Hard to write this.

I think that I have to leave this blog here..and without updating it will probably sink below a thousand, thousand pages. I know, I've done it before - tried to leave this site. But, it really is time to move on, to stop writing from the heart - I don't write a draft when I write here, I don't edit. Yup, you can probably tell!

I do come back and edit, but it is random, nothing planned. Rings Around The Moon will carry on being about what happened to my family when my son's psychosis blew in like a hurricane. My last post over there was optimistic. 

But yes, everything changes.

I have had to cancel my university place. There are storm clouds on the horizon, the hurricane circles. A catastrophic turn of events returns. And the first instance in my son's life led to his OCD process. It spirals inwardly around self-hatred and self attack. I know the way out - and it really isn't 'let it go' (FFS that from a psychotherapist!) it is walking through the storm, allowing it to do it's worst because you have a tool kit to build shelter, to seek rescue if needed. I think the metaphor that best describes how to overcome an OCD process is imbedded in Pagan wisdom (for want of a better term) truth is 'demons' feed on pain and fear - and so, breath in and exhale slowly, and walk - even though the path is hotter than the sun, colder than Pluto, and you are lost.

Not easy.

But my son's pain is cruel and terrible. I'm in playback of course and following my own advice - nod and smile at fear, accept pain with kindness. And of course, my heart is breaking still. The therapy dislocated me, added to the power of my own 'demons' and proved to me a thousand times over that his qualifications don't crack open the soul and create a person willing to be human. Humanity is the only part of therapy that heals.

I will re-write the Black Box over on Substack, and do my own research as if I was at university. I wish to specialise in conflict resolution, especially client therapist disputes. I'm trained, accredited, tried and tested. 'I need to sharpen my tools' step up, get those flyers printed, start blowing my own trumpet. I'd really like the beautiful 'Wildman' who took my hands in his twice! And asked me if what he understood about Dzogchen was Dzogchen - and then he told me that I was a 'spiritual person'! Well, I'd like the Wildman to come back please, I need a Wildman to want me. But hell no, I'm not holding my breath or looking for him!

So, Substack, yes the drafts and the editing and research. Putting together a set of courses to expand and build on my practical knowledge. But...my feelings for the therapist? The real person, behind the act? The real person behind the fear and pride? No change. It can't. There was never truth. Never an apology. No compassion. 

Up to me now to let the visions pass, to transmute the poison and to do good.