Went into the session room at 9.00am for Naming Ceremony. My Angel Card was “Purpose”. First session at 10.00am with Brian again breathing first. After about ten minutes, I had to get Dean to sit with Brian while I had to shit again.
Around fifteen minutes later, I became absolutely terrified of the music and screaming. Once again, had to get Dean to take care of Brian for about half an hour, while he also helped talk me through my fear. He was brilliant. Began to settle down after a while, then eventually was OK enough to resume my sitter duties. Even though I had no problem in helping out when needed, I still felt very disconnected from everything. Brian was ready to leave the room at 1.35pm.
Following lunch, we returned to the session room at 2.45pm. I was so nervous I couldn’t lie down, so stood up talking to Brian and generally running around.
When Deirdre came over to give me a hug, I decided I would tell her about my vision I had following a session in January ’97, where I saw her in a very old dining room wearing a beige duffel coat. She told me that when she was in college over forty years ago, she did wear a beige duffel coat. I found this news rather disturbing but she explained that perhaps while I was still in my altered state, she may have passed by me and I just picked up her energy (something like that!).
It was 3.05pm by the time we began the afternoon session and I was really looking forward to the relaxation exercises to calm me down. They did help, so much so, that when I’d completed them, I was fully prepared for whatever my journey had to offer:-
“Around five minutes into the breathing I begin to shake violently and suddenly feeling very cold, I pull the blanket up around my neck. Some five minutes or so later I begin my usual yawning and start to feel the familiar pins and needles in my hands and arms, which for some reason I always find very reassuring.
As I continue with the breathing, a sharp pain develops in my left arm, but soon eases after I apply strong pressure to it. A while later, similar pains develop again, this time in the left side of my head, then down in my gut. As each discomfort arises, I do my own bodywork on it, screaming at the top of my lungs as I press deep into my body to release the energy.
In between all the agony, I’m aware of a tremendous sense of being guided through this journey, as if a being, far greater than myself, is telling me it’s finally OK to do this. At times, I’ve an overwhelming urge to cry with the joy this permission brings.
Now the intermittent yelling becomes one long gut-wrenching scream as I begin to rotate my body in what becomes my journey down the birth canal. As I’m travelling downwards, cushions are placed around my head, simulating the constricting pelvic bones, and once more my suffering becomes almost intolerable as I scream and push my way through the hellish darkness.
Suddenly I get this strange image of a huge purple vagina as I continue my navigation through the treacherous birth canal. I’m now aware of intense pressure on my head as I move into the opening which will eventually lead to my deliverance, and with what little strength I’ve left, I force my body deeper into the narrow winding passage until I finally emerge, head downwards, yelling my guts out in absolute terror. Hands are all around me, but I haven’t a clue who they belong to, because no one speaks.
Lying on my back I continue to cry out, my fingers desperately searching for the warm confines of my mouth. Eventually the terror subsides and is quickly replaced by an incredible feeling of total peace which completely fills my entire body.
I then fix my gaze upon a particular spot on the ceiling and stare at it for ages in total bliss. I’m vaguely aware of the painful sounds all around me but I’m not in the least disturbed by them. I just want these wonderful moments to last forever.
Slowly I return to some degree of reality and sit up, still feeling very peaceful, but somewhat aware of an underlying sadness deep in my gut. One of the facilitators, Colette, kneels beside me and asks if everything is OK. I tell her I’m fine because, for one thing, I’m still recovering from my birth experience and also I’m not yet ready to let go of my new-found blissful state.
Some time later Fiona also enquires how things are with me and I again admit to being fine, only this time I mention my feeling of sadness which seems too far buried to do anything about it. She suggests I lie down and try some bodywork.
As soon as Fiona places her hand on my upper tummy, I begin to whimper as the sadness is physically touched upon. She then gets me to breathe into it which soon has me screaming out in absolute rage at all the fuckers who’ve hurt me throughout my life. I shout “fuck you” many times while kicking out and thrashing my body all over the place, then when the anger finally subsides, I fall headlong into the inevitable pit of sadness which usually follows these awful outbursts.
Now I’m missing my adoptive mother. I’m five years old and in hospital for a tonsillectomy. She has just said goodbye to me and I’m feeling the desperate pain of separation. My cries are heart rending as I plead for her to return and take me home, but she doesn’t come. I know that this part of the session lasts quite a while, during which time I also deal with the many occasions when I experienced total isolation. Desperately needing just to be held, but never having that need met.
The suffering continues as I remember my mother dying and not being able to comfort her. At times, I become her, begging God over and over to let me die, just like I used to when I was a little girl.
Going over onto my hands and knees, I curl up into a little ball, while continuing to sob my heart out. I remain in that position for a long time, until completely overcome with grief, I lie back down and snuggle into Fiona, hoping she can ease my pain.
After a while I have this great need to tell my adoptive mother that I love her. Several times I choke on my tears while desperately trying to say those God damn words. Each time I try to begin with the word “I”, Fiona immediately urges me on with “that’s it, say it, say it” but my fucking throat just seizes up and all I can say is “I can’t, I can’t”. Eventually she tells me that perhaps, another day.
I remain curled into Fiona, cursing my inability to finally let go of the guilt associated with not being able to ever tell my mother that I loved her. The sad thing is, I don’t think I actually ever did love her, it’s more a case of feeling I should have.
By the time I’ve recovered, I’ve a deep sense of having dealt with a lot of painful shit today. I now become giggly and talk a lot of bullshit to Fiona, who, as always, knows how to handle it, so we both end up having a good laugh. After resting on my own for a long time, during which I sit with my blanket up around my head, I then turn to Brian and discuss some of my session with him. He tells me I finished up around 6.45pm and by 7.40pm, I’m ready to leave the room”.
I was feeling really high as I drew my Mandala in the dining room. After dinner went back into the session room at 9.15pm for the Cleansing Ceremony. This time, I actually felt relaxed enough to take part with everyone else in the centre of the room. As always, it was a beautiful and moving ceremony. Finished up around 10.45pm. Danced ‘till around 12.30am. Went into the kitchen and talked with Sarah, Abby, Debby, Don and Brian ‘till about 2.00am. Went to bed 2.05am.
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