This blog charts my recent move back to Bristol, picking up from where this blog about my summer adventures left off. There’s quite a lot of talk of “parts” in this blog, by which I mean inner voices. If this a new concept to you, you might want to start with this blog as an introduction to Internal Family Systems (IFS) parts work. Or feel free to just dive right in.

This blog explores the pain of polarization (an IFS term describing when two or more parts have conflicting ideas about how to keep us safe) and paradox. We’ll be meeting some of the internal parts who have been involved in my decision-making about trying to find a place to live. We’ll be zooming in on the parts that don’t want me to settle down and exploring the impact they’ve been having on my system and my life. I’ve included a bit of backstory for those who are new to the blog (Welcome!). I hope you enjoy travelling with me, deep into my psyche and I hope my reflections support you with yours.

Trigger warning: non-graphic mention of suicidal feelings

My Last Few Years

Two and a half years ago, following a long period of grief and burnout, I let go of my rented house in Bristol, gave away a lot of my possessions, packed what was left into a storage unit and moved to a meditation retreat centre in Devon for a year, to volunteer as a coordinator.

That year changed me significantly and when I emerged, I couldn’t figure out where to put this softer, quieter, slower version of myself, so I decided to spend some time placing my body in various environments: city, country, familiar, unfamiliar, and feel into the sensations and emotions, hoping at some point to receive a clear YES! 

After staying with friends and family for a few months, I moved onto short-term sublets. I was blessed with an incredible run of gorgeous abodes in marvellous places (who knew that there are so many people with amazing houses who don’t want to be in them for chunks of the year?), but still no clear YES did I receive. 

After a year of sublet-hopping, I decided to press pause on looking for a home and organised a summer of adventure for myself, travelling here, there and everywhere, teaching, learning, experiencing, being, playing, creating and living out of a suitcase with no home base. Thrilling? Yes! Exhausting? Much!

Back To Glastonbury

In the last dregs of summer 2024, I crawled back to the lovely attic in Glastonbury, where I’d been staying in the spring. As the leaves on the trees began to crinkle and droop, so did I! I was sick and exhausted and so grateful to return to the safe haven of my Glastonbury sublet. In the stillness and quiet, I began to hear the voices of my behind-the-scenes parts, the parts that had been driving my decision-making.

Listening in, I came to discover that some of my parts had been absolutely delighted with this period of perpetual movement and would like to live like this forever! I grew up in the circus, so movement feels very familiar and safe to many of my parts. I have had many periods of intense movement in my adult life - not only touring with circuses, theatre companies and bands, but also experiencing times when I simply couldn’t stay still. 

Between the ages of 18-23, the longest time I lived anywhere was 3 months. This is a pattern that has resurfaced periodically throughout my life, especially when things go wrong. I have a cluster of parts that respond to the faintest whiff of trauma by pulling me out of my life and throwing me back on the old familiar road, “where I belong.” 

I’m really grateful to these parts for giving me a lifetime of adventure, crikey the places I’ve been and the people I’ve met along the way! The stories I can tell! However, I have other parts who really suffer with the constant movement. 

These quieter, softer, homely parts, that were nurtured and validated at the meditation retreat centre, were now getting weary and discombobulated. Longing to root down into community and to feel a sense of belonging with people and place, they began mounting a growing protest against the movers, wandering round my psyche with little placards, shouting; “We’ve had enough!” “We’re really tired!” “We need to stop!” 

The needs of my movers and the needs of my stoppers were diametrically opposed, a polarization which left me feeling torn and stuck and somewhat in despair. With a lot of support from my meditation cushion, my journal, my friends and my therapist, I was able to call my parts together for a series of roundtable discussions. My movers eventually agreed to a compromise: stopping would be OK for a while, as long as the adventures continued! 

Phew!

But where would I stop? 

Where Would I Stop?

As we began to explore this question, my parts agreed that Glastonbury wasn’t a longterm option. The joys of the Tor with it’s 360 views, Wearyall Hill with it’s friendly sheep, the Avalon Marshes with it’s vast assortment of birds and all the quirky characters of the high street, didn’t outweigh the pain of the public transport, the abundance of “spiritual” bullshit and the lack of close friends. 

