SURVIVING AIN’T LIVING

fight-or-flight-uncertainty

I had a realisation in early November that I had spent a lot of my life in survival mode. In fact it has become a recognisable bed I was lying in, but not a very safe one. The last 3-4 years have been particularly bad and my external life had reflected that financially, in my home situation, physically via the cancer and emotionally just feeling numb and being okay about having so little.

Living in survival mode means you are always living in fear: fear of death, fear of destruction, fear that the few things you have in life will crumble away and you will fall into the abyss.  That is how I have felt for as long as I can remember. This terrible fear led to becoming a control freak – trying to manage aspects of my life – money, relationships, day to day living, and my son – so as to feel “safe.”  Living in the fear, but pretending to yourself you are not; “its okay you’ve got it all under control Maxine.”

But the fact is in all those aspects of my life, I may have controlled them or felt I did, but they weren’t natural or loving and none were being done very well. Control does not allow for love to flow and controlling addictively to avoid fear is unloving. Avoiding fear, living in fear is unloving, restrictive and self-denying as well as unloving to others as to avoid feeling vulnerable you try to control those around you, sometimes heavily disguised as “taking care” of them, but still controlling them.

Being in survival mode is really bad for your health too. When we are in flight or fright mode we produce adrenalin by the pint and all this adrenalin constantly pumping around our system isn’t good. In the end it creates a toxic environment and it is exhausting. Now that I have started to pay attention to my fear, I have become aware that daily I do so many things to avoid feeling unsafe physically, emotionally and spiritually.

I have become an expert in batting back, ducking, avoiding, distracting myself from feeling fear. In the process I have created a facade that is dull and hard and uncreative. I have lost more and more of myself.

However, compassionately, there are some deep causal events and emotions that started this whole survival mode. John Bradshaw, in his book Homecoming, says “a witness to violence is a victim to violence.” I had a father who was violent, a step father who was even more so both, physically and mentally to my mother. I sat on the stairs or behind my bedroom door many times listening to the shouting and violence going on near me. I even have a memory of standing in my cot and feeling this big dark red cloud coming into the room. It was rage – I think it was my father’s rage, at my mother, I don’t have the details, but I feel panicky and scared…and there is still much I haven’t remembered yet.

Then there is the other violence, of being shouted at, clipped round the ear, blamed and shamed in one way or another as my parents, unable to cope with their own emotions, sent them my way. The terror that comes when you think your mother has killed herself – again and again and again: all these things and so many more.  I wish my experience was unusual, but it isn’t or am I minimizing it? As a small child, all these things shake you to the core and it has left me with the constant feeling that my world will end at any moment, that there is no solid foundation to exist from and at times no real love to be found.

When I hit the wall in November, my body aching from doing a job that was too demanding and pushing myself to the limits with it, and only months after major surgery and cancer and then coming home to live in a place I really don’t like, reduced down to living pretty much in one room with no space to get the things I love out – my art materials and writing materials and no money to buy new clothes when I need to or enjoy things I love, counting every penny and struggling to pay off some debts.

So I started to feel some emotions about it – yes mostly effect emotions – sadness, and some frustration, but mostly sadness, at the situation I was in, and created by my unhealed emotions, my choice to keep suppressing them. A painful realisation, but to be frank to feel something was a good thing and it created some small shifts in me, about what God wants for me and it not this – this small life.

In relation to this, for the last 2-3 of years I have also become aware that I have attracted a large group of spirits who do not want what is best for me, but only want to control my life, zap my energy and keep me small and at times completely destroy me. They have been with me for a good while I feel. By not feeling my emotions I allow that attraction to continue. It has been tough dealing with this. I feel them sitting on my shoulders, at times suffocating and crowded. It has kept me awake at night the last few months and I have felt I have no privacy whatsoever. Every time I try to take a step forward I feel they come for me. It has felt like a real battle for my soul. So I am in the process of feeling more truth about this, bit by bit.

I am letting myself feel that facade, I am returning to long-ignored passions that connect with my real self and I am doing a few things to come outside of my “comfort” zone/prison. They are a few small steps, but I am feeling a shift in some areas. I still have much to learn and feel and discover, but letting that control addiction go is tricky, but I really am beginning to dislike it. It doesn’t feel like me, just like a strange creature that has taken over. Plan A: to turn from rock to river!

