Personal Moments – Soul Reflection

The Existential Crisis of Man

There is a current theme amongst the men – the husbands and partners of women that I know; it could be labelled as the classic mid-life crisis except its core is so much deeper and more extensive. I have watched the seeds germinate from those early honeymoon years of engagements, weddings and the birth of our children. This is not just a mid-life moment, this is a full on existential crisis of men that is busting out of the seams of society and is about to explode.

I have been observing it for many years now, how it relates to my personal dynamic and listening to the words of my circle of women, where, often unbeknownst to each other, they repeat the same elements of frustration and despair. The truth is that a deep chasm of depression seems to be the very crux of the issue, which of course can manifest in a multitude of ways: from lethargy & dormancy thought to explosive rage and simmering anger with everything in between; addiction, disconnection, emotional abuse, gas-lighting, narcolepsy, adrenaline chasing, affairs etc. The list goes on and as much as many of these are painful to be around or on the receiving end of, they are just the symptoms of a masculine struggle so deep that it’s hard for me to imagine how they will claw their way out. For women, it is alienating.

I have a theory, without a solution, but important to name nonetheless. I see the beginning of the separation of compassion between the parties at the point of childbirth. We have lost most of the tangible and cultural rites of passage in our society for both sexes but nature has a handle on that for women. When we give birth, we are initiated into motherhood in a way that defies conscious description. I know my husband would say that I changed dramatically at this point in my life and I completely agree. I had to dig deep to reveal my innate and primate strength, my priorities shifted overnight from self-ish concern to embracing the wider picture of holding, love, nourishing and nurturing beyond my personal boundaries – I was no longer the centre of my world and I never would be again. Childbirth is the most empowering and enlightening experience a woman can have and sadly many women are cheated of this process by the interventions and interference our society has created around it but, despite these inhibiting effects, there is no denying that the physical creation of life pushes women to step into themselves – to know themselves; to find the edges of their endurance and to step up to the emotional, physical and spiritual challenges of motherhood.

Where is this moment for men? Where do they get to experience their innate and primal strength? Where do they find the edges of their endurance? Where is their opportunity to feel like they have stepped into their purpose of existence?

In traditional cultures, without the cosseting of modern conveniences, physical survival and protection is the role of the masculine. Hunting for food in harsh environments; facing life & death decision making; protecting the tribe from invasion; creating a space of safety for the women, children and elders. Here there is purpose, here there is meaning and it is infused with personal challenge, the need to step out of self-ish concern, to see the whole picture of community and family, and to face and experience the portals of endurance. It is no wonder that adrenaline adventure is such a draw for the masculine but they still miss the very essence of purpose and selflessness. Facing death just for yourself will not create the shift into enlightenment that slaying a predator, for food or protection to feed and nourish your family and village, will do.

So here we are left with a swathe of men who witness the birth of their children but are not initiated into fatherhood, who struggle to transition from self-centred priorities to encompassing the family needs; who feel the loss of their devoted partners as they, in turn, devote their energies to the young and vulnerable. Men have no true purpose to fill that void and, by the time their partner has energy again to turn back towards them, so often the resentment on both sides has created a chasm of disconnect. The strains of motherhood without the village threaded through with the disempowered man is a recipe for an emotional maelstrom of epic proportions and one that gets deeper and harder and more painful as it continues its endless swirl. Picking up new resentments in the regular tornado of life add to the power of the storm. Our women are suffering, feeling as if they are carrying the burden of it all – the physiological and psychological stretches of motherhood and a depressed partner to boot, however that manifests. Our men are feeling empty, purposeless and redundant.

So what are the solutions? What I do notice is that the therapies of our modern times can only help so much, more of a band aid than a cure. These rites of passage into adulthood and meaning are created by visceral and profound experiences, cognitively knowing this offers momentary understanding but doesn’t actually create a new reality. I have watched as men seek and search for this unknown feeling – this lack – through adrenalin, through talk therapies, men’s work, psychedelics, wealth acquirement. They all can create temporary easing and patches of identity but they don’t seem to stick. The mind cannot trick the body and the body cannot trick the mind.

