EMDRâMy Point Of View
EMDR—My Point Of View | London R. Kincay [Kayla Y. Horne] Imagine for a moment that you are the proud owner of an intricately carved box. The scroll work and gilding on this box is a higher grade than any you’ve laid eyes on before. It is stunning, mystical, and captivating on all accounts. This box is invaluable to you. You cannot envision a time when you did not have this box within your possession and you cherish it above any other worldly token or trinket you have. There’s a catch, though. The box has a lock on it. Long ago the box was locked tight, in hopes that it would never be opened again. You can’t remember what, if anything, was placed inside that box. Over time, this box has become heavier, weightier, yet never growing in size. To confound you even more the box does not have a key. Perhaps you lost the key during your travels while carrying the box with you. Or maybe the box’s sole purpose is to befuddle you with its mysterious contents. Still the box grows heavier… Then, one day, you trip over the box. It has become a stumbling block for you— you are now frightened of it and what it could contain. So, your journey to find a home for this enchanted hollow block begins. You can no longer bear the weight of your former treasure. You meet many people on your journey to shed yourself of this brooding chest of boulders—for that’s what it feels like now. It’s a burden, and you are at a loss for what to do with it. You are attached to it, but you cannot continue living with it. You are certain it will eventually, quietly, kill you. Then, deep into your quest, you meet someone who says they can help you find the key. Finding the key, it appears, is the only way to shed the weight of the box. You celebrate quietly with your twofold answer to your troubles. Nervous and questioning you accept the kind stranger’s help. He introduces you to another box. A different type of box. One with dancing lights that race from one end to the other. This box makes you more nervous than the leaden lump sitting in your lap—oh, how those lights dance! As the lights relay back and forth, you follow them, trusting that they will somehow lead you to your key. Before you can begin thoroughly searching for the key, though, your guide teaches you how to carry your box when it becomes much too heavy. He teaches you how to right your balance before you stumble over the weighty thing. The box feels a little lighter to carry. The search takes time, but eventually you do find the key. Or rather keys—you’ve discovered the lock changes each time the box is opened and closed. When the lock clicks open for the first time, you are amazed at what is inside the box: pictures. Pictures are what has weighed this box down so much? You look closer and discover they are photos of you—pictures and images you had lost over time. Or you thought you had. Some of the images you couldn't even remember the last time you had seen them. Some come with a smell, others a touch. You pick each image up and examine it before the dancing lights. Things begin to make sense.
EMDR—My Point Of View | London R. Kincay Deep underneath all those images and pictures of your memories lies the real source of the weight. There are dozens of them! Some of them are scruffy and angry looking, others fragile and paper-thin. Dusty and ill-tempered from having been locked away so long your emotions confront you with how disgracefully you've treated them—ignored them like they never existed. How cruel! You take each one and lift him or her out of the box, hold them close, and apologize to them. You never knew they had been discarded. Much like the images in the box, most of them you hadn’t seen for a very long time. A few of them attack and bite you causing you pain, but it is momentary and your guide helps ward them away from you. You vow to set them free, let them return back into the world. As they vacate the box, you notice it becomes lighter. You feel lighter. Something you never expected has happened. Your world looks brighter. The haze and smoke that has clung to you for so long has dissipated (funny how you never noticed it before). Your box of memories is so much lighter now! You can breathe again, smile again, and dance again. The box you’ve lived in is wide open now. Your guide led you to the key as promised, with the aid of the box of dancing lights. Without his aid you know the smoke would still be wrapped around you like a gauze shroud. Worse, the box would have become so heavy it would eventually have crushed you. You thank your guide profusely and take the last of the keys home with you: fully aware and freer than ever before.
EMDR—My Point Of View | London R. Kincay Deep underneath all those images and pictures of your memories lies the real source of the weight. There are dozens of them! Some of them are scruffy and angry looking, others fragile and paper-thin. Dusty and ill-tempered from having been locked away so long your emotions confront you with how disgracefully you've treated them—ignored them like they never existed. How cruel! You take each one and lift him or her out of the box, hold them close, and apologize to them. You never knew they had been discarded. Much like the images in the box, most of them you hadn’t seen for a very long time. A few of them attack and bite you causing you pain, but it is momentary and your guide helps ward them away from you. You vow to set them free, let them return back into the world. As they vacate the box, you notice it becomes lighter. You feel lighter. Something you never expected has happened. Your world looks brighter. The haze and smoke that has clung to you for so long has dissipated (funny how you never noticed it before). Your box of memories is so much lighter now! You can breathe again, smile again, and dance again. The box you’ve lived in is wide open now. Your guide led you to the key as promised, with the aid of the box of dancing lights. Without his aid you know the smoke would still be wrapped around you like a gauze shroud. Worse, the box would have become so heavy it would eventually have crushed you. You thank your guide profusely and take the last of the keys home with you: fully aware and freer than ever before.
