Strength and Vulnerability

Back in this post, I talked about The Wall which served to keep out most everything -- even the things that I'd like to actually get.

I'm one of these people whose body will express for me all those emotions that I don't want to express, or don't recognize. For years now, I've had problems with acid reflux and a chronic inability to clear my throat. I describe the reflux in terms of "I'm trying to swallow something which I just can't digest, and so the body is physically responding by producing more acid." That resonates as "correct" to me. Every time an emotional subject is broached, my throat literally shuts and I can't speak for a few moments, or the amount of crap in my throat instantly doubles and I end up coughing to no avail. It's like that metaphorical wall has become a physical situation, and if I continue to choose to ignore it or think it's normal for me (and therefore unimportant), it will only get worse.

I've been considering: how can I break down this wall? Then a thought popped into my head. I think this wall is made up of all the unshed tears, all the swallowed or unexpressed anger, and all the pain and heartbreak which I have experienced over a lifetime. I'm sure the mortar is full of thoughts which begin like "I shouldn't/should..." and "nice girls don't/do..." or "good girls are/aren't..."

From here, I realized that I need to express all those things I've refused to recognize. To get it out and finally let it all go. Egad! That's almost 40 years worth of denial and repression! The very thought scares me. I don't want to be an emotional basket case! I know that starting this process means inflicting my instability on the household - something I'm exceedingly reticent to do despite my husband now asking to see it. Even just thinking about it has my throat literally burning as I fight to keep all this mess contained. It's a terrifying prospect, but I also recognize that the limits are being reached already. My body is telling me "enough", especially judging by the amount of antacid I'm consuming and the near constant coughing that has no medical basis. I am horrified to find myself crying at sappy commercials with increasing frequency (note the 'horrified' response at uncontrollable emotional outbursts).

I know, deep down, this is something that I not only must do, but will do. That said, I am wondering about the timeline. Should I start now? Or wait until I have the house to myself in the afternoons? I'm pretty sure there's a lot of anger making up that wall, and if I feel like screaming or smashing things then I don't want to alarm the household. I need to feel free to express the emotions which belong to long past events. Concern for others will hamper this process, defeating it because I'll still be editing them.

I like to think of things this way: I cannot build on faulty foundations. The old, the broken, the unsound must first be cleared away. Only then can I start to search for my own Truth, for my genuine Strength.

The biggest impediment to all of this, to the goal of breaking down that Wall, is me. Bluntly put, I'm afraid. I'm afraid to ask for help. Why? Afraid of being seen as weak? As vulnerable? Or afraid of the power that lies behind all the denial? Afraid that once it's all cleared away, what emerges is truly exceptional. Afraid that when the hubby sees how emotional I am, he'll rethink things? I think it's all of them. They are all true, and they scare me.

The more I think about this, the more I realize this is not something I can truly do on my own. Recall that previous post about receptivity and a willingness to be vulnerable? My husband is excellent at helping people get in touch with themselves. I've seen it multiple times, and yet I've never asked him in earnest to do that for me. The first challenge is asking him, someone I care about deeply, for help, to push a hole through that wall large enough to be heard and be able to receive what is given.

In order for the lioness I see with my mind's eye to be as glorious as she has the potential for, she can't be hiding. And I'm still hiding.

- Lioness (in training)