I wanted to share this, to help those of you who may be doing the same as I have been. It is so important to be honest with ourselves, to look at our lives and see what it is showing us about our unhealed emotions, our self worth and our denial. We do have the power to change all this and we have much greater power to change all this if we include God in the process.  Step one, for me, is working through blocks to receiving God’s love. (which would so help me soften to emotions).

The blocks I think I have identified about God are (constantly up for review!):

  • Anger that God has made this so difficult (I feel it is very difficult).
  • Fear I will never receive God’s love/lack of faith
  • False beliefs about God judging me and deciding I don’t deserve Love ( parental stuff)
  • An addictive demand that God should give me love despite my lack of desire/fears about receiving or when I am being unloving.
  • Lack of faith that God is good and that her Love will make me happy.
  • I have more faith in my addictions
  • Lack of self worth prevents the openness to receiving.
  • A fear of emotional overwhelm/losing control if I receive God’s love; what will happen?

 

These realisations have created some changes. A week after my meltdown a new job came up and I got it and I am working in a more loving environment – though still having to watch my own self care in it, and with that my finances have improved and I am looking for somewhere new to live, and I am writing more and have joined something called solo autobiographical theatre which is triggering memories and emotions and pulling me out of a comfort zone and challenging me to do it despite fears that come up.

The Divine truth teachings are never far from my mind and heart. The God blocks are still there, but by listening to the videos by Jesus and Mary, I learn about God’s truth and re-educate myself about Love and Truth and error and as always nature is one of my greatest teachers about God and her Love. Also, books like the Robert James Lee trilogy (see the extras page) give such hope and wonder and curiosity to keep searching and investigating the truth about God, and Love and life. I am blessed to have this knowledge and experience at my fingertips and I do not want to walk away from it until I start to really walk it and keep walking it, with no turning back and no fear.

This year is about my moving out of survival mode, of really finding out what being me is about, what loving myself is really about: to move from the pretend love that feeding my addictions gives me and finding out what God’s love really feels like.  To create a blunt analogy I feel I have been clinging to a pile of hard crap that I have convinced myself was a soft cushion: comfortable, but sticky and not allowing me to move much. Clinging because I felt there was this deep bottomless pit below, a drop into the unknown, to a point of meaninglessness and death, very related to childhood fears and flight/fright mode.  Now it is time to let go of clinging to this crap, falling into the abyss…whatever it may. My feeling is instead of nothingness or danger , I will find God’s hands there ready to catch me and lift me up to greater heights, even with wings to fly – just has he planned. I can see even see that knowing smile…… Yes my child, here YOU are… here you truly are…

Oh goodness, now won’t that be wonderful…

Maxine

WORDSMITH

I AM WRITING

I am writing because I love to

I am writing words on a page,

That dance,

And skip,

And run on paper.

Words that calm,

Excite, enthuse and trigger.

Words that have magic

When strung together,

In rhythm, or wild and free.

 

Words unique to me,

To my expression,

My history,

My emotions.

Words that warm the heart,

Or break it.

Shattering the world

To tears and deep blue sadness,

To gut wrenching fear

And the fiery gate of anger.

Words to ignite,

To aid our flight

Awaken our soul, alive.

 

And words that

Feel too small to tell the truth

Of wonder.

But, words it is and words they are,

That help me

Speak and feel

And learn and create

And feed a passion

Of mine.

 

I write because I long to write

It’s simple really

There black and white.

To write, to write, to write.

sharpen-snoopy-writing

 

When I was young I was a very good reader and had read all the set books by the time I was 7 and so became a “free reader:” a pupil who was able to read anything at all on the shelves. I don’t remember all the books, but I do remember visiting the book shelves time and time again. At home, we hardly had any books. I remember one of my grandmothers’s buying me a whole set of Enid Blyton books one year and I read them again and again. I read anything, even my brother’s “Fantastic Four” annuals or my mother’s Catherine Cookson.

