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Category: freedom

  • Cycling Alongside Grief

    My inner child has joined the party.

    John Walter 📣Jun 3 · 5 min read first published on Medium by Invisible Illness.

    The author took the image.

    Grief is not singular. In 2 years grieving my daughter, I have begun to realise how much grief I have accumulated in my body and soul. The trauma of Holly’s suicide has triggered all the other pain and loss I have been holding for many years.

    Regular counselling has been a vital resource to get me through the last two years, but I soon realised that although my grief around Holly was close to the surface, there were many other issues that very often took over our sessions. My relationship with my father soon came to the fore, prompting an exploration of my gender identity and sexuality.

    My inner child has been surfacing in the last couple of weeks. He was calling out to me from 54 years ago when I was a tall 11-year-old who loved being outside, cycling, swimming in the sea or just mucking around on river banks with other kids.

    From the Author’s archive. John Walter — back row centre.

    At this age, I was the tallest in the class, the fastest runner and ranked amongst the first three in most tests. But 1965 is the year all sorts of things changed.

    Childhood wounds began to accumulate. The owner of a local sweetshop caught my best friend and me stealing a Mars bar each from her shop. The local policeman arrived at our door, and my parents banned me from seeing my friend ever again.

    My parents decided to enter me for a scholarship exam to a prestigious boarding school which involved a weekly visit to a local maths teacher for booster lessons. Perhaps due to the pressure to succeed in this exam, I became very anxious. I was conflicted, between the desire to please my parents and pass the exam, and a fear of being shipped off to boarding school. The anxiety caused crippling stomachaches, and my doctor prescribed phenobarbitone which is a powerful barbiturate. Luckily I managed to do well in the exam but not well enough to secure a place.

    A toddler who I used to look out for and who was a family friend, was murdered. Irrationally I have blamed myself for this.

    The list could continue. What I recognise is that the age of 11 was a turning point. I lost interest in education. I adapted in various ways so as not to feel the wounds.

    I created survival strategies that served me well for a time, but now I need to give some space to my inner child. The surviving child has hit a crossroads; the adult I have developed into is failing to cope.

    Connecting with my inner child.

    With lockdown in place, I have had the freedom to connect with my inner child, the 11-year-old boy, happy in his idyllic childhood world.

    I have found myself back in my hometown. Everything about the town feels like I have gone back in time to the ’60s. This is helping me make the connections. I have very few responsibilities and can focus on whatever creative work or activities I feel drawn to.

    The only bakery in the town which is remaining open is the same one I walked to as a child to collect a still-warm loaf in a brown paper bag. In 60 years it has changed very little. The chain bakers and cornish pasty shops have all closed for the duration of lockdown, but this tiny shop continues. Even in normal times, a maximum of 3 customers at a time could enter.

    Image taken by the author.

    As I stood to wait for my loaf of bread, the door to the garden opened and a young man brought in a tray of steaming loaves from the bakery behind the shop. As a child, I knew the times that the fresh bread would be appearing and would offer to make the daily trip for my mother. As I returned from my errand I could never resist picking off some of the warm fresh crust and eating it. My mother did not approve but it was a small sacrifice to get the errand done.

    I am also using the local grocer rather than supermarkets. The family business stretches right back to before I was born. The pace of life in the town is sleepy and slow as it usually was at off-season times.

    Part of my grief has been my grief for my inner child. He is creative and imaginative and cares nothing for practicalities and doing the sensible thing. He knows what he needs and finds ways of fulfilling those needs.

    The cycle rides.

    I had my bicycle repaired and have started daily cycle rides along the cliffs and through the narrow lanes and cycle paths of North Cornwall. It is my inner child that is leading and directing these rides.

    The first morning I awoke with grief sitting on my chest like a weighted blanket. Young John slipped out from under the duvet, and I found myself standing in the kitchen at 5.30 AM looking out at the glorious day. Young John packed a bag with a swimming suit, towel, a bottle of water, a cheese sandwich and an orange.

    With no plan, I cycled down the driveway in shorts, T-shirt and sandals. Young John decided to turn left. The ride continued in this way. At each junction, I either turned left or right, but it was all spontaneous with no thought of the destination or the return route.

