A Walking Head

Six years ago, at the start of my recovery process, I underwent a year of therapy at a psychiatric hospital. It was an outpatient program, which meant I continued living in my own apartment but went there three days a week to participate in various types of therapy. One of these was art therapy. In that session, we were given art assignments, which weren’t always easy. There’s a lot you can hide in cognitive behavioral therapy, but you can’t hide in art or body-oriented therapy. Sometimes that brought up a lot of pain and sadness, but sometimes other issues as well, such as fear of failure, perfectionism, or not daring to show my work to others for fear of not being as good as they are, etc...

Anyway, I still remember a few of those art therapy sessions, including one where we had to sculpt ourselves using clay. While my fellow patients came up with the craziest creations—think of a dove or a flame or something like that—I simply made a little person out of clay. But that little person said everything about me, just as I was back then. It had a very large head, with a tiny body underneath. It was exactly how I felt about myself back then: a walking head. I was constantly in my head, in my thoughts, pondering and analyzing everything, and my body served only to carry that head. I had no connection with my body, and of all things, that body was above all an unsafe place for me. But my head—I trusted that. On my little clay head, I had also painted an insanely big smile: back then, I was still wearing a “smile mask” very often. That smile was a facade for the outside world, mainly to hide how I really felt. To me, it was the most normal thing in the world: just hiding all the inner turmoil and pretending I was happy. I did it—unconsciously, of course—to convince both myself and others that everything was fine. (By the way, it wasn’t until a year and a half later, when I’d been in Twelve Step recovery and sober for nine months, that a fellow woman in recovery told me my smile had finally reached my eyes… I couldn’t imagine a bigger compliment!)

That whole year of therapy, to be honest, didn’t really do much for me. Actually, it just got me even more stuck in my head. Analyzing every trauma and every event just dragged me deeper into my own mess. It didn’t help me. Except at the very end, in the very last week. That’s when I was advised to see a dance and movement therapist weekly as follow-up therapy. Even though I was anything but enthusiastic at first, I did follow the advice. And that has been, by far, one of the best decisions of my life! My therapist—whom I’ve been seeing almost every week for nearly five years now—has taught me how to get out of my head and into my body. Not by telling me what I feel, but by supporting me in learning to interpret the (sometimes subtle) signals from my body on my own. She has taught me to feel, rather than just think. Because often I can think that something is a good idea—and find no rational objection as to why it wouldn’t be—but feel deep down that it actually doesn’t feel right. In therapy, I’ve learned to listen to that—to that soft whisper of the voice deep inside me. I find it aligns perfectly with the Third Step of the Twelve Step program: “Surrendering our will and our lives to the care of God,” which was also the topic of the previous blog post.

Still, I don’t always find it easy to notice when I’m not feeling. Then I’m thinking again, without even realizing it. Then I retreat into my own head and try to understand and approach life rationally again, which makes me think I have some control over life, when in reality I really don’t. Living in my head doesn’t work. It just makes me even more anxious and panicky.

Last week, my therapist pointed out that, while I was sharing, I was using the word “thinking” a lot again. I wasn’t aware of it at all, but I knew she was right! I was thinking a lot again, and feeling very little. Big head, little body. This week, too, that became painfully clear: I wasn’t letting my feelings guide me, but my mind and my fears.
A few examples:
- I felt like going outside because the sun was shining, but if I went out in the morning (when it’s 10°C/50°F), I’d probably be too overstimulated to do it again in the afternoon (when it’s 20°C/68°F), and then I’d have only experienced the cold and not the warmth, and that’s pointless and silly. So I waited until the afternoon. But then it didn’t feel right anymore, and because of that, I had spent the morning doing something different from what was actually right for me.

- I felt like going for a walk, but then the pain in my hip would flare up again, so I just stayed inside and sat on the couch. If I had taken the time to really feel it, I would have realized I could have cycled to the park just to sit on a bench there. But in my head, it was immediately dismissed as: “I can’t walk, so I’m staying home.”

