Layers

Like drilling for oil, striking ever new layers of rock or quicksand. I’ve come to an even deeper layer of fear today, and it’s now giving way to grief, sorrow, some sort of general sadness. I’m crying with every sad or beautiful song on the radio, gladly giving in to it because I have to go be with my family again the day after tomorrow. Was hard to keep my tears locked up at volunteer’s work.
I was thinking of not going there for a while. I’ve canceled sports until January and I might cancel the volunteer’s work til then as well. If it wasn’t for all the family stuff these months I’d have a free calendar, free to do some serious work. But it’s rolling on like a rock down the side of a mountain anyway. I’d just prefer not to be in a state like this when with my family. It makes me very vulnerable for comments and aggression. Sure I’ll get over it, but I prefer not having to. There’s a lot of thunder and lightning outside, but it doesn’t do much to improve my ‘mood’. Nor should I wish it did I guess. Ugh. I want my clarity back. It feels like I’m grieving for something without knowing what it is I’ve lost. Or am losing.
My eyes are bloodshot, my gums are red and swollen, my health seems to be less good these days. I’m getting fat again as well. Headaches, pain in neck and shoulders, and other things I prefer not to mention. And it’s not the food, cos I’m eating quite healthy, if not too much.
Mh. Did I lose the hang of this, or is it just the way things are at the moment? Should I keep writing or is it better to leave it at this for now? It doesn’t feel like it’s doing any good. Where’s my wise voice? Where’s my advisor? I don’t hear anything. God this is hard. I don’t even know how I feel. I want to say I feel lost, but it’s not exactly that, because I may not know where I’m going, but I do know where I’m moving away from, I can sort of sense where I am, and this is all part of it. It’s just… oh hell, why describe my feelings anyway, what’s the point. At the moment the grief is deepening, and it has nothing to do with any deaths in the family. Well maybe mine. Maybe I’m being shaken loose from the tendons, cables, wires, roots that have been holding me captive in my imaginary life. Ties to falseness.
I can’t think straight, words elude me. Like having a concussion without the actual head-crashing into something bricky.
Mmh, I just realized that I’m not feeling lonely anymore lately. I might feel sorrow and sadness, I might cry my eyes out, I might be very angry or frightened, but I’m not lonely anymore. What’s up with that? I’m becoming more… integrated? No puking please. I’m becoming a whole instead of all these different layers of personality, is that a correct way of saying it? Yes, I think so. It’s all me now. Maybe that’s what it is. I’m not a bunch of different voices anymore, I’m a whole, I am one voice. Becoming anyway. And… cue tears. Yeah maybe that’s it. Because still, my eyes might be welling up with tears, I might feel pain and sorrow, but in the supermarket I still got treated differently than usual; with respect. My voice is steady, not as wobbly as I feel. So even in my desperate moments I’m gaining strength, losing complexity. Things are gaining simplicity. Maybe I’m losing those structures of falseness.
It’s not possible not to do this. I’m glad I’m still sure of that, that’s my one security; I am doing the only worthwhile thing, it’s difficult, but not as gruesomely hard as a few years ago, and not as horrific as fifteen years ago. It does get easier. But this is coming from someone who doesn’t know what it’s like to have an easy life, so beware. Easier in my book means less horrible, less gut-wrenchingly scary, less sanity endangering lonely. I’m on my road and nothing can get me off it except death and I hope death will wait until I’m gone. I don’t want to come back and start this thing all over again. God no.
Not feeling well. Bit feverish.

Interesting death week

It went well. I observed myself during the family lunch after the cremation (I prefer funerals cos you're out there with grass and trees instead of being stuck in a stuffy room with emotionally stunted people; again, including myself), whenever I saw myself making too much of an effort when talking to someone, I'd sink back into myself effortlessly. Something I wasn't able to do before. I was there, I was present.
After the long train ride home I saw the stars were out in a spectacular way and went for a walk along the canal footpath.
I couldn't comprehend that I was alone, it was such a clear sky, the stars were so bright and seemed to shimmer like jewels between the bare branches of the trees. Dozens of people should be out there, walking in the dark, craning their necks to look up at the stars above, it's free! It's the good stuff and it's all for free.
In my bed, I cried my eyes out for a while, pretty loud as well. That was old, real-ly old, and authentic. I cried for the loss of my father as my hero, an old image, my father who I as a child (apparently) had secretly hoped would come to save us from our horrible circumstances. It was very old stuff, might even have been the oldest stuff, from the knot in my stomach.
Today, the day after, I was almost hyper, felt such a surge of energy, I suspect it's the release of all the energy that was necessary to keep the knot nice and tight. Plus, maybe, the energy the knot consisted of. Well I'm just guessing here. But I'm getting the picture and want to chronicle the process. Now the waters have to settle again and then there will be more spaciousness and ease. Until the next big cry, the next knot unraveling, the rush of energy, plans, ideas, inspiration, followed by the settling of the waters.
There's more power in my voice, more relaxation in my body, more authority when I speak my mind. It's difficult to fall asleep though, with all this energy rushing through my body!!
This is really happening. It has been an interesting week.

Death to the sewer

Maybe it should hurt that my physiotherapist has nicer things to say about me than my own father, but the sad thing is, I'm used to that reality. I told the guy why I'm still living in this dump of a town, that my intuition told me to stay because I have things to work out and this is the place to do it.
That the past five years have been about getting all the crap to come to the surface, all the tension in body and in mind. It can't be a coincidence that I have so much more pain in neck and shoulders lately, and I wanted some reassurance from him, so I asked him if he too thought that my body would heal itself and get rid of that pain when I am ready for that to happen, when my mind has gotten rid of the old stuff, the superfluous fear stuff that makes me cringe. "Yes," he said, and that was all I needed to hear.
Sometimes I need that, so I don't fool myself into thinking I'm the one who's crazy. I told him that I'm handling the mind stuff on my own, with an occasional visit to the psychologist, and I do the body related stuff with him. The exercises help release the knotted up tension in my stomach, and I became very aware of the extreme tension that's still in my jaws and face.

I see myself get dragged down into that muddy stream, but I'm aware of it, and beneath it is a sense of peace, a trust that it's okay, and what is happening is perfect. The trains of thought originate in that knot in my stomach, which was a subject in physiotherapy today, it might be released old emotions. Probably doesn't matter, but anyway.
A part of me is very frightened of seeing my father again, tomorrow and next week, when it's my nephew's birthday. Where family is gathered I become the butt of jokes and mean remarks and I'm scared. Another part of me is looking on, rests relaxed in knowing it's his problem and has nothing to do with me, is confident that I can neutralize any cruel comments on my way back in the train.
It's awfully weird that this realization my whole family is wrong took so long to take hold. I so get what Human Children are like, I've walked around as a frightened, hurt little girl for most of my life. Now I'm gradually reaching my Human Teens, hahaha! Higher grounds means improved visibility in all directions. The poison in my family, you wouldn't believe it, unless you're from a sick, twisted background yourself. But, everything is perfect (hilarious, and perfect). What else would have given me this purity of intent.

This bit about the sewer and climbing out of the sewer, in Spiritual Warfare, has been helpful to me. I started thinking about 'all my problems' on the personal level (still do) and wondered how on earth I was ever getting rid of that stuff, and then, of course, I read that bit about staying in the sewer, fighting every demon, or simply climbing out of the sewer. It's what I remind myself of these past few days, especially today since I'll be tested tomorrow.

I just turned on the radio and, surprise surprise, the topic for the whole evening is Death, funerals, the taboo, songs about death, people calling in to talk about their personal experiences with burying loved ones et cetera. Perfect.
Perfect also, to see how everything changes, all the symptoms disappear once you take away the cause, the one cause. Fighting the demons in the sewer is fighting symptoms. Going straight for the kill is much more efficient.
Well, I'm going to bed and listen to this program a little more.

Death practise

What a wonderful day it was yesterday. Even though I'd heard the previous day that my grandfather had died and the funeral is the day after tomorrow. Not looking forward to being near my father, but again, excellent timing by the universe.
That's the third death in one year. Funny, cos I had this suspicion at the time, this feeling, that there might be death showing up on my doorstep shortly, because I haven't had much practise with it, and now three people dead.
Saturday I was practising my own death, happily envisioning scenarios of what could happen at any given moment during a walk, doing grocery shopping, et cetera. Elaborate deaths, simple ones, I must have died about twenty times every hour. I felt ready, I felt okay with it, this need to do something important before I die had faded, Saturday I didn't feel it's presence at all.
That night, after my death practise, my grandfather died, well how about that. I haven't shed a tear yet, I didn't know him that well, and I'm clean of feelings I'm 'supposed to' have. You know, crying because I seem cold when I don't. And yesterday was just wonderful.
I felt contained within myself, peaceful, content. A relaxed contentment opened me up inside and suddenly I found myself striking up conversations where I wouldn't have before. It was like the peaceful moment I had in the deck chair this summer, but all day long. ALL DAY LONG. It stayed with me long after I expected it to be gone.
So I'm starting to trust, because if those moments of peace and feeling so wonderfully clean, empty and content start increasing and growing into full days of sheer being, then I might worry less when I hit a slump. There was nothing standing in the way of experiencing the day, the city (I was in Amsterdam for an appointment), the moment. No obstructing thoughts, no messy 'old' emotions colouring my vision.
I was so afraid of not writing here, but after six or so days the fog started to lift and I was able to reassure myself again that these periods are just as necessary for the process. For adjusting to the next level.
I can't say I was happy yesterday, that's different, that's more outward in a sense, this felt more inward.

Pride

Life must be wonderful when you know how to live. Human Adult, or even someone like my friend, with the blue sky life, who just became a father and has and had everything going for him, never a day of misery in his life, no adversity whatsoever. I look at him like I look at the movie screen when a Disney movie is playing, it’s so far removed from my ‘reality’, it hardly seems possible. I do envy people like him, and sometimes I feel contempt for him, because he thinks he knows it all, and nobody can tell him anything new, yet at the same time he lacks the ability to put himself in someone else’s shoes; “Why don’t you do this? Why don’t you do that?”, another version of my father. But his arrogance is grounded in nothing. He had it good, and sometimes I remind him he has all the reasons in the world to be grateful for all the blessings in his life. It’s hard to swallow that he takes everything for granted, although that might change now that he has a baby.
Anyway, that’s none of my business, but once again, an effective mirror. He has the absolute opposite of my deepest belief. He believes it’s his birthright to have a royal life, and he might even be right. My belief; I have no rights, nothing is mine, I deserve nothing. No wonder I can’t stand to be with him very often, he reminds me of what I am not, he reminds me of the failure that is my essence. That I believe to be my essence. A very persistent belief, as indestructible as a cockroach. If it wasn’t for his arrogance I might have been able to be happy for him, but petty me, still stuck in poor me mode, would like to see him a bit more modest and grateful, how arrogant is that?
I will repeat for myself: that is none of my business, it’s his life and he can do what he wants with it. I’m just feeling bad and petty tonight. Cramps, pain, one step back, sadness, you name it.