    There was no pushing. On some of the steepest hills, I got off and walked, or I rested in a gateway and took in the view. At one point, I went into a field, took off all my clothes and lay in the sun reading my book. Along the way, I rested and ate my lunch. In the heat of the day, I found a deserted beach and swam in the sea.

    I arrived home refreshed. Able to get on with creative projects for the rest of the day.

    I now have a similar cycle ride every morning, conscious that this is when my inner child can come out to play. My thoughts on these rides bounce around all the losses and trauma of the last 54 years. I am carefree and free of all responsibilities. I am cycling alongside grief, and I am allowing my inner child to take the lead.

    We don’t talk enough about mental health.

  • 5 Lessons From a Trauma Survivor

    Your biggest enemy will be your desire to reinstate normal life.

    John Walter 🌍Mar 30 · 8 min read First published in Invisible Illness on Medium

    Photo by NRKbeta on Unsplash

    To varying degrees, as a result of Covid-19, everyone on the planet is joining this previously elite club.

    Trauma survivors.

    Apart from the physical, economic, cultural and social damage, there will be an enormous impact on the mental health of everyone from survivors and the medical professionals to those who found their livelihood evaporate overnight.

    Those in abusive relationships will have the trauma complicated by the undesirable imprisonment with their abuser.

    Children sold the story that steady progression through the education system is the only way to achieve a meaningful life will find themselves swimming in currents that no one had warned them about and for which they are ill-prepared.

    Grief will become commonplace.

    There will be a massive spike in those exhibiting the symptoms of PTSD

    The main symptoms of PTSD are:

    Re-living the traumatic event through distressing, unwanted memories, vivid nightmares and/or flashbacks. This can also include feeling very upset or having intense physical reactions such as heart palpitations or being unable to breathe when reminded of the traumatic event.

    Avoiding reminders of the traumatic event, including activities, places, people, thoughts or feelings that bring back memories of the trauma.

    Negative thoughts and feelings such as fear, anger, guilt, or feeling flat or numb a lot of the time. A person might blame themselves or others for what happened during or after the traumatic event, feel cut-off from friends and family, or lose interest in day-to-day activities.

    Feeling wound-up. This might mean having trouble sleeping or concentrating, feeling angry or irritable, taking risks, being easily startled, and/or being constantly on the lookout for danger.

    It is not unusual for people with PTSD to experience other mental health problems as well, like depression or anxiety. Some people may develop a habit of using alcohol or drugs as a way of coping.

    [Pheonix Australia]

    Lesson 1. Nothing will ever be the same again.

    I have had two major traumas in the past five years.

    A brain tumour administered the first. It knocked out all of the hearing in one ear overnight, caused me to lose my balance necessitating walking with a stick and gave me several months of facial pain, anxiety and depression.

    After four weeks of sick leave, I tried to go back to my job as a music teacher.

    I wish someone had told me that nothing would ever be the same again. I wasted enormous amounts of energy, trying to get my life back to normal. I went to countless meetings, we agreed a phased return to work and carried out an assessment of fitness for work all because I wanted life to be normal again.

    The moment I walked back into that school, I intuitively knew that I was no longer capable or interested in being a teacher. Walking into a crowded classroom was a terrifying experience. I could no longer tell the direction in which sound was coming. I had no depth of sound field, so the voice of the child in front of me was drowned out by all the other voices in the room. In a music classroom, I was overwhelmed with a cacophony and unable to use my hearing to focus on one sound to the exclusion of others.

    My mind drove me on. “You should be able to do this! You have to earn a living. There are plenty of deaf teachers. You are only deaf in one ear.”

    After two trial lessons, I gave up. Thanks to a wonderful boss, I was given a part-time job in a quiet office with no further contact with children.

    The lesson is – look at what you want to be doing with your life anew. If you have lost your job, are you going to bust a gut to get back into the same line of work or could you step into something more challenging or fulfilling or more suited to your current situation?

    If your relationship came under strain during this period, are you going to soldier on with it or use this opportunity to move to something new?

    If your business collapsed will you automatically look for support to rebuild it or will you step sideways into something more relevant to the times?

    Acknowledge the grief.

    When I look back at those weeks struggling with the loss of my hearing and my livelihood, I can now see it as circumstances allowing me to make changes in my life that were well overdue.

