Photo: A view from where I’m house sitting in a city. I love the ivy growing on the wall. The house has a lovely feel to it — it’s full of books! Photo credit: Rebel Recovery
I’ve been feeling quite dissociated the past couple of days. Out of my head in ways, like all of me isn’t quite there. It started when my therapist suggested we shift around a couple of my appointments. My younger dissociative ‘parts’ seem to have taken this to mean that they’re not worthy of being paid attention to, of being loved. Even though the older parts of me know that my therapist is a staunch and unflinching defender of the small children inside me who were mistreated and unheard and unloved.
Also, I’m house sitting for a while in a city, so I’m out of my usual environment in the forest at home. I’m not surrounded by the thriving vibrancy of all that wild green and creature noise. I don’t feel that kind of nature’s embrace. Her unfettered love.
And so it seems that some parts of me just… flew away…. Leaving me a bit empty.
But I’ve found some grounding. A couple of friends have sent me texts that have shown me love. They’re unconnected to this dissociation I’m feeling now — my friends don’t know what I’ve been experiencing the past couple days.
But I felt the love. My younger parts felt the love. And they believed it. This feeling it, believing the love, is sort of new. Before I might have discarded it somehow, diminished it. My younger child parts wouldn’t have thought they were worthy of it, of being loved by my friends.
More grounded, I feel my younger parts come back from where they were away to be embodied by all of me once more. And I know that while I need the love of others so much, in the end the most important thing is for me to love those parts. The child parts that had to go away long ago because they were deemed unlovable by the ones who should have loved them the most.
I’m so glad when my child parts come back to me. I miss them when they’re gone.