If you have been following my posts, you know that I’m entering the EMDR phase of my therapy.  In my previous post, I told you about the damage done by an inept therapist, a person who did not follow the protocol for properly using the EMDR modality.  I’m finding that the damage from her bungling was more extensive than I thought because now I am very anxious about starting EMDR, and that anxiety is slowing me down. 
One of the steps a client takes in the preparation process for EMDR is to decide upon a “safe place” where the person can feel a sense of protection and safety if he or she begins to feel overwhelmed.  This safe place is in the client’s imagination and is not a physical place usually, although it probably could be.  I have chosen my “safe place,” so that step has been completed.  
Another step the client and therapist take is to decide upon a method for delivering the bilateral stimulation of EMDR.  (For an explanation of this, please see the EMDR web site client pages listed in my previous post.)  I have chosen to sit with my hands, palms up, on my knees so that my therapist can tap on the palms of my hands.  I chose this method because it least resembles the high tech method used by the previous therapist.  I anticipate that as I sit and review a traumatic event in my mind, the bilateral tapping by my therapist will cause my right brain to release some of the highly-charged emotions from the trauma.  I know this simple modality is effective, as I mentioned in my previous post.  Now I need to take the next step, allowing myself to engage actively in EMDR.
Now, staring at reality, the fact that technically I have completed the steps of preparation, I’m scared.  Why?  Because my mind can’t get past the horrible reaction I had to my last botched experience with EMDR.  If this is, indeed, the reason why I’m dragging my feet, then how will I get beyond the fear?  I don’t know.  What I do know, though, is that if I can’t get comfortable with the prospect of EMDR by Monday, my therapist will help me.  Simply knowing that she can and will help me takes the edge off my fear and dials the intensity down a few degrees.  
In the meantime, I have to live my life.  I have writing to do and computer problems to solve.  What I will do this weekend is tell my mind to work on the EMDR problem in the background as I go about my real-world tasks in the foreground.  My ability to do this is a skill I have used for years.  You can do this, too, if necessary.  Just imagine that your mind is a computer, and run your right brain in the background much as you might have Chrome or Internet Explorer running in the background as you type an article in M.S. Word.  Your right brain is actively working to do its task, but you are not necessarily aware of this.  You are, however, aware that your left brain is solving a printer problem, trying to find the best way to word the second sentence in the introductory paragraph of an article, and trying to figure out why the toaster oven spews smoke when you turn it on. 
Eventually, your right brain will let you know that it has solved your problem.  Maybe you will find the solution in a dream.  When this happens, you will wake up in the morning, and you will simply know what you need to do and why you need to do it.  Maybe your right brain will whisper the answer to your question as you watch television or at another moment when you are in a light trance state. 
I do, however, practice one specific technique that often quickly but gently brings about at least partial resolution to an anxiety-producing situation:  I write through a problem–just as I am doing now.  And when I write, I ask questions and answer them in order to create the text in my article.  I use what I assume is my logical left brain to ask the questions, and from somewhere in my mind, the commonsense replies enter my awareness. See the following as an example:
My question to myself:  If I consider the process of my therapy as a whole, is the foot-dragging caused by my fear of entering this new part of my therapy a huge problem?  
My reply to myself:  While it may seem like a huge problem to me at this moment, the foot-dragging is really just one tiny part of the whole process.   
When I think of my process of recovering from C-PTSD as a whole, then, I can see this small part, the fear and foot-dragging, as simply another minor glitch as I move forward.   
“Minor glitches” are easy!  I can deal with minor glitches!  I have dealt successfully with a lot of minor glitches.  If I can keep that fact in mind, then by Monday I will be or may be ready and eager to take the next step. 
Now that I have finished writing the material above and answering my question about foot-dragging and minor glitches, I have recovered my perspective!  I may receive more insights that will make overcoming the fear even easier, but right now I am confident that on Monday I will do what I need to do and enter my first session of EMDR with my present therapist.  However, if on Monday I cannot comfortably do this work, I will do it another time.  As you can see, writing through a problem is one amazing method for regaining your equilibrium and centering yourself. 
For inspiration, here are a few words from a famous Scotsman, Thomas Carlyle (1795-1881):
“Go as far as you can see; when you get there you’ll be able to see farther”