How to Let Go
It's been a weird couple of weeks. I've been meaning to sit down and do a reading for myself for a while, but I've been so drained or distracted or disinterested in doing anything productive. Last night, I walked past my cards and decided to stop making excuses.
Significator: King of Swords (Intuition) - A reminder of who I am, that I can trust myself. A hint of conflict as lightning flashes in the background, indicative of the weird shit going on in my head lately, the dissonance between what I know and what I fear.
Crossing Card: The World - The end of our first decade together. We're leaving this apartment damned near precisely ten years after Justin moved in. We're leaving stuff behind. Not just material things, but memories and baggage. Some of it is harder to let go than others.
Head: Six of Wands (Victory) - I'm doing this part right. I've been working hard to figure my shit out, be honest and discuss what's going on in my head. There have been a few stumbles, but nothing insurmountable, nothing that wasn't easily resolved with a little effort.
Heart: Five of Disks (Adaptation) - This is where my fear is living, where I'm clinging to some old hurt that tightens up my chest and spreads doubt where none belongs. This is the part I need to change, where I need to grow. And it's starting, I know that. But change is difficult, and it often hurts. It hurts a lot right now, and that scares me even more.
Further Explanation: The Sun, Queen of Cups (Contemplation), Ace of Cups (Beauty) - How do I change? How do I grow? Honesty, especially when shared. Introspection, especially when honest. Remembering what's right in front of me and seeing it for the beginning that it is. Let this be an adventure. Adventures are usually at least a little scary.
Past Influences: Ten of Swords (Desolation) - That old hurt. That resentment I thought I'd let go. It's still there, reawakened recently by what would have otherwise been a minor misstep if this trap hadn't been lying there waiting for this particular mistake. It was soul-crushing at the time and still fills me with doubt. My confidence was broken, replaced with all these foreign insecurities. Desolation is fitting and clear. This old wound is affecting way too much of my present right now.
Future Influences: Four of Wands (Completion) - A scary card at first. I see it immediately as our house, but the four walls are bright with fire. Pair it with the four of cups which so quickly follows which warns against a false sense of satiation, and I can't help but fear the worst, that this is a warning.
Further Explanation: Ten of Cups (Prosperity), Nine of Cups (Content), Six of Cups (Satisfaction) - Will I be trapped? No. Stop worrying so much. The house is a good thing! It's the reward for our hard work, but remember two things: it's not the end, but a beginning; I promised to make some sacred space in the new place, which is why the walls are built of wands.
How I See Me: Four of Cups (Satiety) - A very precise depiction of my current fears, the thoughts that have been haunting my head. I'm afraid all this love and happiness is hollow, that it won't stand up to scrutiny or tribulation... even though I know damned well that isn't the case. I see empty gestures where there's sincere concern. I doubt the depth of offered affection. I'm aware of this. I see myself doing this, and I want to stop.
How Others See Me: Three of Swords (Sorrow) - He's worried about me. He sees how I'm hurting, and he doesn't know how to help.
Hopes and Fears: The Tower - Always. What we have right now has some rotted old bricks in it, that bad business that's got me all twisted up years later. I want it gone. I want this ending to really provide us a new beginning; I want to be able to truly sweep away all the bullshit we don't need--I don't need--and build something better on top of it. I'm terrified that I'll have no control over that, that the ending here won't be what I'm expecting but will be instead what I fear. I'm afraid that I won't be able to let go of my bullshit, and anything new we build will have this nastiness set in its foundation.
Further Explanation: The Priest, Seven of Cups (Imagination), The Star - How do I clean this bad stuff out so that we can start fresh and build something solid? Talk to someone. Likely my shrink, but I'm open to other ears. Put that wild imagination of mine to work in better ways. Justin once challenged me, saying that if I'm going to play what-if games, I need to play both sides, that I can't just focus on how everything could go wrong, on all the bad possibilities. There's light in the darkness, hope in the box of bad shit. It's not all as one-sided as I tend to think. I'm not as alone as I tend to think.
Final Outcome: Two of Cups (Love) - Exactly where I want to be. Face to face, giddy with newness despite the decade behind us. In love.