    Can you grasp the awful circumstances of a pandemic and see a personal opportunity for growth opening up?

    Lesson 2. You will find yourself responding to events in a way that seems out of your control

    My Second Trauma was in July 2018 when my beautiful, extraordinary daughter Holly took her own life. It was entirely out of the blue, she seemed to have everything she needed in life, but in a shockingly short period, her mental health deteriorated and became fatal.

    Holly

    In a short article, I can’t possibly express all the feelings that I have been wading around in since that time. What I do know is that my body can suddenly start shaking for no apparent reason. My mind will sometimes become triggered, and I can no longer hear a word anyone is saying. I have had cramps in both legs and disconcerting dizzy spells.

    I accept them now as a result of trauma. I don’t try to medicate or expect them to go away. I accept I have suffered trauma, and I will always have reactions to some events, and I will not always know why.

    https://www.newscientist.com/article/mg22429941-200-the-lifelong-cost-of-burying-our-traumatic-experiences/

    The lesson here is not to try burying your traumatic experience. After WW2 many in my parents’ generation tried to live their life without referring to the awful events in their youth. It is not a good idea. Your body will remember if your mind tries to block it out.

    Learn to listen to your body. It is telling you that there is unexpressed emotion stored up. There is nothing wrong with you. It is not something you need to fix.

    I am practising telling people when it is happening. Often I am feeling powerless in some way. Recently I was watching a political interview and simply had to switch it off and breathe as my body was shaking. I was powerless to prevent Holly from dying, and whenever I feel powerless, my body reacts.

    Lesson 3. You are a different person since your experience.

    Change has already happened. You may not recognise yourself, your reactions or your responses. Trying to resist this change is futile, painful and ultimately useless.

    After the death of my daughter, I desperately wanted to carry on as usual. It was not viable. Pretty quickly, I enrolled on a Counselling Diploma course. I felt I needed something purposeful to do and something that would connect me with Holly, who had a Masters in Psychology.

    The change in career has served me well. What has not helped me is trying to keep other activities going because they were part of my routine.

    I was in a band that I had been enjoying for a couple of years, and I was keen to keep it going. After a while, this became painful. I was no longer the same person, but I found it difficult to find expression for the new me. It all ended in tears.

    My lesson from this is that I have to accept that I have changed. I also have to allow that others will continue treating me as if I was the old me. I have to enlighten them.

    There is no shortcut to this. As a man trained to hide my feelings and keep a stiff upper lip, it was extraordinarily difficult. Over time it becomes easier. I have learnt to trust my feelings and express them as best I can. If I feel assumptions are being made based on how I used to be, I make it clear the assumptions are wrong and enter into dialogue.

    Take some time to assess what has changed in you. What can you create for your future in the light of that?

    Lesson 4. Purpose and meaning become much more relevant to you.

    The cumulation of my two traumatic events has pushed me to a new level of purposefulness. No longer will I accept doing a job just because it pays the bills. What sort of a waste of life is that?

    I focus on doing things that are meaningful and fulfilling, and at the moment, I trust that I will make a living at it in the long term.

    The fabric and structure of education, society and employment are now put on hold to support us through this awful crisis. Maybe now is the time to reassess. When you can rebuild your life, what will you be delighted to bring back? What would you prefer to leave out?

    Lesson 5. No one outside of yourself will ever give you what you need.

    The first reaction to any trauma is to blame. Who did that to me? How can I call them to account? How can I make them change their ways? How can I punish them?

    Blaming is pointing out there, rather than in here, into your own mind, when you find yourself in a painful or uncomfortable experience. Blame means shifting the responsibility for where you are onto someone or something else, rather than accepting responsibility for your role in the experience. Iyanla Vanzant

    With this pandemic, it is going to be difficult to accept responsibility for our part in it. If you want to move forward and create a new life from the ashes of the old, you have to embrace this.

    My mind went into overdrive with blame when Holly died. I started by blaming myself and my wife, then her husband, the workplace she was employed at, the GP she visited. I soon realised this was all a futile attempt not to blame Holly for her actions.

    Ultimately I had to accept that what happened happened and I will never know why. I have no desire to waste vast amounts of energy trying to unearth the unknowable.