Yesterday morning I felt bleh. But like, really bleh. Listless, tired, no energy, overstimulated. And even though I was afraid it would be a bad idea (I was stuck in my head again!), I decided to put on worship music. A lot of it, and for a long time. And I’m so glad I did! I felt God’s power and joy wash over me again! I felt fulfilled and happy, and began to step out of my head little by little. Suddenly, I was feeling much more and thinking less! I felt emotions of pure joy and fulfillment that I hadn’t felt in a long time. I was suddenly back in my body, and no longer in my head. I now see that there is a direct connection between my recovery and listening to worship music. What prayer or meditation alone cannot do (no matter how incredibly nourishing and beneficial that may be!), worship music can. The Holy Spirit can do what nothing and no one else can. Unbelievable!

Since that experience, I have—though I haven’t always succeeded very well—been living much more by my feelings again. It’s about the little things, but if I don’t follow God in the little things, then I certainly won’t do it in the big ones. I have to trust that He speaks through me, and knows better than I do what I myself or others (through my actions) need. I can’t see the whole picture of life, but He can.

For example, yesterday afternoon I went to buy some new loose-leaf tea at the cozy little tea shop in the neighborhood. The plan was to just bike home afterward, but as I was about to do that, I felt that I actually wanted to stay outside. The sun was shining and it was T-shirt weather (even on the bike!), and I felt that I didn’t want to go back home. I didn’t know what I did want to do, except just be outside. So I trusted my instincts and started cycling, trusting that I’d end up in the right place. That right place turned out to be on the riverbank, where I ended up sitting on a bench for over an hour. First with worship music playing, then talking on the phone with a very good friend for 40 minutes. Wonderful! After that, I was full of energy, and I already felt like a completely different person! For the rest of the day, I had energy and felt happy. It’s amazing how a little exercise, the sun, water, and some grass can really lift a person’s spirits!

After such a successful “intuitive experience,” one might assume that from now on they won't think anymore, but will simply feel, and that from now on everything will go smoothly. Sadly, that's not the case! Today I noticed that I was stuck in my head again.
Today is Wednesday, which means it's blog day. I wanted to blog this morning and had given plenty of thought to what I would write about. But when I was doing that this morning, I felt that something was not right, though I couldn’t understand why. I thought what I was writing was interesting, and that it was something people could potentially benefit from. I didn’t know what was wrong with it, so I just kept writing. (By the way, do you see the verbs I’m using here? Thinking, understanding, realizing, knowing… Exactly!). It wasn’t until a friend called me while I was writing, shared her problems with me, and said something very specific—about a completely different situation, mind you!—that I heard God telling me why that blog post wasn’t right. I deleted the whole thing and prayed: “God, I will write what You want me to write. If not today, then another day, but let me do Your will.” I didn’t know what that would mean, but I did know that in the end it would be right. That I’d thrown away a few hours of writing was just the way it was.

This afternoon I went to pick up a package, and the same thing happened as yesterday: the sun was shining, it was T-shirt weather, and I didn’t want to bike straight home again. I didn’t have time to cycle to the river again, so I went to the park and sat in the grass there for half an hour. And I felt: this is right. This is so very right. Not what I had planned, but very much guided. No longer a head on legs, but a body in motion with a much smaller head on top of it. And suddenly it was clear what I should blog about: not knowing, understanding, analyzing, or reasoning, but feeling. Feeling what our body tells us, and letting ourselves be guided by that. Not just for the life-changing decisions, but also for the very small ones. Because those many small ones make up one big one. Every time I’m in charge of my own life, I don’t let God be in charge. And in the end, I get stuck again. Nathalie who wants to run the whole show. It just doesn’t work. It never has, and it never will.

I don’t know what tomorrow will bring. But for today, I’m already happy with my little dose of nature and the five sunbeams my milky-white legs managed to catch! Legs that, by the way, no longer serve merely as stilts for my big, heavy head, but together with the rest of my body fulfill a crucial function: living on the waves of the Spirit. Going through life by feeling and trusting the Spirit. For that, I gladly choose today!