Then, this morning, I had my meeting with my shrink. I keep meaning to post something about how wonderful she is, how much she's helped me, how she's sharp and perceptive and warm and honest. She keeps up with me and calls me on my bullshit without judging me for it. She's exactly what I need, even when everything's going well, but especially when my head's all a mess.
Today, we talked about self-compassion--which comes up a lot as I have a difficult time with it--and self-comfort, particularly as a tool for dealing with my emotions when they're getting the better of me and my head isn't much help. It reminded me of part of Ze Frank's Invocation for Beginnings. "Let me think about the people who I care about the most, and how when they fail or disappoint me, I still love them, I still give them chances, and I still see the best in them. Let me extend that generosity to myself." I cried when I first heard those words. And the second time. And the third. It's been a very difficult lesson for me, one with which I still struggle most days. I get angry that I get angry; how does that help? It's hard to accept that I'm not always exactly who I want to be, that I sometimes feel things that aren't ideal, that I sometimes want more than I need, that I sometimes need more than I think I should.
We talked about my inner brat, and how this is actually a term used in books. It made me laugh that she used the same term I do. My inner brat isn't all bad. I don't have to hate her so much. She's an expression of a need, a problem; I just need to deal with her before she feels like throwing a tantrum.
We talked about how holding on so tightly to a moment when I had no control can be a means of reclaiming and maintaining control. If I keep clinging to this, I can hold it up proud--and miserable--when everything falls apart, declaring that I knew it, I called it, I was right... when I'm so very afraid of being wrong.
We talked a lot about that fear of being wrong and what it means, what I'm afraid of being wrong about. We peeled away layers until I saw how hollow it was, until I remembered how I used to think about these things, how I want to think about these things. It doesn't matter what happens in the future; I can say with certainty that I wasn't wrong, that everything up to this point has been worth it.
I don't need this fear anymore. I don't need this hurt. I've been holding onto it for a while now, though, and I think it'll take some time to peel it away from my chest, to strip its burden from my heart. But I can see how now. I can honestly say I don't need or want it anymore, which I couldn't have done a day or two ago, when it felt like a steel wool security blanket.
But I should get to bed now.
Significator: King of Swords (Intuition) - A reminder of who I am, that I can trust myself. A hint of conflict as lightning flashes in the background, indicative of the weird shit going on in my head lately, the dissonance between what I know and what I fear.
Crossing Card: The World - The end of our first decade together. We're leaving this apartment damned near precisely ten years after Justin moved in. We're leaving stuff behind. Not just material things, but memories and baggage. Some of it is harder to let go than others.
Head: Six of Wands (Victory) - I'm doing this part right. I've been working hard to figure my shit out, be honest and discuss what's going on in my head. There have been a few stumbles, but nothing insurmountable, nothing that wasn't easily resolved with a little effort.
Heart: Five of Disks (Adaptation) - This is where my fear is living, where I'm clinging to some old hurt that tightens up my chest and spreads doubt where none belongs. This is the part I need to change, where I need to grow. And it's starting, I know that. But change is difficult, and it often hurts. It hurts a lot right now, and that scares me even more.
Further Explanation: The Sun, Queen of Cups (Contemplation), Ace of Cups (Beauty) - How do I change? How do I grow? Honesty, especially when shared. Introspection, especially when honest. Remembering what's right in front of me and seeing it for the beginning that it is. Let this be an adventure. Adventures are usually at least a little scary.
Past Influences: Ten of Swords (Desolation) - That old hurt. That resentment I thought I'd let go. It's still there, reawakened recently by what would have otherwise been a minor misstep if this trap hadn't been lying there waiting for this particular mistake. It was soul-crushing at the time and still fills me with doubt. My confidence was broken, replaced with all these foreign insecurities. Desolation is fitting and clear. This old wound is affecting way too much of my present right now.
Future Influences: Four of Wands (Completion) - A scary card at first. I see it immediately as our house, but the four walls are bright with fire. Pair it with the four of cups which so quickly follows which warns against a false sense of satiation, and I can't help but fear the worst, that this is a warning.
