Over time I have to learn to be uncomfortable when I write. Being able to but thoughts to paper is easy when there is nothing bothering me, but consistency in content creation isn’t about commitment when it’s easy. Keeping to a consistent schedule means doing it when I’m ill, upset, or dealing with a lot of stress.
Over the last few days something has been resurfacing. For me repairing my sense of safety has been a high priority. Many trauma survivors are taught to make a “safe space” where they can relax and unwind. Many thing of a park, or a comfortable room, but these techniques never really struck a chord with me. Imagining armor or a mech suit would help, but never provided significant gains other people would discover. Recently I’ve tried out visualization techniques that have managed to make significant progress.
Where safe rooms, spaces, and armor fall down is that there is a separation between the rest of the world, and me. A suit of armor can deflect an attack, but it also stops me from connecting to the world around me. A room is as much a barrier to stop me from working through me issues with hostility and fear. No, what seems to really work is focusing on “Visceral Awareness” or how I carry emotions in my body. For a long time people use the phrase “my body remembers” and it turns out people knew what they were talking about.
What helps is a visualization of connecting spots of visceral tension to a sense of safety. I’ll imagine threads of energy coursing through my body with associations of safety. I can’t overstate that this is a difficult thing to do. Not for any technical skill involved, this is just visualization. What makes this so hard is connecting to parts of my body which carry iron clad knots of trauma. Known workarounds other people have success with simply aren’t effective, yet going straight for trauma seems to give some degree of gain.
A day after trying this technique I felt pain in my guts like knives sunk deep into viscera. I wasn’t working that day so I spent most of the next 12 hours rapidly checking messages, email, you tube updates, anything for a small momentary distraction. This strange sensation was best described as knives with countless thread of piano wire strung to hilts and tugged in every direction. Like lying a bed of razor wire any movement promised bloodletting. The following day, yesterday, proved to be a day of venting out a glut of pent up anger and guilt which needed released. My guts feel a lot better today.
Yesterday I ran another therapeutic table top game. Eight hours of fun conversation mixed with intense emotional gut punches. Pulling a lever to activate an elevator was upgraded to whole new levels of being a Macguffin.