So I have no solution. Going out to hunt for deer whilst knowing if you fail you can buy a few steaks at the butcher isn’t going to cut it. However, I have been noticing an uprising amongst men discussing how they do feel purposeful and fulfilled in a modern relationship dynamic and it seems to be by finding a way to fulfil some of these traditional roles. Safety seems to be a huge theme. Women seeking it and men feeling initiated by providing it. This will look different for everyone but discovering what makes your family feel physically and emotionally safe reaps rewards for all parties. Mission and meaning for the masculine, breath and space for the overwhelmed feminine, contained and nurturing boundaries for the children and connection, connection, connection between the couple. Safety allows love to flourish. We all carry our traumas but by stepping outside of how that makes the ‘I’ feel, utilising those difficult experiences and channelling them into the creation of an environment of protection and potential breeds its own kind of purpose.

As a woman, I worked hard to ensure my rites of initiation were not stripped from me by our modern constructs, but equally I am not created to journey solo. I need and want partnership and I know the most fulfilling life is creating that ying and yang together, raising our family as a unit and a team. My compassion reaches out to the men struggling with all of this complexity and, more so, for how it manifests in challenging and often frightening ways, and yet we are not about to step back in time to hunter/gatherer dynamics so it is time to seek a new way to walk fully into manhood; to shed the shackles of shame and malaise and step back into the roles you were born for. Let this existential crisis be your portal – find your edge of endurance and come back home.

Distorted Reflection

My homeopath (aka my well of mother wisdom and unconditional love) told me that I need to strengthen my boundaries when experiencing negative or critical attack.

And she is completely correct, except I have this huge voice inside me that says ‘don’t be so arrogant as to deflect criticism without first owning what is yours’. I believe in the principle that what is in existence in my life is a reflection of some part of myself, so if I am receiving negativity I have a part to play.

What I realise today is how I have distorted that reflection, no different to the waves across a pond turning clear lines into surrealist images when the stone hits the surface. In the film Pretty Woman, Julia Robert’s character says ‘The bad stuff is easier to believe, ever noticed that?’ and I think that is a default for most humans but certainly there are those, like myself, where my parental conditioning makes ‘the bad stuff’ feel like the ‘truth’.

I have focused recently on the bad stuff, why is this happening to me, what have I done?The usual self doubt. But despite an overwhelming smothering of love, support, reassurance and validation from a wonderful and significant circle of friends, I have only studied the reflection of the bad stuff.

The majority of ‘feedback’ in my life is positive, 97%, and I laugh when I hear myself say internally, but they’re your friends, of course they’re going to be nice about you! As if it doesn’t count. Somehow they are biased and can’t see me straight. Therefore the critic is the one whose opinion holds more weight. What a distorted reflection!

I have one friend who is utterly glorious in every which way, I could cry when I think of her loving generosity of spirit and kindness and she was recently psychically taken down by a total nutbag (IMO) and I wanted to shake her and cuddle her and fill up right back up to the top with love. How could she possibly let this person make her doubt her own gloriousness….. and then I see myself in her too.

I do get psychically taken down, I do have my inner child believing I am fundamentally bad and difficult and when people realise they will turn their back on me, just like my parents. My Now Self knows I’m a good, loving and conscientious person with all the natural flaws of humanity, but I clearly have some work to do on rewiring that inner child and the first thing I’m going to do is make sure she is listening to the 97% and maybe I’ll get her some ear defenders for that other 3%!

So yes it’s important to contemplate what is being reflected back to us in our lives, where we can grow and learn but it is more important to check if the reflection is clear or distorted by our own trauma or conditioning.

One amazing thing this past year has highlighted is how I am so profoundly grateful to my friends who shine my light for me when I am wandering in the dark. They guide me back home to my true self, flawed and perfect, just like them.

First published on social media on 9th July 2023

Single White Female*

It’s quite something to feel like I’m living the script of a movie and a psychological thriller at that. But this is where I find myself today with a build up that feels quite surreal to say the least.

Having formed a friendship a number of years ago where I opened my door and life: recommended our neighbourhood, school, mortgage advisor, homeopath even marriage counsellor and much more besides, all of which were accepted and incorporated. I have now found myself at the receiving end of their vitriol and harassment.

I genuinely have no idea what turned their energy, though I had always seen that they were guarded, holding back. I saw this as a trauma response and accepted it as part of their being, though now I wonder about what has been churning in their soul all this time.

And now I wait in daily angst for the next barb, the school WhatsApp belittling, the opportunity they take for slander: toxic, immoral, narcissistic, whatever judgement they wish to hurl that day. Even in my car I am unsafe from the intensity, when they decide to undertake and swerve in, two cars ahead causing hooting and braking from the cars behind.

The behaviour is deranged and irrational, no matter what I say, or don’t, or even any attempt to appease, it’s all taken as fuel for their obsessive inner fire. And how can I escape when are lives are so intertwined?