    When the dust has settled on Coronavirus will you leap straight back into all the things you were doing before? Or will you give yourself some breathing space? Will you recognise that you and your loved ones have suffered a massive trauma?

    You need time to heal and rebuild yourself and your lives in light of the different world in which we find ourselves.

  • Living a Life You Love, or Coping with Circumstances?

    Be aware of which applies to you, and you can choose to change.

    John Walter ⭐Jan 18 · 5 min read [First published in The Ascent on Medium]

    Reshot

    Are you living a life you love?

    Looking back over 65 years, I have had long periods when I have lived a life I love. Other times it has felt like I am merely coping with the circumstances that life throws at me.

    I lived a life I loved by bringing up my two daughters. I live a life I love by being in a 40 yr long relationship. My working life has fluctuated. Thirteen years running my own music business precisely the way I wanted to was a high point. Struggling to make ends meet by being a supply teacher was the low point.

    Are you coping with circumstances?

    Recently I have been coping with two significant traumas.

    • I had a brain tumour which knocked out my hearing in one ear.
    • My youngest daughter took her own life.

    If I look back further, I can see that my period of coping with circumstances, actually began several years ago.

    My business collapsed. After a couple of years trying to keep it running while losing money, I folded it up.

    Losing my business pointed me back to using my teaching qualification. It didn’t feel like a great choice, but I had to keep the money coming in.

    I hated it. The Education system had changed beyond recognition. If I voiced my feelings and opinions, I fell out with management. It was a relief when my hearing was knocked out by a brain tumour. I had the excuse I needed. I retired from teaching.

    When coping wasn’t enough

    My first reaction to my daughter taking her life was to cope in the best way I could. I stayed in London for two weeks. I met with distraught friends and family members. I spoke to the officials. I even managed to go for a swim most days just like I did at home. Once they released her body, I took a role in organising the funeral.

    As soon as the rituals were complete, I signed up to a three year Counselling Diploma. I had to create something meaningful in my life. The training course has been a safe place for me to explore my feelings and experiences. Partly it was an extension of my coping mechanisms, but it also prompted me to search beyond that.

    Beyond coping

    I have discovered that the majority of NHS and voluntary bereavement services are limited to giving you coping strategies. They deal with the symptoms but ignore any reference to the root cause of your distress.

    Twelve months after my daughter died, I signed up to receive several weeks of bereavement counselling. The first thing they presented me with was a questionnaire, a quantitative survey. It was asking me on a scale of 1–10 how I was coping. I gave myself a 7 for everything. Then I ripped it up.

    This questionnaire was there because it helped the agency to get funding. If six weeks later, I gave everything an eight they would have succeeded in their mission to help me cope better.

    That is not what I needed! I was coping fine!

    That was not my motivation for coming to counselling. I wanted to look behind the facade and explore the emotions that would otherwise fester inside of me and probably make me physically or mentally ill. Not just learn some tricks to help me to stagger from one day to the next with a smile on my face.

    I know what it is like to live a life I love. I am looking to move beyond coping to a life which inspires me daily.

    Luckily my counsellor understood. She accepted that after a few weeks, I may well be coping less well than I was now. My mission was to uncover my emotions. I wanted to explore my passions and the frustrations related to them. I needed to open the can of worms, sift through them all, explore and try to understand them.

    If coping went out of the window in the process, that was a price I was willing to pay.

    What is on the other side of coping?

    The first thing I noticed was that I was not engaging fully in certain activities. I had kept them going as a way of maintaining routines, filling time, or because I thought I should. I was not authentic in them. I was using them as familiar props.

    I dropped them.

    Vast amounts of time opened up.

    That was scary.

    Recreating a life you love

    The first thing I understood was that you have to let go of a lot of routine time-filling activities. Time opens up, and you can choose other things. One of the things I decided on was writing.

    First, I had a little bit of encouragement. I tested the water and found that I could be my authentic self through writing.

    Writing also helps me to explore all sides of my self, mind, body spirit and emotions.

    I have been moving into new social situations, feeling able to be my true self and not plaster on that false facade. Sometimes I feel uncomfortable. Rather than find ways of coping, I either express my discomfort or leave the situation.

    I have started to cook and bake again. Not for any functional reason. I end up giving away most of what I bake. I love the process, and I love cooking for others and accepting appreciation. I enjoy setting personal standards and rules. There is no outside interference in this.

