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.
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.
posted by M. at 6:54 PM
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