There is nothing I can do but engage as little as possible although even then I’m accused of being rude. Legal recourse is on the horizon, but do I have to wait for injury or damage for that to happen? Will it happen? I honestly cannot say. I once would have been sure that that was never in their make up but now I hesitate. Where are they going with this, what is their purpose? And why me….

*Single White Female is a 1992 psychological thriller

First published on social media on 26th June 2023

A Cautionary Tale

I am currently caught up in a dynamic where someone has decided that I’m bad. So much so that no matter what I say, don’t say, do, don’t do I can see them weave the information to fit their story of how they are perceiving me right now.

Ultimately there is nothing I can do to shift their perspective and it’s their prerogative to feel their feelings. But whilst mulling it over recently I saw how easily and often this happens; where one discomfort or upset leads to the write off of an entire personality.

I have been guilty of this myself but having it done to me in such clear terms where I know I can only fail, no matter which choice or action I take is a beautiful cautionary tale to absorb. I feel determined to remember the good parts even when I’m struggling with someone’s flaws (or perhaps just my judgement and perception of them after all!).

I have always preached it to my children, that a difficult personality trait or behaviour does not define an entire human but this personal lesson really inspires me to try to separate the issue from the soul. I might still choose to walk away from a friendship or relationship because of certain events but I am determined to be more mindful that I don’t colour their entire being with a tarnished brush, particularly when I have known or loved previous parts of them.

We were all once just the most delicious perfect little babies and that core essence remains in everyone. So as much as triggers and clashes will inevitably happen in life, seeing the gold behind each shadow is a heartening and uplifting state to be in and one that I intend to put into good practice.

First published on social media on 17th May 2023

Coronation Conflicts

I grew up a staunch royalist. What wasn’t there to love about the royal family? Even with the obvious drama, it just showed how human they were. And of course there was Diana…. the ultimate real life princess. Fairy tales do come true even the bad bits.

As my eyes have opened to the power dynamics controlling the world, the media, the messaging, I have longed for the royal family to be immune to it all. But I can’t face the truth about everything else and stick my head in the sand about the devastating corruption and dis-ease that permeates it all. They are part of the uber rich, part of the intricate connections that believe they can make the rest of us mere mortals dance under their puppet strings.

So what does this weekend of coronation extravaganza mean to me. I cannot lie, my royalist heart adores the pomp, the glitter, the dream of being that goddamn rich! And faced with the darkness, how do I respond to it all? And here I am torn. It’s just not so clearly black and white. This weekend creates connection, community, national pride, all of which I think hold huge value. I love feeling a common connection with our entire country over one weekend, isn’t the spiritual ideal achieving the understanding of oneness?

And I can hear the excuses in my head too, truly if everything I have heard about the royals is true, surely I cannot condone a single thing done in their name? But I think that’s the nub of it for me, I’m just not completely convinced; do I think Kate is part of some dark underworld? Or do I think she’s doing her work with the best of intentions which may also have links to a dark underworld? A bit like the doctors during Covid, most of them working with the best of intention despite the harm they were causing. But I didn’t clap for them….

I guess these are the complexities of human nature and I have to accept my own hypocrisy within it all. As always it gives me greater compassion for those that I judge to be hypocritical. I’m not pledging allegiance to the King but I did wear red, white and blue and attend a local event and truth be told I still shop from Amazon too!

First published on social media on 7th May 2023

Rageful

My husband and I are at THAT mid-life stage. There is a lot of emotional turmoil in many of our friends’ relationships, the cusp of divorces or other challenging consequences, and we ourselves are certainly far from immune to feeling the spiritual demands of these years.

One of the messages my husband keeps bringing home from his friends is how they feel they have coped with their wives as they have journeyed through the menopause and a recurrent theme is that they were ‘crazy and rageful’.

Now I am sceptical about this description for so many reasons but I also understand that many men just don’t understand the process, cycles and energy of women. We can be an enigma to them and there is dual responsibility here, the women can help men unravel their waves and cycles (though to be fair, many women are also disconnected from our ancient wisdom and wild power via modern societies demands so aren’t always able to explain or fully understand their own patterns) and the men can be willing to try and learn about this wisdom too, rather than simply dismissing it as crazy or unpredictable.

I am not an expert but I certainly know that a few days before my menses there is only a fine veil between my patience and frustration. The rest of the month I can walk through fields of graciousness, but annoy me close to my bleed and it’s just a tiny ditch away from anger. It is not irrational, there is always a valid trigger, it’s just that the comparison of how I communicate and resolve that annoyance is a chasm away from the rest of the time. So I understand that men can receive that as too different to process.

