Lloyd Christmas, I gave you my heart.

- Yesterday I built a natural boundary made of branches and twigs with some grass and moss thrown on. A barrier to stop that pesky stalker-neighbor from visiting my garden at night. Found signs this morning that he's angry about it. Boohoo. Fear surfaces and anger flares up, because what a prick, man, grow up.
Anyway, I liked building it. May have scared friendly neighbor with my wild appearance, hair in all directions, bare arms covered in mud and scratches.
At night I watched Dumb & Dumber.

- Computer seems to be working again, I can still go for walks (knock on wood) and there's one butterfly (that I know of) that's still sleeping soundly (knock on wood again). And if they all die, they all die. It's out of my hands.

- Bad headache still going strong, as well as hypochondria.
Nevertheless, preparing for the trip to my mother's. Bit nervous about her picking me up at the station and surviving her driving.

- House next door is showing signs of being sold soon. We'll see.
Told friendly neighbor about the nice girl and her mother who rang my doorbell because there was no response next door on the open house day.
Several people came and went because no-one answered the door. Rude. I told her to come back later in the day, if there was no answer still, I would show her my house, which is basically the same. So she did and I did and they seemed to like what they saw. Fingers crossed.

Feelings, fears, emotions, everything is as entwined as that natural barrier, I don't know what's what anymore. Just reminding myself it's all part of the process.
Elton John's "Rocket Man" is playing now. I understand.
I get emotional because of its connection to Portugal, 2007. The song was covered by a Portuguese singer whose (other) song I heard on the radio a lot that holiday. Later I bought his cd, to desensitize myself, or maybe repress.
Maybe I haven't been courageously remembering and reliving things to get over them, but as another way to numb myself. God I hope not.
If that's what I unwittingly have been doing, there is a vast ocean of 'unfelt feelings' to be dealt with.
Or maybe not. Get out of the sewer. Get out of the sewer, M., then you won't have to battle every shadow that comes your way.

I can do this. I can. There's no shame in being defenseless.
I am ready. The state of the world is not my responsibility and shutting down won't help things. Okay.
A phrase that pops into my head every once in a while is something out of a book by Richard Bach: "Magic is so much stronger than armor."

Stop ridiculing yourself for having a soft side. Clown around as much as you want, but remove the sting. (But what about The Police?) 'sigh'

Okay. Confused, scared and a bit messed up, but it is what it is. Yes.

Touchy-feely stuff

Wednesday 21 december

Feeling nothing-theme. Reason for the dream was not just the "I feel nothing" response to our stepmother's phone call. My sister texted me that it turned out to be hemorrhoids, nothing serious, and suggested that this was the reason we both felt nothing - there was nothing there.
While texting back I realized that my stepmother was the native woman in my dream.
A day later I remembered one of the moments during our horror holiday of 2009 in Venice.
I tried to make conversation (which usually meant awkward words coming out by themselves) by telling her about the necklace I had bought for my sister's birthday. I had let her choose it. It was beautiful (sis likes gems and bling) and had cost me most of the money reserved for the holiday.
Stepmom stiffened up and responded: "Well, I don't feel sorry for you." The biting resentment in her voice and the cold way she said it cut into me like a knife.
I remembered this moment and connected it to the dream. Now it completely made sense to me. She had felt pity once and I had taken advantage of it, brutally killing her by nearly cutting off her head.
Of course she wouldn't fall for that again!
- Interesting fact is that she was wearing beads in the dream; a black and orange upper-arm-band among other things. In this life she has worked with beads as well, using them in designs for necklaces and such. -
So I discovered the source of my father's grudge against me and that of my stepmother's. Now my mother's is left and that of her old boyfriend, although I have a sense of what that last one might be about.

In the meantime I'm completely overreacting to computer problems again, trying to figure out where that comes from. Too much of a physical reaction to be mere frustration. I was in a near-panic while grocery shopping, had to do things slowly and carefully.
Today I am not allowed to touch the laptop, not when so much tension flares up in my body that it's causing pain.
(Something there about being left behind because I can't keep up, nicely tying in with the quote "Let things come to you". I try.)

Several things going on.
Why do I feel so overly responsible for other people's (animals'/plants') pain and suffering? (I was a ruler once.)
How do I get rid of all this armor around my chest?
How do I open up to life when it's been this painful?
-
Just returned from a walk. I have been able to go for walks this week - 3 short, 2 medium walks - which coincided with the realization I am willing to let go of bagage and bitterness, I am ready.
Been demonstrating intent by drinking a herbal tea that cleanses the liver and gallbladder. So lots of tension to walk off.
And sometimes, in the mornings, after waking up for the first time, I dream glimpses of past lives. Yesterday it was the words "The Cat", as a nickname for the catholic church.
I would never have come up with that one myself, having no knowledge about it whatsoever, apart from the abuse stories. But the image was clear: some sort of satirical cartoon depicting a huge, grinning Cheshire cat, hungrily eyeing a couple of scared mice.

Many lives as a warrior. Explains why my self-worth has been so connected to being able to defend myself and fight off attackers. This time around my body wasn't able, crippled by fear, and I've mostly used my mind and survivor's instinct.
Maybe seeing this I can release the grudge against myself for not being able to fend off attacks in this life warrior-style.
There's no shame in being defenseless.


