http://www.opendiary.com/entrylist.asp?authorcode=D621921 Journeys Into My Other Self http://www.opendiary.com/entryview.asp?authorcode=D621921&entry=10007 <p>I've just been told off for not keeping my diary updated. I have been in limbo in some things. Not all, but some.</p> <p>I'm not sure why I had to call this entry stepping stones. It's more about endings, I think. One ending is drawing ever closer for me. I have only two more units left on my counselling diploma. Then the two majors, and I'm done. I'm not sure how I feel about that. Was that the end or the means? I'm still waiting on this answer. </p> <p>I'm still working through the ending of one phase of my life. Am I still in mourning for my parents? I don't think so. I still get the odd dream, but I don't 'talk' to them any more. And less and less I think about their reactions to something I have or haven't done or said. But it's harder to move away from who I was then, and who they were. Even simple things like disposing of the mail that arrives in my father's name, or getting rid of my mother's ornaments. Things I'm not yet ready or willing to deal with. Am I afraid of endings or new beginnings? In some things I'm fearless, but are these a cover for those things I truly am frightened of? Success? Achieving my goals? Do I still have this belief that I'm not worthy of such things?</p> <p>I've come a long way in a year. I believe in my gifts, and my abilities to help people. I understand more clearly that this is my destiny. And yet, my worthiness is always in question. With all my results, I still look for evidence of failure. Do I doubt my gift? No. Do I doubt myself? Always. And as such, I still sabotage myself where and when I can. I'm so close to many goals. Financial, work, spiritual, educational. The nearer I get, the harder I fight to not succeed. Such is the paradox of life.</p> <p>The friend who referred me to this diary told me she needs some guidance. I was aware of this for some time, but I also knew that if I said anything she'd reject it. Not because she was blind, or obstinate, but because we see ourselves in a certain way, and cannot accept the view of another of where we really are. She is sabotaging her dreams now, but only she can realise that and work to overcome it. I'll be there to help when and where she wants or needs, but she must make the first step. She's at a wide crossing in the river, and only she can find her first stepping stone.</p> <p>My endings are my stepping stones. When I move on and past one ending to a new beginning, I've stepped across to another stone. I'm almost in the middle of the river and I'm terrified. Because I know that once I do reach the middle there's no going back. Can I go back? No. But it's comfortable there, and I'd like the option to return to comfort. But yet I still eagerly look forward to that next step. Another paradox. What frightens me also excites me. And I know the flow of my river of life allows me to only go one way.</p> Tue, 9 May 2006 0:00:01 GMT http://www.opendiary.com/entryview.asp?authorcode=D621921&entry=10006 Fri, 24 Feb 2006 0:00:01 GMT http://www.opendiary.com/entryview.asp?authorcode=D621921&entry=10005 <p>It started quite small actually. Well, it actually started several years ago. I could see women in their wedding dresses. occasionally I sensed a baby. But these were 'flukey' things, you know. They weren't a real gift. I just got lucky a few times. AFter all, I didn't deserve such gifts. And so they faded away.</p> <p>Fast forward quite a few years. Make two friends who have wonderful gifts. And what do they do? Decide they don't want to utilise these gifts. Selfish women. Have what I want, and won't use it. Then one of them zaps me. Actually, she gave me my Reiki level one. Don't use it though, cause hey, it may not be real. Then I start using it. The more I use it, the better I get. But that's okay. It's an energy thing. Anybody can do it. Occasionally, I'd feel as though I'd have to tell somebody something. Like the night my dad was playing with my dog. I wanted to tell him to be careful he didn't trip over the portable fire, but ended up going to the loo (bathroom for the Americans). While in there I heard a crash. Yep, he'd fallen over the fire. But still...</p> <p>I'd mentioned before how I'd gotten into readings. Well, they're getting stronger and stronger. So much so that I'm now going semi-professional and advertising in the local paper in the next few weeks. I can accept this gift. It's my talent. As I get more confident the more I enjoy it. that's okay.</p> <p>And I'm still healing. I'm getting better at that too. Not curing, but making better. And weird, I can also diagnose. In fact, my diagnostic abililties are outstripping my healing. So maybe I should become a diagnostician.</p> <p>And, of course, my counseling abilities are still coming into play, even if my studies aren't. Maybe I need to look into a complete holistic approach, using all my newfound gifts?</p> <p>Only now, something else has shown up. We all fantasize, right? daydream? usually about ourselves? I do, but I also daydream about other things. Like the other month, about two people who shouldn't meet doing just that, and the one helping the other with his music career. The other day, these two men met, and it seems got on very well. And the second man is about to record his first album. Coincidence? Is it all coincidence? Or are my abilities blowing out beyond what I could ever imagine? Not to mention the occasional contact from somebody who's passed on.</p> <p>I'm no Alison Dubois or Jon Edward. But then, they were aware of, and strengthening their gifts all their lives. I'm a late bloomer. Who knows where it will end. Terrifying? Kind of. I have always had major control issues, and I'm not controling this at all. Excited? Sort of, but not really. Pulling back? Hell, no. The ride's just begun!</p> Fri, 24 Feb 2006 0:00:01 GMT http://www.opendiary.com/entryview.asp?authorcode=D621921&entry=10004 <p>That's something I could never be called. In fact, I'm one of the untidiest people I know. Fortunately, I can't give myself the title of the untidiest, but I wouldn't be far behind. And I've often wondered why. Why is it so hard for me to hang up my clothes after I've washed them? Why is making the bed such a chore? Why do I have a hatred of dishes? Actually, I know that one. It's because they're never-ending. You do one lot, there's another just waiting within a few minutes. What a waste of energy. </p> <p>But there's only me to pick up after. I don't count the dog, though she's not exactly miss neat either. I have plenty of rooms with plenty of storage space. If well-maintained, it wouldn't take long to just tidy up each room, then clean the floors. Yet I have this inate inability to do this. Why?