Are there any therapists out there who aren’t too scared to help heal the long suffering?
Are there any therapists who connect at the human needs level and are able to use love as a guide post instead of fear?
Is there a therapist out there who, when times get tough like now, won’t retreat from supporting vulnerable people who have told themselves neglect and revulsion are what they deserve?
How can we be strong enough to stay on this healing journey when our healers are all withering under the weight of fear?
How can we learn to respect boundaries when those boundaries appear to change with external circumstances?
If we return to our core beliefs and core values in a time of crisis, we will see what we truly believe
We believe we are a worthless, infectious, contagious, disgusting parasite whose body is for others to use for their gratification and needs, whose value is so low that ignoring them is the natural reaction to our repeated expression of our needs.
What we want to believe is that everyone is essentially the same: trying to get their needs met, which automatically validates everyone’s intentions. The deeds that hurt selves and others are tragic attempts to get our needs met. And we can all learn to see what is alive in us and what is alive in others. We can all learn to enrich our lives and their lives because that is what humans most enjoy: making life lovely.
The gulf between what we believe and what we want to believe is now the same as the gulf between wakefulness and dreaming or delusion.
Without a guide, how do we proceed? With the critically important responsibility of breaking the cycle of neglect in our family of choice, how do we accomplish any goal?
We are a fractured being. We have nine different sets of needs and experiences alive in one body. How can we persist without support that actually feels like support? These therapeutic relationships in which we have invested so much are costing us way more forks than they are returning.
All the talk from therapists about boundaries and inherent value, etc., seem like promises made while people were drunk. Now with fear dominating the world, they are stone-cold sober and clinging to their own survival.
Frequently, maybe in the past three months or so, we can hear our heart beat—possibly the expansion/contraction of some blood vessel near our ears. It is the sound of mortality, and we will not shrink from that end of every story. Yet, while that heart contributes to flex, we want to suffer less and kindle the candle of love.
Where are the healers?
No one is coming to rescue us. That is not how it works.
Partnerships. Connection. Where are the witnesses? Where are those who shine the lights? Who walk the paths with you?
They will walk via Zoom, on a treadmill, and tell you this is sufficient for you. This is all they are willing to do. Can’t that be enough for us?
It cannot. The talking box was our substitute parent. The talking box is encrypted with fear. The talking box turns off when the programming ends. It goes to static. To white noise. To voices imagined or a portal to other realms or to delusion.
We practiced healing for a world of therapists who were physically with us. They told us of a world of Hope where Love leads our actions. And then they hid from us because we are disgusting and they are afraid.
We do not enjoy living these words we have written. Every morning we wake up and these conversations assault our consciousness. Over and over. Every day.
No one is coming to rescue us. We have to figure it out for ourselves, with all our voices, for all our me’s, while being parent and spouse.
We just have to try.
How can they not understand this? How can it no longer matter?