Sunday 25 December

More butterflies than I suspected, where do they all come from?
I already had to let three or four of them go since they came to stay. The one I didn't let go died somewhere last night, so better to let them go and die in freedom than to try and coax them back to sleep (chilly room, lights off).
Premature awakening in hibernating peacock butterflies - it's a problem, because I feel ridiculously responsible and heartbroken. When Niki, the now deceased one, sat on the windowsill for hours, looking outside, it crushed me. Should've let it go and die.
Good thing I don't have kids.
The exact moment I thought the words "prematurely awakening" I saw another one darting past. Didn't let it bump into walls, lamps and windows for long; took it and released it outside. And now I feel like crying. Spending Christmas with dying butterflies.
Maybe they mistook my living-room for a barn because of the plain wooden bookcases.
Guys, please don't, next time.
Maybe they serve to direct my attention to this issue of feeling others' perceived pain and suffering and feeling ultimately responsible.

Lot of past life stuff going on.
Suspicions, remnants, connections, dreams, even a very clear memory of making dolls out of corn-husks, which surfaced when I saw a girl do exactly that in "12 Years a Slave". It was such a clear memory it was hard to tell whether it came from a recent past life or from my childhood in this one. But I don't remember it as something that happened in this life. In other memories I clearly see myself as a little blond girl, in this image I could only see and feel my hands and the rustling dry touch of the leaves. It was a very powerful memory when it surfaced, it has faded now.

Lots of feeling going on. In contrast to that life where I hardly felt anything. Things balancing out perhaps.
Jacques Brel on the radio, oh dear.
Maybe some repressed emotions are surfacing now. God knows I have tried to harden myself and consciously close my heart for most of my life. - I had to! Too sensitive. -
Old fears, old tensions, old emotions are surfacing and hopefully, probably dissipating.
There might be a certain inner resolve or surrender going on, because it doesn't feel like a matter of life and death anymore to keep this heart from opening.

Brutish tricks and candlesticks

Some nights ago I had a dream of being in a museum and donning a light-blue coat which filled me with a sense of power and strength.
I was a man. I stumbled onto a beach, sank away in treacherous quicksand with every step and struggled to get out.
A native woman approached on a horse, throwing spears at me while I struggled to get out of the quicksand of the beach. Fearing for my life - one of the spears might hit me at any time - I stretched out my arms to her and screamed, pleaded for help.
The next thing I know is that she has sportingly pulled me out of my hazardous position and I pulled her towards me in an abrupt fashion. She fell face down on the sand, after which I relieved her of her strange, curved sword, which was oddly thin and therefore remarkably sharp.
I lifted it high and struck at the base of the neck with all my force. When I stepped back I saw that I had not succeeded in severing her head from her spine. Others gathered and studied also the near-decapitation. The only thing I feel is disappointment.
Other than that, I feel nothing.
This is how battles are won. I must admit I am a shrewd man and well versed in the ways of war. No pity or mercy can be allowed to penetrate the shield of a warrior. How else will battles be won and new lands be conquered?
She was a fine warrior but that was her weakness. She pitied me and I did not return the favour, therefore I was the victor. I write history.

The next image is of me walking into a room which is being prepared for a feast, a celebration of some kind. The floor is of a dark-brown wood, shiny and warm, and furniture has been placed near the walls. Perhaps to shine the floor?
A ridiculous amount of copper candlesticks has been placed on tables, cabinets, mantel, everything with a surface. Then I realise that electricity is not of this age and understand, the candelabra must also be filled with candles.
Later I see the outlay of a decorating plan for this room, with apple-green velvet and black lace and even though I am a man I can appreciate the pleasing combination of colours and materials.

The morning after the dream I cried. Feeling too much - feeling nothing.
Consciously closing my heart because I care too much about other people's suffering - doing the unspeakable without remorse.
Feeling nothing.
I cried with the image of the woman before me, face down in the sand after she had reached out to her enemy.
And even in that life as a brute there was a sense of aesthetics.

I searched the web for hours, looking for pictures depicting the kind of weapons I had seen in my dream. It doesn't matter I guess.
I also looked at pictures of candlesticks and the first three I picked out - the ones most resembling those I saw - were all from the 1700's, where I had felt this dream/life took place.

The next day I read something in the foreword of "Strength to Love" that hit home.
"[...] in the struggle for human dignity, the oppressed people of the world must not succumb to the temptation of becoming bitter or indulging in hate campaigns. To retaliate in kind would do nothing but intensify the existence of hate in the universe." - MLK.

The temptation of becoming bitter. It ìs a temptation, and I have succumbed to it long ago. Cynicism, sarcasm, spite, bitterness. Defiance. I suddenly saw it.
We have all been victims, we have all been perpetrators.

I can't reproduce the clarity of insight here, or how the dream was followed up so organically by the right words at the right time, but it happened.I saw the grudges I have held for decades, the bitterness, the smug righteousness.
It needs to be seen, then it can dissolve by itself. No further action required.