    Kokopelli Image by John Hain

    Finding a new direction

    A life where you are coping with circumstances feels linear. You plan to walk down a path, and you meet an obstacle, you find a way to overcome that obstacle and move on.

    Living a life you love is quite different, and it takes some getting used to. It is not likely to feel linear. It feels more like you are merely dwelling in a space rather than moving from one place to another.

    We are not used to this. Society trains us to live a linear life. We progress from one school system to the next, and then we move with promotion through jobs. Every part of life has some predictable path to follow.

    So the new direction for me is not a new direction at all. It is a willingness to experience life in all its rawness and spectacular beauty.

    What opens up is scary. You are no longer safe. You will be taking risks. You will be accessing emotions you have squashed down for years. You will be facing fears you have so far managed to avoid or deny.

    If living a life where you cope feels like enough for you, then I recommend you stick with that.

    If like me, you want to live a life you love. Climb aboard, buckle up and join all the other free souls on this roller coaster of a life.

  • Finding Your Voice

    Do you unconsciously limit your self-expression?

    John Walter ⭐Jan 16 · 5 min read [First published in The Ascent – Medium]

    Image by Dawnyell Reese from Pixabay

    The medium doesn’t matter. As an artist, a musician, a writer or as a human being, you reach your full potential when you find your voice.

    Most of us never do. Some, like me, think we have found it only to discover years later that we are still hitting invisible barriers in every aspect of our self-expression.

    I am a musician and writer. I have recognised that the significant shifts in my creative expression, have come not from some artistic revelation or inspiration, but a conversation with a coach or counsellor. My self-awareness and emotional literacy have a direct, measurable correlation to my creative expression.

    So below is a little process I go through when I feel I have lost my voice in some way.

    First Question:

    Is there any space between stimulus and response when you are speaking?

    In 2000 a coach asked, “Why, when I ask you a question, do you look away for a moment before answering?”

    in 2020 my counsellor observed “When I asked you about your feelings, it was as if you took a step away from yourself. You seemed to observe your feelings from a distance and then return to yourself to answer.”

    The exploration prompted by these professional interventions caused a massive shift in my freedom of expression.

    Second Question:

    What is happening in that space?

    What is your body doing? What are the thoughts? What is the present emotion?

    In 2000 my eyes would look up or to the side. I could sense anxiety or fear. It was challenging to be specific about thoughts that happened in a millisecond, but I had an idea I was censoring myself, afraid of saying the wrong thing.

    In 2020 it was different. My eyes still did that thing, but there was no anxiety or fear. I had experienced 20 years of being fearless in my speaking. Now there was sadness and pain. I was still censoring myself! It was extraordinary my counsellor had asked the same fundamental question 20 years later. I thought I had dealt with that!

    Third Question:

    When did you first do that?

    Do not consider this as a history question. What flashes into your mind Don’t censor don’t judge, don’t even think about it. Let your unconscious give you the answer.

    In 2000 I had a picture of my childhood dining table on a Sunday night.

    Father sat at one end, mother and seven children around the edge. Walls a deep red, table a dark old wooden affair. I was sat on a bench, an older brother on either side. No one was talking. Above the always warm stove was a smudge on the wall — the smudge marks where Father’s dinner plate had once made violent contact followed by an unintelligible parental tirade.

    The truth is seldom welcome, especially at dinner.

    Margaret Atwood

    For a while, Father experimented with cooking Sunday dinner for all of us. On this occasion, it was a casserole. Whole Brussel Sprouts were bobbing around in it, completely uncooked. We all watched our father. As soon as he looked away from me, I snatched the uncooked sprout from my mouth, and before he looked up, it was safely in my pocket. All seven children were following the same procedure.

    I was terrified at what he may unleash if he thought there was anything less than total appreciation of the remarkable results of his torturous culinary afternoon.

    The nature of our terror was such that even out in the garden later, as we each discreetly searched for a place to deposit the offending sprouts, there was no giggling or relief, no relaxing of the tension. This behaviour was severe survival mechanisms kicking in.

    Fourth Question:

    Is there a way you can resolve or complete this?