Okay, that’s enough self-pity, what do you say we get to work? You do realize you can’t skip the one step back parts of the process? And you do realize that deep down you don’t envy him? Do you realize that this is the life you chose? In it’s entirety? Bad stuff, worse stuff, horrible, maddening stuff, and some fairy dust stuff all rolled in one? Looking at your life I must say you have a very rich imagination, girl. Yeah I do, don’t I, so why can’t I imagine my way into a nicer life? What do you think you are doing now? Imagining? I’m working! All the work is done inside you, it’s all in your mind and your body follows your mind. You’re imagining everything, bad and good, progress and stagnation, blue skies and electrical storms. Be honest, you prefer stormy weather over blue skies. Yeah, definitely. And you like a good anecdote. Yes, that too. So what’s the problem? I don’t even want to spend too much time lingering on this, cos deep down you know you’ve conjured up this life in accordance with the universe, you just lost the script there for a while, and now you’re finding your way back to it. So stop moaning, we’ve seen enough of that. Well sor-ry. Enough with the self-pity, there’s work to do. You’re sad, I get it, but that’s what progress is, to keep going despite adversity and you just love adversity, don’t you. Mh. When it’s over, yeah. Your best moments were moments of extreme crisis, like when you got raped. You were at your best, you shone. How can you say that? I didn’t stop him. You came out of it alive, you made all the right moves, you played him like a fiddle so you could go on living for a while longer. Remember the elation you felt a few days after? Yeah, I decided I would get my resurrection, I was overcome with joy. But how does that tie into the process? You’ve had some great moments, and I won’t have you dwell on the bad stuff, we know that now, you’ve repeated it often enough, it's time to leave that behind, it’s no longer an issue in that you no longer have a disadvantage compared to other ‘spiritual’ seekers. Oh. Okay, I guess that’s good news. Yes, but only if you can let it go, you know, what you wrote about today. You derive too much specialness from it, you lean on it too much, it has become a crutch instead of a victory. Your experiences haven’t disabled you, you are doing that by hanging onto them. It’s my life story. Yes it is, but it’s not you, it’s not your essence. Your past is not who you are. That’s such a simple lesson, how can I not get that? Your world was a small one. It takes time to adjust. I think I get it now. I didn’t have anything else to show for, after thirty-four years on this planet I had nothing to show for except my past and the dangerous situations I survived because of my wits and instincts. That’s the only thing I had that gave me a sense of pride. Exactly, so kill it. What?! How productive do you think pride is, for the process you’re in? Uhm, not very? Exactly, so kill it off. You don’t need it to boost your ego because you don’t want to boost your ego. Pride is fear based. You take pleasure in this process don’t you? Yes, yes I do. So let that be enough. Others are out of the equation so you don’t need to have anything to show for or to be proud of. The process is you. Can that be enough? Yes. Yes, it can. Thank you. Thank you so much.

Phone notes II

Next note: "You think you are special because of your misery, you're proud of it." Yes, I wear it like a badge of honour, like a war injury.

I identify with it. Can I let that go as well? I am not my experiences. They might have helped shape me, but they were the fertiliser, not the rose.
Mh, it actually feels okay. I had all day to mull it over, so I guess I can leave it at that for now.

Next. "In the back of your mind, you're still perceiving this as something to do while waiting for your real life to begin, real as in a job, a man, kids. You're looking too far ahead, just do the next thing that comes along, there's no need to decide now, to choose between two 'possibilities'. The universe does that for you, it already has.
Just do the next thing. Don't bother my pretty little head with such matters? Exactly."
That's not even relevant now. It was this morning, but it isn't now. Apparently things happen when I'm not looking, when I'm not consciously working on it. The process continues to unfold. But so fast!! How can this morning be so long ago? That's how it works.
Mh, less work for me. Onwards we go.

Phone notes I

At volunteer's work. Someone is doing my work today, I'm teaching them. Handy, cos now I get to write and do my real work. I didn't write this morning but did get some mental work done and wrote stuff down in my phone. The pain is slowing me down when it comes to writing, at least in the matter of quantity, but I find as I go along, that the process is now almost continuously on my mind. 
I get diverted sometimes by things I do at the volunteer's work, or trains of thought whisking me away to places of Hollywood loveliness or exciting stories of bravery, but I always come back to the process sooner or later. Lately, it tends to be sooner. 
I don't know where to start, I have several notes in my phone and they all need tending to. 
Funny how that works nowadays; I'm reading, walking, or listening to music, and then somewhere, it itches, just a tiny little bit. I let it itch, let it become clearer for a while, when it thinks I'm not looking, and then I look at it. Then I feel “no, I don't want to go there,” which means jackpot, I'm onto something worth pursuing. Then I start to investigate and deduct and dissect, using uncompromising honesty. Which is scary at times, and liberating at all times.
I get to things and ideas which I thought I'd never be able to express 'out loud' to myself, let alone on the Internet. Ideas that scare me, shame me, make me think I'll never go there, and then I do. That's liberating as well, because it sets me free from certain limiting ideas and beliefs I apparently have about myself. 
The person who's approval I need most might not be my father, it might be me. Ouch. 
It does pain me to let it go though. That was my first note. The 'they' I was referring to last night can always be brought back to one person in the end; my father. My Ex was/is just a rerun. Every other person I've tried to please was another version of my father. 
I'm sorry, but I have to let you go, it's unhealthy for me to keep trying to please you, impress you, get your approval, I even talk to myself in the way you did and still do. Critical, cynical, judging, full of contempt. You make me feel stupid, inferior, unworthy of just about anything. Not good enough. I have to let you go. I have to let go of all my versions of you, my expectations, my hope that someday you will respect me and be proud of me. That hurts you know.
I do understand how you came to be like this, but that's your thing, you have to deal with it, or not. That's your choice, and this is my life and I can't go any further if I don't let go of this need for approval. 
I want to know in my heart, mind, everything, that I am perfect just the way I am, just because I am. For no other reason than that. Maybe I'm not ready for that yet, but it's necessary for me to acknowledge what has to be done. I can't look the other way.

Lies and ties

Feel ill. And I have some unfinished business before going to bed. Why else would I still feel anger? Maybe that’s making me feel ill.
Or maybe it’s the painkillers. Whatever. I’m not done with that particular subject yet. I knew it, but stopped cos I was hurting too much (physically).

So. What’s up with the anger? I feel cheated. Cheated how? Out of life. Expand on that please. I have believed certain things, and everything was muck, it was all lies, all wrong, nothing was true. I bought it all, because I thought I was the one who knew nothing and everyone around me had some top secret knowledge that they wouldn’t let me in on. Because I wasn’t worthy. I tried so hard, spent so much time and energy being who I thought they wanted me to be, all based on the notion that they were right and I didn’t have a say in things, I wasn’t even aware there were things to know. All I knew was that other people had rights that I didn’t because I was somehow wrong. And now I find out that they were all wrong, all of them, all the people who treated me like shit, who made me feel like shit, who made sure I felt like human waste, inferior to every single person walking this earth. I thought they knew something I didn’t, I thought everyone was in on this big secret on how to be one of them, to fit in, be part of the group, be part of humanity. Now I find out they didn’t know shit. I lived my life trying to be good enough, trying to be who everyone else wanted me to be, or what I thought they wanted me to be. What a waste of energy, what a horrible waste.
I am so glad I started to search for who I was when I wasn’t trying to be something I wasn’t. I’m so lucky I started to undo the falseness that was me. All that crap instilled in me. None of it was true. They were all wrong, they have been wrong all this time and nobody said anything, cos nobody knows, people can’t see what’s right in front of them. What a waste. On the other hand, how very fortunate that I am now finding that out. This way I don’t have to walk around with this false knowledge for the rest of my life. I don’t have to accept their truth about me as the truth about me. This is my life now and mine alone. I will decide what is true and what isn’t. Even a blatant lie of mine is truer than a half-truth they cherish about me when it comes to my life. They don’t know what they’re saying, they’re ignorant, they’ve always been and I couldn’t see. When you grow up with falseness all around, you wouldn’t recognize truth when it was right in front of you, I understand. I bought into their lies because they did and there was no alternative. But there is now.
Something else? No. I just feel resolve. Can you leave this behind? This dependence on others’ approval? I’m not sure yet. What’s holding you back? It’s like severing a bond, it’s like un unspoken agreement that I would be undoing. And is that something you don’t want? Well, it does make me hesitate, as if that’s all that is tying me to these people. If that’s all tying you to them, it’s not worth much, is it. No, it’s pretty pathetic. Don’t be hard on yourself, it’s all you have known until now. But you’re a big girl now and you can do away with your toys. It’s not even an attractive toy. But it made me one of them. So you feel you’re not one of them anymore when you severe this unspoken bond? Undo this silent agreement? It feels like giving up my place in the family. Yeah, that’s a big deal I guess. It should be, but I need to go on. Further. They won’t understand. Is that important? Well… not as much as it should be. Why are you crying? I’m losing stuff. Family ties. It’s okay, you can cry. It’s what you have known until now, isn’t it. It’s familiar, you’re giving up everything that’s familiar to you. That’s no small thing.
I’m thinking in deals again, bargaining; what will I get back for it? Well, nothing. You will get Nothing in return, to be honest. You might want to think it over a bit and decide if that’s something you can live with, whether that’s enough for you. It does sound like a shitty deal, doesn’t it. Yeah it sure does. What’s up with that? Well here’s a perk; you also give up all the falseness attached to those ties, all the untruths running in the family, they will die with you. You will be free. You will be real. That does sound appealing. Nice perk. Why did you keep that for last? You had to go through all that stuff and be receptive. Am I now? Because I cried? Something inside you gave. Something was released. The ties, I didn’t break them yet. No. No rush. No worries. Take your time. It’s part of the surrender. Ah. So no rush? No. No rush, nobody to impress, no list of achievements to worry about. No resume.
Alright, I will take my time then, is this enough for now? Is it? I don’t know, but I’m tired. You know I don’t run away from things! Indeed. Pick it up where you left off when you can. Remember; no rush. Relax into the process, and take care of yourself. Yes ma’am. Smartass. Yeah, isn’t it great? That’s how I got here. Good to see you smiling again. Mh. I’m going to bed, read a bit. Get some reassurance from Jed’s ‘warfare’ that I’m not a complete fool. You know you’re not. Not as long as I have you! Get to bed, feel better tomorrow. Bye, and thank you. Thank you.***

The finger

Anger. Big surge of anger. Ten minutes into the walk I wanted to go back and write. Walked on, took some nice pictures of the canal and footpath in the fog. Very appropriate. Fumed. Tried to dissect and clear things up in my mind, but writing it down is a much better way. The radio was a big help, as usual lately. After reading some Jed this morning: “I’m on my way to infinity.” Go figure.
When I was becoming really angry, I stopped listening to classical music and turned the little radio to a mainstream music station. “Talking in your sleep.” After that song I changed stations again: “You got the power to turn on the light. (…) There’s a force I’m glad to follow.” I got so worked up I used my phone to write stuff down and saved it as a text message. Two actually.
I don’t know whether it’s a good thing to write it down here, when I went through most of it, isn’t that a waste of energy? No, because things didn’t get cleared up during the walk. Not enough anyway.
So I’ll try to get myself going by using the notes I made. Let’s see.