I loved reading and escaping into worlds other than my own, enjoying adventures and imaginary places, away from harsh realities. When I was older, I read a lot of Jane Austen, which were one of many I read out loud in order to hear myself speak differently and experiment with how it felt to talk as they did in the 19th Century. This is something I still like to do. I am fascinated with words and language: how they sound, feel and what they can express. But words are not limitless and I feel there are many things where words are not enough, but words can and do express a whole realm of wonder, information and imagination.

At some point during my childhood and certainly by the time I was 12 I started to write a diary or journal and to this day I continue to do so. It has never really been a daily event and there have been long periods where I wrote nothing at all. When I look back at my diaries aged 12, 13, 14 or 15 I cringe at some of the topics; boys, what my friends are doing, that kind of thing. But in between the normal sort of teenage stuff are painful entries of insecurity, fear, anger, frustration and sadness.

Then as a teenager some of that expression started to form into poetry and is still a form I love as it can be uninhibited by form, structure or grammar. It can flow in any direction, made from three words or three hundred. When I was teaching English for a while, I told the students that everyone is a poet (which I still believe) and then I proceeded to read a short, but powerful seven-word poem by my son. After their exclamations of approval I would tell them Ben has Down’s syndrome and could hardly write when he thought of that poem. All he did was tell his teacher what he saw and felt.

For me, it is that simple, poetry is about your physical senses and most importantly your feelings. What can you see, hear, taste, smell, touch and feel? What colours are in that butterfly? What happens in your heart when you watch her flitter around your face? How do you feel when you see scenes of war on the TV? Or hear that teenagers are lazy? It is human nature to respond to everything around us. We can try to shut it down and do successfully at times, but never completely: there is always a feeling their somewhere.

I recently watched a great documentary on the BBC called “We are Poets” about the Leeds Young Authors.  These are a group of 13-19 year old who are taught how writing can help them find their voice and expression and even discover who they are and want to be. It helps many young people deal with difficult life circumstances and take them away from negative life choices. They performed their poetry, sometimes called Slam Poetry and what impressed me the most was the passion with which they wrote, the passion with which they spoke and also that they never shied away from difficult subject matter. They said it – as it is for them and thanks to the project they have discovered all this at a young age.

For myself, I am nearing 50 and it was only about  5-6 years ago that I started to tell others I liked to write and that maybe I would like to do this more and maybe I had something to write about. It wasn’t easy to say. I felt others would laugh at such a dream or read something I had written and confirm what I felt inside that maybe I couldn’t really write and like a tone deaf singer I didn’t know how terrible my voice truly was.  Starting this blog over two and half years ago was a big step and a big statement. It was the moment when I decided I had to stop worrying less about what others thought and just do what I love.

Robby and I had been to a talk about six months earlier, when Jesus had given an example of a friend who had followed his passion to make music, sing and play his guitar. He had started off just playing for himself, just because of his love for it and over time as he worked through emotions and grew his desire he was now getting paid to do what he loved.  The story stayed with me and so the blog started. Since then, I have cried tears over all the years I didn’t follow my passions and dreams and having cancer really put into perspective the time I had wasted in not writing, not painting and not doing what I love and even discovering other new loves.

A creeping apathy had overtaken my life, a slowly creeping ivy where I had focused more on my son than myself, where I had found it easier to avoid feeling fear and live in it; avoid my feelings of self worth, therefore stifling and strangling my creativity. Suppressing sadness, fear, anger also suppressed joy, creativity, spontaneity and wonder. I had become addicted to struggle and made myself so grey, so small, I was barely there at all. I had sinned against myself, by denying a huge and vital part of who I am and who God designed me to be: creative, colourful, wondrous.

Writing this blog was the beginning of something – a place where I have explored my emotions, uncovered lies, truth and facade. It has been a journey of self doubt and self discovery, but most importantly it has been a place of growing confidence in my own expression. I have made mistakes, ones which devastated me at times, because I have an injury to always get things right, but which over time have taught me to be softer in these mistakes and just enjoy the process of writing. And I have enjoyed  it all and in the last few months my passion to write has grown, along with my confidence.

