Opening Up to the Body // Somatic Therapy in Practice
There’s that familiar twinge in my neck again. It tends to creep up around 2 pm, though sometimes I even start the day with it. Most often, it begins as a slow pull in the base of my neck. Eventually it moves through to the back of my eye and then progresses into a dull throbbing all over my head. This makes me feel nauseous. It’s as if it’s a chord being pulled back through my head. Almost like I’m a horse and the rider is pulling back on the reigns. But instead of drawing back, I continue to push forward. I have things to do. I have important problems to solve. I have children and other people that rely on me. I push through and finish another day on a tank half full.
Underneath that pressure to juggle all balls and not let myself or anybody else down, I notice a growing curiosity. What would life be like if the balls dropped? Or better yet, can I learn to enjoy juggling? Can I put the balls down sometimes and pick them up later? Is there another way? Does it have to be like this?
What is it that is really driving me to push forward when my body says “whhhoooaa” and pulls back on those reigns? Using mindfulness, I take a few deep breaths and try an experiment. I say a few simple words to myself, “It’s okay to take time for yourself.” Oooff!! my response is a solid “Nope, no, not really, not it’s not”. It’s clear that on a deep body level, I really don’t believe that it’s okay to take time for me, even though my head knows very well that self-care is essential for health and wellbeing, not to mention for improving productivity!
I take the experiment a step further now. Same deal as before, “It’s okay to take time for yourself”, but this time I quickly follow it up by repeating my internal “Nope, no, not happening”. Now my body feels a bit more at ease, but beneath that ease is a feeling of disconnection and this physical sense of floating outside of my body. It comes with the imagery of being lost in a forest without any real sense of direction. What would I do? There is nothing I could do that wouldn’t lead to feelings of discomfort and guilt. I would be dropping a ball.
I continue my exploration, asking my body this question over and over, while following up with that automatic no response. Old memories float up of receiving help in ways that were not wanted and that lead to feelings of resentment. I also notice my own tendency to make exciting goals into tasks on my list - more balls to be juggled. A heaviness in my chest gives way to thoughts of not wanting to burden others with my own responsibilities. I allow myself to ponder what it would be like to take a weekend to myself. I find my head lifted by all the possibilities - finish painting the mural on my daughter’s wall, sit at the beach with a friend, get a massage. And just as quickly, I feel a strong hit to my heart accompanied by a loud thought - “And what about your kids?!” That one hurts! I decide to face that pain in my chest for a few moments. What if they are balls that drop. What if I make choices and do things that are right for me, but are wrong for them? I sit with that heart pain a bit longer and really feel into it. After a few long moments of discomfort, I notice that the pain slowly softens. Along with that softening is the realization that this just might be about me being in control…
I am starting to see now that my thoughts like to tell me me that effort and pushing are ways of controlling outcomes. That if I effort my way through life, it will turn out the way I want it. My body releases, I feel tears well up. My body knows this isn’t true. My body knows that efforting my way through life is a choice, but not a necessity. My body knows that balls don’t have to drop, that I actually don’t even have to juggle. My body knows these are just stories I tell myself. I have been choosing to juggle, but I can also choose to do something else. I am trapped only by my own decisions, and limited only by my fears of the unknown and by my inability to believe that there may be another way.
I notice a growing sense of calm in my body. There’s a gentle voice inside that repeats “it’s okay”, “it’s all okay”, as if a loving mother part of myself is soothing a smaller child part. I feel a wave of relief. This will be okay. I’m doing my best. I’m not in control, and that’s okay. I’m here to enjoy the ride and take some pictures along the way. Change can be scary. In this moment I’m feeling aware of my own power and just as I put myself into this box, I can find my way out. I notice myself floating off into an image of myself throwing one of the balls to somebody else and playing catch together. I discover a smile blossoming on my face. I notice my chest lifting and a soft beating in my heart. It feels nice.
If the idea of learning more about yourself through the exploration of your present moment experience and the language of your body is of interest to you, please reach out and book a free consultation call today. Though this is not the only way I work, it is an incredibly valuable tool in my therapy practice and I would love to share how this might be of benefit to you too.
Learn more about Red Cardinal Counselling and my specialized adult and youth therapy services offered virtually and in Midland, Ontario.