Post by kirrok on May 12, 2024 14:01:39 GMT
Putting a video link here about attachment trauma, grief, and shame by therapist Alan Robarge because I don't know where else to put it. It is one of the most grounded, compassionate, empathetic, and human descriptions of the experience of attachment trauma and its entanglement with grief and shame that I've come across. Alan weaves in concepts from theories and modalities of attachment, grief, C-PTSD, somatic awareness, Internal Family Systems, self-compassion and others, all in a way that uses simple language and examples from his own direct experience.
www.youtube.com/watch?v=yoxujAMNZFY
All of this reminds me of a wonderful David Whyte poem titled, "Everything is Waiting for You":
www.youtube.com/watch?v=yoxujAMNZFY
All of this reminds me of a wonderful David Whyte poem titled, "Everything is Waiting for You":
Everything is Waiting for You
After Derek Mahon
Your great mistake is to act the drama
as if you were alone. As if life
were a progressive and cunning crime
with no witness to the tiny hidden
transgressions. To feel abandoned is to deny
the intimacy of your surroundings. Surely,
even you, at times, have felt the grand array;
the swelling presence, and the chorus, crowding
out your solo voice. You must note
the way the soap dish enables you,
or the window latch grants you freedom.
Alertness is the hidden discipline of familiarity.
The stairs are your mentor of things
to come, the doors have always been there
to frighten you and invite you,
and the tiny speaker in the phone
is your dream-ladder to divinity.
Put down the weight of your aloneness and ease into the
conversation. The kettle is singing
even as it pours you a drink, the cooking pots
have left their arrogant aloofness and
seen the good in you at last. All the birds
and creatures of the world are unutterably
themselves. Everything is waiting for you.
After Derek Mahon
Your great mistake is to act the drama
as if you were alone. As if life
were a progressive and cunning crime
with no witness to the tiny hidden
transgressions. To feel abandoned is to deny
the intimacy of your surroundings. Surely,
even you, at times, have felt the grand array;
the swelling presence, and the chorus, crowding
out your solo voice. You must note
the way the soap dish enables you,
or the window latch grants you freedom.
Alertness is the hidden discipline of familiarity.
The stairs are your mentor of things
to come, the doors have always been there
to frighten you and invite you,
and the tiny speaker in the phone
is your dream-ladder to divinity.
Put down the weight of your aloneness and ease into the
conversation. The kettle is singing
even as it pours you a drink, the cooking pots
have left their arrogant aloofness and
seen the good in you at last. All the birds
and creatures of the world are unutterably
themselves. Everything is waiting for you.