A student describes how laughter arises involuntarily when trying to access deep emotional pain during trauma work, and wonders whether this is dissociation or something else. The teacher explores whether exhaustion and a powerful mind may be preventing the surrender that healing requires.
A student describes how laughter arises involuntarily when trying to access deep emotional pain during trauma work, and wonders whether this is dissociation or something else. The teacher explores whether exhaustion and a powerful mind may be preventing the surrender that healing requires.
I'm curious to share something that's been happening and see what you think about it. It's been happening for a few years, but it goes through phases, and it's been pretty strong lately. I do trauma healing work because there's still a lot of trauma in the body to heal. Whenever I'm trying to process some story or belief that's in the body, I can't actually access the pain. I can't release it. I can't cry, for example. I just start laughing because I don't take it seriously. As soon as I hear something like "I'm not good enough," it's just funny to me. I don't believe it, but something believes it. A part of me believes it.
So I feel confused. Is this dissociation, or is it something else? I can't tell what to do with it, because I can tell there's a charge around that belief, but I can't seem to work with it. In the past I could just feel it and cry, and something would release. Now, as soon as I hear the thought, it just evaporates, and I can't release anything.
Let me ask you a few quick questions. Are you tired of this?
Yeah.
Are you exhausted from it?
Yeah.
Laughter as defense
I'm going to be very direct, and this could be intuitive, so it could be completely missing the mark. Take it only if it resonates.
I think that laughter is a defense. It's just too much. You're exhausted. You've been at it for so long, and it might just be too much to go there. That's my sense from knowing you a little bit. I wonder if that laughter is what arises when you're that close to really letting what is there break you open. It might be a way, and you did mention dissociation, of staying in a separate, okay place.
When you're at the edge, if you go there, if you really let open what is there, it's just too much. I'm not saying it will be too much. I'm just saying the experience, when you're on that edge, is: "This is just too much. I'm not able or ready to go there." Especially if you've been there many times and it's still there and it doesn't resolve.
Beliefs and the body
You also mentioned "the belief that's in the body." Beliefs are not in the body. There are energetics in the body, there are sensations, but beliefs are always in the mind. They are the mind's interpretation of what is in the body.
I'm not resonating with that second part, because I don't see a separation between the body and the mind. It's one unit, and it doesn't feel like it helps to make that distinction.
It helps because you're trying to find a belief in the body, and you don't find it. It's a little tricky. I'm talking about a separation the way there's a separation between sound and sight. There is no true separation, correct. But when we talk about sight, we don't refer to the sound of a bird as something we see. We don't refer to an image as having a sound. So when you talk about a belief being in the body, I think that framing will confuse you. I'm not being picky for no reason.
You were here, I think, last week or the week before, and we did quite a deep process. At least my experience was that it was deep. How was that for you afterward? How did things go?
That's exactly what came up when you shared that first part. It was a deep process. It felt really tender and sweet. It felt good to be in that deeper space. And then the programming is to go back into the head and read it all again from there.
I think it is, like you said, just exhausting. It's exhausting to be in the head, but it's also exhausting to come out of the head and drop into that. With my medical situation, it's a very different scenario than just my normal daily existence. There's a lot of practical things I have to manage because I can't move my body. But that's tied to this pain, which is tied to this deeper pain that wants to be felt. And since I'm bed-bound, all I'm doing is sitting with it. So I do feel like I'm in my body all the time. But I'm also going into the head and managing, and then dropping in. It feels like I am meeting it, but maybe not to the depth that's needed.
The breaking point
Do you feel like it ever breaks you? Does it ever win?
In the best way, yes. It feels so good when it does. Like a couple of weeks ago when we met, that was one of those moments. It felt like I was just surrendering, and it was beautiful.
You mean in the session here. And I'm wondering if that happens for you on your own. My sense is that you have a very powerful mind, and I think what's happening, and again this is intuitive and it might or might not be right, is that it's going to be as extreme as it is. What you're describing is a pretty extreme situation, and that's what's needed to break something open.
I get the same sense. It feels like life has thrown me literally on my back to shut everything down. And I'm super willing and open. I'm like, let's go.