The Neck

Twelve hours into mom's visit this week I woke up with a really bad "crick" in my neck.   The whole neck space,  front and back,  from the head down well into the shoulder area.   Tight.  Painful.   Clenched.

Just being around her has a certain level of emotional toxicity for me.   My neck area is often where I have severe tension after I am around her for any amount of time.    Why the neck?   

I think what we're talking about here are issues around the throat chakra.   My throat chakra is very, very blocked.   I easily wear out my vocal cords from talking (drinking a fair amount of coffee probably doesn't help).   And my neck is almost always the first place for me to collect stress.

The reason is that I have not been able,  throughout my life,   to speak my truth.   This blog is a tremendous help in remedying this fact.   As a child raised by a single mom with bipolar I had to buy into a certain version of reality.   Her version of reality.   And often,  the version was deeply influenced by mental illness.   I bought into many of my mom's fantasies about what was what.   I believed them because there was no one else around to refute them or give me a different take on things.

It's only been in the past several years that I have seriously analyzed my mom's views on life and seen them in a different light.   I think that my mom is a very intelligent and perceptive person;  who has a serious mental illness;  and who is fundamentally very fearful.   Her views on life are deeply steeped in protective denial and her bipolar disorder. I believe she thinks that if the truth about many different aspects of her life came out that she would be unable to cope with being seen by others in the cold light of day.  She is very insecure.   To add a little spice to the mix,   her memory can at times be startlingly poor.

All of this I modeled as a child.   And well into adulthood I bought into quite a bit of her side of the story.   I bought into her fantasy.

Additionally,   because of our culture's stigma around mental illness I also was not able to talk to others about my mom's condition,   fantasy thinking,  mood swings,  etc etc.   If she had had Parkinsons disease it would have been something that the family and friends of the family could have talked about with me.   "That comes with tremors,  right?"  "What kind of medication does she take?"

But because she had a mental illness no one talked to me about any of it.  No one.  Any of it.  

Instead of getting support from others for a sick mom,   it was a topic that was taboo,  even shameful to bring up.   In my late teens and early twenties, when I did bring it up with my grandparents or aunt,  we would move into "hushed tones" and they would try to change the subject as soon as possible.   

So by the time I was 25 years old I had two forces slamming into my throat chakra 24/7:    first was my mom's fantasy thinking;   and second was the shame around her (and my dad's) mental illness.   The former was my truthful interface with my family; the latter my truthful interface with the world.   Both were compromised.

So as we pass through the Thanksgiving holiday…..

My wife's support.   Counseling.   Blogging.   NAMI.  Books that give me insight into the issues I'm working with.   These are parts of my life I am very thankful for.

Because they help me to speak my truth.

Your comments are welcome.

Warmly, Ben