It was a hoax, a big fat hoax, I was right all along. People have been lying to me all my life, everybody is lying, everybody is trying to win me and as many others as they can for their own version of ‘truth’, because the more people agree with you, the more you must be right, right? NO!! Fucking hell NO. That one moment, when I was watching the news as a kid, and my uncle, or one of my cousins, told me that the news wasn’t necessarily true, it shattered my world just that little bit. Up till then I had thought whatever was said on the news was at least true, it was presented in such a way, serious but without drama and with quiet authority (not the screaming I was used to) I thought thát at least must be true. And then a family member outside of the rotten little circle told me otherwise. I don’t know why I didn’t doubt him, whoever it was, but I looked at the news with different eyes from then on. When I got older, I also started to read the news in newspapers in a different way. Different newspapers, different views, different takes on what was originally the same story. What a hoax. I started to understand. I started to use my logic. It dawned on me that a person could not form an opinion about most things going on in the world, without knowing or experiencing every side to the story for themselves. “History is written by the winners.” I also learned, but subconsciously, that people don’t want to view a subject from every possible angle, they just want to adopt a certain viewpoint, preferably the one which most people adopted as their own. People don’t want to do the work, people do not want to do the math, they just want to be fed the answers, so they have a shiny new opinion, and when it’s revealed to be untrue they blame the source of the information, not their own stupidity and laziness to find a fucking answer for themselves. Jolene was right; people are cows. They don’t taste the same though. With all that crap inside us, we must taste like crap. But I can’t be sure cos I never had a bite. Anyway. All those people whose approval I tried to get over the years, non-stop, they don’t know any better. Why would I care so much about getting their approval? Nobody can be trusted. I wasn’t wrong after all. The only person who’s authority I can trust is me.
From my notes during the walk: “You can do something, progress within the dreamstate is possible, and necessary, of the essence; developing to the point where you realize you’re asleep is of the essence. You can’t pass Go and collect 200 dollars without it. Progress within the dreamstate is possible and essential to prepare yourself for waking up. Better to know you’re asleep, than not know, or not know and believe yourself to be awake. Fucking angry at Jeff Foster for saying stop trying." How many people would love to hear that?! I hate it, it rubbed me the wrong way and only now do I understand why I didn’t get past his first book, where he says our process is in the way of reality, our struggle for truth is what is keeping truth out, everything is perfect the way it is, how can it not be? You can't make a deliberate effort to attain enlightenment. So stop trying? I do get what he means, I do, but it’s dangerous! People just love hearing that, don’t they?! Oh I’m so spiritually advanced, I’ve given up trying, I’ve given up my quest for truth altogether because I saw it for what it was. Oh real-ly? That must be the most lazy ass spiritual practice ever. And it looks real pretty too. Nicely done. Jeff must not be totally Awake. As far as I can see (granted, not far), he has probably turned into a human adult with some Oneness experience thrown in for good measure, but I think I’ll stick with Jed for now. That’s the only ‘person’ I know of who’s real, really, really real. Truth-realized. So I guess he’s my role-model. For now. I will have to kill him off of course. Eventually I will kill Jed, but he’s a sport, he won’t mind. Yes, dumbasses, even if his name isn’t Jed McKenna, he’s still the realest real ‘person’ I have ever heard of. Everything he writes feels true. He might be a ten year old girl for all I care, that doesn’t make the content of his books less true.
This process is good, it’s mine, but the reasons for it are diverse. A true desire is there, an authentic desire, but there was/is also the longing for some people to finally approve of me when I’ve ‘become enlightened’. There was that dream, wasn’t there? Yes. I would show them, I would become enlightened and finally get their respect and approval. What I didn’t take into account, was that once the process would be well underway I would stop caring about that longtime fantasy of approval. If or when I’ll ever get it, I won’t give a crap anymore, isn’t that ironic. I have to say, it has been somewhat of a revelation to suddenly realize my whole family is and was wrong. But it doesn’t end there. Schoolbooks are wrong. Newspapers are wrong. Political parties are wrong. Everybody we look up to is wrong. It’s unbelievable, except that it’s not. Mind-blowing.
More notes from my walk, as a disk jockey announces a song from a band called “Badfinger”. “Cut the fucking finger pointing at the fucking moon, just look at the moon for Chrissakes!! Don’t put fucking rings on the finger!”

Yeah, I was pretty worked up about it. Feeling better now. If there’s more, I’ll come back later.

Neutral

These past few weeks it has been on my mind all the time. When I lost myself in a train of thought, I noticed it, watched it, observed. No pushing, no punishment. Just remembering what I was doing. So maybe this time it is different.
After the bouncy mood I got into 'neutral' yesterday. That was also interesting, lots of stuff is suddenly interesting, I find. Usually sudden loud noises spook me, shake me up. I was cycling home, there was a BANG!! and unlike any other time, the effect was gone just like that. It usually reverberates somewhere inside me, attaches itself to other, past moments of getting shook up and as a result I become anxious because of a simple noise. Yesterday I just cycled along. The shock effect didn't have ripples.
I thought about My Ex today, who's sullen again, and I gave it some thought and then started thinking about something else, while noticing how beautiful the canal was in the dark, like a mirror, devoid of ripples. There wasn't anything to latch on to. One thought like that usually leads to a whole hour of reflecting on relationships and men, and other disaster areas. It didn't. It just didn't.
No pressure, no trying to stop my train of thought; it just didn't have anything to hang on to, where there is usually a whole batch of sore memories and feelings, hurt, pettiness et cetera just waiting to be called upon. Yep, whole new experience this. It does feel like being 'in neutral'. Although it's a notch down from grinning like an idiot and smiling like a fool, like I did yesterday, for the biggest part of the day I might add, this is also new and interesting.
For now, this is all. Anything more would just be added words.

Unconditional

“There’s a natural pacing to things. If you get too scared or too smart and start messing around, you’ll probably just foul yourself up. You’ve released the tiller, don’t panic and try to grab it back. Take it easy on yourself, all is well.”
“You’re off the clock now. The race is over. When the next thing needs doing, you’ll know it. This stuff is governed by a perfect intelligence. No thinking or meddling or second guessing required. Just relax into the process, trust it, don’t struggle against it. That’s what it’s all about.”

My ego protests about this being a contradiction; I should trust the process to lead me to unconditional surrendering, which is another way of saying complete trust. I think. Could be wrong. I should trust the process to lead me to perfect trust. But it’s not as weird as it seems, since I have been this contradictory since the age of eighteen. Distrusting everything and everyone, yet listening to the little voice telling me what steps to take, what decisions to make, even when it lead me to the most horrible circumstances.
How can these things coexist?
I’m probably one of the most fearful people you’ll ever meet, yet at the same time I trust my instincts more than anyone I know. In the way of listening to them and letting decisions and actions depend on them. I mean, some people say they listen to their intuition, but that doesn’t really count if it stops at listening and they go on to do something entirely different.
I am being distrustful right now. So why is that? If it was a natural part of the process I wouldn’t be writing it down, so what is it? I’m so used to betrayal. I’m afraid I will wake up and see things for what they are and discover I’ve been fooling myself by thinking I had a mission in life; waking up, when all it was, was this big elaborate hoax to make fun of me, and people will laugh, and laugh, and laugh. So, really? No, on a deeper level I know that’s not the case. Okay. Go on then. Don’t play games, “trust to trust”, just go on. Unconditional surrender, what does mean to you? Giving up. Giving what up? Struggle, protecting myself, having some control over my life. Is that a bad thing? A part of me believes the universe is an evil place, a menace, out to do harm. Well, we know where that comes from. And is that what your experiences tell you? The experiences you’ve had on this path since you consciously started out? Bad stuff has happened. Was it bad? Yeah! It hurt! It was frightening! It scared me. Was that the universe doing that to you? Was that Life being mean? Well why did it happen to me, so much crap? So much? It could have been less! Could it, really? - I see the dark little ego scurrying around in my belly, like a frightened little animal, trying to hide, but failing, because of the powerful searchlight. - Do you honestly believe that anything that has happened to you shouldn’t have happened to you? Think. It’s not fair. Life’s not fair, nobody said it was. Come on. Apart from it not being fair. Do you think Life made a mistake in letting these things happen to you? Or that it was being intentionally mean to you? [silence] What is your deepest belief about that? Life was out to get me. People were out to get me. Because? I’m in the wrong place. Well, you’re not entirely wrong about that, but you are definitely not the only one who’s in the wrong place, in fact, you’re one of the few people who realize they are and try to do something about it. I didn’t see it like that. [silence] There’s beliefs fighting inside me. No there are not. The only fighting comes from your ego’s desperate struggle to stay and be important to you. But it’s not.. That’s what it is figuring out. So let it. Let it struggle. That’s weird! I thought this was about trust issues. It uses familiar fears to hold your attention. Oh. Silly little bastard. But no, it’s okay, let it squirm, I don’t care, it was just trying to protect me. When I have no use of it anymore it will leave by itself, the poor thing. It knows where the door is. Why am I feeling sorry for my own frightened little ego? Because it’s ‘helpless’ and scared, like you. But that’s not my reality. No, so now it’s all alone. Can I have it for a pet? Hahaha! Sure you can, just don’t confuse it with who you are. Nah, eventually I won’t anymore, you know, keep your enemies closer. Mmh. Just be aware. So what up with the trust baby? Ah man, is okay, will work itself out. You really believe that? I still have some doubts, but once again, they will work themselves out. Part of the process. I think you still want conditions, you still attach strings to the surrender, which makes it something else, not surrender, but the closing of a deal. You gimme that, I’ll give you this. No! Yes. Yeah, okay, fair enough. I don’t know, I can’t be sure whether I’ll be safe when I surrender. That depends on the kind of safety you’re talking about. I don’t want to get hurt anymore. Remember; with every step you were scared of what it would bring you, do you remember that? Yes. And with every glimpse and moment of two steps forward, you thought to yourself; I have to remember this, I have to remember that every step forward is truly a step forward, in that it only makes me feel better. I have to remember this so I can tell it to myself when I’m afraid to go forward. Do you remember? Yes. Yes, I do. If this is what you need to hear right now, then know you will feel better. You will feel better after surrendering, it’s an honest to god guarantee. Yeah? Yeah, if you don’t trust me, or Jed, or anything else, trust your experiences, those glimpses and what you told yourself, specifically so you wouldn’t stop going. Yeah, that’s true, isn’t it. Trust yourself, you came all this way, see how far you’ve come. That’s no illusion, sweetheart, that’s real, and it’s only going to get better if you keep on going. Trust your own experiences. Look, and see. That’s all the proof you need.
Okay, that’s as far as we’ll get today though, so unconditional surrender, right? I’ll mull it over. Yeah you better. Or what? You gonna spank me? Hehe. Go on girl. This is nice, isn’t it? It’s interesting. Yes, it certainly is. Now go on. Okay. Thank you.

