Sunday, June 21, 2009

Realizing your dream, following mine

I was at a series of workshops last week. The first, about mindfulness I've already reported on. Today I'd like to tell you about the dream workshop I did and what it did with me.

The trouble with dreaming is that so often I have had little or no idea what I wanted to do with my life. Somehow that's bred out of us through childhood expectations and educations: you're supposed to make something out of your life. Something the adults approve of, of course. So we lose the childlike
innocence that tells us intuitively what to do.

Reconnecting with the dream, finding out what really makes you tick and then going for it is the stuff that dreams are made of. The workshop was a very personal one by
Margreet de Jong who is realizing her own dream this summer. She's bought a beautiful estate in Spain where she is going to be giving an extended version of the dream workshop she showed us last week.

The one exercise that stood out for me personally was a visualization.
Taking us inside a trip in our own minds, she showed us a little hallway with two doors in it. The door on the left led to a room full of the stuff we'd be willing to leave behind. For me it contained my excuses, my escapism and some of my projects that really aren't what I'm about. The door to the right showed the possibilities that come with pursuing your dream.

I was surprised to see what was behind door number two. Recently I've been working on getting up my courage (core-rage, a friend of mine would say) to become the voice of abuse. I've long noticed that Child Sexual Abuse (CSA) has been in the media a lot, but always from the vantage point of the child. Media coverage is usually about current cases, makes perpetrators out to be monsters and generally provokes sentiments of anger and rage. Other communications aim at prevention, presenting lists of behavioral symptoms and sometimes educational tools to empower children to talk about it.

What is left out by all this attention is the adult survivor of
CSA. This lack is a painful one for the men and women suffering from the affects and effects of CSA on the long term. These are the people, and I am one of them, that I want to give my voice to. I want recognition, acknowledgement and downright help for people like me. I was fortunate to have found a therapist that was able and willing to go through the rough stuff with me. Who didn't get scared or disgusted when I told her about my experiences, but instead listened attentively and stimulated me to really connect to my pain and sorrow. I hear stories every day from people who weren't so fortunate. Whose trip to the doctor's office resulted in some sleep medication and a puzzled look on the face of the general practitioner. Heck, I got a mail the other day from a doctor who had stumbled onto my site at Windtraveller. It said: "I get people in my office all the time who suffer similarly, I never know what to do with that. Also, I suspect that what I'm seeing is just the tip of the iceberg".

So this is what I saw when I opened that door to the future. I saw myself standing in front of a room filled with hundreds of people. Speaking about the suffering of those who have survived CSA and are now dealing, coping, struggling with the aftereffects. I saw myself on television, heard myself on the radio and yes, saw myself writing this piece on the web.

There you have it, please, if this article strikes a chord in you, comment on it, leave a message, let me know. I'm looking for supporters in this pursuit of my dream.

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