I wasn't sure which board this topic might belong in, I hope this is the right place for it...
I like thinking about my dreams. Whether or not they have some inherent meaning to them, I think they can provide the metaphor for things we are trying to work out - just the same way as any other story (e.g. from books, movies, etc.) can. I had one once about this guy who learned he was to be the second coming of Christ. [I know talking about religion can trip some people up - it certainly can for me - but I hope you'll be able to see beyond the religious symbols here] Some people weren't too happy about this so they were chasing him down, trying to get him before he can wield his Christ-like powers and change the world. All he had to do to be safe, though, was to make it to this one church. If he could get away from the vigilantes long enough to get there, then he'd officially be Christ and be alright.
And he did, he made it to the church and met with the priest who was waiting for him. This priest did nothing, really, but was expecting him. So once this guy got there and got to him he knew he was alright. It was only then that he broke down, fell to the floor under the sorrow and fear and responsibility of the title which has been bestowed upon him. And though it was never a vivid part of my dream I feel like I knew that he would really, truly be okay. That eventually he'd be able to stand back up and take on the responsibility of his new role.
I think about this dream a lot. I think about this man and him falling to the floor under the weight of his emotions. As I said, I don't know if dreams have inherent meaning. But I do know this scene has turned into a meaningful image for me. I feel like that man - fleeing evil, trying to make it to the place where I will finally be okay. I think I've spent the vast majority of my life looking for my own church, the place where I am finally safe and able to fall under the weight of the world. The place where I am finally okay enough to not be okay.
It makes me think of children, too. The frozen child, afraid, who breaks down once she is back in her mother's arms. Ironic, in a way, how this can go. It is only when she is okay - back in the safety of her parent's presence - that she can fully be not okay. I sometimes think this is a way to define and even understand what we call trauma. Trauma is when you can't (due to external or internal circumstances) get to the place where you are okay to not be okay. So you never fall under the weight of the burden you've faced, and then you can never move forward. You can't go anywhere because you're still looking for that place where you are safe. So you get stuck... for a few months or a few years or a lifetime. You are stuck, still fleeing the vigilantes, still looking for the church.
I find this idea extremely difficult for many reasons - but the one I have been thinking about, the one I would like to talk about now, is how hard it is to reconcile myself with the idea that it is okay to not be okay. This becomes especially hard, I think, living in a social climate where the norm, in my opinion (though this may be more influenced by my upbringing than I'm aware), is that you should be trying to be okay. "Be happy," "look on the bright side," "turn that frown upside down." How often are we told it's okay to be angry or sad or afraid?
Recently, I feel like things have been difficult. And whenever this happens it is most certainly challenging, of course. But I do recognize another side to it. Sometimes, at the peak of pain, it feels so honest there's a refreshing quality to it. And when I am feeling "fine," it's like I can still sense this something inside of me that has not gone anywhere, this pain that has yet to get it's time. It's like it's not okay to push for not being okay, so I must pretend to be okay when I'm really not.
But I do struggle with this. I feel guilty, wanting to not be okay. I feel like it's counter to the message that's out there, that it's counter to what I should be trying to do, it's counter to the point of me being in therapy. I feel like even my therapist would find fault with this desire, the longing to not be okay. I feel like it would make me an easy target for that dreaded label in certain psychological circles - "resistant." After all, the aim is to get better, right? So then I must work at being better!...right?
I go back and forth on this, though. Because over the years I feel there's been a steady confidence growing in me that this need to put a positive spin on everything causes more harm than good. Instead, I think it's more helpful to follow the sentiment of, "You're not okay, and I'm not okay, and it's okay." And I know it is what I long for. I am still searching for the place where I can finally fall under the weight of my own pain. And I am longing for the person who will finally agree with me that it's not okay, and, rather than fault me for that or tell me how change, could just accept that that's true.
I don't know, I struggle with this a lot. I just wonder if anyone else can relate or has thoughts on the matter.