Talk about perfect intelligence: last night I was so tired and exhausted I went up to go to bed early and ended up unclogging three drains instead, of the sink in the bathroom, the toilet, and the kitchen. Unclogging drains at midnight, it does seem perfect, doesn’t it? Nice symbolism. Now, the fibromyalgia is munching away at my shoulders like a bunch of piranhas, so this is as far as I go.

Odd

Had my first meeting with a psychologist today. Nice lady. She asked how things were at the moment and I told her about the past weeks and how I’ve been writing my ass off (not in those words). I told her about the biggest insights and changes going on, like the cramped jaws-thing and the trust-thing, and how I’m feeling really good today and yesterday, and how rare that is. So she wouldn’t think this was like when you go to a doctor and the pain is suddenly gone.
She did tell me that based on the information on my background I had provided, they were hesitant to take me on; it was a lot of bad stuff, a whole lot to deal with and they didn’t know whether they would be able to handle it. Fortunately they postponed on making a decision until speaking to me and after the nice lady and I had talked for a while, she decided we could do this after all, because – I don’t remember the exact words she used – I have done most of the work already and I’m not in need of an expert with a shovel. My ego nearly orgasmed, but I kept it in check.
She asked me what my expectations were and I told her I didn’t have any, not to mess with her, but because I don’t have any. This is how things coincided, and now that it’s here I will take advantage of it. I didn’t want to give her a glib talk of how I needed someone for this and that; all that popped into my head was the word ‘soundboard’. Now this might be something completely different in English. I told her I’d like someone to reflect off, someone to reflect me; while talking to someone with the ability to listen, I get clarity on certain subjects. She understood, and it wasn’t a problem.
I had no doubts about the outcome, it felt good, it felt right, I had only needed one minute with her to know we would go forward with this. All the while I observed myself and my responses, since I had promised myself to be as sincere as possible, without necessarily mentioning the waking up part of the process. I might though, I’m starting to be more open about myself and it’s a huge part of me, if not all of me.
Today I caught myself saying to the guys at the volunteer’s work that a certain supermarket didn’t ‘feel right’ to me and others do. Just like that, in a regular superficial conversation. Normally I keep stuff like that to myself because it invites jokes, mockery, but somehow even my mouth is becoming more open and relaxed, haha! And it saves me so much energy to just be authentic.
Another thing (I also told her), I feel so oddly wonderful! I have this excruciating pain in my neck and shoulders, as if the fibromyalgia is making the most of it, now that I’m releasing the tension from my body. But even that pain doesn’t deter me. I keep smiling. Some moments I feel like jumping up and down, I felt like dancing today, giggling, being silly. There’s a lot of energy slowly being released from my belly and chest area, where everything was tied up in one big Supercramp.
Even my belly starts feeling more empty, or maybe I should say devoid of fear-knots. It’s so weird to me. I don’t know that, I’m not familiar with things like relaxation. I’ve been surviving for most of my life. I’m well aware of the two steps forward one step back policy of the process, although the one step back tends to take years and years, this probably won’t last long, but it’s a nice glimpse of the future me. Very pleasant. Very, very pleasant.
Life seemed so much more interesting today. I was, and still am, exhausted, and in a lot of pain, yet the world appealed to me today, it was strange and wonderful and exciting, and I finally get the theme park comparison Jed uses in his books.
But I’m not going to stop here; when this is a daily reality, and come on, that could still take years, this is not my final destination but a road side diner instead. I don’t care how strangely wonderful the world can be when you’re glad and content all the time. I want to wake up. Just so I make myself clear.

Pleasant

Once again, I don’t know what to write. I have this feeling that I’m headed for a slump again, or a lull, or whatever it’s called. A period of recovery and adjustment.
I’ve started noticing that my body responds differently to small gestures, touches and exercises lately. Small, gentle things having a big effect on the workings in my body. I was a big gesture, big moves person, I needed hard, clashing. Now the slightest thing can have a huge effect on my body. Like doing the Salute to the Sun, to loosen my muscles; suddenly there’s so much relaxation radiating from my chest, it’s amazing. I actually see the point in doing that exercise now!
Today I was very touchy feely with some of my colleagues, in a non-offensive way; I gave one guy (a real sweet kid) three gentle birthday kisses on his cheeks; soft, light, with my full attention, to make sure he felt my affection - as opposed to the rushed obligatory kind of kiss where you barely touch a person’s cheek. It felt different. Good, warm. I rested my chin on a woman’s head; she was doing work on the computer and I came to see what she was doing, it came naturally, I just felt like resting my chin on her white hair and she didn’t mind.
It’s good to be touching more. I’m able now. Able to do it without any sexual connotations. It just presents itself to me and I don’t stop to think, because if it makes itself known to me, it must be an okay thing to do.
It moves me, to see how the trust thing is already developing. It feels like home. I’m becoming who I want to be, who I’ve always wanted to be. It’s pleasant. No fireworks or big announcements. It just feels pleasant. Things are changing inside me.
There’s no need to do the intense writing bit tonight. I don’t feel guilty for not doing it. It feels right to release that sense of urgency.
Trust implies no urgency, right? Trust implies everything will happen in it’s own time, at the exact right time. Trust means relaxing into it, letting Life take my little boat merrily down the stream, so I can enjoy the view. Nice change of scenery. Interesting to see what I will change into, what I will become.
No doubt; when it’s time for Further, there will be a Further motion, my intuition will tell me and I’ll obey and go with it. No kicking and screaming all the way. I like this relaxed feeling, it’s so foreign to me, I’d like to experience it more often. And I will. I will. I think I like who I am now. I like where this is going. Thank you.

There’s so much going on in my chest right now. Just writing about this stirs up all kinds of things, see how sensitive I’ve become? I’ve always been very, very sensitive, but also strained and tense to the point that I needed those big shakes and moves to have any effect on me. Now subtle works. I used to be so tense that subtle would hardly register, if at all. Sure, there’s still the pain in neck and shoulders, but at the moment I don’t feel the urge or need to take painkillers, all I want is explore these feelings. It’s interesting. I think I could just go to bed and simply lie there, experiencing what is going on in my body. Pleasant. I am so grateful.
Grateful for so many things, including my brains, haha! My love for logic, my extreme curiosity and need for not exactly knowledge, but to know how things work, how they operate on every level, to know what’s behind the curtains, the workings of the universe and how I fit into it. Very grateful. I love my intuition. I have this great inner compass, really, it’s awesome.
This is starting to resemble an Oscar speech.
Oh, what strange feelings; lovely and strange.
I think I might start reading Moby Dick, I ordered a cute hardcover edition, it was smaller than I expected; tiny, like a little bible, dark red cover and gold rimmed pages. Curious to see how the difficult English will be for me. It might be useful not to understand every single word in a book so well-written and beautiful (the bits in Jed’s book appealed to me).
My chest is all warm and fuzzy. I feel like giggling. Oh my god, I’m turning into a teenage girl! Haha, just kidding. Mm… nice. ***

The next step

I think trust is the Next Step. Complete trust. Letting go any and all leftovers of the illusion that I have anything to say about where my life is going. The business of wanting things ties into that, and of course I happen to be reading the perfect way to say what I mean in Jed’s chapter “Manifest Destiny”.
Hate when that happens; I know what I’m trying to explain, but can’t find the right words for it. I tried to put it into words before by saying: when I want something, I know I will get it, because I wouldn’t want it in the first place if it wasn't possible for me to get it. Or some such.
My only ‘problem’ was that I hardly ever wanted something for real. And that’s different from just wanting something. But every time I felt I really wanted something, it didn’t feel as an incompleteness; on the contrary, it felt as if I had found an answer instead of a question, as if discovering what I truly wanted was finding that piece of the puzzle that was missing. I didn’t need to busy myself with the outcome, because my experience had shown me that whenever this happened, it would come to me, I wouldn’t have to chase the thing or whatever it was I wanted, it would come to me, fall into my lap in lovely orchestrated ways. Discovering what I wanted was like receiving it. The physical manifestation was a mere afterthought.
That would always happen. It has never happened that I didn’t get what I want, when I felt the want in my heart.
It feels like a heart muscle relaxing, it feels like peace, a quiet knowing. Yes. That’s how I know my intuition can be trusted, the voice that tells me where I want to go next. It’s in accordance with the universe. And this is how I know I will wake up in this life. Because I want it, it’s that simple.
Jed: “It’s not so much that someone well established in the Integrated State can have what they want, but that their wants and needs are in natural harmony with their dreamstate circumstances. […] it’s also that I wouldn’t want anything I couldn’t have.”
And he uses the words Authentic Desire. That’s what I was looking for!! That’s exactly what I mean! The silly wants and needs don’t count, they feel different and dissipate soon enough, the authentic desires give me peace, because they give me a glimpse of my future; that’s what I want and so that’s what I will have/be. No question about it. There’s a lot of trust in that area.
For example: I hated living next-door to neighbour spawn, but couldn’t get myself to search for another place to live, recounting for myself all the obstacles preventing me from finding something better, when the only thing lacking was me truly wanting to move. Something inside me knew I was in the right place and had to stay; there was work to be done here.
My ego-fear-based wish didn’t make the cut, because it was overruled by an authentic desire. No silly wish can step in the ring with an authentic desire and expect to win. K.O. in the first round.
I have complete faith in my authentic desires.
They are rare occurrences, though, it doesn’t happen very often that I suddenly feel I really want something, but it’s a glorious thing; it shows me another piece of who I really am, or am supposed to be, and will be. Knowing want I want means knowing who I am and I wish it happened more often. Yes. That wish is authentic too. I will know more often, I am becoming more authentic, leaving falseness behind.
Will this trust spread out into trusting Life without a conscious effort on my part?
I only just wrote this down, when my favourite song of all time starts playing on the radio: “Magnificent” by U2. Thank you.
The universe is sure making me feel welcome. Thank you. I step into the warm embrace of open arms containing countless galaxies, and me. It will grow, the trust will grow. What else can I do but do as my intuition tells me? It will show me the way as it has always done so faithfully. And I will write.

