As a kid I loved reading a collection of books that twisted the normal stories. Each story had two books, two versions, the white and the black. The first one was the pure real story and the second one was an upside down version, where the wolf was bullied by the 3 little pigs.
I enjoyed seeing everyone as a multitude of emotions, a sum of actions, as if their lives were not determined, as if anyone could be understood, guilty and innocent in the same time.
Did this enhanced my dichotomous view of the world, where all is either a victory or a failure, where I either love or hate, where it is all or nothing? DBT, I need you!
Later on I went to the Museo Del Prado, and discovered the technique of triptych paintings. The Garden of Earthly Delights has always blown my imagination. They introduce a third view. The Christian world is heaven and hell, but also the purgatory.
I guess that is where I am now. In this third side of life, where there is no happiness and pleasures, where I have what anyone needs not to feel like living in a nightmare. I have a roof, I have loving people, I have food.
Yesterday Vero engaged me in a new exercise. If I am an artist, and because I love writing, I can tell stories.
Actually our mind does tell us stories all the time, stories that are there, somewhere inside our heads, stories we don’t realize are writing chapters in our lives.
In this exercise I am not letting my mind to be the narrator of my path. Or at least, not the only one.
At least once a day I will close my eyes, and become a spectator of my own movie for a couple of minutes.
Then I will write in a few sentences what I saw, from my own point of view.
Then I will let the loving support L. to do it, how a compassionate me interprets the scene that just happened. The loving me person will unveil my beauty, constantly telling me all the good things I do. I am confident and I excel in them, that is what she tells.
Then will be turn of my demons to raise their critical judging voices, imprinting the scene with their fear and anger, with sorrow and pain. Eating Disorder, show me what is wrong with me!
Finally will be the voice of a master. Inside me is a mentor bringing teaching and lessons to the never ending cycle of growth that life is. His wise words will show that everything happening for a reason and that only will I accept it with an open heart and calm mind.
After all four have told me the story, their voices will merge. I will be ready to give thanks for my findings within them, gratefully vowing my head.
Here goes the first chapter of this new exercise:
- I am in the train. I am tired. I have a headache. I feel weak and lost. I am scared.
2. Just keep eating you will feel powerful and energetic! And remember that today you didn’t have your coffee so that explains the headache.
3. You are weak and worthless. Food will not help you. Look at this morning. You ate more and you feel disabled. You can’t even open our eyes and keep reading your book. You are lying to yourself. You are betraying yourself. You are a disgusting person.
4. Your body has lived in a state of alert and depravation for a very long time. Be greateful to him for all the strength he has give to you in the last 12 years that you have been oblivious to his requests. He is opening to the idea of healing and getting ready for that, provided you keep on energizing it with the food he wants.
Drink your coffee, it will surely help!
Here is how it looks like. Have I really been the puppet of that third voice for more than half of my life?
The answer is yes but there is no time for regret and complain now.
I must keep going. Keep writing. Keep eating. Keep fighting.
Somehow this blog was a first approach to it and despite the short time I have been writing it, I already see its benefits, a liberating therapy, a way of clearing my mind. I write clouds so that I can see the bright stars.
Someday my life will have an infinite number of lines. My life will be a circle embracing all directions for any path, fluid, flexible, full.
Then will I have reached the Yellow Moon.
“There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story within you.”
-Maya Angelou, I know why the caged bird sings