As I told you in part one, after many failed attempts to get sober, Sue got and remained sober after healing her BLock in and around the sound of car engines starting. Even so, she still at times walked like she had been drinking, and even I had a difficult time believing her in those times. Thus, despite the many years in which I had witnessed drunkenness, both professionally and personally, I still could not tell whether Sue was drunk or not. I honestly couldn't tell. Mainly, this stemmed from the fact that Sue had been born with both limited depth perception and limited visual depth of field. Further, both these problems were medically documented. What a dilemma.
Can you imagine how I felt each time I wanted to ask her how she was doing with her recovery? Ugh. I hated it. I had no way to know for sure whether she was lying and needed my help, or if indeed she was staying sober. What made it even more difficult for me was the fact that when I asked her if she was sober and when I watched her eyes, Sue responded with a confident and conscious look in her eyes, implying she was telling the truth. But when I watched her walk in, she walked in with such uncertainty, she looked just like a drunk who was prepared to lie.
Here is where the second half of Sue's story begins, with the Mystery of the Drunken Gait.
Once More, an Accidental Discovery
Where would you have begun if you had been me? A blood test? Tough love? Where I began was to tell her what I was going through, my dilemma with knowing if she had drank or not. Once more, Sue responded with a confident and conscious look in her eyes, and this and her lack of defensiveness again told me she was not lying. So was there no way to tell? Did I simply have to take her word?
One day, early in a session, Sue interrupted the me to ask if I could give her a moment. She then looked away and shook her head, and seemed to be gathering her senses. Actually, this was exactly what she was doing, and after clearing the cobwebs from her head, she began to tell me she often had trouble looking at me if she took in too much of the wall behind my head! Something important here, I thought. Then we began to allergy test.
Slowly, as we explored her disorientation in and around looking past my head, we began to discover a key: the white walls! We then continued to explore her reaction to looking at white walls and soon discovered, they had the greatest affect on her when she was looking at a part of the wall where there were no imperfections.
As we continued to explore, over and over she reported that if she focused on me she was fine. But if she looked past me and focused on the white walls behind my head, she became disoriented and went into shock.
So much for the times I suspected she was choosing to not pay attention to me "for some reason," like she didn't like the topic we were discussing and was tuning it out. Ugh, I don't even like recalling that I once was like this; that I used to blame people as if they were "choosing" to tune me out rather than having become distracted by some small but potent for them detail.
Today I know that when people act like this, they are in shock. More important, I also know that people in shock do not "choose" to do things, unconsciously or otherwise. Rather they simply blindly follow whatever preprogrammed scripts they have stored inside them, probably whatever comes closest. One has only to watch the eyes of a person in shock to see this is true and that there is no "choosing" going on whatsoever.
As for Sue, even she herself posited she must have been doing it for a "reason." Thank the Universe we both had enough experience with shock at the time to know better.
By session's end, then, we had made some degree of progress, using direct emergence to help Sue to reclaim her ability to stay present.
The Hospital Elevators
The next week, Sue came in and excitedly began telling me a story. She prefaced her story by saying that something had happened to her that week that she recognized was connected to the work we had done in the previous week's session on walls. Then she started to tell me about having gone to visit her father in the hospital.
For the most part, she said, she had been pretty conscious on her drive there and on her way into the hospital. After all, she said, her father had been in the hospital many, many times and this was nothing new to her. He always did fine. Her point? That despite the fact that she had been fine on the drive there and as she walked in, the minute she stood in front of the elevators, she got so blank she felt like her insides were an etch-a-sketch pad whose face sheet had just been lifted; a deer in the car headlights. More over, she became so disoriented, she had to ask someone for help to get to her fathers' floor.
And then she saw it; the walls surrounding the elevators were solid white. More important, when she had been looking to see how to get to her floor, she had momentarily stared at the blank white walls, evidently long enough for her to go into shock.
What the heck was this BLock I thought? Hadn't we just worked on this the week before? Even this early in my work, I knew that what is healed is healed; that even though symptoms sometimes reappear, that if healing has occurred, the recurrence is simply the result of the person having been exposed to a stage which even more closely resembles the original than the one that had been used to heal.
In hindsight, I can see this was exactly what had happened. Back then, though, all I did was wonder. I even began to second guess myself. Then I did what I always do; I tried again.
This time, I thought, I'll be more thorough. I'll allergy test with a larger area. Soon we realized that, yes indeed, the size of the blank white area had a lot to do with the size of Sue's reaction; a bigger area caused more shock. A smaller area, less shock. We also realized that the area of wall we had been working with the previous week had been relatively small compared to the size of the walls surrounding the elevator.
I then artificially created a bigger "white wall" area by taking paintings down from my walls and then did more direct emergence. Soon, Sue was reporting another improvement, and we stopped for the day.
The First Visual Dialogue
As we began the next session, I noted that Sue had walked in with a noticeably more steady gait. Sure enough, I asked her if she had noticed anything like this and she answered, "yes, absolutely."