Creatures

Just as I fired up my old trusty laptop the BBC announced the film for this evening; it was not the film my TV guide had said, it was The Interview with the Vampire. So now that’s on in the background and I just laughed. The first fifteen minutes have been so appropriate. Louis wants to die, Lestat is a vampire and accepts the invitation to kill him. Louis is made a vampire. Lestat, who created him, laughs when Louis goes through the tormenting change: “Your body is dying, pay no attention to it.” Then he has changed and Lestat tells him to “Look with your vampire eyes.” The world around him is still the same, but now he sees things in a different way, a new and wondrous way. He has to adjust to this new way of living and seeing.
Amazing. Life keeps amazing me with these funny little things.

So for two days already I’ve woken up without my jaws clamped together. That’s huge. They still hurt though, the pain radiates from my jaws, through my teeth and face, but things are definitely changing in my body as well.
This afternoon I felt as if I was releasing a Beast into town, I felt like a wild animal, leaving the house right after stirring up all kinds of emotions in my gut. There was a powerful energy in there; chaotic, wild, free. It was an intense and fiery day. Now I’ve calmed down and am once again a mild animal.
A lot of stress came out too, I had to walk it off, but that wasn’t enough. Panic raged through me and suddenly everything slightly resembling appointments and phone calls scared me to death.
- I’m very tired and might not write tonight. The vampires are too distracting as well.-
Something did happen during the walk though, things continued to stir and I was happy, angry, irritated, sad, insecure and enraged, all in the space of an hour and a half. So work goes on, when I don’t write. Nevertheless, I don’t feel good about it. I think I will make an effort to write twice tomorrow to make up for it, somehow fitting it in between volunteer’s work and my drool TV night (Hugh Laurie and Nathan Fillion).
Louis starts to think they are the only two vampires, and somehow, that’s a comforting thought to him, “For what could the damned really have to say to the damned?”
So much tension in my belly. Don’t know what to do with myself. Felt so scared all of a sudden, having to call my mother, having to go to my sister’s in three weeks or so, getting dragged back in, having to experience their fights, their mess, their blind groping and aggression. Oh I dread to think about it. I want to stay in, stay home, be alone, write, walk, watch TV. I want to say goodbye to all of this. I want to sever all bonds. Even the thought I might slow down scares me senseless. But that’s the panic talking.
Physiotherapist and I had a chat about how everything happens for a reason and I told him I had seen things in my life that should prove to me that there is no such thing as coincidence. Yet I am too small-minded to trust in the intelligence of the Mosaic. This must be my biggest and most important lesson at this point. The trust. Everything happens in the most perfect of ways without my trying to control things. It’s silly, really, how I still think I have influence over events unfolding. Still two parts to me; the one that trusts to such an extent I only take decisions based on what my intuition tells me, which is in accordance with the patterns, and the other part is Dozy; he likes TV and likes to think he can change his life whenever he feels like it. He’s the kid. Observer is the old woman, who knows about the workings of the universe. Fun combo.
But we all liked the movie tonight, and now it has ended, so we’re heading up to bed. To all, a good night.

Go mother figure

Aw. My head hurts! It would be nice to talk to someone about this. If they knew what I was talking about, that is. Or maybe it wouldn’t be nice. And maybe it isn’t supposed to be nice. You know what it is, though? Addictive. Being truthful - or maybe I should say honest or sincere - is addictive once you’re making a conscious effort to do so. I have to keep an eye on myself, but generally speaking it’s addictive to be writing like this and I haven’t come up with any excuses yet as to why I wouldn’t be able to write a certain night or day. I feel this unrest when I think I’m not going to be able to because of other engagements. I do stuff in my head (Wow! That sounds real-ly sophisticated!) and make notes for when I’ll be able to again. But I think I will make time, I will find a way to do this every day.
Except when I’m not meant to and the computer starts dicking around again, the computer also has this virus which makes it believe it doesn’t have room for storage and mucks up the hard drive. So, not very unlike us.

Right. Don’t have much time, physiotherapy in a bit, so let’s get going. My mother. And the way she is with men and how that rubbed off on me. I thought I was mostly over the guilt trips, but when she asked me if I was coming to her birthday I felt guilty for saying no and explained why I couldn’t and that it was too expensive. I was defending myself. It felt so different from how I usually feel lately that it was unmistakable. And I think she knew I wasn’t coming, we would have discussed it at an earlier stage if that was the case. Does it make me mad? A bit yeah. I know she’s wired this way and can’t help herself, but she’s a big girl now and should know better. And you should decide that for her? No. I’m saying that because I don’t want to be bothered by that stuff anymore, I’m tired of having to defend myself and my choices to either of my ‘parents’. They have their stuff to deal with and I have my own and just leave me alone and stop asking me the same questions over and over. She’s so helpless, or rather, that’s how she comes across to me. Because I know why, others just see a bit of a cookie woman. A bit off. Like me. I have no idea what she must have been through, how it must have been like to live her life. I’ve had a lot of crap on my plate, but what happened to her… I’m apprehensive about writing it down here. I haven’t got much time left for this bit and it’s a hell of a thing. I’m just saying I can cut her some slack, I can hold off on the rage and remind myself what she’s been through, whenever I feel like screaming at her or telling her off. I breathe, slowly, calm myself down and try again, carefully. Maybe there is still anger though, because she did put us in harm’s way, having a psycho live with us. We had to run several times, the house was always covered in a thick blanket of aggressive energy, an air of expectancy but in the worst of ways, explosive anger and rage, him screaming in my face and she let him. She let him because he fixed the house and took us places with his cars. She was a single mother and we were poor. He gave her some security. He gave us hell. That screwed us up good. She put us in harm’s way. She still has coffee with him, still listens to his wise man’s crap. How can she be so blind? How can she not see? Because he is a man. My mother has been fooled by men her whole life, been dependent on them. Now she is alone which is probably best for her. I’m trying not to be angry with her and we get along, but the guilt inducing behaviour sends me into a flying rage. Sometimes I tell her off, but in a decisive voice, without resentment. Is there resentment? Is there something that needs to be cleaned out? She could have had us killed. When he left us in the mountains she should have accepted a ride from that kind Frenchman. She knew he was coming back for us. She should have agreed with him and told him he was an asshole, so he would have driven his car through that wall in front of the ravine. But you do know it was a show right? He wasn’t going to do that even if she would have, you know that right? He was playing her like a violin. I was small. I wished him dead. I wished she would say “Yes! You’re an asshole!” and that he would get in the car again and drive himself into oblivion. She had a choice. Or so I thought in that particular moment. And any time he left us, I was glad and wished he would never come back and she ‘consoled’ us by saying he would come back. What the hell? I didn’t want him to come back, why did she think that was a comforting thing to say?? She was comforting herself. And then I was comforting her too, just a little girl, putting my arm around her because she was crying. Like how I went looking for food when he left us in the heat of the mountains. That’s when I started to feel responsible. She was just sitting there, staring into nothingness and it was hot and we didn’t know how long we were going to be there (because she didn’t want that ride from that Frenchman) and when I found a walnut I was so proud to have found food even though it was just a nut. And yes, I feel anger, a hot anger in my belly. How the fuck can you leave your kids to suffer like that? My little tiny sister almost got raped on another occasion when we ran away from the house and my mother thought it was a good idea to ask the guys from the snack bar for help. No, people, having a little girl rest, get some sleep, is not the same as getting in bed with her and showing her what sperm looks like. She was only four, five, six, whatever. But she still remembers. And I remember. And mother dearest still has coffee with that peace of shit mean-stupid son of a bitch. She should have killed him and protected us. And she’s not accountable because she’s so fucked up. And I was so sensitive as a baby in her womb, and as a little girl (“you were always crying,” oh really? How odd!) that I inherited her behaviour and thought all I had to offer was sex. I didn’t know how to connect with women and girls, because sex didn’t matter to them, coming from me. I didn’t even know what I was doing, but was always looking guys in the eyes, checking to see what effect I had on them. Not knowing why I did it and how other girls got away with not doing it. How else can you get attention from boys and men? How else can you be friends? So fucking screwed up. I didn’t know what sex was, yet let guys rub up against me like horny dogs, finding the warmth enjoyable but feeling dirty at the same time. I didn’t even know what sex was and what was happening. I did know it was the only way for me to get noticed. I didn’t know there was an option where I could say no when they started touching and groping and shoving their tongues down my throat. I hadn’t learned “no”. I’d seen my mother take it all. She took all the crap that asshole had to give. And passed it onto us. So I’ve taken a lot of crap as well. I gave when asked/told, assuming there was nothing else I could give them. Ask for something in return? Are you kidding? I never saw my mother ask for anything.
She just obeyed. Cried, played the guitar. Played guilt trips on us. Still does.

I feel sick to my stomach. I think I’m going to leave it at that, for now, and continue later.

Go father figure

Feel nauseous. And had seven Kitkat mini’s. In that order. The headaches aren’t easing up. Feet are cold. Don’t feel so good. Strange, empty, sad. Walked outside in the dark again, two people were spooked because they didn’t see me coming. Funny, to be the one scaring someone for a change.
Don’t know what to write about. Well, actually I do know, but I don’t feel like writing. Which, naturally, is a sign that I should. I did decide during my walk that I could be even more honest than I have been, but it’s gonna get pretty scary.
I have to make sure I’m as anonymous as possible here. Not that anyone of my family is looking me up on the internet, but you know, just in case. Not that I feel I should apologize for anything I’m writing here; it’s a process and it has to be done and if someone doesn’t like it, they can (try to) kiss my ass.

