Other than posting random video clips, I have neglected this blog. I made a commitment to post everyday during the month of June on the topic "home," but I didn't ever get a reply that my effort to sign-up went through, and the topic of "home" is often a painful one for me, so I avoided writing anything.
Several hours ago someone wrote expressing interest in one of my photos, and it occurred to me that there just might be more than a few people out there actually reading what I write, so here I am! Thanks to everyone for reading, and for your continued support and interest. Most days I'm just here, around and about, being a mother, wondering about my purpose, wondering what I am doing, where I'm going, if anyplace at all. You could say, she doesn't know what the hell she's doing, and that would be a fairly accurate accusation of sorts. Just for the record, I am taking pains to give some more shape to my life, to walk a fine line, or perhaps, to take the messy clay I call myself and mold it into something intelligible.
I'd also like to report, if you don't mind, that I've dropped all pains at solving my "problems" (It's not even certain I have any at all! to speak of....) through the rattling vehicle called psychotherapy. I am not discounting therapy, or therapist. I know they are essential, and "they've" helped a lot of people....
There have been a number of therapists since I've been here, and lots of desperation. In the end it amounted to sessions of me either complaining bitterly about people, or about my life here, or to efforts at painting a promising, future-oriented picture of myself to the therapist. There was no shape to our sessions, no direction at all. I might as well have been complaining to the wind. I think, in fact, that wind might be more helpful. It can be refreshing, makes a pleasant sound, and has the tendency to wake one out of stupor. It challenges. It forces one to live. It grant life to the senses. I think, mostly, you could say, I love wind (when it's not destroying things), whereas, psychotherapy, hum, I'm not too certain. Love?
The therapist was terribly bored with me, suppressing yawns, and nearly nodding off while I shared some of my darker moments. You could say I envisioned someone like "The Mother," in Portrait of a Schizophrenic Girl, someone who would nurture me back into existence. I met a therapist who had such powers briefly in New York.
I often thought my therapist was more interested in her waste-length blond hair, and her next ski vacation than she was in my tottering mental health. Encouraged, I thought, well, at least I'm practicing my Dutch. After a few dismal years of this spotty "treatment," I requested another therapist, and then another. "The third man" spent most of our few sessions together either making me cry, or arguing to me about his position. He was one of those therapist who doesn't want to let you out of his clutches. If it had been up to him, I'd be going there every week to enter into conflict with him, or debate some rough aspect of his character.
On the third session I stated emphatically: "I don't want any more conflict! I'm through with conflict! I'm going someplace else with my life now! I'm going to another space, and I'm leaving all of this behind me." I thanked him for giving me the gift of self-reliance, that I actually CAN rely on myself, that I'm capable of figuring things about for myself, without his paltry help, or what they call "hulpverlening," which doesn't amount to much help at all.
It's shocking to finally realize that you're not in need of help at all, and that, actually, there wasn't anything much wrong with you to begin with, but that there's an enlightened path waiting for you to jump on board. A path of peace, harmony, problem solving, resolution, cessation. It's the path of the Buddha, and already, after only a few months of following it, I am becoming a better, more confident, nicer, more patient, less angry and confused, happier person. I still have a lot to learn, and a long way to go, but I feel very fortunate that my life path has led me to Buddhism. It's like being given a golden key. Suddenly, very simply and plainly, I know now where I am going. I know now that I don't have to live my life in turmoil and depression. There is a way out of the darkness. There is a clear, safe, reliable way out. I don't have to live my life in pain anymore. Thank you, Buddha!
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