I have taken the first steps on this yellow brick road and I am loving it! I started writing the other day and a character grew from it, a character with a story. I found and edited a children’s story I wrote six years ago. I continue to write my journal and my poems and I am planning to go back through the boxes now with all the odd bits of paper in them of ideas and bits of writing in them and see what’s there. I have also signed up to a writing magazine and I sent a little article to a local one.

God has heard me and many Law of Attractions are happening to confirm my desire. A book appeared called “Freeing the Writer Within;” I was given a free ticket to a poetry and storytelling event; someone else has offered me a free place on a storytelling and performance workshop; I went to a cafe and got chatting to a lady opposite me and she turned out to be Marcia Willets, who has written 28 successful novels and then I met an amazing group of people who work for and with artists who are migrants or refuges and with the aim to portray a different message and challenge perceptions via music, writing, performance and film. Amazing hey?!

We were made to be passionate about what we love, to be passionate about life and all it can offer us if we allow ourselves to feel all the things that have stopped our passion in the first place and taking action will cause this. Writing and my deepening desire to write more is triggering issues of self worth, also reflected in the work I currently do to survive, rather than do work I love.  Every day I feel the pain of this in some way, but also feeling more will to keep writing and expressing and dancing with words and see where it takes me and what it creates in my life.

So in celebration of this dance here is a little poem I jotted down after watching “We are Poets.”  Thank you to the Leeds Young Authors for the inspiration and for showing me how to slam it, and to Jesus and Mary for helping me know it is good to do what I love and demonstrating to me the joy in doing do. If I could perform this poem it would not be meekly said.

I WROTE

I wrote when my heart was Breaking 

and I was Aching for more.

I wrote when my world was crazy 

and the in- fighting

Never stopped.

I wrote to make sense 

of the times when nothing did.

I wrote to soothe my pain

Or scream insane

When they did, what they did

To hurt me, ignore me, 

confuse me and taught me 

to hate me. 

Words were my only friends

The only honesty

In the lies that burned into

my heart

By the ones who were 

meant to love the most. 

But instead broke

me.

In words I found my strength,

my dance, my ‘I’ again.

In poetry 

I am me. 

 

Maxine Bell @2016

Sisters, Sisters, Sisters….. there were never such devoted Sisters….

haynes-sisters

Sisters, Sisters, Sisters,

There were never such devoted sisters

Never had to have a chaperone “No, sir,”

I’m there to keep my eye on her

Caring, Sharing,

Every little thing that we are wearing…..

This is the song from White Christmas and a while back it kept popping into my head so I took that as a hint from my guides about some emotions that were coming up for me around friendships, particularly women so writing this helped me explore it a bit more.

If we believe we are all children of God, all men are our brothers and all women are our sisters. So when I refer to sisters here I talk just not of biological sisters we may have had, but also about our friendships: an area that has been a challenge for me all of my life.

All relationships have been a challenge for me, but those with women I have found difficult in ways I can not describe fully yet, as I am still investigating, still feeling through painful emotions and I have a way to go yet.

I find it hard to believe I am accepted and loved. I feel rejection in all sorts of scenario’s: an anxiety and fear that does not actually relay the truth of the situation – it is often just my fear and I live in it still and in the last few years it has got worse. Of course it has: I have not felt the causal emotion – the reason it all started.

The words to this song, from the movie White Christmas, intrigued me years ago: I had never had a friendship like that. I had had what I thought were close friends, but they didn’t seem to last. When I was a kid, we moved around a lot, so I made friends and then I would be off. One year I left a school, then plans changed and I was back there in September, but off again within a few months. I remember my discomfort at having to return after having said goodbye to everyone. I felt like everyone thought I had lied about leaving. When I was 12 we moved to Devon and I did stay in the same place for 6 years but by that time I was already uncertain and unsure of myself. I still made friends, still giggled together with others on the bus home from school, still compared notes on boys, but never felt that closeness with one particular friend and even if it started to feel like that, it seemed to change. I often felt like a strange creature with a secret world that no one understood or knew about: I often felt like an observer of my own life. I would relate to a certain point, but mostly I felt so utterly alone, in my thoughts and behaviour and with my feelings. My only true friend became the ocean, where I went to talk, cry, sing and write poetry: its strength, beauty and far out horizon gave me space to feel and express myself.