Guess it’s my father’s turn. I don’t know how I’m going to manage all these heavy issues without a break in between, but here goes nothing. How much easier things would have been if my father would have been a straightforward asshole, a flat-out son of a bitch. Understanding someone makes it harder, cos the whole empathy thing comes into play and simply shutting someone out or cutting them out of your life to me feels nearly impossible if they’re not a hundred percent evil or mean-stupid. Mean-stupid like my mother’s ex; he’s a real son of a bitch and will never change and I’m grateful for that. Neither is he family and all that makes things a hell of a lot easier. Good riddens to bad rubbish. But my father is not an evil man, unfortunately. He’s damaged and a bit of a dumbass when it comes to tact, subtlety and his own children – he’s okay with other people’s kids apparently – and at times I’ve wished I wouldn’t understand him, to make it easier on myself. But how can I not? This is how families perpetuate the abuse, the emotional abandonment and all that shit. His mother died when he was ten, after which his father sent him away to boarding school, good riddens to kids’ hassle I guess. To make things worse, I’m a dead ringer for his mom, no pun intended. I have a photograph of her and it’s like looking at a picture of myself. I don’t know if that’s something that bothers him, but I’d get it if it did. He complains about his father and has the same issues with him as I have with him and he doesn’t see it. And he’s such an intelligent man, or should I say, he has a high I.Q. Because that’s something else; intelligence is something else, and as I see it also has to do with emotional maturity. Which you won’t find in my family. Not yet, anyway. He’s stunted in his emotional growth, don’t know whether I’m saying it correctly, but you get the point. Maybe the most painful thing for me is that we are so much alike. People would see us on different sides of a room full of people and know that we are related, I’m the spitting image of my father without the beard and with a little more hair on my head praise the lord. I probably inherited the sarcasm as well, his sense of humour and the mean jokes, the stabbing remarks I wrote about earlier. That’s how I know they are well-intentioned. And after the rape he was genuinely upset, I’d never heard him talk like that before (we talked on the phone). I’m not going to sum up the horrible things he did, it’s mostly the small stuff anyway, strangely enough. Him always pointing out what I do wrong, or what I don’t have and other people/women do. I think he was the main cause for my suffocating perfectionism. I’m not just a sore loser, I can’t play games. At all. I have to win every goddamn thing I participate in. So I don’t participate anymore, I don’t make drawings anymore, my creativity has effectively dried up. Cos if it isn’t perfect it isn’t good enough. I don’t want to see him for a while. I know he has a heart, cos sometimes I feel the awkwardness when we hug when saying goodbye. He does mean well, I’m (pretty) sure of it. I think he’s protecting himself this way. No attachments. Keep the disappointment alive, that’s safer. I’m just guessing here. I think it’s very hard for him to keep an open mind, even harder to just love me because I am his daughter. He has strings, so many that it’s impossible to be loved by him. He shuts himself off from me. Maybe I will never know exactly why, but I think the main theme is he needs to feel safe, as we all do. Loving isn’t safe. His mother died and now he’s afraid to say “I love you” to people because he’s still afraid they might die after. Kids’ logic. My mother’s enlightened friend told her that. When she told me, I cried for him and how horrible he must have felt when he was just a little boy. Emotionally stunted as he is, I do get it, I mean, how would he have ever learned how to express his feelings, and who would have taught him? He does to me what his father did to him. And that’s why I have no kids. That’s why I had an abortion. I was so scared I would raise a child to be as damaged as my mother or my father, or me, that the most loving thing to do was have an abortion. We both don’t know how to be in each-other’s company. He goes into that mode where he asks me painful questions or starts grilling me why I don’t do this or that, or compares me to other people’s children or to my sister, pointing out everything I do wrong, smiling and seemingly friendly with that sharp edge to it, and I fall back into the role of rejected little girl, hurting more with every word he says. He’s a dumbass when it comes to feelings. He can be thoughtlessly mean in his remarks ("pretend to be smart for a change!!"). He’s an idiot. But he isn’t mean. Just ignorant. An honest to god Human Child.
Should I go on? I don’t know if this is doing anything constructive. It is. Why? I still don’t want to see him any time soon. You might regret understanding him, but understanding him and everybody else for that matter is what’s going to save you from bitterness. Bitterness is a very effective attachment, like guilt. Ah, guilt, that’s my mother’s territory, and for another time. Is this okay? Is this enough what I’ve been writing here tonight? About him? You’re hurt, say it. It hurts me that he wanted to run away to Ibiza when my mother told him she was pregnant with me. It hurts me that he says bad things about me behind my back, what kind of childish behaviour is that? He’s the parent, or so he should be. He is no parent to me. But I am here because of him. It hurts that we’re so much alike. And I thought he was into spiritual things, but he’s into the spiritual detour things, unfortunately. Such a shame, because he does have the intelligence to see things, change things if he wanted to. Oh well. Life knows what it’s doing, right? No point in wishing things were different. This is my ‘reality’. So what else? It hurts that I could have had another sister or maybe a little brother. According to my sister, who’s very expert at snooping around, my father’s girlfriend got pregnant and he gave her a choice: him or the baby. So she chose to have the abortion and now they’ve been happy together since forever. Kind of shows how much he liked having kids. The rejection hurts the most. His rejecting me, people thinking he only has one daughter. I don’t exist. He erased me from his life. I need to erase his negative influence on me. I need to be free. I need to be free and not his daughter, not so much. I am me first. Then we’re related.
My real father in this life is the universe, Life is the one who took care of me when I felt so hurt I couldn’t deal with it anymore. Life was there for me, with it’s signs, patterns, encouragements and the stars. I could look at the stars and feel less alone. Life has been my parent and my father figure. And I’m becoming my own mother.
What else? He means well. My father is a very screwed up man who met a very screwed up woman and they had two very screwed up kids together. Two little girls. End of story.
I don’t know what else to say. I think I will leave it at that for the moment. No doubt there will be more at some later date.

Sis

I can be reading and thinking: “I don’t know what to write about this time, maybe I should leave it for tonight or another time, there are so many changes going on already, I should take my time and not be in such a hurry. Why hurry so much?” And then a thought starts nagging, and I think: “Not that, I don’t want to write about that, it’s too tricky,” and then of course I know that’s the one thing I should be writing about and I see how I am trying to keep myself dozing, keep myself narcotized, by convincing myself I am changing, which I am, but using that as an excuse to slow down instead of speeding up. It’s dangerous to slow down at this point, why else would Life show me the next nagging thought, the next subject to be scrutinized?
And so, on with the next bit.

My sister. Oh I felt such resistance even considering to write about this subject. Feeling, or rather thinking, I’m betraying her by writing about her, even by considering writing about her, as if she is a sacred institution all of her own. And, of course, that’s what was bugging me. She is a sacred institution in our family, or so she made it to be, so she made everybody treat her. She’s the one with the kids, she’s the one who had the cancer and immediately decided the whole family should rally around and go on a holiday together, for what she thought would be the last time. I shuddered at the thought as I still do, but I am still so very thankful I didn’t go, considering how it went when I did go this year. To be shacked up with a bunch of dysfunctional people, and I’m definitely including myself here, when knowing I would be the butt of jokes and putdowns, when I was very aware of the fact that I need to be alone most of the time and can’t stand to be surrounded by people for more than three days, was enough to do something I wouldn’t have considered otherwise: I decided against going. Even though it was presented as this dramatic thing; The Last Holiday Everyone Would be Together. Which is fine with me, because I don’t see the point in that anyway, but I get where she’s coming from. She’s always been the homemaker, she was born to have a family of her own, also to some degree to get what she didn’t get from our growing up; love, intimacy, lots of hugging and touching, stuff like that. I get it. I’m also trying to get that, but I’m trying to get it from myself first (and yesterday was a major breakthrough in that), so I won’t continue the cycle of abuse in any children I might have. Or not. Anyway, there was a lot of pressure to come on the holiday and I still didn’t. And the cancer turned out to be less of a grim reaper than it was perceived at first. Great of course, but it did turn me into the black sheep of the family, more than ever. The holy queen with her children and the selfish, unemployed failure of the first born. She wants everything, she takes everything, she demands everything. As if she has the right to everything. As if it’s the natural course of things, she should get everything there is to get from our parents, from me, from her husband and even from her kids. She’s hoarding, buying stuff she doesn’t need and can’t afford, she eats even more than I do and gets bigger and fatter still, saying she would cut off her foot to look like Angelina Jolie, but will not eat less or exercise more. That pisses me off, doesn’t it. Yes. It sure as hell pisses me off. It makes me want to spit. Makes me want to tear through walls, demolish, break things, destroy everything in my way. How she declared my best and largest drawing to be hers and has kept it in a broken frame ever since, having it collect dust in a dark place. She wouldn’t even notice if it was gone, she has so much stuff in her house, so much rubbish, so much crap, you can’t help but stumble through the hallway, it’s like an obstacle course, things bought only for the sake of being bought. Shiny things, expensive things, jewellery, debts piling up because she can’t control herself and erupting in a poisonous explosion of tongue wielding rage if one should be so disrespectful as to carefully mention it to her. I tried to explain to her why I needed time alone, on the disaster that was called holiday, and she told me to fucking choke on it. I had made it clear before we went, because I had to make sure everyone would get it and let me go be alone when I needed it. Alas. Here she was, forcing herself on me, wanting to cut into my time so we could spend more time together without the rest of them. Which in itself would have been fun, it really would, there is no one with whom I can laugh like a retarded teenager on drugs except her. But that's when feeling good, or okay, and I was going mad. And I mean that quite literally. I didn’t get to be alone as much as I needed, which caused me to be increasingly tense, self-conscious, insecure, and rendered me helpless, I felt it reducing me to a state of raging fear, I lost myself entirely, the progress I had made was undone in a matter of days and I watched myself slip into the role of the scared, picked on teenager in school, entertaining suicidal thoughts, along with nice, comforting fantasies of how I would murder my father and tell off my sister. None of which happened of course. I was rendered incompetent, inert, unable to act, think, be. All that was left of me was a dark, deep hole of blackest fears and the outward appearance of a deadly insecure girl, trying to be who others wanted her to be. And totally unsuccessful doing that. "Choke on it"; it hit me like a hammer.
All the while sis was getting away with doing absolutely nothing, as always, and I got told (by my father) my whole life was a vacation so I should have helped out more. Which I had, only it went unnoticed. As usual. Queen sis ruled supreme, taking, taking, taking, feeding her kids crap, teaching them to disrespect their father, who in turn screams and acts like an abusive parent. So am I angry? Yes I am fucking angry. She helped perpetuate the notion of the black sheep, took what she wanted and what she considered to be rightfully hers, only to leave nothing for me. Because I was taught I didn’t deserve anything. I took the biggest hits, I tried to protect her, and as a result (or so I like to think) she at least has the ability to be herself, however unpleasant that self may be at times. At least she expresses her opinions to our father. Not to our mother though, now I’m the one who gets along with her fine, since I dropped all expectations. I stood between my sister and the boogieman that was my mother’s boyfriend. And she still takes, goes on taking, because she has a black hole of her own. We handle things differently, that’s for sure. What’s pissing me off so much? She has a sense of entitlement that I lack. She has taken things that should have been mine. Like what for example? Approval. Our father said good things about her to me. But he doesn’t the other way around, I know he doesn’t. He even says bad things about me to our mother, on the rare occasions he’s in the country. Usually he ‘doesn’t have time’ to visit me, but visits my mother and my sister and his friends. That’s another thing I should start accepting, since it’s nothing I can consciously change, and I don’t even want to make that effort, since in effect it is his problem, not mine. But it does sting the way he approves of my sister. Look at her, she’s the good one. To make an even bigger point of how I am a failure, I’m the bad one, I’m his disappointment. On holiday I came along to do some grocery shopping, and several times it happened that someone approached him saying they didn’t know he had another daughter. People thought he had only one daughter. That would be my sister. Her holiness who can’t do a thing wrong even when she’s doing everything wrong (in my opinion (not really, but with my eyes closed; yeah)). It’s her life and she can make all the mistakes she wants, but with her that’s actually true; she gets to do everything she wants, build up debts, loan money from our father (when I did that I got chewed out and judged and rejected, even though her family’s money problems have a lot to do with her relentless spending pattern) and tell me I should be at certain occasions. Since I’m the one with no life I should come and go as she pleases. I have all the time in the world, I should go and live in the city she lives in so I can be more available to her and the kids. Yeah, cos when I move I don’t leave anything behind anyway. It’s all about her. That’s it, isn’t it? You’re not as important to your family as she is. I guess. But I don’t want the resignation thing to happen, because that still keeps me successfully enslaved. I want to not care, I want it to be irrelevant. I even want her to be irrelevant, even though I love her and have always wanted to protect her, she’s my little sister. She makes a mess of things, but I love her. That’s why this is an issue. The letting go thing includes my sister making a painful mess of her life. That’s only my horribly limited little opinion of course. She is also part of the plan, as is everybody else and is trying, struggling hard to overcome our shared childhood. She’s groping in her own way, wanting so hard to be happy, locked up in fears for the future and a bitter judgement of herself and the people closest to her. I’m not really jealous of her. I tend to think I am but I wouldn’t trade lives with her for all the parental love and acceptance in the world. Maybe I should leave it at this for now. Should I? Yes, you can pick up where you left off later. Why is the computer giving me shit? Is there a good reason for that? Leave it for now, mull it over. Try to relax. Mm. Okay.

