and was content with what little he had.

At a time when I was a very poor single mum with little prospects and often not enough to pay the bills as well as eat, he was a great example to me that no matter how little you have materially, you always have something to give.   

In my early twenties, he told me that when you die your soul goes on and that without the physical body you can manifest much quicker anything you want. He added the caveat that you wouldn't want anything because there is such bliss after death. He said it was like waving someone off on a boat to go on holiday, when they leave you can't see them, but you know they still exist and that they're having fun. I was fascinated.

Grandad on one of his holidays that he loved to go on with my aunty and uncle.

I decided to follow his example and started a more spiritual life, looked for the positives and stopped resenting that I was working my butt off for next to no money. The change in my outlook sparked a change in my life, of course. So, whether it was conscious or not, he gifted me a better life through empowerment. 

He encouraged my spiritual growth and he was very pleased when I followed in his steps as a healer, telling me to "try it as a job" and "don't have any regrets".

Unfortunately, by this stage he had lost his eyesight as well as his health. Typical of him to have a deaf rescue dog when he himself was blind.

I was privileged enough to be able to give him reiki whilst he prepared to leave his body. One time he was out of it from the drugs he was on and wasn't making much sense. There was a break in this - a moment of clarity - he stopped and said "Thank you, Louey". This was the nickname he gave me when I was little. Somehow I knew that was him saying goodbye. I had lots to say, but I said nothing and allowed him to carry on his journey peacefully instead.

Grandad sailed on his ship on 11th October 2014 and can hereby be contacted via postcards from Heaven only.

When he passed I felt alone and misunderstood again, but he came through like he always did. He's been giving me healing and has joined in sometimes when I've given healing. He told me he is my Guide now. I've seen more of him recently than I did when he was in his physical form.  If you see me laughing for no reason, it'll be because grandad is telling me a joke or taking the mickey.

A card I selected after grandad told me he was one of my Guides.

Grandad was the glue of the family. He insisted on organising a family meal every Christmas, so we would all stay in touch. He always knew what everyone was up to and he would keep us all up to date. I hope to organise a meal this year to carry on his tradition.

I realised when I went through the photos that I always sat next to grandad at family get togethers. It wasn't a deliberate thing but we sat together at all of them. I may leave the place next to me empty this year as a tribute to the fact that no-one can take his place.

This man gave so much to me and others, he lived a simple life, wasn't remotely materialistic, but was positive and happy. A lot can be learned from this approach.

Thank you grandad from my healing bereaved heart, for understanding me without words, accepting me both without and through change, teaching by example and comforting me without the need to ask. Until our ships meet again....



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Picking Up The Pieces

Warning: If you are a survivor of abuse of any kind, or just a sensitive soul, this post may be a trigger. Please only read on if you're in a very good place.

It's been many years since I was last raped. I should be over it by now. Should be. I should feel strong because I've survived, because I've come so far. Should do.

I know it will never happen again, so I shouldn't flinch every time I meet a new man. Shouldn't. 

I should be able to choose a film to watch without having to check the content first. I should be able to watch the rape scene, it only insinuates what happens - it doesn't come close to the reality. Should be able to.

I shouldn't spend the rest of my life feeling ugly and unworthy. I should love the body I'm in. Should.

I should find it in my heart to forgive. I should.

I should have a day where I don't replay the many attacks I suffered and question why. I shouldn't waste my time wondering if they ever do the same. Shouldn't.

If it happens that many times, it's your own fault. It's my own fault.

I shouldn't blame myself. I didn't do anything wrong. I didn't?

I did what I could at the time to stop it. I did.

My best wasn't good enough. It wasn't enough.

I should stop searching for the pieces of me that were taken. I should.

I should know that I'm always safe. I should.

Clothes shopping should be fun, not a chore to keep me covered up but fitting in with fashion and other girls. I shouldn't be too ashamed for anyone to think I made an effort to look good. I shouldn't be.

A word, an action, a movement from someone shouldn't make me freeze with fear. It shouldn't.

I should believe in myself more. I know I deserve better. I know it.

They can't hurt me now. They can't?

I control what happens to me and how I feel about it. I control it?

I should sleep soundly every night and not have nightmares. I should.

My first waking feeling shouldn't be one of shame for who I am and how they've moulded me. It shouldn't be.

I should be able to report them and know justice will be done. I should.

I should recognise and navigate the healing journey with ease. I should.

I shouldn't get upset at how the media portrays women. It shouldn't worry me that there's a culture of rape jokes and pressure on women to join in or be seen as unattractive. I shouldn't lose my sense of humour? I shouldn't?

I should know time heals everything. It's been years and years. I just need to take every long drawn out day as it comes. I do.

I shouldn't feel uncomfortable with a room full of strangers, as if they know I'm tarnished and not 'normal'. I shouldn't.

I shouldn't have written this like some kind of victim. I shouldn't remind people of their own vulnerability and pain. I shouldn't.

I shouldn't secretly hope that rapists read it and change. It's pointless and I shouldn't.

I should be over it by now so no-one has to worry. They don't have to worry.

I should find joy in each moment. I should.

I shouldn't hide this from everyone like everything is OK. I've forgotten what OK is. I've forgotten.

I should have made sense of it all by now. I should have, but I'm still picking up the pieces.

I know everything happens for a reason. I know.

I believe in the balance of experience for the soul (karma). I believe.

I can see the divine in everything. I can see it.

I have grown immensely through all of this. I have.

Every day I get closer to forgiving. Every day.

I'm getting better at loving myself. I am.

I let more people in than ever before. I do.

I wouldn't be who I am today if I hadn't been through this. I wouldn't.

I stand up for myself more. I do.

I'm making progress all the time. I am.

One day I will be free. I will.

Because of this, I am able to help people. I am a better healer myself. I am.

I will keep going and I won't give up. I won't. 

Where there's a will, there's a way. I have the will. If only I knew the way.

I have fleeting moments where I think death is preferable. I must be depressed and need a pill. I must be.

I must be crazy to still hurt like this. Must be.

It's good to let it all out. I'm letting it all out. 

I can use this for the greater good. I can. 

I'm picking up the pieces that were violently ripped out of me and trampled on many times, many years ago. As if I didn't count. I didn't get a say about me and my body. I didn't get to control what happened to me. I didn't get to have power. I didn't get heard. I wasn't worth it. I was such a bad person that I was chosen to be damaged like that. I was picked on. I was used and forgotten about. I was hurt. Still am.

Rape survivors need a voice. Can you hear me?

Written on an ordinary day dealing with the aftermath of rape.

Every day women, men and children all over the globe are raped. There is little to no support available. Justice is almost impossible to prevail. Healing is complex and has no real end. There isn't anything like enough services to deal with the demand. 

It took a tremendous amount of courage to write about life after rape and publish it. If you read this blog post please would you consider donating any amount here to Rape Crisis, a charity that helps and supports rape survivors. https://www.justgiving.com/Louise-Hall10

There is little understanding of the subject. Rapists walk free and commit again and again because they know as well as their victims do, it can't be proven, no-one wants to know, no-one wants to get caught up in the mess left behind. Who can blame them? One place that can help if you or someone you know needs support  is http://www.rapecrisis.org.uk/

My hope is that in writing this a greater understanding will be met; that I will heal some more and maybe start a healing process in others, that some funds will be raised for charity and that the taboo of rape and life after it will be broken. Please help if you can. 

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