I moved away from the ocean when I was 18 and my tentative relationships with women continued. I would seem to make good friends but they only lasted a few years and then they were gone. We would lose contact or something would happen and we no longer had anything more to say to each other. One friend ended our relationship because I was “too thoughtful.” At the time it made no sense to me and I learned to trust or like myself even less: not knowing when I was giving too much, which sometimes led me to feel worn out and resentful if it felt like others were just taking and not giving: not understanding what I had done “wrong.” If problems arose in friendships I would often bury my head in the sand: not answer calls, pretend not to be in, panic if I bumped into them, or pretend everything was fine, but retain feelings of anger, confusion, fear,sadness and even devastation within.

I was too scared to speak up in case I was not liked anymore: I averted disaster to avoid the pain of rejection or judgement or punishment. The truth is I had become ashamed of myself, unsure, and certain I was not truly liked, that people would find out in the end how awful I was – that the real me was a bad, unlovable person.

Naturally, it was not just that I moved house a lot: in fact the constant moving, the never asking how we children felt about it was just a clue to the fact our feelings or the effects of the changes on us were never considered. I still have huge blanks in my memory, but my feelings tell me that everything was about the adults, especially about my mother. She was needy and narcissistic. Her own childhood, her own family history created a parent who really struggled to be a parent at all. How can you love your children when you do not know about love? When you do not know how to love yourself? All you do is believe that the world is against you and you fight in whatever way you need to to get attention, to get “love”. For my mother, the need was so great, the pain so deep, that she used her children to meet her emotional needs, which is very damaging.

The most painful emotional event for me was how my mother would pull me closer, tell me I was her favourite (which didn’t make me feel comfortable), get what she wanted from me, which could be any form of caring for her – either emotionally or physically. Then I would not do something as she expected in some way, if I didn’t make her feel better, if I didn’t stop her pain, didn’t do enough chores, didn’t listen to her enough, she would push me away – tell me I didn’t know what she was going through, that she “had sacrificed everything for her kids” and that we were ungrateful and I was a terrible daughter.  I would stand confused. I tried to please her more and more. I would get her breakfast in bed, I became an entertainer to make her smile. I feared her wrath. I feared the uncertainty of her moods and the events it created. I feared rejection and abandonment.

I became a carer, a people-pleaser. I had been taught my emotions didn’t matter and in fact to express them was “selfish.” I learnt that love meant I had to earn it, I had to be perfect: in this way the love I dreamed of became unattainable.

My fears became so great I suppressed them hugely and many times my own law of attraction brought me events where I was rejected by friends. Of course this is God’s law working with love to help us feel and release the painful emotions – but that is something I have only understood in the last couple of years. Most of my life I have continued to suffer and hide my pain, my aloneness..

Rather than face others judgement I judged myself first and have self punished myself in many, many ways all my life: through food, through poor self-care, through relationships, living in fear and not following my dreams and desires. I gave myself the slap before others did – it seemed the easier option. It is a route many of us take. One that imprisons us in fear and suppression. A prison cell that only we have the key to.

Of course I never did reach the perfection I felt  my parents wanted, no matter how hard I tried, particularly with my mother. So I mostly felt unloved and unaccepted.  The rest of the craziness of my childhood led me to feel invisible and insignificant.  Most of my life I have felt that no matter what I did or who I was, I could not be loved.

So why would I believe that a friend could really love me? Every other minute I wait to be “unloved”, rejected and alone. How can I trust my sisters, when the one big sister ( my mother) who was meant to guide me and teach me about love and trust, manipulated and hurt me. It may not have been consciously, but it happened. My hurt happened, as it has for so many of us on this planet: living and in spirit.

This is a fear, covering up a huge amount of grief and what is particularly painful for me right now is that it blocks me from receiving God’s love. I find it nearly impossible to connect to the feminine aspect of God. I often call my Father, but I can not say Mother to God without that sick feeling in my belly: an indication of my fear, blocks and pain. I have found the most incredible teachings of God’s truth and yet I can not fully embrace them whilst I block the most powerful love in the universe through my false beliefs and emotional injuries.