Interference from the computer, interference from the radio playing crap classical music, the experimental, ‘interesting’ stuff, which merely encourages headaches. I guess I'm being nudged in another direction. Food maybe, or a walk. So, that’s it for now. For now.

The Mosaic

That was a big thing this afternoon. I feel it working inside me.
This is not something that’s fixed in one day, or maybe it is, but it is going to take time to process the changes. It’s huge though, I can feel it, felt it all through the day. A gentle hurt in my chest.
And now I just ate six mini KitKats and once again postponed going to training even though I planned on it. But I did feel a lot less indignation when I sent my Ex a sensitive text and got a superficial response. I’d sent the text with only the slightest amount of strings, nearly none, so progress is being made.

I don’t know what to write about right now, but as I often do with columns, I’ll just write until I happen on something, like automatic writing, or big fat coincidence, I don’t care. Aha. Coincidence. That falls under the same heading as serendipity. Serendipity, coincidence, destiny, fate, signs, the illusion of free will combined with Life’s master plan.
Even though I’m not pissed off anymore by the discovery that there is no such thing as free will, I’m still a bit apprehensive about it at times. And writing here I found out I don’t have complete trust in Life’s plan yet. Not yet. A lot of things have happened in my life, to do with signs and patterns and extreme ’coincidences’ I just couldn’t write off as coincidences. A part of me suspects the grand scheme of things, a part of me has experienced it first hand, how things have a tendency to come together in the smoothest of ways, such as no human could have orchestrated. I’ve seen it, I’ve experienced it, yet I don’t believe in it a hundred percent.
Mm. I can be more specific than that. In sleepy times I don’t believe in it much, but I don’t give much thought to anything beyond TV and KitKats when Dozy rules the day. It’s mostly in times of great upheaval and major changes that I can see it working all around me, for me, making everything fall into place like a beautifully choreographed dance. That’s when it’s most clear.
So maybe that’s why I’m having difficulty seeing it at this point. I’ve been in the same place for five years now. I mean the house, the town, the circumstances. I don’t mean myself because things certainly have changed. These past five years have been about old fears rising up to the surface, dissipating by my feeling them and dealing with them. There’s a reason I am living in a dead end street, that did not go unnoticed by me.
I’d like to trust more. Trust and let go. I saw a plan when it mattered, when I needed most to see it, so I’d have the courage to go with the flow of things. Now it eludes me. That doesn’t mean it’s not there though, it just means I don’t see it working behind the scenes. Why? I’m still acting out of fear. Distrust. Why do I distrust Life? Because it hit me hard, when I expected it the least. I didn’t see it coming and therefore was shocked and disappointed, and felt betrayed. I felt betrayed. After having been betrayed by family and strangers I retreated fast, back into myself. No room for trust, too much hurt taking up space.
So maybe when this claws & jaws project runs it’s course, there will be less pain, hurt, fear and disappointment with life. Maybe that will create a space where trust can flow, I do suspect it’s my natural state of being. Trusting, leaving life to Life. ‘Releasing the tiller’.
I want to. What's holding you back right now? Scared. Of what? Putting my ass on the line and then having it blow up in my face. Because of what other people might think? Yes. Look at her, she put all her eggs in one basket, and now she has nothing to show for. What a failure. What a pathetic, gullible little girl. She has nothing, she is nothing. Why do you care so much about what others might think, when you feel in your heart this is the road for you? I still fear I might be betrayed and people will make fun of me. That it was all an elaborate joke at my expense. That's your fear talking. Look into your heart, let it speak up, what does it say? What does your heart say, M?
Let go, everything's okay, everything is more than okay, it's perfect and nothing should be changed. The world is a brilliant place and each and every person is a brilliant, radiant piece of the puzzle. There is harmony beneath the surface of this exquisite Mosaic. Nothing I do could alter or lessen the perfect design, everything I do is in accordance to the plan, I just don't see it yet, I don't have the eyes to see, but I see with my heart. Why else would I have dedicated my life to this process? Can you trust? Really, can you get yourself to trust? It is vital that you do in this particular part of the process. Dare you put your life in the hands of Life? Trust in a higher force, trust in the intricate design you've seen work it's magic many, many times? You're a lucky girl, you know, not everybody gets to see the things you've seen.
Yes, that's true. That's certainly true. I use the encounters I had to remind myself of that; like the chain smoking angel telling me I was almost Home. Yes. But now let your heart tell you, let your intuition tell you, let your trust override the fear. The fear is holding you back at this point. Grant yourself the huge benefits of trusting Life to take care of your affairs, let Life worry about the details, everything is already set in place, save yourself the energy. Use the energy for this process and let Life worry about the rest. Take your rightful place.
Okay. Okay, I will. Yes, I will, it's happening as we speak. Thank you. I am lucky, I am. I probably don't even realize how very lucky I am. I will some day.

"It's human nature to want to know what's on the other side."
Spoken by a character in "Defying gravity". Hahaha! Delightful.

Claws & Jaws 'R' Us

The jaws of life, and then the opposite. A Super Duper Death Clench. That’s what I wake up with every morning. I hardly even notice it anymore because it has been like this for most of my life, as far as I can remember anyway. I don’t grit my teeth, I just keep my jaws clenched as if holding onto dear life. Literally, like a pit-bull. So, what’s up with that?
I’ve been reading a bit first, in Spiritual Warfare, and listening to the radio, and preparing myself mentally for writing this bit, on this particular subject. There was stuff going on in my body, so there is definitely something to write about.

Why are my jaws so painfully clenched together every morning? It still hurts and I’ve been awake for three hours when writing this. Why am I clamping my jaws shut in my sleep? Am I keeping something out or keeping something inside? Keeping something inside. What? Rage. Unadulterated rage. Foaming at the mouth rage. What would happen if you would not clench your jaws in your sleep? What would happen in your sleep? In my sleep? I don’t know. It’s something that happens subconsciously, I don’t know why it should happen when I’m not even ‘there’. I can’t very well scream in my sleep, can I. Is that what you want to do? Scream? I guess so. Describe what would happen if you let go of the clamping thing, let out and let in. I’d let out. I’d scream. I’d scream. Scream. Scream. And scream and there would be no end to the screaming, I wouldn’t be able to stop, I’d go on screaming till I lost my mind and went insane. Where does the screaming come from? It doesn’t originate in your jaws, so where would it come from if you screamed like that? From my belly. Ah. What’s down there? Incredible hurt. Indescribable pain. Life’s agony. Total despair. Darkness. Maddening despair and darkness and insanity lurking around the corner. Can you take a look? It’s an abyss. It’s deep and dark and scares me shitless. There’s no life there, nothing can survive there, there are claws reaching up, trying to grab me. What would those claws do if they got hold of you? Tear me apart. They’d grab hold of my legs and tear me in two. Rip me open, rip me in half. Can you reach for one of the claws now? Take hold of a claw down there and pull it up out of the darkness. Do you recognize that claw? Does it belong to anybody you know? I think it’s mine… Pull it up, examine it. Oh my god, it’s not a claw. It’s a small hand with grey fingers clawing for sanity, it’s a child’s desperate groping hands. Oh god. Yes. Cry. Okay. Why is the child in that abyss? What is it doing there? It’s been left there. To fend for itself. It’s dark and grey and looks like a cave. She’s alone with the rocky walls and ceiling, her body is grey too, dusty and thin. So is she trying to claw her way out of there? Maybe, yes. Maybe. Why maybe? Well it might also be safer in there. It’s a very confined place, like a womb, nothing can reach her. But she’s still trying to claw her way out of there, and you are also leaving her to fend for herself. I… Yes. Yes I am. Pull her out of there, she’s a child. She needs nurturing. She’s wild, I can see it in her eyes. Well how would you feel if you’d been trapped down there for over three decades? Ok, yeah. Yeah. Grab hold of her and don’t let her go. Look her in the eyes and tell her everything will be alright, it’s going to be alright. Yes. Hold her. Let her kick her legs, she’s scared, just keep holding her and telling her everything will be okay from now on, she is safe with you, safe in your arms, and she can relax now. Just hold her, make her feel safe. Okay, okay, doing that. Reach out with warmth. Open up, else there is nowhere for her to go, open up a space for her in your arms, your chest. Hold her, care for her. Poor kid, she was all grey! Groping for humanity.
Hey. You’re me. Hi. She’s so thin. Like a wild animal. But she’s changing. Growing older. She’s changing into me, my mirror image. Not completely but I can see it. Give it time, give her time to adjust. Stay open to her. Welcome her. Welcome home.
I’m sorry. I’m so sorry for leaving you down there. I thought you were a monster. You were just a little girl. You were me. I’m so, so sorry. It’s okay now. We’re together. I’ll hold you, I’ll hold you. Shhh.. I love you. I’m going to keep you close. It’s okay now. I will let no one hurt you anymore. You’re safe. You are safe now. I am here.

