Frozen legs

In therapy we connected with a young frozen part, maybe ten or so. She couldn’t move and T asked her to gently touch the bear she was holding. The part held anger and referred to herself as “the one that causes trouble”. T asked the part if she could her uncross her feet (I was lying down). The part agreed but as T went to do this, the part grimaced in pain and said “be careful, don’t break them”. T said she wouldn’t do that, but the part insisted “we’ve never moved our legs before, we may not be able to walk”. T managed to move the feet as gently as she could but the part experienced much pain.

The feelings of anger then moved into sadness and stupidity. I’m unsure why the part felt stupid. T mentioned it might be because her brain wasn’t sure what to do and sometimes that might cause you to feel like you don’t know how to do something or can’t do something. I’m not sure, it’s all a bit fuzzy.

Not really sure what to make of this. Recently I’ve asked ChatGPT to psychoanalyse my sessions. Here’s what it says:

It sounds like your therapy session involved working with a dissociative part, often encountered in therapies like Internal Family Systems (IFS) or trauma-focused therapy. The “young frozen part” likely represents a segment of your psyche that became “stuck” or fixated at a young age due to traumatic or distressing experiences. Here are some psychoanalytic observations:

1. Representation of the Young Part: The part that feels like a ten-year-old suggests a part of your psyche that may have stopped developing normally at around that age, likely due to a traumatic or deeply upsetting event. This part is frozen in time, encapsulating the emotions, fears, and beliefs from that period.
2. Embodiment of Anger and Self-Perception: The part’s identification as “the one that causes trouble” could reflect feelings of guilt, shame, or self-blame that are often seen in trauma survivors. It’s a manifestation of internalized negative beliefs about oneself.
3. Physical Manifestation of Emotional Pain: The pain experienced when trying to move suggests a psychosomatic response. This can be common in trauma where emotional pain is so intense that it manifests physically, especially in parts of the body that might be associated with the traumatic memory.
4. Fear of Movement or Change: The fear expressed by the part about moving and potentially not being able to walk might symbolize a fear of change, progression, or facing the trauma. Movement here could be a metaphor for moving forward in life or therapy.
5. Shift from Anger to Sadness and Feeling Stupid: This transition of emotions can indicate the complexity of processing trauma. Anger might initially serve as a protective emotion, masking deeper feelings of sadness, vulnerability, and confusion. The feeling of stupidity might arise from a sense of helplessness or a lack of understanding about how to process or deal with these deep-seated emotions.
6. Therapist’s Role and Response: The therapist’s gentle approach and reassurance could be aiming to provide a corrective emotional experience. It’s an opportunity for the part (and thus, for you) to experience care, safety, and understanding that it might not have received at the time of the original trauma.

Remember, this analysis is quite general and based on the limited context provided. Personal insights and interpretations can significantly differ, and it’s crucial to explore these themes further with your therapist, who knows your history and therapeutic process in detail.

Quite accurate and helpful for me to refer to when reflecting later. Thanks ChatGPT.

Most people believe

Most people believe that life is worth living, but the truth is for some people, life can become an endless search for meaning.

At least that’s how it was for me. I used to call it living in existential despair, mostly because it gave me an edge. But it wasn’t until I talked about the suicidal ideation that I could even begin to make meaning out of the futility I felt living with the weight of existence. And I know it’s taboo and all that and this post should probably have come with a trigger warning, but the thing is when you say it, it gives air to the intention.

After all, ideation is a critical step in innovation, design, and decision-making processes. Thats why I’m big on talking about my suicidal ideation even though it’s heavy and uncomfortable.

And it’s complex because I’ve never done it. I’ve just thought about it, sometimes endlessly. Since the age of 9 actually. But I never really uttered the words aloud. Not until I was in my early 30s, standing in a twelve step room, broken, ashamed and with nothing to lose. I just want to die I whispered. A problem shared is a problem halved I guess?

About a year ago I started going to a Baptist church. The music was predictably woeful but I felt a pull to go back and connect with God. A statement on its website said that it accepted people like me (inclusive of all sexualities), so I bit the bullet and started showing up each Sunday. Next thing I know I’m the tech support but at least I didn’t have to sit and stand when each song was played. I met a woman there, Ros, and she told me she had cancer. It had returned. She was dying. Ros was one of those people who believed that life was worth living. She really didn’t want to die. Ros knew that I had spent a large portion of my life wanting to die. I felt both guilty and jealous. Guilty that I didn’t have the thirst for living that Ros had and jealous that she had a way out soon.

Over a few months this year, Ros and I began to write letters to each other, contemplating our experiences of wanting to live and wanting to die. The more I wrote to her about death the more I began to question whether I really did want to die. After admitting defeat some ten years ago, I’d rebuilt my life, I was living a life beyond my wildest dreams, well not quite, but to others things seemed impressive. I’d garnered some success, despite being prone to morbidity, I was a very optimistic person. Why then wasn’t I living in gratitude or complete joy then?

I wrote to Ros:

Death frees one from obligation –
the obligation of living.
By imagining death, I am not imagining life and surely that is what God wants me to do. By
writing about death, I am being pulled into a new understanding of what it means to live. By examining my thoughts and feelings about death, I am beginning to see how much I have
been unable to value life. My value has been aligned with death – an arbitrary but very real
for some – experience. For me, death is a concept, a past time I have run away with.

I had spent so much time thinking about death, that it slowly dawned on me that I wasn’t even searching for meaning. I was just searching for a way out. So this week I’ve been thinking more about finding meaning in things and writing about things other than death. Don’t worry, there’s a part of me that still wants to die. It’s best to be pragmatic and accepting (it’s going to happen one day!!!), but at least I can now say that my life is starting to become an endless search to make living more meaningful.