The Swimming Dream
I’m in a dream, swimming a marathon, lap-after-lap, passing through the same markers, over and over again. The markers are psychological aspects of my self-identity. I swim through each marked area for a relatively short period of time, before moving to the next marked area. Having gained more understanding, I’m able to see things a bit differently the next lap around. This lap pool is my life, marking my growth along the way.
I’m healing from trauma. When healing trauma, we don’t dive deeply into the trauma-memory and drown in it. We start out by dipping in, just enough to know what’s there, then swim to safety – to higher ground - where we can breathe, strengthen, have a larger view, and make a plan for the next leg of the healing.
I’m dreaming, swimming strongly. The water is refreshing. I’m feeling joyful – solid in my strokes. Then a quiet, wondering, inner voice unfolds: “Was I a bad parent? A bad friend?” “Have I been self-absorbed?”
In real life, I heard a variety of accusations that sounded like: “You are self-absorbed …a bad friend …a bad parent”. These assessments were randomly handed out - to others, to me. I heard these phrases in my childhood, my teens, as an adult – from my parents, siblings, the culture at large. I learned this judgmental language and, sans choice, adopted it as my own. I was judged, and, in turn, mostly unconsciously, judged. At one point in my adult life, I became stunningly aware that I had given space in the back of my head to an incessant, negative inner critic, who now ruled over the free-spirited, all-loving land-of-me, and rendered ‘me’ insecure and unworthy, maybe even (unknowingly) cruel.
I’m in the swimming dream. The inner critic voice is growing louder. “You have hurt people” it tells me. My strokes aren’t feeling so strong. I’m unsure, weakened. The inner critic becomes self-defecating… self-loathing: “You’re a terrible parent. A terrible friend. Selfish. Self-obsessed. A terrible daughter. A terrible sister. Negligent. A terrible auntie”. The water is heavy. My arms are heavy. I think I may drown. The inner critic is relentless: “You are a bad person. You are not worthy of this life.” At this point, I think I deserve to drown. I want to drown. My arms stop moving, I drop down, and I’m under water. It feels like I’m ocean-deep, sinking, but my big toe touches ground. As I feel this ground, a kind voice whispers: “try”, and I push off, my body rising to the surface, head popping above water, and I breathe in air like it’s life. It is life.
My arms instinctually move, legs kick. My strokes are getting stronger again. The strokes themselves become the Witness – pulling me forward into observing where improvements can be made. I feel a strengthening resolve to be better - to be greater than I was. This stretch of the race becomes smooth, and I’m swimming faster, becoming proud of myself, happy. There’s a crowd on the sidelines cheering me on.
Another tenant in my psyche: The Rescuer is observing me, too (from the inside). I enter another leg of the race, where slime has been thrown into the pool, and it’s clinging to me. I struggle to kick, and the Rescuer-part of me is methodically wiping it off my body, from top-to-bottom, in panels, using my hands, dramatically flinging it off my fingertips at the end of each panel. The slime, it turns out, wasn’t mine to take on, though I had. This sticky mess does not belong to me, and the Rescuer, who is free from self-judgement and the judgment of others, knows this. I am aware of a hope that I’m holding onto: that whoever threw this slime into my water is stronger now, can take it back, and will clean it up themselves. Whether or not the perpetrators are indeed ready to take back what is theirs, the Rescuer helps me realize it’s not up to me to clean their mess, and I must give it back. Without the weight of others’ (or self-imposed) slime on me, I’m soon cruising through clear water again, in my stride, strong.
With every kick, every rise and pull of my strong arms, another wounded, defended part also rises. ‘Defended’ creeps into my thoughts, and asks: “Why do they see me that way?” This part sounds so sad, so lonely – misunderstood, un-seen, un-heard. Its tone of voice quickly turns, though, to sounding whiny, then blaming, and then angry. This part is angry at others for making my life more difficult, strenuous, stressful, painful. This part of me wants – needs – to defend itself. I find myself explaining why I’m the way I am – hoping, begging – to be seen and heard (from my perspective, of who I am). I’m looking for understanding, support – forgiveness. I feel desperate for something I haven’t had.
And then, the Witness appears, takes my hand, and pulls me close. This feeling, being in the Witness’s arms, without any judgement, is light and extremely beautiful. It is the feeling of compassion. It is the exact experience I’ve been searching for - that of unconditional love. I am floating in the warm, refreshing, clean water of Universal Connection. I am floating in the marker of self-acceptance. I’m floating in love, and am overwhelmed with gratitude.
I feel sad. There is a knowing bubbling up. Why can’t I stay right here? Why do I have to leave this place? It seems I can’t stay right here, though. It seems I must leave this place. The water slips through my fingers and I’m unable to hold onto self-love – unable to stop – and the marathon continues.
I swim, of my own volition, with my inner critics and others’ judgments. I continue to swim through the same markers again and again. There’s obviously more to heal – more to learn.
I share this dream with you because I’m not unusual. I’m an average human – no greater or worse than any other human. We’re in the same species. We have similar workings. I figure, if I feel this way, then you may feel this way, too. If you do, I want you to know that you are not alone.
The ‘human condition’ (as it’s been called) is, in part, analogous to my swimming dream. John Lennon wrote about stepping off “the merry-go-round” – that he “just had to let it go”. It’s not easy or typical to step of the merry-go-round for good. For most, ‘letting go’ is something we practice doing, over and over, as we swim the marathon that is our life.
As much as you can, may you let go, and float in the warm waters of Universal Flow and Unconditional Love. May you have the strength and conviction to swim in and through your challenging waters. May you come out of your challenging times with more self-resolve and peace in your core. May you know you are not alone - that everyone is swimming in this marathon. May you know you’re ok as you are, and your neighbor is too.