Unraveling

For those of you who can remember a few years back to a hit TV show, Ally McBeal, you might recall her search for a theme song. Well, my search is over for the moment. I can hear the melody of "She's Come Undone" floating through my awareness!

I've been avoiding blogging for the last little bit. Oh I'll sit and stare at the blank screen. Sometimes I type a bit ...and then , uncharacteristically, I'll hit delete. I'm not usually too shy about exposing myself here however, recently all that seems to want to find expression is my litany of physical complaints, my sense of impatience and no small measure of fiery irritation. Sure, they are all the typical accompaniments to those final weeks of pregnancy and yet they also represent a deeper level of the chaos characteristic of a bifurcation point. This is a biggie .... my cells don't lie! Life truly won't be the same in a few weeks - not just because of a newborn in the house, but because of the acceleration of who I am becoming in the process. I'm in the process of birthing new aspects of me along with this delightful child.

Getting to know this baby over the past 9 months has been amazing and that is how I know it will be delightful - not simply because all new lives are delightful by default, but because of who this person is. I can tell by its activity just who the baby likes to hang around with, what foods and activities are received with delight and what isn't. I can sense withdrawal and contraction along with opening and expansion. We have a wonderful relationship already formed and I wonder what comes next. If only I had had the same awareness for my first pregnancy - but then again, my son and I have a very different and equally special connection that we forged by different means.

As I've said before, pregnancy has also been a powerful metaphor for the gestation and emergence of my self. IAlong the course of it I have struggled mightily with my personal worth when I'm not a financial contributor in our household. I've explored all kinds of external reference points to assuage my deeply entrenched beliefs about needing to be an infallible "expert". I've read books, looked into PhD programs, taken courses and talked to delightful coaches and teachers .... all of which repeatedly confirmed that this is not where my answer lies. (Louise, if you are reading this and feel like banging your head on the wall - I understand!! I feel the same way! Bear with me please :) ) In giving into my compulsion for recognition I have discovered some pretty interesting things about myself and in the process, peeled off yet another layer of this confounding onion of self-limitation.

I crave the illusion of security that the lowest common denominator offers. I can camouflage myself among "experts" and not stand out. I can fall back on collective thinking as a defence from criticism, judgment, humiliation and punishment. "It not just me!" I feel like a 4 year-old again - trying to deflect the full force of disapproval and its imagined consequences. After yet another round of this pointless seeking, I've allowed my inner 4 year old to grow up. Its time the woman I am becoming began to drive this bus, and not the other way around. This is an aspect of my life that I have repeatedly allowed to dictate my limitations.

It has taken this round of seeking to get really acquainted with the less than patient, eye-rolling aspect of myself that bites her tongue repeatedly for fear of being perceived as a know-it-all, smart-aleck! If I were to give her a name, it would be Alex - something short, punchy and full of spunk. This snorting, toe-tapping persona is quite an actress and a mistress of disguise but lately she's become pretty damn bold. Her presence is thinly veiled and sneaks out at the most inconvenient moments. She is my secretly my hero - saving me from endless boredom by continually pushing the edge in her hunger for something she doesn't already know or intuit. She's not arrogant - or at least that is not her intention however she might be perceived. I think if I listen to her closely, I'll discover just what it is that she is trying to prompt those "experts" to say. I'm certain that it hasn't been said before and that it is actually mine to say, if I were to give myself permission or simply find the courage to let the words escape my own body. Ventriloquism, while offering false safety, is clearly not working!

So while you are perhaps beginning to think I'm coming unhinged, allow me to influence you further by introducing you to the rest of my cast of players, thus fully inditng myself as a harmless nut bar! About a year ago in a fit of creative frustration I decided to create a cast of players that represent some of those fragmented bits of me. Inspired by a writing exercise in one of Julia Cameron's books and and an even older TV show called Herman's Head, I sat down and let myself listen to the competing voices in my head. At that time I discovered Francis, a matronly, underwear-folding, drudgery-loving voice of excessive caution bordering on near paralysis. JW, short for Jaguar Woman, also showed up with drama, flourish and an air of sophistication in her unapologetic, no-nonsense, no-holds-barred approach to life. A little while later, Brigitte showed up with a passion for play and a love of painting. The aroma of a fresh box of Crayolas is all she requires to make life complete and for her, magic lives alongside the ordinary. Discovering each of them has taught me unbelievable things about myself and provided endless entertainment in my journal as I allow them free reign when I'm feeling stuck in some way.

