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The client sitting
across from me fought back tears as she struggled to express her goal in
working with me. "I just always feel so stupid, so inept and
worthless. I think most people who know me would be surprised to hear me
say that; I’ve gotten pretty good at hiding it. But there are more and
more times when I feel like I can’t go through another day. It’s so
hard, and I’m so scared all the time. I hate my life, and I hate these
feelings. I just want to feel normal, to enjoy my life, but nothing
I’ve tried has worked."
I watched and
listened to this lovely, intelligent, talented woman, her fists
clenching tightly, voice cracking with every other word, the pain
evident on her face, and thought about the numerous times I had heard
the same story in slightly different form. "I hate my life, I’m
not good enough, I don’t deserve love, I’m ashamed of my body, I’m
so scared, I can’t go on ...",
I had heard them all, and often
from individuals who, on the surface, seemed to have it all together,
were in control of their lives, were achieving their goals, and who
appeared to have every reason to feel good about themselves and their
lives. And yet, under the carefully constructed appearances, lay pain in
many guises – loneliness, fear, anger, guilt, and a variety of other
feelings that had been bottled up and largely unexpressed for so long.
During 17 years of
working with organizations and individuals to facilitate change, I have
marveled at how prevalent this kind of emotional/spiritual discomfort is
for so many of us, from welfare mom unable to see a way out of her
plight to CEO of a billion dollar corporation brilliant at running a
business and overwhelmed by despair in his personal life.
When the
layers are peeled back and our carefully maintained personas set aside,
there remains the nagging fear that perhaps we aren’t good enough and
people will begin to see through our façade, and the cold, harsh wind
of loneliness blowing through an empty place deep in the spirit. Having
lived through childhood, adolescence, and early adulthood in that fear
and despair myself, it’s familiar territory. I’ve been there, done
that.
The symptoms can
be addressed, distractions and diversions entered into for some
temporary relief, but a crucial and profound question remains: what is
the source of this angst, this feeling for so many of wandering through
life unconnected, unacceptable, and in a permanent posture of
self-protection?
Many contend (this
writer among them) that, ultimately, this restlessness, experienced in
degrees from irritation and anxiety to despair and hopelessness, springs
from the separation of the soul from its Source. It is, perhaps, as if
we are living far from our true Home, and suffering the pangs of
homesickness.
On the less
esoteric plane of earth-bound experience, history (my own and that of
many clients) appears to indicate that much of the pain hidden just
under the surface for many individuals is a reflection of our separation
from parts of ourselves. So many of us grow up learning to hide aspects
of ourselves in the fear that, should others see us as we really are,
they will not accept or love us. This act of hiding shows up in various
forms, denial of the existence of that aspect, neglect of that part
(often in the hope, conscious or not, that if we starve it of attention
it will go away or die), anger toward and/or abuse of the aspect of
ourselves that we find unacceptable.
Whatever the form in which the
separation from self manifests, it is as if we regard the agitating
aspect of ourselves as the enemy, rather than a potential ally in the
process of learning to live a rich, fully present life. In treating an
aspect of ourselves as the enemy, we leave that aspect disenfranchised,
separated from the rest of us. And, ironically, in rejecting a part of
ourselves because we don’t like how it looks, how it behaves, or what
it is, we virtually ensure that it will continue and probably increase
the very things for which we have rejected it.
It’s a bit like a
two-year old who, upon feeling separate from his mother, acts out in
greater and louder ways in an attempt to get her attention and be
reassured that he is loved and safe. When we let a part of us know that
it’s not wanted, it will tend to do whatever it has to do to get our
attention. Weight that has always been stubborn gets even more so,
addictive urges become compulsions, a lack of confidence becomes
feelings of powerlessness, anger begins to color everything in our
experience, blinding us to joy.
So, how do we
heal? Living with some aspect of us absent is like driving on only a
couple of cylinders – you won’t get far and it will be a rough ride.
So inviting those parts we’ve left out is imperative in order to be
really present in our lives.
The Core Transformation process, developed
by Connirae Andreas, is a gentle and respectful vehicle for that
invitation (see the book Core Transformation by Connirae Andreas and
Tamara Andreas). Based on the presupposition that behind everything in
our lives is a positive intention, this moving process engages the
separated (and generally misunderstood) aspect of the individual in
dialogue, resulting in acknowledgement, understanding, and change. It
quickly becomes clear that at the root of the behavior, feelings, or
thoughts the individual wants to change has always been an intention
that is positive, even loving and noble.
The weight that has refused to
drop off, the addictions, the anger or fear, the painful shyness, these
haven’t been products of self-sabotage or self-betrayal, but rather
attempts by a part of us to get us from where we are to where we need to
be. And often, attempts made by a part that’s operating with limited
resources, but doing the best it knows how. When we can respond to that
part on the basis of its intention rather than its troubling behavior,
it becomes much easier and even joyful to invite that part back into
ourselves.
Core
Transformation allows that part of the individual, maybe for the first
time, to be really understood and welcomed. And, with remarkable and
often life-changing results, the aspect that has been railed against,
sworn at, and generally disrespected for so long learns how to step into
and operate from the state it’s really been seeking, its true
emotional destination.
... I sat
watching and listening to my client, her posture now relaxed, her voice
no longer constricted, her whole demeanor peaceful. She had had a
remarkable experience, one that changed things in powerful ways.
Through
the Core Transformation process she had learned that the part of her
that had been generating the painful feelings of worthlessness and fear
had been looking for protection, and through protection it wanted to
feel safe. Through safety, this important part of her wanted to relax,
so that it could be aware of beauty and enjoy life. It wanted to enjoy
life in order to find peace, so that it could experience oneness with
God. Now, "oneness with God" seems to be a long way from the
initial worthlessness and fear, but in exploring the progression, it
made sense. Protection – safety – relaxation – be aware of beauty
and enjoy life – peace – oneness with God.
This part of her had been
engaged in an intricate system of things designed to get her to oneness
with God. The difficulty was that it wasn’t working; she was stuck in
the worthlessness and fear phase. As a result of the Core Transformation
process, she was able to move directly into the state that had been so
elusive without any need for the interim steps.
By providing
expression and acknowledgment for all parts of the self, Core
Transformation offers the opportunity to move toward wholeness,
self-acceptance, and joy.
© Copyright 2001
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