Sunday, May 11, 2014

A year on.

Theia's birthday is coming up.  A whole year since it all happened.

It took months to get her home. Then more months to teach her to breastfeed,  get used to her presence, get used to the roller coaster of 4 different health visitors,  the input from the children's centre worker, who segued from being there for Jaan to being there for Theia.

Recently Suz said she is relieved,  she had been 'worried' about how I was with Theia. Why say that? Has my profile changed mysteriously?

The latest health visitor,  one Lisa Kotey,  is really keen to dig around Jaan's psyche, presuming I've messed his head up, which I don't believe I have.  I'm vigilant.

My therapist Deborah Evans has taken a lead on the things that are worrying about my particular case. The seeing red, the old Nizam temper, the violence,  the throw your hands up in despair, violently and throw everything away .....  that's a concern. She's interested in me working on defusing the red beast. She recognises something in me, the numenous,  as in Jung. Patterns and fabric textures are where my creativity is at right now,  she says,  and I'm frustrated by a lack of intellectual stimuli. I guess that's why she used the terminology and jargon from Jung's work. I know next to nothing about Jung or numenous. It's to do with archetypes though and it seems my goddess cards are based on this sort of Jungian self-help. So I've been acknowledging my own numenous experiences through my goddess cards for decades, and belonging to this or that archetype or identifying with it has been part of my self - healing repertoire all this time. Using a mental library of fabrics and different textures to self-soothe is her plan. Take a deep breath and use the numinous, to bubble down to where the beast pains me, forget about the wreckage of my forebears upon which I stand as a beast, let the colours, mixtures, patterns and textures do away with the ugly beast and its ugly connotations and the impulses that lead off from it. Transform into the being that instead of being a manifestation of the red beast is bathed in the numenous, touching the transcendent glow of the other whole, the "?divine" that I am so grounded in, during good times as well as bad.

Every time the red beast takes over.

Presumably maintenance via the numenous world filled with fabrics, sewing,  creating,  dressmaking will be part of my treatment, my way towards the future as well, emotionally and materially. Making a go of sewing and getting good at it would be a job, a career even, one I can do till the end.

Certainly a clever plan, a useful plan. Designed to cover therapeutic needs, my need to nurture and serve, financial needs potentially, my creative needs and within the work, in itself necessary to stop me going stir crazy, I could be intellectually exploring and identifying the numenous, building on existing archetypes, considering other people's work on them, putting in place my own findings,  at least in private, with always the way there to take the academic work further.

Clever, clever Deborah.

Meanwhile there are no replies to the invitations to Theia's party on the 17th. I don't understand.  I do believe my parents, Aunty Shahnaz and the Brunton-Spalls are coming. Debs is celebrating with me on Wednesday as Nicksy and Jaan refuse to meet or allow the Whitehouses to attend. Rafi hasn't replied to the messages about the party so I can't invite Fi's parents either, and am at a loss as to whether Rafi & Fi are coming. I've not had a response from Katie, Paula, Chris or Amara,  which makes me think I must be imagining things, I never invited anyone. I feel as if I must be out of my mind. Or else why the radio silence? Is it not May? Is the 17th not Saturday just ahead? Is it that I don't exist, or just cannot be heard?

Curiouser and curiouser.

I feel a lot of pressure regarding this event. I dread it being a ghastly failure both for my own sake, my self esteem will suffer greatly, but also because of how my parents will remark upon it, making me feel worse.

My brother's silence I cannot fathom. I bear it as it is not the worst hurt that has come from that way in recent years, but it shakes me.

Feeling worse is so unpleasant,  puts me in such a low position, I'm truly threatened.  My wellbeing is under siege.  I have the jitters. Just beneath the surface lies my hopeless misery and grief for Nayyar Khala. Nani's death I can lay to rest,  I said my goodbye in my heart many years ago, a la Dan Cryan.

My mind has no ease just now.
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