Time changes perspective
Tuesday, July 20, 2010 at 12:29PM 
I’m used to being drawn into the battle – there was never a way out, it had to be carried out the instant it started, and I either did something, or I didn’t. I could have been yelled at, or beaten, or raped – the type of battle didn’t matter. I was expected to be an active participant, otherwise my abuser didn’t get “off’. If I didn’t participate, I was forced to, it was demanded from me. A dialogue had to happen. A response was being thought out, even if it was simply tears. The more silent I was, the more I was abused. Until at last when I was 16, I yelled back at my father and ran away from home, for good. After that, my pattern was to engage in the battle, then and now, or to flee. There was never any in between – I simply didn’t know that an in between was possible. Black, or white. No grey. Life is grey, however, and black and white is a hard mode to operate in. It doesn’t blend in, it sticks out. It comes across as out of place, as too dramatic, as violent. And it is, and so was my past.
I tried something this week. I tried ignoring the battle. It ensued, and I didn’t flinch, didn’t participate, didn’t respond. I didn’t flee, I was just there, acting as if nothing happened. A miracle occured. After the drama from others subsided, I have seen the battle as something different. It didn’t come across as a battle anymore, it was stripped of its immediacy and emotions, and the skeleton that was left didn’t look at all scary, rather tired and small. I walked up to it, moved it with the tip of my shoe, and it disintegrated into dust. Grey dust. I was appalled. How? It was so vivid, so fierce, so painful and twisted. No more. Time changes perspective.
I looked at it this way - when the battle happens and I am in the middle of it, my opponent looks big, my size, or even bigger. The movements are fast, violent. The faces are grotesque, scary. The outcome is depressing and cruel. But, if I don’t do anything, if I simply observe and let the movements happen, the faces grimace, the air shake, if I don’t react and watch, and take time watching, I float up a little. Just above the heads of people, and already they seem smaller, their faces not as scary, their movements not as swift, their voices not as loud. As another day passes, I float up even higher, and I can’t hear them anymore, only see some struggling, more like worms whirling about. I let another day pass, and I’m so high – they are mere ants. Their movement doesn’t at all look threatening, almost peaceful and slow, from above. I move up even higher, and I don’t see them anymore. Then I have the space to look inside of me and decide what part of it I want to take when I go back down. Often, by the time I get back down, the battle is over.
The problem is – the first time I did it, it was out of helplessness – I felt so helpless that I didn’t know what to do, so while I thought what would be the correct course of action, the heat of the battle passed a bit. I decided to wait a little more and see what will happen. It only got better. I don’t know yet how to not engage next time I am in a battle. I feel like my lungs will burst from the attempt to express, to yell back, to kick back, to respond. Will I be able to stop engaging in the future? What calm do I have to cultivate to be able to do this? And where will I get it, if my own consciousness is still on fire after remembering my childhood as a mostly incestuous and abusive experience? Time. Changes. Perspective. I have to give myself time to cool down, to express the fire into the world, to be rid of it. It doesn’t mean I can’t try. I will, now that I know the benefit. An observer. How about wearing it for a week or two and seeing what will happen. Sounds worthy the challenge.
Photo by Adrian Boliston.
Reader Comments (3)
Small changes in the way we react (or not react, as the case may be) can have great rewards. Sometimes however, it can take time for those around us to start noticing that our automatic responses have changed and for them to also change the way they react (or not) in turn.
Small changes in my own automatic behaviour (that has been ingrained for over 30 years) have led to greater communication, understanding, caring and support from the most unexpected sources.
Good luck with your challenge. I hope that you too reap the rewards of making small, positive changes to your automatic responses.
Kelly, you don't know how right you are - it is little by little that I am making progress, but it is true that for others it just doesn't work the same way - they are used to me being one way, and they resist the change in me. So I have to keep changing, keep believing I can - so that I don't fall into the trap of being afraid - because others don't like the new me.
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