blogotherapy

My psyche must have been busy on the dream plane last night, because a head-smacking realization catapulted me out of bed pretty early this morning.

Only a tiny fraction of what I've been calling grief is actually sadness. It's mostly regret, self-blame, and doubt.

My mantra lately has been this is not about him. This morning, I finally know what it IS about: My soul is divided. I am at war with myself, waging an inner debate about the choice I made to end this relationship. To take Abraham Lincoln's A house divided cannot stand one step farther: A soul divided cannot move forward.

I see my overall identity as put together like a puzzle. Each piece is a subpersonality; there's a critic, a nurturer, a narrator, a mystic, a dreamer, and many more. Unlike Sybil, the famous multiple personality, my pieces fit together very snugly. They communicate and work together as a functional whole most of the time. But sort of like nations that share a border, sometimes there are squabbles.

My father died of cancer when I was very young. He had been in remission, and his death was quite sudden and unexpected. It's becoming clear that one of my subpersonalities is still back in that experience, asking, "Where's my daddy? I want him to hold me!"

Another is saying, with the developmentally appropriate perception of a three year old who thinks the entire world revolves around her, "It's my fault that he is gone. If I had been a 'good girl', he'd still be here."

Yet another is a bit older, living with a stepfather who loved me and had a lot of wonderful qualities, but was not physically affectionate or demonstrative with me.

So it's starting to make sense why I am having trouble letting go and moving on, and why I cried when my craniosacral therapist cradled my head yesterday. Parts of me are still diligently trying to procure the masculine attention, affection, and contact that I did not receive from my father.

Understandably, those subpersonalities simply cannot comprehend why I would intentionally walk away from a very good source of the nutrients they are so hungry for. So they have more or less seceded from the Union of Me, and are waging a civil war against the parts of me that knew that this relationship was not working for me in other important ways.

This awareness is a huge relief to me. Now that I know that I have a few stragglers who have separated from the rest of the puzzle, I can invite them to come back home by listening to their concerns with compassion, thanking them for their efforts on my behalf, and assuring them that we will indeed find healthy ways to satisfy their needs that work for all of the parts, not just a few.

In fact, simply because I have become aware of what has been going on, something important has already started shifting. My soul feels more integrated already. Thank goodness! It's about time for a change.

ps: I hope it's clear that I don't think my dad or anyone else is at fault here. We all have life experiences that shape us in one way or another, and we all have the freedom to re-shape ourselves as we wish. I have no doubt that my soul signed up for these early circumstances.