Now brining this to the menopause, I myself have begun to have disrupted cycles. This month I am already ten days over my usual date and that window of short fuse is stretching into a full conservatory. I suddenly realise how this is being received by the masculine, that odd day of ‘crazy’ that can be quickly forgotten or forgiven each month is stretching and elongating. That ditch is being jumped back and forth on too many occasions and when will it end? What if I don’t bleed for months? Will I still feel this premenstrual angst for the entire time?

And it has purpose. Just like it did for every regular cycle I have had for the last thirty something years. Would I describe myself as rageful? Nope. But I’m certainly less gracious right now. I’m less willing to put up with my notion of bullshit, I’m less patient, I need authenticity, directness and clean communication. Is that wrong? Could that be positive? I believe so.

Not knowing when this will end, I can’t just check out, read books, take baths and try all my previous ploys to navigate those one or two days of lore. I have to learn to adapt and adjust but I’m also not going to be labelled as negatively rageful when I know the root of my energy is power. I will learn to channel it and honour it as I step into this new era of my life. I am moving into a time where I have the greatest energetic potential, so it’s no wonder that the transformation is fiery. Call it rageful if you must but I will reclaim that word and alchemise it into gold.

First published on social media on 15th April 2023

In The Quiet Moments

Sometimes I cannot bring myself to speak, to verbalise what thoughts and feelings are swirling. Silence seems to keep them under control, to keep them in the depths. If I open my mouth, they may escape and I’m not ready for that to happen.

And what the world sees is me with a smile and a greeting. Maybe I falter at the moment of remembering something significant in your life. I can’t quite pull together the relevant memories and conversations that feed my knowledge. And then I feel ashamed that I have let my feelings overtake my interest in you, that you will think I haven’t listened or paid attention to your life and your needs.

All the while I’ll keep floating through the demands of daily ritual, the cooking, laundry, school runs, errands. All the while I am actually convinced that I have a handle on it all, that I have reasoned all the uncomfortable and painful feelings into the right corners of my brain and body. That I have accepted, processed, owned, released.

And only in the truly quiet moments, this half an hour waiting for my children to finish their activities, where I have stopped with unexpected space and grace. Only then do I realise how much I do not want to speak. How much energy it takes some days to be a responsible, thoughtful, loving human and parent, when I am craving blankets and books and silence.

In my teens and twenties there were times when I would sit in the base of a shower and let the water run on hot for an hour, or I’d curl up in the bottom of a wardrobe with the doors closed and just the fabrics, darkness and silence as my embrace.

Now my children, my life, my choices fill me and fulfil me so that I can believe so many of those pains never even existed. They belong to another lifetime, another journey but sometimes in the quiet moments, I never want to speak again.

First published on social media on 3rd April 2023

Reclaiming My Body

I have been listening to the searingly honest, heart opening & breaking podcast (on Psilocybin) by Honestly Elizabeth and much of her experience resonates for me on so many planes.

One of the things it really crystallised was how much the sexual abuse by my father disassociated me from my body. When I reflect back on later abuses and relationships, I can see clearly how I would so often reach a point of coercion; when someone wanted more from me than I really wanted to give, in both consensual and non consensual situations, I could observe my spirit step back and allow my body to be taken. The subtlety of this is hard to describe and I think in many, if not most, of these scenarios, the man could be forgiven for believing that I had given permission rather than simply acquiescing, which would be more accurate.

My body was a trade, I gave it, it appeased. I think this is why the ‘me too’ movement is so complex. I believe many many women surrender to appease rather than truly give permission but how can someone know that? I cannot blame all the men, certainly there were some at fault, pushy, domineering, scary even, but there were other who were sweet and thoughtful, who simply triggered my neuro-programming to submit, as my father had taught me.

Part of my healing today is to fully reclaim my body as mine, to integrate it as an essential part of my whole. And, as is so often the case when trying to restore balance, a counter weight is required. Now, I need absolute trust, safety and respect before I can consider offering my sacred self. And I also teach my children that sharing their bodies with anyone, when they reach that age and stage of life, is a sharing of spirit and how important it is to be in loving and trusting energy with that person.

Our society devalues sexual intimacy at great cost to our souls and it perpetuates this separation of body and spirit. The current vogue of early sexualisation of children, through media, fashion, wokism et al, is truly horrifying and when measured as a splintering of soul connection can only be classed as abuse.

