On 'Magic' and 'Fantasy'

There's a fair bit going on here at the moment, mainly connected to the one thing that I'm going to say now. I'm going to be away for a few days: ironically, the day after I posted about self harm severity and even mentioned not having had a skin graft before, my GP nurse called for the ex-surgical GP at the clinic to have a look at one of the wounds I made two weeks ago. A few days later, here I am - due for surgery tomorrow morning. It frightens me that I can sense myself reasoning it away even as I deal with the emotional and environmental consequences of what's going on. Another consequence of this is that I will probably miss Sanguine Saturday this week - I'll try to remember to write it on paper and post it when I get out.

I had a lot of difficulty focusing on the session I had with my counsellor this week. To be honest, I can hardly remember anything that happened during the entire session. I do know that we talked about magic, though, and that's what I want to focus on today. Magic and fantasy - two linked, but separate concepts, that may be part of what is, for me, part of being whole and healthy.

Although I know that often the words "fantasy" and "magic" are used interchangeably, I wish to differentiate them here. For the purposes here, "magic" is that sense of child-like wonder; the sort of curiosity and 'magic' of/in childhood beliefs such as Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny. "Fantasy", in this sense, is someone else's created world - movies, books, that sort of thing.

While my counsellor and I were talking, I was planning out a collage in my head of all the things that mean 'magic' for me - I can't wait to be discharged from hospital so I can create it. I've a very solid view in my head, at the moment, of what it'll be. Purple, and blue, and pink. Fairies. Butterflies.

Magic and fantasy are important, but there does need to be a sense of balance. I have a habit of losing myself too thoroughly in both; a tendency towards losing complete track of what is real and what isn't. My counsellor and I talked about this, and we explored a little around what it was like growing up with a mother who was determined to keep that magic alive for me. Don't get me wrong, I'm very grateful for the gift she's given me by keeping the magic alive - but I could have gotten along a lot better with my peers if I had been a bit more certain about what to believe.

You see, even in my teens, I was never really sure whether or not Santa Claus was real. My mother insisted he was. My peers insisted he wasn't. Caught in the middle, I didn't know who to believe. Now, I finally realise that in a way they were both right; the 'magic' of Santa is as real as you and I -- the fat guy sneaking into your house with a bag of presents, not so much. It would have been so much easier if my mother could have just said to me, "the magic of Christmas, of Santa, is real as long as you believe in it; I wanted to keep that alive for you as long as I could, but you're right, your gifts came from me".

Perhaps at some point soon, in my journey, there can be a place for 'magic' and a place for 'fantasy' without either of them overtaking the real world.



Today's cheer-leading statements:
Where I am at in my journey is where I am at. It's not 'wrong' to be where I am.
I'm doing the best I can with what I have.
I deserve as much compassion as I extend to others.


Take care of yourselves until next time, and may we all find our own small fences along the way.