    The thing to do here is to look at this historical incident. Don’t worry if it is half-remembered. It could even be some fantasy you have created because reality is too painful to contemplate. Whatever it is, you need to let it go. It is still driving your life.

    The situation no longer exists. It may require forgiveness. You could use a ritual like writing it on paper and burning it. You could speak to the people involved. Whatever works for you.

    I had not spoken to my father for many years. He was no longer any threat. If I visited for a meal, he would drift off to the front room to watch television, and I would sit and chat with my mother.

    So I arranged to visit on a day I knew she was going out for part of the evening. I had a simple plan. I was going to talk to him. I wanted to experience the freedom of communicating, without that feeling of terror that was there in childhood.

    We ate a simple meal together chatting happily and then he did his usual thing of sitting in the front room and turning the telly on. “What do you want to watch?” he asked, picking up the television magazine.

    “You know what? I think I’d rather sit here and chat.”

    And there we were. No big drama, no hysterics, just a father and son talking about their lives together and sharing their experiences.

    Extra Bonus Question:

    What do you need to keep this in place?

    This epiphany with my father marks a point in my life where I moved from struggling with circumstances to living a life I loved. I spoke my truth. I had found my voice. I created a successful music business which served me well for 13 years.

    Circumstances change. For me, my business collapsed in the recession, and I found it challenging to create an alternative successful career path.

    2020 — After several years of struggling with difficult circumstances such as health issues and bereavement, I am back with a counsellor. The questions are the same, but the answers are not. It leads me to wonder if there is a way I could have used these four questions to keep my authentic voice ringing out.

    Creativity is a fluctuating process. I have ridden a roller coaster. My lesson now is to keep returning to these four questions when blocks arise. In my speech, piano playing, singing, writing, cooking, whatever it is.

    Is there a millisecond space between an idea and its execution where I am censoring, judging, criticising or otherwise sabotaging my authentic voice?

    “When we don’t listen to our intuition, we abandon our souls. And we abandon our souls because we are afraid if we don’t, others will abandon us. We’ve been raised to question what we know, to discount and discredit the authority of our gut.” — Terry Tempest Williams

    2020 marks a new beginning for me. Reconnecting with my soul and helping others to do the same.

  • Walk like a child

    Discover the freedom you have always had.

    John Walter ⭐Feb 13 · 3 min read [First published in Live Your Life On Purpose – Medium]

    I was standing in a car park, drinking my morning cup of coffee when cars started arriving, and children and parents began to spill out all around me. Next to my van was the entrance to a pathway leading to a school.

    I stood and watched as the chaotic parade began. I became fascinated by the walking styles displayed. Later I tried them out for myself in a secluded corner of the local park.

    Watch some children. Copy their walk and experience the freedom they inhabit.

    Children walking

    Each child walked past me, expressing their whole being through their walk.

    Child walking #1

    First up was a child around nine years old — almost running — looking like they had an invisible thread attached to their belly button, drawing them forward. The arms and legs seemed to be flapping wildly like a rag doll. The solar plexus was leading, the rest of the body and mind drawn along by its power.

    Child walking #2

    The eyes led this child. From side to side searching the path for anything of interest. Stamping on a leaf, kicking aside a branch. Arms uninvolved, automatically adjusting their position for balance.

    Child walking #3

    Across the entrance to the path were painted parallel lines. The legs were leading. In each pace, there was a determination to stretch the stride the full width of the tracks. For ten paces, nothing else mattered but achieving that goal. Then, task completed, they trotted off on a new mission.

    Photo by Brett Sayles from Pexels

    Walk like a child

    How we walk affects our whole being. I spent 20 minutes trying out each style and a few others. As I walked a new way, my entire mood changed.

    I was aware that I could let go and feel my being respond.

    Some walks felt like conscious acts led by the mind. Others seemed focused on the heart. Overall it felt like a different chakra center was in charge of each.

    A child is responding to its environment in every moment. There is a play between mind, body, spirit, and emotions. They are not following long engrained patterns. There is little awareness of how they look to others.

    For a few minutes, I felt the freedom of my inner child. Allowing that freedom to come through for a few minutes energized me and carried me through the day.

    Maybe on a day when you feel weighed down by all your worldly concerns you could change your walk. Who knows what else might change as a result.

    Losing a Child to Suicide