I only hope that a much needed and aching return to family values blossoms and this part of our lives, as a society, will also be restored to a healthier, happier connection before much more damage is perpetrated against our innocents.

And as I reconnect my splintered parts, may that be mirrored into the world and draw together those elements that need healing and connecting for all of humanity.

First published on social media on 6th February 2023

Contracts

Well it never rains but it pours, especially when the Universe is trying to teach me a lesson. This year has been an intense look at my friendships, where I think things are okay and then have received a stark wake up call to point out things are not quite as I feel.

But today was interesting, a friend who was struggling with me, mentioned something I hadn’t really heard (or listened to?) before. She said I wasn’t vulnerable enough, I was too strong and strident in my opinions, not raw enough.

I feel raw inside. I feel like I absorb the energy of others so much that I am battered and bruised and hauling myself off the floor on a regular basis. But perhaps I don’t show it.

Then this afternoon I remembered a contract I made with myself as a teenager. My mother and I were in a terrible place together, communication was slim and often toxic and I can recall, so clearly, committing to not letting my mother see when I was stung by her words.

‘She will not know how much she hurts me, I will not give her that power over me.’

Has that contract with my mother, over 30 years ago, stayed with me all this time? Has that part that I shut down, the instinctive response of pain expression, been giving people a different impression of me than I feel inside?

I’ve always been fascinated by people whose faces don’t fully portray their emotions, I find myself staring at them, observing the disconnect between word and expression. Am I one of those? I have to confess I’ve often felt the opposite, that I wished my non verbal communication wouldn’t betray me in the way I sense, but maybe that’s all tied up together. And there again maybe I’ve become good at verbalising my feelings after all these years of personal growth and learning, but when I express my sadness with words, I’m still holding back the emotion so no one can read my heart.

Heart to heart….. the very best form of communication and one I pride myself on, but maybe not when I feel the need to protect myself, maybe not when I risk feeling hurt.

I don’t know how easy it is to write a new contract for myself, especially when I haven’t really been aware of its dominance these decades gone. But I guess I’m going to try…..

First published on social media on 9th December 2022

Story Time

We can all make up stories about other people: why they declined our invitation, why they smiled strangely last week, why they stopped a conversation just as we approached.

But how often are they true? Knowing when they are and when they are simply a projection of our own insecurities is a subtle art of intuition, experience and wisdom. Certainly I know if I’m annoyed with someone my stories will, more likely be a manifestation of those feelings I’m trying to deny rather than a clear interpretation of events. However when I am in observation mode, more detached from an engaged emotion, I can often see someone’s true actions as easily as if they had described them to me themselves. Knowing the difference is a skill to master.

This past week I realised someone had been holding a lot of stories about me and spiralling into a bigger and bigger picture, one story feeding the next. Reflecting on that, I was looking back at various scenarios: family, work, landlords, friends and realising how often this happens. One made up projection beginning the cycle of feeding the next until a whole personality perspective has been created that perhaps is light years from the true spirit of the person. And I am as guilty of this as the next person but perhaps at least aware of it.

It also crossed my mind and I wondered, are some people more susceptible than others to become the focus of stories? Do some people attract the projections of others? Or are they pretty evenly spread across the population. Do we all do it to each other, at varying levels, all of the time?

My husband certainly thinks I attract more than my fair share and I’m certainly aware of many that come my way but is that a natural consequence of my personality or something a little broken that needs exploration and perhaps healing or boundaries?

Is there something in my energy that inspires a person to imagine a negative motivation for my actions? Could it be as simple as a RBF (Resting Bitch Face)? I have a neighbour with one of those and I have to confess I imagine that she is pretty miserable and jealous, none of which I know to be true. Or is it deeper? My tendency to err on the side of blunt, curious and straightforward rather than cautionary or diplomatic, does culturally that make me an easy target. British vagueness fail. Am I too transparent with my non verbal reactions that cause others to see my subtle judgments or feelings that perhaps I’m not even conscious of?

Or is it absolutely nothing to do with me and entirely a tendency within the projector? Am I just able to recognise them quite easily and so notice how often they fly past my orbit?

A combination of all perhaps. Certainly I will reflect further on my contribution to these experiences, how much I can limit them or energetically boundary them but also allow each person their own journey, their own stories and know that even if I am the protagonist within their tales, it’s got very little to do with me. I am just a mirror for them to see their own reflection, except when it jars and I recognise myself in the glass too.

First published on social media on 29th November 2022