Psalehesost said:obyvatel said:It may be useful in some cases to have the first draft(s) express raw feelings only - without censoring, editing or much cognitive input. Subsequent entries could bring in cognitive (system2) input and achieve the "redirection". That way, there is less chance of suppressing some more deeply buried feelings. OSIT
That's tricky in my case - given the inner distance to my feelings. As a concept for it, you could think of the transparent "plastic wall" described in The Narcissistic Family, only instead, it is applied on the inside (relation to self and own psyche), as opposed to on the outside (relation with others). That is, I can often come to see and experience various things in me, but still there is a degree of separation - distance - between them and me, so to speak.
Usually - since there is always suppression and things held either buried or half-buried, automatically, in me - all I have to start out with is the topic and a restlessness, an inner urging to process it.
Then, as I write, feeling can begin to seep through and "break out" to a greater extent, become relatively vivid, provided the writing, and the thought that goes into it, touches something deeply. When it "resonates", feeling is increased. And there is an intuitive "feedback" to every proposed thought, in the form of a "feeling" of how it "fits" or not. I follow, to a great extent, this intuition - at the same time questioning it in case, as sometimes happens, it tries to divert me, to lull me to sleep.
So, in short, I tend to begin with the cognitive input - which may be colored by an underlying feeling - and which may also start out vague or incoherent at times. Then, feeling comes - rather than the other way around.
I've noticed that I begin to write about some experiences in the third person.
A five year old girl had dreams of flying. She seriously believed that she could. She’d climb up on all sorts of things and flap her arms.
She loved being up high on roof tops.
She frequently climbed up on the shed roof.
One day she took a little friend up there. The little friend walked onto an area that was weak and fell through.
The little girl stared down through the hole in the roof in horror at what she saw. Sitting on the ground surrounded by debris, sat her little friend screaming. A massive hole torn in the side of her face.
Adults screaming. Tea towels dabbing at the wound trying to stop the flow of blood. The ambulance men arriving.
The little girl was frozen. She doesn’t remember what was said to her. Only that there was anger and blame. A mother who it seemed was more interested in how the whole situation made her look to her neighbours and was in image management mode.
She cannot remember what her little friend looked like. She can only remember the hole in her face, the blood, later the scarring and how the closing of the wound stretched the skin and distorted the side of her face. The horror of what she’d done and how forever this would change that little girls life. The horror that she could not take it back, undo it. She wanted to forget her little friend. It was too painful to remember. She wanted to forget that it ever happened. She never wanted to feel that guilt and shame again. It was too much to contain on her own. And she was alone. No-one to talk to, no one to cry too. She stopped believing that she could fly.
She wanted to move away and never have to see her little friend again. She wanted to forget and not have anyone know. But always felt as though everyone could see it in her eyes, what it was that she had done. Like what she had done had given a visible taint to her, a coat that she had to wear and could never take off, and she was not deserving of anything else. Yes she was blamed for the accident and she blamed herself. It was too much to bear.
She developed a fear of hurting anyone ever again, she couldn’t bear it.
I don't know how helpful it is, but it seems that I can kind of sneak in through the back door on the emotions. It at least helps to identify patterns and gives some insight to what I sometimes feel, but attempt to suppress or act to relieve.