I recently wrote to Mary and Jesus and Mary said my unwillingness to feel my fear was blocking my progress. I totally agree and so I have been praying and letting myself start to feel some fear – it is a tiny trickle at the moment and sometimes I still revert to anger to avoid my fear, but I will keep going as what I do feel now is the pain of my suppression. I feel like an immovable rock and it hurts: it feels heavy and yukky. My body talks through pains in my shoulders and back: it tells me that my suppression is a burden, a heavy sack of “not love.”

I am also taking steps to not live in my fear: I called a friend I haven’t seen for a long time. I suggested to someone at work we go out to a cafe one day for a drink. I felt my fear when confronted with a woman at work who scared me. It’s amazing when you do feel your fear: everything changes. She is now more respectful of me and friendly. God’s laws working perfectly. The power of emotions to change our soul, even if it is just a little bit, which then in turn change our life. So if I start to feel more, my life will change more. These little steps out of my fear may seem silly, but for the last 3 years I have been a bit of hermit – avoiding situations where I might feel unaccepted, judged, or have to face angry women: avoiding friendships. Even when I write to Mary I feel my neediness – “love me, love me” as I seek approval. It’s sad and it’s also an unloving demand to Mary or anyone else I project it too. If I just feel the emotion that will stop. I have been in huge denial, and I at least hope that is changing.

Mary wrote some great stuff on fear and how to “jump from the plane” on her blog and she herself is a great inspiration as to watch her change throughout the videos on the Divine Truth website over the years and it has increased my faith in the process God has provided to heal our soul. To see her and Jesus, increase in love, increase in joy and passion touches my soul and provides hope and an example for us all: they really, really walk their walk.

At the moment I am still standing near the door of my plane (metaphorically) and starting to feel what the worse thing that could happen is if I feel my fear. I could die, I could go mad in the terror of my fall, but then I remember there is no death: then I remember that God loves me and wishes me no harm and I have daily evidence of that. Yes the fear I need to feel may be a castle of terror, but it is holding me back, locking me up and these days my desire to be free is starting to overtake my desire to be “safe.”

So watch out sisters, I may be coming out of the woodwork. I may even start to feel you like me: I may even start to like me myself. It doesn’t matter: all I know is it’s time for a change and it’s time to discover more about myself. Praying to be braver, more humble, more loving and more truthful: one step or one leap at a time.

Maxine

An Aside:

  •  I will put a link to Mary’s blog in the Extras section of the website.
  • Please note my previous posts are all below this one. You have to scroll down. Until I get the finances to upgrade it is a little fiddly, but I hope you find it worth it. 🙂
  • I am going to start adding books that have helped me too.

Fear comes Knocking..

And so we find ourselves in an interesting situation. We are still living in a holiday flat since our move to Devon. Everything is in storage, tight rental market and tight finances: feeling very vulnerable. We desired change and here it is and the transition is exposing many emotions, many emotional injuries. That is the blessing.

Last year we knew we wanted to leave Somerset and waited for my son to start college, unsure of our next steps, we looked into something that turned out not to be right, not what it seemed. We didn’t know how else to create change, it felt like our financial situation was so limiting. How could we move on so little? We were struggling to pay our rent let alone find the money to hire a van, pay off the bills and move. But God heard our soul and brought us a Law of Attraction which gave us a loving kick: our landlady was forced to sell the house and we had to leave. As soon as we knew this it felt right and we started to get little financial gifts that helped us move: just enough to make it possible. I followed my guidance and returned to Devon: back to the coast I loved as a teenager. Robby is from Belguim so he only had one visit before we moved and trusted the feeling I had, though not without fear too.

So here we were in a holiday flat and two months later we are still here: not knowing how long we can stay. Finances are again very tight, finding the right home is proving more difficult than we thought. Yet I do have some work coming and some circumstances have kept a roof over our heads so far. But how do we solve this? My old way would have been action stations, don’t sit still, do, do , do: hours of leg work and humiliation walking round letting agents to no avail as they sit at their desk not interested in us, only in money, and ours doesn’t look good on paper: our honesty and sense of responsibility not enough. Humiliation and fear would have drove me on to the point of exhaustion. If I can just keep busy and keep trying everything, despite the fact I felt the situation seemed impossible: a strange combination of the glass half full girl and the one denying how terrified she felt inside.

