inner child
Thanks Dean and Sleepy
and Guy especially for your response I hope you can give yourself credit for how far down the road you have come and for the courage to face it right on brother!
Also, for reviving this old string I needed to read it again. I realized that two things (major ones) are different for me a year later. At the NOMSV retreat last April we had an exercise where I danced and eventually I was directed to lay down and let my inner child dance. He actually came out of his tomb and danced beautifully and with joy. Since then we have begun the process of becoming closer and more trusting.
The other thing was that I realized that the real language between him and me is not words but feelings. As long as I held back my feelings, and denied the reality of his feelings, then there was no basis on which we could relate to each other. The standoff is that he has always stubbornly held on to the truth of how it felt, and I have been stubbornly cerebral to avoid those feelings.
On re-reading the post, guess what was missing in my plan any mention of allowing myself to feel or the fact that for him, not being allowed to feel was the very substance from which his tomb was built.
and Guy especially for your response I hope you can give yourself credit for how far down the road you have come and for the courage to face it right on brother!
Also, for reviving this old string I needed to read it again. I realized that two things (major ones) are different for me a year later. At the NOMSV retreat last April we had an exercise where I danced and eventually I was directed to lay down and let my inner child dance. He actually came out of his tomb and danced beautifully and with joy. Since then we have begun the process of becoming closer and more trusting.
The other thing was that I realized that the real language between him and me is not words but feelings. As long as I held back my feelings, and denied the reality of his feelings, then there was no basis on which we could relate to each other. The standoff is that he has always stubbornly held on to the truth of how it felt, and I have been stubbornly cerebral to avoid those feelings.
On re-reading the post, guess what was missing in my plan any mention of allowing myself to feel or the fact that for him, not being allowed to feel was the very substance from which his tomb was built.