Many of us have, or have had the tendency to do what is known as ‘spacing out.’ But do we know why? What causes it? For some it is because of trauma, abuse, neglect. And I am sure many other reasons.
It can manifest in many ways and become a way to disengage from the body. Why? Because the body hurts, and if we are to become more present we may need to engage once more with the body, feel the hurt and create our own medicine field to support us. Then we can change, then we can move on, then we can call back our Soul.
Excerpt from ‘Ms’Guided Angel’
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What was he doing, why was I hurting! I became dazed. I knew a world I could escape to.
There is a cloud, a big cloud and I am moving through it, it brushes past my skin, it’s soft and I feel a sort of safety like I am being wrapped up and held in a big blanket. And then I felt warmth in my hands, I saw feathers curled around my fingers and I held tight, I gripped for all I was worth, something pulled me upwards into the sky, I was dizzy but I was going higher and higher into the sky into the clouds. There was a bright light all around me and I was flying. I wrapped my arms around great white wings I felt a heart beating and I was being carried away, far away into the distance. There was no body, no breath, just a lightness and a softness and emptiness all around.
He took me to my bedroom and tucked me in saying goodnight very quickly this time and shut the door. Is this what young women did for ‘older men’.
I was somewhat quiet and distracted for the rest of the holiday and then it was time to go home; it was over. From then on I chose not to go on holiday with my family. I had a lot of animals and it was very difficult for others to look after them. The horse needed exercising, the chickens feeding and the goat milking. I was the best at all of this, so I reckon it was quite a relief to my parents that I was happier staying at home. My maternal grandparents would stay with me and the family would go away and enjoy their holidays. They sent me post cards and brought me back a present.
I was hurt and angry, violated. What should have been a perfect life for a young girl had been poisoned, ruined, spoilt for ever. I decided that I was not going to be bound by the rules and convention and began to rebel.
Though the behaviour towards me did not change and continued well into my early teens, it took a long while before I could shake it off and find a real way to escape! The memories of this behaviour lay hidden in a dark place within me, as I found my route to escape amidst the dream-time. It would be later on in life, I would realize what had made me become the ‘difficult child’.
A bird, a great white bird came and took me into the sky. As we flew higher, I saw pink castles, lakes of gold and white doves. A fairy-tale land full of goodness, of purity, gentleness and dreams. Here I could be anything I wanted to be. I was beautiful and I shone and I was seen. I loved this place. My great white bird changed into a mighty horse with flowing mane and tail galloping through the clouds with thundering hooves, faster, faster. I would cry, quickly, quickly, don’t stop, don’t stop in case I feel!
Energy flying through me and around me. Time and time again.
As a child I often packed my suitcase, walking out of the house with no idea where I was going. A certain need to gather things up and leave. Once, I collected many hats from cupboards and wardrobes and filled my case with them. I was out for about an hour walking along the roads, I got hungry and then decided to go home. Was this packing of bags, running away and leaving, a rehearsal for later on in life? I had tried to run away from home a few times, but never got very far and no one noticed. But this time at the age of 14, I reached Liverpool and spent a night sleeping on the pier amongst the tramps and the homeless. A real eye-opener, especially when one urinated, fully-clothed, beside me. After a couple more nights sleeping in cars, the police found me, put me in a cell, and my dear parents, out of their minds with worry, drove the 200 miles or so to collect me. I believe they were told not to be cross with me, as this would only make the situation worse. I was inclined to agree.
It was back to a family who did not talk about our problems or goings on within the family that may have been inappropriate. There was no language for this, apart from the language of bad behaviour.
Ms’Guided Angel (MyVoice publishing 2010) http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/0955469260
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Caroline Carey
Caroline Carey Writings, Prose & Poetry 