In the beginning of the year, unbeknownst to me, I started a journey. It started as an inkling that something just didn't feel right. I searched the internet for days looking for a book to bring out some emotions within me. I wanted to figure out what was happening. That is sort of a condition I have, that is actually not a problem. It is just painful. You see somewhere and somehow I am a glutton for self-awareness that seemingly often comes in the form of pain.
"In the middle of the journey of our lives, I found myself upon a dark path." - Dante
Dante calls it a dark path, ancient Hebrew text refer to it as a desert or wilderness, but whatever you call it, it is painful. And if you are like me and there are areas of your life still unprocessed (basically all of us still alive). Unfortunately we transmit that pain when we haven't transformed it and often to those closest to us that we care the most about, which is exactly what I did.
I ended up taking my supervisor's recommendation to read Lori Gottlieb's "Maybe You Should Talk to Someone." I knew pretty quickly that I was onto something as my emotions began flowing. At the same time, I felt a need to get away, to distance myself from those close to me. I wanted space, I wanted to be alone with my feelings, to feel safe, to not feel criticized or judged, or scared but mainly I didn't want to feel the shame surrounding my feelings that I carry with me to this day. You see, as a child there was no space for me to be vulnerable with my feelings. Often times my mother in an attempt to not feel difficult emotions, taught me to change and neglect mine. Growing up in my house, masculinity was never vulnerable. At my grandfather's funeral two years ago, my dad did everything in his power to choke down his tears. He even said during the eulogy after my brother and I cried in our speeches, that he realized the one thing he hasn't done in mourning his dad, was to cry. And even then he reigned in his grief. Unknowingly, my mother and father didn't allow me the space I needed to fully experience my emotional life. I learned to stuff away my feelings. I created space for myself by withdrawing, holding inside myself what I felt would be dismissed, rejected, demeaned, made fun of for not being masculine or result in anger. I learned to be ashamed of my feelings, which are a part of me. In psychology, it is called carried feelings. I began carrying the shame my parents had around their feelings which had been passed down to them, and now to me.
"Too often, the wounded boy grows up to become a wounding man, inflicting upon those closest to him the very distress he refuses to acknowledge within himself" - Terry Real, I Don't Want to Talk About It (Overcoming the Secret Legacy of Male Depression)
As I began to experience my feelings, I began to experience the shame because the two were inextricably linked for me. Shame pushed me away from the ones that really cared for me, that actually loved me. However, shame has a hard time allowing me to feel lovable. Rather than experiencing the shame, I sought hiding and in doing so inflicted feelings of rejection and abandonment on the one closest to me. In seeking to avoid rejection myself, I produced the very result I wanted to avoid.
I have begun grieving the pain I caused and have also begun grieving for the little child inside of me that lives with me to this day. I am hurting immensely with this huge unrelenting weight of pressure on my chest that seems to come at any moment. While I am not yet out of the wilderness, I have begun to not be so afraid of the wilderness. You see, we rarely grow without pain, which ironically enough is the very thing we try to avoid. Pain is necessary for growth.
"He learned how to cherish, rather than to act out, his own needs and vulnerabilities." - Terry Real
I have since acknowledged the pain I caused with my withdrawal and sought to repair it. Not all pain needs to result in brokeness, but it can be the beginning of something new. It is called rupture and repair in the therapy world. The rupture is significant but if there is repair, the relationship can go to deeper levels. Living through the consequences of the pain is real suffering. Writing helps me process the pain. Maybe this is hard to understand, but somehow the pain begins to feel bearable. Feeling pain and grief is better than not feeling at all. That young child inside of me relaxes as he reads these words and he feels safe with me now.
If you find yourself fighting off depression, there is a place for you to heal. This healing is about repairing the relationship to yourself. I stand in awe of all those that pass through my office on a daily basis, who have the courage to stand up to the legacy burdens they endure. It only takes one person in one generation to stand up and say enough is enough. These people are the hero of their families.
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