</p> <p>Well, there is of course, the big one. Laziness. I wasn't really taught as a child to do my chores, and keep my room quietly. I think my Mum tried, but it was one area that she wasn't as strict as others. Weird. perhaps she knew more about useless waste of energy than I gave her credit for. But it's more than that. I proved it this weekend. Because I had a good weekend. Why? Because I cleaned my kitchen. And I mean cleaned. The stove top and oven got a going over. The benches got wiped down. The microwave was cleaned inside and out. I have yet to do the fridge and floor, but nothing else was missed. And a lot of clutter was gotten rid of. Now it took me all day. Because I took lots of breaks, not because it was that bad. But I stuck to it. Because i gave myself permission to take my time. And I reversed some chores. I was exhausted afterwards, but I had a real sense of accomplishment. So why do I find it hard to continue that vein? When I know how good I feel afterwards, and how bad I feel if somebody enters my house and it's messy. The only answer i can come up with is that the house is a symbol.</p> <p>A symbol of what though? A symbol of my still rebellion to my parents, though I've resolved so much of that? A symbol of my stamp of independence (this is mine and so can be as messy as I want)? A symbol of the clutter that is still in my mind, and needs a general clean out? Or a symbol of the barriers I'm still erecting to prevent me from achieving the success I'm beginning to realise that I do deserve? And no matter what symbol it is, how do I overcome it? How do I become the clean freak inside, so that I can become a better housekeeper outside? Not just for one day, but at a consistent maintenance. And is it important to know what kind of symbol it is, or just to know that it isn't about the housekeeping but about something else? Does just recognising that give me the ability to overcome this barrier, and to create new, more appropriate habits?</p> <p>Isn't it funny how, when trying to answer one question, we develop so many more? I don't know the answer to my housecleaning problems. I can't afford a housekeeper or maid, so I shall just have to perservere. Perhaps, like the other aspects of my life, practise makes much better?</p> Mon, 6 Feb 2006 0:00:01 GMT http://www.opendiary.com/entryview.asp?authorcode=D621921&entry=10003 <p>I have to write some emails to a couple of friends of mine. The trouble is, I have nothing to tell them. My life for the past almost year has been pretty much the same. Go to work, come home, feed the dog, come on the computer, watch a little tv, go to bed. And on weekends? All but the go to work, with a little movie watching in between. I get bored with having to say 'Nothing much has happened'.</p> <p>And yet, so much has happened. I'm not the same person I was last year. It's not just the loss of my second parent, and finding myself truly on my own for quite some time. It's not the mourning process I went through at his loss, or missing the sound of his voice or his welcome when I came home. It's so strange when you try to explain your relationship with your elderly parent to others. Especially when you're caring with them. Yes, there's still the father/daughter aspect. But things evolve. In many ways, especially toward the end, we reversed roles and I became mother to his son. And in other ways, since the death of my mother we became partners. Not in a sick perverse sexual kind of way, but in a sharing off lives, thoughts, the daily living. There's an equality that develops in these intimate activities. I wonder if sons also go through this strange almost Edipodal metamorphasis?</p> <p>So yes, I miss him, more than I probably realise. But that isn't all that's changed. There's the self-analysis. Why am I how I am? Who made me this way? And what issues do I still have to resolve with my parents? Thanks to my counselor I discovered a lot of those issues I wasn't even aware of. I was also able to put into perspective those that I was. I was able to do all this and say 'You influenced my choices, so have responsibility in the way I turn out.' Not just to my parents, but also to those others who had a strong impact in my life. From my mother's sister to a teacher who I can only remember from the damaging scene that still haunts me to this day. She wasn't being deliberately hurtful, but she made a comment that affects my psyche even now. But I also realised something very important. They may have all influenced them, but I made those choices. I am the one who got me where I am today. Without their strong influences, I'm making different, me choices, but I still chose my path, and still choose to a great extent to submit to that influence. A great thing going camping. The isolation helps one to see inside oneself and to learn to forgive.</p> <p>But is that all? No. There's the psychic work. I can now fully own it. One, because my parents aren't there to denigrate it, and two, because I've seen it work. The more I work on one area, others are developing and growing. I'm amazed at my own abilities, but still have the fragility to not fully believe in them or my right to have them.</p> <p>And then there's the being. Just being me. Just coping with life and all the blows on my own. Making choices and decisions without 'having to run them by' another person. to be at the furthest depth and know I found ways to climb out of it. With a great deal of help, but I pulled myself up. And seeing a light at the end of the tunnel. </p> <p>I look back on the last 11 months and nothing much has happened. And yet, a great metamorphis has happened. I've changed beyond recognition. I am not the person of 11 months ago, and I'm beginning to love both the old and new more and more. And if anything has changed above all, it's just that. Love. I can acknowledge, accept and give love to the most important person in my world. Me.</p> <p>But how to put that in an email? One friend has been with me through all of that. She was instrumental in some of it, as it came from helping her with her issues. The other has been with me for years. She was the one with open arms who took me in when both parents died, allowing me to rest in her home during my holidays. I wonder if she'd recognise me now?</p> <p>What's happened in the past year? Nothing much. Everything.</p> Fri, 3 Feb 2006 0:00:01 GMT