Further Explanation: Ten of Cups (Prosperity), Nine of Cups (Content), Six of Cups (Satisfaction) - Will I be trapped? No. Stop worrying so much. The house is a good thing! It's the reward for our hard work, but remember two things: it's not the end, but a beginning; I promised to make some sacred space in the new place, which is why the walls are built of wands.
How I See Me: Four of Cups (Satiety) - A very precise depiction of my current fears, the thoughts that have been haunting my head. I'm afraid all this love and happiness is hollow, that it won't stand up to scrutiny or tribulation... even though I know damned well that isn't the case. I see empty gestures where there's sincere concern. I doubt the depth of offered affection. I'm aware of this. I see myself doing this, and I want to stop.
How Others See Me: Three of Swords (Sorrow) - He's worried about me. He sees how I'm hurting, and he doesn't know how to help.
Hopes and Fears: The Tower - Always. What we have right now has some rotted old bricks in it, that bad business that's got me all twisted up years later. I want it gone. I want this ending to really provide us a new beginning; I want to be able to truly sweep away all the bullshit we don't need--I don't need--and build something better on top of it. I'm terrified that I'll have no control over that, that the ending here won't be what I'm expecting but will be instead what I fear. I'm afraid that I won't be able to let go of my bullshit, and anything new we build will have this nastiness set in its foundation.
Further Explanation: The Priest, Seven of Cups (Imagination), The Star - How do I clean this bad stuff out so that we can start fresh and build something solid? Talk to someone. Likely my shrink, but I'm open to other ears. Put that wild imagination of mine to work in better ways. Justin once challenged me, saying that if I'm going to play what-if games, I need to play both sides, that I can't just focus on how everything could go wrong, on all the bad possibilities. There's light in the darkness, hope in the box of bad shit. It's not all as one-sided as I tend to think. I'm not as alone as I tend to think.
Final Outcome: Two of Cups (Love) - Exactly where I want to be. Face to face, giddy with newness despite the decade behind us. In love.
Then, this morning, I had my meeting with my shrink. I keep meaning to post something about how wonderful she is, how much she's helped me, how she's sharp and perceptive and warm and honest. She keeps up with me and calls me on my bullshit without judging me for it. She's exactly what I need, even when everything's going well, but especially when my head's all a mess.
Today, we talked about self-compassion--which comes up a lot as I have a difficult time with it--and self-comfort, particularly as a tool for dealing with my emotions when they're getting the better of me and my head isn't much help. It reminded me of part of Ze Frank's Invocation for Beginnings. "Let me think about the people who I care about the most, and how when they fail or disappoint me, I still love them, I still give them chances, and I still see the best in them. Let me extend that generosity to myself." I cried when I first heard those words. And the second time. And the third. It's been a very difficult lesson for me, one with which I still struggle most days. I get angry that I get angry; how does that help? It's hard to accept that I'm not always exactly who I want to be, that I sometimes feel things that aren't ideal, that I sometimes want more than I need, that I sometimes need more than I think I should.
We talked about my inner brat, and how this is actually a term used in books. It made me laugh that she used the same term I do. My inner brat isn't all bad. I don't have to hate her so much. She's an expression of a need, a problem; I just need to deal with her before she feels like throwing a tantrum.
We talked about how holding on so tightly to a moment when I had no control can be a means of reclaiming and maintaining control. If I keep clinging to this, I can hold it up proud--and miserable--when everything falls apart, declaring that I knew it, I called it, I was right... when I'm so very afraid of being wrong.
We talked a lot about that fear of being wrong and what it means, what I'm afraid of being wrong about. We peeled away layers until I saw how hollow it was, until I remembered how I used to think about these things, how I want to think about these things. It doesn't matter what happens in the future; I can say with certainty that I wasn't wrong, that everything up to this point has been worth it.
I don't need this fear anymore. I don't need this hurt. I've been holding onto it for a while now, though, and I think it'll take some time to peel it away from my chest, to strip its burden from my heart. But I can see how now. I can honestly say I don't need or want it anymore, which I couldn't have done a day or two ago, when it felt like a steel wool security blanket.
But I should get to bed now.