Weight issues

Ever since I started, seriously started, some days ago, I have these headaches. I’m assuming for now they come with the territory, since I’m changing things around, cutting stuff away. Slice and dice. When I’m writing and coming close to something, my chest starts to hurt and a pain develops in my belly. That way I know I’m moving in the right direction, although my body tells me how much nicer it would be at that point to just eat something or start falling asleep, and fast. Dozy wants to run. Observer knows we’re digging in the right place. It’s exhausting though, despite the pleasure I derive from it. It makes me tired. It is surprisingly simple, this truth business once you get the hang of it. The physical signs help lead the way, and it’s mostly about overcoming shame and fear and a willingness to give up the stuff that’s being sliced and diced. Aw, my head is killing me.

Well, on with the quest. What’s next?
I’ve been impatient again, expecting the stuff to be gone, once it was detected and illuminated and written down. I thought stuff would lose it’s power over me once I had dissected it, but maybe it’s phantom pain, or I just have to keep slicing and dicing at the same offal until it has dissolved.
So, several things came to my attention today. The urgency bit and the Ex bit. Ex texted and I texted back, not as know-it-all-ish as other times, so that was progress, but I still jumped at the opportunity to maybe help him, or lead him or what? Guide him? God, that’s arrogant. There is a genuine concern that he will drink himself to death or end up in the streets in a not so distant future. But what I keep telling him I seem to forget myself; it’s his life and he can do with it what he wants. He’s a clever man, he doesn’t need me to tell him that numbing yourself 24/7 is not going to make the problems disappear. Why am I so sure he will not ‘progress in the right direction’ without my ‘help and guidance’? And what exactly is the right direction? Maybe he has chosen this long ago, like I chose my direction long ago. Maybe I shouldn’t be messing with him. Maybe I’m making things worse for him. I am arrogant. My god. Without me he will become homeless and with me he won’t hit rock bottom soon enough to be able to get up again. Wow, amazing how I can keep all my puppets dancing! Without me the world would surely fall apart. What is this? Really? I do care about him. Okay, that’s clear. I’m in love with his spiritual side and I’m the only one who can see it. Says who? He does have friends you know. I don’t want to lose him and if he decides to keep drinking to keep his demons at bay our contact will be over, or it will tear my heart out. When he hurts I hurt. He’s beautiful, I can see it. Okay, there is clearly something going on cos you don’t have this with any other alcoholics crossing paths with you. No, I don’t like alcoholics very much. Maybe that’s what you have to work through in your contact with him, because you say it very delicately but you can’t stand alcoholics, can you? You’ve hated their guts. Yes. They are the most selfish people I’ve ever come across. But I understand better now that I know him. I’ve learned. I used to hate them, despise them, the fucking cowards, making everybody around them miserable and feeling superior at the same time, ordering people around, while destroying themselves no matter who they hurt. Because of him I don’t hate them anymore. In a way he has been my teacher.
My behaviour in our relationship has told me a lot about myself, our texting contact is a constant mirror for me, very useful. And I should learn when not to expect anything from someone. In fact, I should learn not to have any expectations from anybody. Not in a defeatist kind of way, but to have an open mind and attitude. Not close myself off with expectations and preconceived notions about someone. I can see how destructive that can be when I look at my father. How he condemned me and from then on only saw the worst, he wouldn’t let himself see the good things about me. There are good things about me. I don’t have any expectations when it comes to my mother and we get along fine now. I’ve accepted that she’s not the mothering type and I understand her, I just can’t hold anything against her, even though she won’t win a beauty prize for raising us. We have fun together now, I see her as an acquaintance from the cuckoo’s nest and it works, I even stayed with her for a week a couple of times this year. No expectations; it leaves an empty space in which things can arise. It feels clean and open.
Each and every relationship I’ve had served as a mirror and made me observe my (generally hysterical) behaviour. Not hysterical in the way that it was funny, although now I can see how it could have the potential to be funny. They brought out the worst in me, the absolute worst. This texting contact is a precious tool for me to work with. He pushes my buttons unknowingly and sometimes intentionally because he can’t help himself, like I used to do myself, and sometimes still. Everybody who knows how to push my buttons is valuable to my process. I want him near. Not just for the process. No. I don’t want him to… to ‘fall’. He’s a part of me. Literally? Yeah, that’s how it feels. I feel this connection that I’ve only felt once before. It might be temporary, I don’t know. I have to reach out to him. He’s important. Why? He’s important. Okay, but why do you have to be such a smart-ass in your texts? You look down on him, don’t you? Well, yeah, maybe a little. Why? Because he lies and he runs. He numbs himself even though he knows it won’t get him anywhere. So even though you understand him, and alcoholics in general, you think it’s a stupid thing to do, the easy way out, except it’s not a way out. Okay, I still feel contempt for alcoholics. It’s a waste of time to numb your brain so you can’t think anymore. Only leaves more work to do when you’ve cleared up again. And they do things… driving under the influence, drinking and using drugs while in the army, I mean, anyone can see that it’s going to go wrong some day, anyone! That’s stupid! Especially if you love doing something, why be so stupid? I see you are very understanding about alcoholism. Hm.
What does this have to do with you? Good question… it makes me look stupid for loving him? How can he not take my advice when it’s so obvious that I know what I’m talking about? It’s like he’s pretending I’m not even there, as if I haven’t said anything, haven’t spent any time and money and energy on him. He’s ungrateful you mean? He should be thanking you, kissing your feet perhaps? Be eternally grateful for sharing your endless wisdom with him? He should send you gifts and thank you notes so you can feel important? Like you matter in this world? Is this one of your hero fantasy stories where you are the knight in shining armour? I feel responsible because I know what I am doing and he doesn’t. He doesn’t have oversight because he’s in deep denial. And he can’t live without your guidance. What’s going on here? We’ve done this bit already, why are you stuck on this one? I don’t want to be unstuck, I don’t want to leave him alone, I don’t want him to be all alone in this world. He isn’t, not even without you. You don’t want to abandon someone who needs you? No. No. I don’t want to. That hurts. He does need me, even if it’s only for company and to know there is someone out there who cares about him and sees the good inside him, someone who won’t abandon him because he has done something wrong. Like you were abandoned? Yes. Yes. And I didn’t even do that much wrong. I was just being me. That was enough to leave me, to reject me, to make me wait for other people to leave me as well, wait till I’ve done something wrong unknowingly and everybody abandones me, like rats leaving a sinking ship. So in a way you’re preventing this from happening by not doing it to him? Could be. Like magic? Like a neat magic trick? I don’t know, I don’t care, it shouldn’t happen. You want his loyalty in return? Yes. He will always want contact with me, I know he will. Except if he continues to drink and use drugs, then no real contact is possible and that scares me. This makes me feel safe. We’re both screwed up, but we both want to keep in touch and when he drinks himself to hell we will lose it. I will lose it. I need our contact, it’s something I can hold onto, the world is slipping away from me. It’s not getting any clearer, what should I do? Observer? I’m stuck. What should I do now? Let it rest. So now what?
Do you love yourself? What?! I care about myself, I think. I guess. Can you love yourself no matter what happens to your Ex? Oh. ... Yes. I think I can. It’s out of my hands, isn’t it?
Yes, dear. As you told him; he’s the one who has to do the work, no one can do that for him, not even you. You carrying the world on your back. Give it a rest already! Would certainly lessen the pain in your back, neck and shoulders, you know. Leave it to Life. Do what you can, and then it’s out of your hands. Try to accept that. Love him the best you can without expectations and do the same for yourself so you won’t be waiting for him to return any favours. Do what you can do without strings, don’t do anything more cos he won’t be helped by it. And neither will you. It’s all done anyway. Everything is okay the way it is, that’s something you still have to get used to, to the idea everything is exactly the way it’s supposed to be. So you can let go of all those feelings and heavy weights of responsibility for other people. I know you’re thinking of your sister as well, and of comforting your mother after the fight with her ex. Taking on the weight of the world, a sad cliche. Give up, give that up. It’s not yours to keep. Life’s in charge. I can’t give up, I can’t. You care, that’s a good thing. Now let Life take care of things. I’m scared. It’s okay, it’s all good. Let go, let it go, sweetheart. Give all that weight away. You can’t carry other people’s burdens. They chose, you chose. Join together in life but let them walk. Trust the complexities. Let go and trust.
I love, I do! It’s love! Not just arrogance... I will trust, I will let go and trust. Not at once, but little by little, I’m doing the best I can here, you know.
Yes, we can all see that and you’re doing a fine job. You can’t see the support but it’s here, we’re cheering you on with every step and in between.
Okay. It’s okay, I’m crying so it must be done for tonight.
Yes. Go to bed!

My god, it’s like being in labour. Not that I know what that feels like, but anyway. Pff. Hope the next one is easier. Bigger buttons and everything. So I can use a sword instead of tweezers.