This time I am trying to be more truthful with myself: gently proactive, but focusing on my emotions. I prayed for a law of attraction to bring up some of these emotions and on Saturday ended up driving in the thickest fog I have ever driven in. I couldn’t see any more than 10 yards ahead or the middle of the road most of the time. To add to this the seat belt alarm kept going off, making the situation more intense. I felt so vulnerable, so unsafe and the feeling unsafe emotion was pretty big. I can’t say I  reached the causal, but I touched its edges: there were many times I felt unsafe as a child. All these fears kept shaking through me: My life feels so unsafe, I am at the mercy of something or someone outside of myself. The little me wanted to be rescued but saw no one was there.

The other thing that effects both mine and Robby’s ability to get a home is our injuries of poor self worth and false beliefs around money, security and struggle. Not having a base, a secure place to live or the finances to do this creates a wonderful whirlpool of emotions to feel. I also find the fog a great metaphor for us: a message. Driving in the fog involves trust.. trusting yourself, going with the flow. You can’t see far ahead but you have to trust the road continues, that your wheels will stay on solid ground on a path to your destination. So here we are in our own fog right now, unsure, afraid, but hoping the road is leading to a place we know.

I realise now why I am short sighted: I have always been afraid to look too far into the future because the past felt so difficult:

No home,

No place to go,

No money,

No future I want to think of..

All these fears steeped up on me today.

Making changes, in circumstances created

By my old lack of self worth

and false beliefs about the struggle of life.

But fear is not truth.

Fear is the image of past hurts and future worries.

Fear is the imagined seeming real.

This fear does not tell the truth of my life

Or of myself.

There is sadness to feel of the past

that I had,

A rock removed from my soul,

And step by step

I listen to the truth.

I am more than my hurt,

My life has had more value

than I was told.

As I let the fears be felt and released,

there is room in my soul for my desires.

So the truth is.

We have a bed, food and each other.

And our desires are creating our home.

My soul does not need a roof,

It needs love,

My soul does not need a bed,

It needs forgiveness and compassion.

My soul does not need four walls,

It needs freedom.

And what my soul needs

Is what matters..

 

It is good to remember how much fear is removed from the truth. The fear we have felt is real on an emotional level, but it is not the story of our lives or our future. AJ/ Jesus once described our soul as an egg. The shell is our facade self, the white the injured self, the yolk is the true self. To get to that golden center we must break off the shell, release the white and there we find ourselves. Where am I? I have few cracks in my shell, a bit of egg white is oozing out… quite a way to go to feel my golden center, but I have faith it is there. I have faith in God’s truth or as in this song: through Heaven’s eyes. I shall let Jethro have the final words….

with love,

Maxine

 

 

When Enough is Enough

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When you reach that point of enough is enough it is a powerful point of change in your soul if you embrace it. By that I mean embracing all the emotions within and below that feeling: the anger, the fear, the despair, the sadness, the anticipation. Today I reached an “enough is enough” point. Today I felt the fire in my belly as I cried from within and realised what I had been viewing as enough, as ok, was not: what I believed to be alright for me to accept for myself was not good enough anymore. It was small thinking, shrinking violet stuff, that does not reflect the true light God gave me. Instead I have been living the life others told or projected at me and I believed them! I saw myself as unimportant, incapable, untalented, unattractive and without impact, all my efforts unnoticed and irrelevant. But listening to the Divine Truth teaching the last couple of years has taught me that much of what I was thinking was irrational and illogical, from a wounded place and false beliefs. So when I think of these “small” and negative thoughts about myself it does not equate logically with my belief that I am a child of God and loved beyond measure. It is not that God doesn’t love me this “small” me: she does, but that like any true parent, she lovingly rejoices when I am doing what I love, when I grow into the soul She intended. As far as we know God’s plans for us are infinite. They are as wondrous or more wondrous than all her beautiful creations on this planet. Look at detail in a snowflake, the colours in a feather, the various songs of the birds, the individual cells and workings of our physical bodies: God’s creation is intricate, beautiful, fascinating,  and evolving. We are his children and we are all these things and more.