Then I had an intuitive hunch about Sue's vision and decided to explore this a bit. For sure, I am no medical doctor. None the less, I decided to ask her if I could test her peripheral vision. Sure enough, as she tried to follow my finger around the left and then to the right, her vision stopped at something like 40 degrees to each side; less than half normal. I also had her stand and walk slowly while reporting to me how the experience was. Here, again, she reported difficulty and looked quite unsure of her footing; the drunken gait again.
I guess what I was trying to see here was if there was some part of the stage we had been missing, some obvious but ordinary little detail which we could add to the healing mix to make it more affective.
Nothing jumped out at us.
Then we tried something else. We tried exploring the walls thing again to see if we could get a scene to emerge. Sure enough, as we tried to find something which experientially resembled the white wall experience, she flashed on a scene.
At first, she seemed somewhat reluctant to continue, quite uncertain as to the accuracy of what she was seeing. Still, I know scenes don't just randomly emerge. They always have a thread or two which connects them to the present work no matter how mysterious this connection may be. I encouraged her to keep exploring.
Now Sue began to supply me with details. She was experiencing herself quite young, three or so months old she said. This, I thought, would explain why her BLock had been so persistent. The earlier the age, the wider the scope of the BLock and thus, the more it affects the person's character. Also, any injury involving a basic color translates into a potentially large amount of stages on which this could be relived. After all, how many basic colors are there?
I call these kinds of BLocks, "life defining injuries" as they literally define a good portion of a person's character. Most BLocks, then, affect more specific areas of life, such as a BLock involving dogs or one having to do with Lima beans.
Three months old and the color white. This was for sure a life defining injury.
Again, Sue repeated her uncertainty, asking whether she should continue or not as it seemed so impossible to her that she could actually be remembering something from such an early age. Despite Sue's uncertainty, I again encouraged her to keep going no matter what the actual truth of the scene, reminding her that somehow she was creating a scene which experientially matched her experience perfectly, this all on its own.
At this point, many people would ask, doesn't it matter that the scene which was emerging may not have been the one which really had caused Sue's BLock? Actually, the truth is, no, it doesn't matter. In fact, it pretty much doesn't matter what you see as long as the experience of the scene fits the person's experience of the BLock. Why? Because all that need happen for a BLock to be healed is that the person needs to regain the ability to visually explore this specific type of life stage without going blank. Accomplishing this simply means seeing a scene; real, partially real, or even completely fabricated. Any and all of these things will do quite well.
Is there any benefit to a real scene? Yes, a real scene is great. And there is no question, having a real scene emerge satisfies something in people beyond the normal healing experience, kind of like the icing on the cake. After all, self understanding feels really good to most people, and this certainly qualifies as a good portion of self understanding. Still, the experience of a composite scene heals just as well as a real scene and sometimes, such as when people have a particularly stubborn BLock, I even suggest some little possibilities to give then a jump start. Here, the person literally knows the scene is fabricated and still, it doesn't matter. Healing happens anyway as all that is required is that the person regain the ability to picture scenes in this particular life area. Once they regain this ability, no matter how it happens, the BLock is pretty much on its way to being healed.
At this point in Sue's session, I continued to do visual dialogue with her, and little by little details emerged. She saw herself in a crib, laying on her stomach. She was in this moment trying to lift herself up. She could sense her mother standing somewhere to the left of the crib. She could see the rails of the crib and the inner end panel. And then it happened. The pleasant surprise appeared on her face. Then she said, "the inside of the end panel of the crib is a large flat white area." "All I can see is the inside of that panel, nothing more."
I asked her to go on. Soon, she says she hears something startling. At first, she thinks it is a car backfire. Slowly, then, she refines this awareness to something like a glass breaking, a sudden jangly sound. We explore this for a bit and then, I bring her back into the present.
Now, as we processed what she had just seen, she has another emergence. First the pleasantly surprised look appears. Then she blurts out. "That's why I never bought my kids white cribs."
The pieces were beginning to fit together. More important, the BLock was noticeably better. Sue was learning to walk normally.
The Hard Part
Now comes the hard part. Why hard? Because what happens next is so hard for me to believe that had I not so carefully witnessed it, I would not even be telling you. More so, this outcome remains so unbelievable to me that had I not checked and rechecked and checked again with Sue what I am about to tell you, I still would not believe it.
What is it I am referring to? The next session. The next session began with Sue telling me that something strange had happened on her way to the session. Something about her eye sight was different, so much so, that her experience driving to the session was what she called, "much clearer." She continued by telling me she was simply asking me as she was so uncertain of what the heck was happening to her.
I checked her peripheral vision and was amazed to find, it was almost normal. What the heck was happening! Then, to make things even more amazing, after we spent the session doing more visual dialogue in and around this crib scene, she suddenly recognized the startling sound; the phone had rung and startled her mother, startling her in the process. This was all it was; a phone ringing! A simply phone ringing had BLocked whole areas of her life experience, including her vision, for her whole life.
Finally, at the end of this session, we again checked her vision and sure enough, her vision was normal. And it has remained normal, except for a few very, very stressful periods wherein her BLock surfaced very briefly then disappeared again. For the most part though, looking back after years now, her vision remains absolutely normal.
So does she walk like a drunk anymore? No, not at all. In fact, if one was to say, she is a model recovering person, joyously living a very full life right now, this after having struggled for more than forty years.
God bless her. She deserves it.