My parts then formed two main camps: Camp Bristol and Camp Totnes.

Camp Bristol: Come back to Bristol! The vibrant city that was your home for 22 years! Remember all that incredible art, music, performance and culture that emerges from the grit of big city life? Remember how it nurtured you and your work? You have a reputation there from years and years of offering workshops. Then there’s all your dear, dear friends who still live there. Yes, there’s a few sad memories scattered around the streets, but think of all the joy!

Camp Totnes: Ah Totnes, the peaceful Devonshire market town where you spent a year living at the meditation retreat centre. So simple there. Not many people know you - you can be anonymous! And if it’s connection you’re after, it’s full of Buddhists, artists, dancers and a handful of your dear friends. Plus it’s within easy access of sea, moors, ancient woodland and the tidal, salty river Dart flows right through it, with seals swimming in it in the summer, what more do you need?

From time to time, our discussion was hijacked by various cameo appearances from rogue contributors, suggesting things like: “Let’s start a new life in America!” or “Let’s train as a yoga instructor in India!” and then an unexpected special guest made an appearance, none other than my old friend, Suicidal Tendencies; “Why don’t you just die?!” 

Now dear readers, just to assure you that I had no intentions of ending my life, but the fact that Suicidal Tendencies came to the table, let me know that this decision was touching on something really deep and painful. 

A Postcard From Myself

It was at this point that I received a card in the post that I had written to myself back in April at the end of the DreamWild IFS / dramatherapy / nature connection retreat. The retreat leaders had held onto our letters for a few months before posting them out to us. Here’s what mine said:

“Dear Holly in the future,

This is Holly in the past at the end of the DreamWild retreat at Earth Spirit near Glastonbury… I hope you’re happy, settled, supported and resourced - if not, remember the goodness you received here. Remember how you opened to being held, how you surrendered to the earth, climbing in a hole and staying there for ages, with the cool damp mud, the warm sun, the breeze and the ants. Remember how you asked the group to hold you. And they did….

Let in the love, dear one, let in the love,

Love from me, x”

I brought the postcard to the next parts meeting and, wiping tears from their eyes, my parts all agreed that past Holly was right: we needed support. This was way too much for us to deal with alone. Whatever was lurking beneath all the noise felt huge and we needed external support to help us hold it. My parts were unanimous, the place with the most easily available support was……. BRISTOL!!!

The Crystal Cave

The next day I saw an ad from a friend of a friend who was subletting his basement flat, slap bang in Bristol city centre for 7 months. Not quite what I had in mind, I imagined I’d live in a light, airy place on the outskirts of Bristol - but I went along to see it anyway, because you never know! As my host opened the door to a sparkling crystal, fairy-lit cave, my body said YES (for now)!

I moved in at the start of November with the intention of “consolidation.” I wanted to spend these 7 months in Bristol drawing in, taking care of myself and my parts, catching up with my friends, reaching out for support, going through all my stuff in my storage unit and letting loads of it go, getting fit and healthy, opening up to the city’s delights, researching possible PHD’s and business support and breathing life into a new creative project - exploring the theme of childlessness.

I wrote this poem in my first week:

Grief led me out of the city,
Nature held me in her arms,
Adventure uprooted me,
Soothed me and slapped me,
Now I'm back feeling somewhat alarmed.
Can I be here as a soft quiet person?
Can I be here with the sad?
Will I be fed by the city's delights,
Or will the pace and the noise drive me mad?

Bristol Bristol

At the end of my first week I went to an amazing night of experimental music and poetry in a converted church. Under a cloud-painted ceiling, flecked with disco ball lights, a throng of Bristolians gathered, many wearing the standard Bristol winter look - a tracksuit, fur coat and a fancy hat (just like me!). In amongst the angelic singing, electric guitar, underwater ukulele, spacious piano, harp and violin was a poet called Miles Chambers. He told this poem and tears gushed down my face.

“Bristol Bristol the place of dreams,
The place of possibilities,
The place of creative aspiration,
culture, commerce.”