But most of us live in the shadow of ourselves, crawling on the floor, when we were actually made to dance wildly. We continue in our low movements for a long time, until we develop a desire for something else. Sometimes it is a quiet stirring within, a gentle observation of the people and life around you. We start to notice what we are NOT and what we do not want to be; we start to question our lives, our work, our relationships. For many of us there are long periods of numbness, of a feeling of vague questioning of how we live: we have opened our eyes a little wider. In each of these moments we can continue to open our eyes to more or we can close them again out of fear, or swing back and forth between the two. In each of these moments we can decide to feel a bit more than the numbness, the confusion and instead to really feel the other emotions we are hiding.

So enough is enough gives us the opportunity to feel many things. I am still in the middle of it and as I write I can feel anger, frustration, fear and some deep underlying grief. I have had enough of financial struggle, I have had enough of not having a real home, I have had enough of not feeling who I am, I have had enough of not fully embracing my desires, of not living with passion. I have had enough! As I sit and list these a deep sadness arises, one I know I am only touching the surface of, but which I know is a blessing to feel. Not feeling this sadness has kept me stuck and wanting many times: a feeling of being half-alive or less. What low sense of worth kept me living in this way? Kept me from dancing my dance with zest and wonder? So many things, so many suppressed emotions which I am praying to feel and release. I can feel how afraid I have been of coming out of my shell, my little protective bubble, my cocoon as I call it. A cocoon I made way back in my childhood to survive that has now become my prison of fear. I have been trying to knock through the walls of this prison, brick by brick and I know when I hit an “enough” point it can involve me knocking through a whole section of the wall if I desire it with all my heart. And I do. I have reached the end of this particular tether.

Even as I write I feel so many things, but I am glad to feel the emotions in motion. Many times in my life I have felt so little and be so out of tune with what was true for me; what was real; what I desired. Now I know that to feel everything is how God intended me to be. When I shut down  the sad and bad feelings I also shut down to the joy and love. Even though for me to try to feel everything is a rocky road right now I really know deep in my soul this is what I  must do, what we all need to do, to get back, to be as God intended us to be: fully emotional beings and fully alive.

Enough is enough is a crisis point in our journeys and any crisis point is an opportunity and with any opportunity we have a choice. A choice to be more loving or a choice to be unloving. For me there is no choice right now than to be loving to myself, to open inch by inch, millimetre by millimetre to God’s love. In fact “enough is enough” increases my desire more and more, to be more loving, especially to  myself right now. And even though there is some anger to feel and feel below, I also feel passion. Passion to love myself, passion to live my dreams and desires, passion to help others with what I am learning and experiencing and feeling, passion to connect with myself and my soul mate and more passion to connect to my true parent, our mother/father God.

The Narrow way, as Jesus calls it, the Way of building a relationship God through Divine Truth, receiving Divine Love and humility ( the willingness to feel ALL of your emotions) is hard at times. It is so different from anything we have known. It confronts everything we think we know and in its process I have lost friends, confused my family and faced some tough truths about myself. But, I have also discovered how incredibly loving God has made this universe and beyond, for us. It may not appear so to some, but now I have an understanding of God’s laws and more of an understanding of why I have been unhappy and how to change that, I know this is The Way home; this is The Way to heaven. I have a huge way to go to say I have true humility. I resist, I fight, I beg, I jump back in fear, I rage: pulled between what I thought I knew, how I was existing, by not feeling much and the discovery of this new way which wants me to feel everything. But I have tried a million other ways to heal, to be happy and they have only been temporary. This Way is lasting…this Way transforms my soul to how God intended it: pure, innocent, loving, joyful and playful. This Way has become my Way.. not as a follower but as an active participant and creator of my own life. By my own will and desire I choose Love, I choose humility and I choose Truth: God’s truth. I may only just be letting go of the milk bottle in my growth, but I will not give up. I have had enough of what I have known before. Enough is truly enough and I am eternally grateful for the teachings I have listened to, that have now, in time sung their truth in my soul. Now I choose, I desire a new way, the Narrow Way.

So yes enough is enough and now there is more…

With love, Maxine

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