Alex, as the latest addition to this cast, is a welcome player. She is a younger, less sophisticated version of JW and it is her rough edges that make her questions both innocent and potent. I'm looking forward to discovering more about what she has to say, as there is a subtext and a direction in her questioning. Ah yes, it does get crowded in here from time to time and I have to wonder, who is it that listens to this cast of players?

Okay, now that my secret is out, I can also share that between the appearance of persona Alex and the admonishment of my good friend Gwen, (who is not ever above kicking my butt when I need it), I have decided to "get over myself". In doing so I have to accept the fact that I am the only person at the moment that has my particular skill set, experience, knowledge and perspective (a la WEL-Systems). That means I have a unique message and approach to share with the world. Gasp! Even writing this sets off a tsunami!! And yet as far as I know, there is not another Physiotherapist out there with a WEL-Systems background.

I have recently had a long, tooth grinding chat with another coach about my absolute rejection of the term "healer" or "teacher". Both terms drive me mad. My beliefs about "new- agey in-authenticity" make me want to run as far away from these nominalizations as possible. The terms feel so profoundly over used and so saturated with snake-oil that I cringe even writing them. (No hang- ups here, huh?!) And yet, sitting with my discomfort has been very revealing. They are clearly aspects of who I am, what I'm passionate about and what brings a lot of meaning into my life - and yet I have not been willing to claim them because of beliefs based on my perceptions of public opinion. Hot on the heels of this discovery has come another, and that is the news that my neighbour has been diagnosed with terminal brain cancer and has been given 1 year to live by the powers that be.

Sitting in the tub, allowing the waves of sadness to wash through me about this vibrant man who we've known at a distance for over 10 years and who is now fading, I found myself at first feeling helpless and then very quickly realizing that here I am, metres away with a skill set that I know makes a difference and what am I doing? - holding back, staying silent, allowing my own hang ups to paralyze me while someone on my very doorstep has a need and doesn't even know that I may have something to offer. I can't think of a bigger reason to get over myself than that.

He may or may not be interested in what I have to offer but I am the one standing in the way of his choice because of my hang ups about being intrusive, being perceived as weird or being rejected. All of which is totally unfounded in reality! As for being intrusive or being rejected - someone else's choice has no bearing on me, it has to do with what is right for them. When it comes to the weird factor, I know that I have made a significant difference in the lives of those with cancer from my past clients, I'm just reacting to being an individual without the "credibility" of a clinic or a referral from another "expert" to fall back on. I also know that people will make the long trip to Toronto to access the support services at Princess Margaret Hospital for a fraction of the skill and care that I have to offer as a single practitioner. All of that in an allopathic model - I haven't even begun to contemplate what's possible in an autopoietic framework.

And while my inner Francis cringes at my boldness, I assure you that it comes from a place of honesty and ownership and not one of arrogance ... and well, quite frankly, "what you think doesn't really matter, does it?" quips my inner Alex! This is one of the biggest invitations to get over myself that I have ever had.

And there ends my unraveling. I have come undone .... and in the most delightful way. I can feel the restrictions loosening. As a final thought, I've repeatedly written in my journal the notion that at this stage of pregnancy, I wish I could unzip my skin and step out of it, leaving all the compression, swelling and pressure behind. I suspect the baby is beginning to feel the same in its cramped quarters. Perhaps stepping beyond my boundaries on this front will be like taking a first breath as something else is born. Whether a "real" birth or a metaphorical one happens first, I'll keep you posted! Its good to be back.