What happens if I enter a painful focal point?

What memories does still burn inside of me? And where does it burn? 

I stand with a looking glass, directing it towards a painful memory.

When I narrow it down to the focal point, something happens in my chest, in my heart area. It’s like a heavy pressure touching me, and it feels real. It’s like something heavy is pushing towards my heart, as if pressing it backwards, inwards. And when that happens it’s like the heart wants to protect itself, closing its doors, hiding its keys, so that no intruder, no painful intrusion can enter.

When focusing there, at the eye of the storm, the door is well protected.

If I dig a little bit deeper. What is it that makes my heart go into hiding? Whats is it fearing? What is it protecting?

It’s like the focal point triggers my primal brain, there is something in that memory that seems to terrify my primal brain. But what could it be?

So far, when writing this, I am still not at a certain memory. I am just investigating an interior movement, as a help to understand myself, and the fears that sometimes arises, or something else, that start to itch something inside.

One word that has surfaced the last few days is insecurity.

It’s like I see myself as more insecure than I should be, but maybe the sense of being insecure is partly something that is created by my inner judge, by my superego, to keep me safe?

And then I hear different voices inside. It’s like an inside quarrel and sometimes it could have made me giggle, because, it’s so not true any more.

It’s like the archetypes in my brain, in my mind, seems to have a party, maybe they are even betting about how their behaviors affects me. ”I won”, said the inner judge, or the primal fear, or the good girl, or someone else in there.

I’ve done so much to be grounded, to feel my connection to Mother Earth, to feel that I am held, to feel that in principle everything is all right.

And then I fall into insecurity, and it could be about almost anything.

The falling is happening in the now, but the reason, the trigger, was probably created way back. And even though I’ve done so much homework, so much inner work, done such an enormous inner journey, it’s like it melts down to being insecure.

And when asking my partner about this latter - my insecurity - he says, matter-of-factly - that its part of me, and something to accept. That might be wise. 

And still… there is so much in me that are tired of the insecurities, also in my daily life. Why can’t I just say, like Rhett Butler in Gone with the wind: ”Frankly my dear, I don’t give a damn.”