Creativity and Guilt

When I woke up this morning, I was sure of two things.

1. I wanted to vomit
2. The word "creativity" had NOTHING to do with emotions, unless you were creating an object outside of yourself.

So, I walk into my training at 8:15, confident in those facts.

The training consists of large workshops for information dissemination, and small ones designed to replicate the program we will someday facilitate. The program is called TIMBo, and is essentially a mindfulness based awareness and skill building opportunity for people who have experienced trauma...using breathing techniques, yoga, and group conversation to facilitate the ability to be comfortable in discomfort. We focus on physical sensations rather than feeling words, because feeling words often have negative associations attached to them, and we are not interested in the history or the story, just the experience and the present. There is a lot more to it...but that will suffice for the purposes of this story.

Small group 1. I am super psyched that my new friend Kelly is there, and feeling a bit anxious about what the topics may be for the day (I never peak ahead at the schedule, I do better at staying present when I am not focused on what is going to happen in the future). We do our one word check in...focused, connected, peaceful, nauseated (guess who that was)...and so on. The facilitator said turn to page 17, and there at the top of the page was the word "Creativity". WHAT??? The little voice inside my head SCREAMED "I cannot draw. Or paint. DON'T MAKE ME DO THIS. Let's just vomit and go home". But I stayed.

We read a quote about creativity being the choice to leave the safety of your city and venture off into the forest (or something like that. Alan Alda said it)...and began our discussion, which always starts with "what did this quote bring up for you?". Quickly, the conversation became about the ways that we all, as people, creatively reinforce the negative fears and doubts that live inside our heads. Honestly, at first I was lost.

And then I realized....that is EXACTLY how I live my life. I am SO creative at finding evidence to support the theory that I am (in no particular order): not good enough, smart enough, lovable enough. I can turn a glance into confirmation of my worthlessness, a lack of acknowledgement into proof that I am invisible, a challenging semester into attestation that I am not smart enough. Easily. Deftly. CREATIVELY.

Huh.

And then...then before lunch we started the module called "Creativity/Guilt". COME ON....

I do not have guilt. I have made amends, I own my negative behaviors, I do not shy away from the responsibility I bear in the choices I make that impact others. What is there to feel guilty about?

This module, unlike the first one today, had a writing component. Here is what it asked for: a list of your self judgements and things you feel guilty about. OK. I can do that. If I am awake, I am judging myself. Here we go...click pen open.

I judge:
my body
my diagnosis
my face
my life
my intelligence
my family
my emotions
my relationships
my hypervigilance
my addictions

click pen closed.

There is no guilt, I thought...there is nothing else to write...so I sat in the silence while everyone else continued with their writing. Then I had a feeling...an intuition...that I wasn't quite done. Sensations happening. A heavy feeling. Bile rising. Body temperature increasing.

Click pen open.

Out of my pen...with no thought from me...comes the following words:

I feel guilty for:
Being Sonja

Click pen closed.

Let me tell you fine folks something...that was not what I thought my heart was going to say. But there it was, in black and white on the paper. That is when the miracle happened. The one word check in...uncomfortable, aware, centered, disconnected, compassionate (WHO SAID THAT?? It was my voice...but WHAT???)

For the first time in my life, the first time ever, I felt compassion for myself. Now, I am not saying that I felt sorry for myself. I am saying that I was able to look at that list, inside that box, in black and white, with compassion. For me.

For the way I berate me. The way I limit me. The way I abandon me. The way I hurt me. The way I sabotage me. The way I endlessly and mercilessly JUDGE me. The fact that all of that has left me feeling guilty for...being me.

Wow. What an amazing feeling. I am hoping that I can experience it again, that this is a breakthrough of some sort, and that I will be able to revisit that moment.

The moment that I saw myself as I would see another. The moment that I realized that I am OK. That I am smart enough. That I am good enough. That I too, am worthy and lovable.

Click blog closed.