Yes that’s it! That was my experience of 22 years of living in Bristol! Miles went on to talk about all the things he loves and hates about Bristol, "Oh city of paradoxes, where you going to take me today?" I could feel my heart quiver with the painful paradox that is my experience of Bristol too. I love my Bristol with all my heart and it makes me so, so sad. 

There’s so much poverty, homelessness, addiction, inequality and suffering here. Like all big cities, I suppose. But I think I’m able to feel it more clearly now, having dropped more into my heart, and also having found myself without a home, family or partner aged 45. 

I’m not in the same position as the people who are living on the streets outside my house. I am incredibly privileged to have an enormous support network, good health, an accumulation of steady spiritual and creative practices and a huge range of skills, confidence, flexibility and resourcefulness that can help me contribute to the lives of others and put food in my belly. But I feel a connection with the street dwellers I see every day.

My personal story of loss is written all over the streets of Bristol, it’s impossible to avoid. Perhaps that’s why I’m back here?

How Are The Movers Getting On?

The first couple of weeks were hard. The movers made it really clear that they thought the crystal cave was horrible and they didn’t want to come in. They kept dragging me out onto the streets of Bristol at all hours of the day and night. As I let myself be led by the movers, I got curious about them. As I gave them my full attention, they revealed themselves to be a Wolf.  

I realised that the Wolf was helping me map out the territory, so that I knew where all the wild green spaces were, where all the fun places were and where the scary places were to avoid. I thanked the Wolf for her care and made a little bed for her in my porch. 

Since then I’ve been able to sleep through the night and I’ve settled a bit. I’ve collected a few car-loads from my storage unit and I’ve started making a comfy, colourful nest. I’ve connected with a few precious friends, cooked some nice dinners and been to some great dance classes and gigs.

Now that I’m beginning to find my place in Bristol, Suicidal Tendencies has retreated. This has created space for my therapist and me to get to know my movers more. The Wolf is one of a gang. There are others, including the Mad Scientist who wants to see how far we can push this, The Confused Novice Buddhist who thinks the answer to everything is to renounce, renounce, renounce, The Punk who wants to stick her fingers up to the system and shout “FUCK YOU”! and the Change-a-holic who loves novelty, adventure and adrenaline. We’ve been exploring what makes them move me and what their fears are around me stopping. Through this inquiry, we’ve got to know the young parts they are protecting. 

As we’ve peeled back the layers, we’ve discovered that it’s not just my movers who get me up and out in the blink of an eye. There’s movement in both sides of my heritage - my dad’s family was Jewish - his parents were from Russia and France and my mum’s family were seafarers from the North East of England. Movement is in my DNA!

Movement is a big part of my identity and I don’t want to stop moving forever, but I’m relieved to have this time to pause and travel inwards, to make the unconscious conscious, so that I can have a bit more choice and agency over where and when and why I move.

Wolfie Knows Best

A couple of weeks ago, I got to run my classic 5-day Fools School at Bristol Improv Theatre (BIT). On the first day my Wolf made it very clear that she did not like the prospect of being cooped up for a week in an enclosed space (I usually work in venues where I have access to private outdoor space, BIT is lovely, but it doesn’t have this). 

On the second morning, Wolfie woke me up early, shoving breakfast in my face before bundling me into my coat and pulling me out of the house so that we could take our time marvelling at the multi-coloured leaves on the way to work. Before I knew it, Wolfie had me picking up handfuls of red, orange, yellow and brown leaves, as busy commuters rushed by impatiently. Here’s what we made for the opening circle on day two of Fools School:

I’m not who I was. 

I don’t know if this version of me works in Bristol.

But I’m giving it a go until June.

Links

If you'd like to read more about my year at The Barn retreat centre, click here.

If you'd like to read more about what happened when I left The Barn, click here.

If you'd like to read about my summer of adventures, click here.

‘DreamWild’ are running another IFS / dramatherapy / nature connection retreat in February 2025, link here.

Miles Chambers is a Bristol-based poet - you can find out more about him and read a full transcript of his poem, Bristol Bristol here.

If you'd like to follow my story, sign up to my newsletter at the bottom of this page.