Our Emotional Lighthouse
This blog is dedicated to my first partner Mark. Only me a few friends and I remember him well to this day. When I met him I was 17 (possibly 16), but I never dared declare that too loudly as at that time the age of consent was 21 for queer people like me. When I think of Mark, he was most likely somewhere on the neurodiverse spectrum. Mark died of AIDS a year after we met, he was only 29 years old.
One of the things Mark left behind with me was his love of lighthouses.
He used to tell me of his favourite childhood story book that had a queer twist in the tale about the man having a sailor friend to visit him and using special code, when that boat visited the man who worked in the lighthouse would let out a certain light signal. I think the sentiments of this childhood story don’t just speak to me, but also could speak to any of us trying to find their tribe, trying to find where we belong in the world.
Mark could not stand lots of people. Let me correct that; he could only stand lots of people around him if he was on the dance floor with good music around him, and would need to be quite inebriated. Mark always said he wanted to live in a lighthouse and only open his home to those he wanted there. He would hold me tight and say I was always allowed there. I didn’t ever know Mark’s family. I didn’t meet his mother until 20 years after he died. He never had good things to say about them, but I think therefore he wanted to live in a lighthouse as his family were homophobic, so to detach from his family he lived in London and they lived in the north-east of England. I also think this was one of his neurodiverse characteristics as he found people and their emotions overwhelming.
Recently, I have been thinking about lighthouses in a different way. I am not sure whether the old-fashioned lighthouses still exist today. I am yet to visit one, but someone else may have to climb the many stairs for me as I could not attempt it myself due my disability. The person must have had to keep themselves very physically fit to climb all the stairs to change the lightbulbs in the lighthouse. I wonder about the mental fitness as they tended to work alone a lot which must have been very isolating and lonely.
Therapy is a bit like a lighthouse, it is somewhere where you can keep yourself mentally fit, by working through stuff step by step, teasing out new ideas (what are often known as lightbulb moments in therapy) to make changes in your life, develop better communication patterns or build a happier and healthier self-esteem. Sometimes even in therapy you must climb a lot of stairs for things to change in your reality before your internal light can shine bright to the outside world.
Often for me - and some of my clients - the seasons affect how our emotional lighthouse is. In the summer our emotional light might shine bright, or we may feel lethargic as the heat does not help us sleep or can be emotionally overwhelming for some. Whereas in the Spring the season may feel refreshing, like change is on the way. For others this may make them feel more stuck as change isn’t happening emotionally which can just exacerbate things for some. The darkness and gloom of the winter can make us all want to hide away and retreat to the warmth of our heating or home fires.
The important thing to do is to remember to take a breath, check in and ask ourselves occasionally “how is my emotional lighthouse right now?” or talk to someone we trust enough about how we are doing emotionally. Therapy can often be a place to keep your emotional lighthouse in check.
The important questions to ask yourself before going for therapy are:-
Am I ready for this process?
Am I ready to make changes in my life?
Do I have enough support around me whilst I attend therapy?
And what would my ideal therapist offer me?