Slightly Petrified

Vipassana - 10 Day Meditation Course

Tomorrow I attend Vipassana, a 10 day meditation course where self isolation and self discipline is practiced and communication of any kind is prohibited. The word Vipassana means seeing things as they really are. It is the process of self-purification by self-observation. It’s a space for self exploration and clarity. Where a bell sounds at 4am signalling your day of discipline ahead. I have very little knowledge of Vipassana except for no talking and almost constant meditation. I did have an inkling it would be a journey of ‘ripping apart the layers stuff,' but that’s about it! This is why I’m sharing this with you… Apart from my first few years, I learnt to deal with the hard stuff way before my time. As a little girl, I was forced to endure the unthinkable and the repulsive. As time lapsed I had accumulated so many problems born with child rape. In my case 8 years of it. As it turned out, the family secrets and lack of support and a society ran by fuck wits who continue to turn a blind eye on Paedophiles really took its toll. Travelling through life was a navigational circus and I did my best to keep going. My love of running, my healthy eating path (well not always, but for the most part), my participation and love of sports and my 10 years of intermittent counselling saved my life. BUT, I honesty have not served my body and mind very well at all. Those four things are instrumental in keeping my mental state as sane as possible. There were times when I swayed from these and I quickly spun down a tunnel of puss, and for long stretches at a time. BUT…this is my point. No one really noticed in my early teens but as I hit my 20’s only a few close friends and a partner at the time realised how much I was out of control. There’s a massive chunk of my life where I lied my way out of darkness and pretended it was full of colour. This is how I did it… The flip side…my path of self destruction where I managed to deal with my past was by the way of NOT dealing with it at all. I drank gallons of beer over time (but geez I love my beer). I had early starts and late finishing wild nights that I adored, often picking fights with people who loved me. I tested them out by pushing them away. I smashed myself every time and I never wanted to end the feeling of complete disconnect. I partied like no tomorrow for a fat chunk of time. Then the drugs crept in…pot, ecstasy, speed, cocaine! I was having a freakin good time I must admit. I was reckless and free and forgetting fucking everything. I was overseas for nearly 4 years and towards the end of my tirade I started to question my lifestyle. AND I admitted I was sick. Quite unwell - but that's for another blog). There was one visit to hospital by ambulance with a drug induced psychotic episode, and a body so tired it kept refilling on speed and cocaine to keep up my 15 hrs shifts and very important social life. I was having a rip snorter of a time (literally). Gratefully though, I have some memories so intensely special I could burst. Now it was over. I thought things would change with a change of country, a change of environment. I came home and things seemed to spiral out of control much the same as I had grown so comfortable with. All because I never focused enough on my healing and self love along the way. I didn't like myself so why would I honour it? Plus it was common for people to steer clear of dealing with their problems as they appeared and instead, thought the self managed medication of booze and drugs was the way to go. My journey is now! I am ready to switch my ways, although more subtle practices than many years ago, while I desperately seek this conquest and promise myself to be more vulnerable than ever before. I am ready. I think! I’ve just recently heard some stories, and what I can take from all of them blended together is, ‘it will be the hardest thing you ever do in your life but the most beautiful thing you will do for yourself.’ For those of you who have done this, I take my hat off to you. I know you’re also holding back the horror stories, the darkest pits of misery knocking at your door like a hammer echoing into a hungover brain. I get it…but I really don’t. Holy shit…I’m not used to peeling open my soul! I have no idea what will happen to me. I have no idea how I will handle myself and sit with the pain, both mentally and physically. I have no idea if I will succumb to my cheeks pressed against the timber floor boards while my tears soak the stain. I have no idea if I will continue to pursue my traits, my survival traits and allow my past and current self preservation mechanisms to reign another day when I get out. I am a survival guru but not the type I’m proud of. I existed that’s all. It simply means I have mastered the way to protect myself mentally. I have mastered pushing the heartbreak and disappointment aside while I continue to live. I have denied my self growth and my calmness to outshine my anger. I have mastered every which way I could to keep going…the secrets, the lies, the abandonment, the loneliness, the rejection, of being unheard and most of all, the ever present darkness. I hope it blows my mind and I can attest to making it to the other side so you can too… I’m absolutely fucking petrified of what I will find out about myself. I am so petrified of the 4am starts and the 10 hours a day of meditation that follows, sitting in the one spot for flipping hours upon hours and not being able to say thank you to the person who serves me food, seeing other people in loads of pain and having to let them sort themselves out, the no eye contact…just self self self stuff. I know I will miss my children and husband like crazy but it’s not as hard to grasp as is the unknown. In saying all of that, I am so excited to meet myself for the first time… xx