Sunday, March 30, 2008

searching for the mother

Because both my parents are away from home for a while, wich leaves me and my sisters alone in the house - and me going to work in the mornings - I sensed heavy frictions inside me that had not been so clear before. When I come home, back from airport, I immediately sense I am expecting something wich just isn't there. I get frustrated and lost over Maite and Leila being busy doing their own things and not paying any special attention to me. Furthermore today there was no food in the house, wich gave me a sense of lostness - and I felt angry for a moment towards my sisters because they 'don't take care of things'. My mother being away make me realise how much I count on her being present - she give structure and feedback, even if she irritate me more often than not. This was particularly the case, I felt discomfort about there being nothing to rely upon, once I get home. It is just two beings who happen to be in the house together (maite en leila) and now I am there too. The fact that it make no difference for them if I am home or not almost drive me crazy. With my world getting downsized, everything is getting compressed - my relation-patterns and tendencies - into these two beings. Them not playing this along with me, give me no choice but to have a close look at what I am doing.

So, I suspect - yes suspect, because the frustration point in that direction, but still no real memories, except one now I think of it. A year or so ago I remembered for the first time how when I must have been 6 or 7 years old I changed Leila's dipers. Only today I realised in the memorey I am not enjoying this changing of dipers at all - I actually feel repulsed by the amount shit and by its smell, and I feel frustrated it is me who must do this - put a new diper on Leila. Lately I have been trying to go into forgiveness on separation with tenderness, but it never get me really far, because too general. Now, with my mother. Ok, this is from an analytical perspective, speculation, but for the moment its just all I have: Hmmm... much resistance to write the words. Maybe in my experience it is as if I lost my mother when Maite came on stage. It is like I am writing about the stone-age or something right now. Also there is this: apparently I connected my loss of motherly affection and tenderness to me being a boy. There is 4 years difference between me and maite. Today I was like, hmm, that is actually a lot of years difference for a child. This is it for now. Much tears but no clarity.

Saturday, March 29, 2008

surprising plot

After I had been put in Kortenbenrg, a few days later I received a visit from my father. He had come alone for some reason - I dont remember the prcticals of it anymore. We went to sit in the restaurant/cafetaria of the hospital and he then told me "the story of his family and of his father". I feel awkward re-telling the details of it, because it is not up to me to do this here - but the bottom line was him and his family had gotten through a real hell after his father or someone else of the family had committed suicide - because three people of the family (all brothers) had killed themselves. He also told me some tragic events that were actually unrelated to this suicides, but wich took place shortly afterwards - it was a really long story. It was the first time my father spoke to me directly and frankly of his past - the Real Past - the family secret. He concluded his story whit words: "So now you see how the descision of ONE PERSON affect and ruins the lifes of an entire family." This person - was me, in the new situation - in the repeated history, because of my infamous attempt at suicide.

I was really surprised he made this the morale of his story. To him - I was the bad guy. He was basically telling me: you fucking prick, look what you have done to ME. You do it to me all over again - YOU are the enemy I thought would never come back again. I was especially surprised by the conclusion, because I had assumed - while he was busy telling me the story - that he was sharing something intimate with me, because he felt it was time he finally told me this. Clearly this was not a correct assumption.

A while ago my father confirmed this for me again, when he said: since you pulled your thing years ago I have been working my ass of !!!!

I did not want to come back at this, the teling of this event -but through a dream and Maite giving her perspective on it, I was kinda forced - taken by surprise. I post it below, together with her perspective.

dream: "I have killed my father and he lies down on the floor. When i tell my mother she freaks completely, she starts losing her balance litaerally - but then its like she is relieved in some whay and think it is better now (my dream, lol). Most of the time I'm scared in the dream, trying to cover-up and make sure no one find out I'm responsible for murdering my father. I start putting traces out there - like crushed biscuits in mailbox of the neighbours, doesn't make any sense to me either - so that people will follow empty tracks that lead nowhere. So, its mostly about me covering up my unholy crime and feeling anxiety."

Maite: "Gabs, look at maybe where you feel responsible for dad and the experience of him - in your dream you being responsible for murdering him. You fearing it is your fault and trying to cover up this anxiety and guilt for yourself. Look at this sentece especially: 'Most of the time I'm scared in the dream, trying to cover-up and make sure no one find out I'm responsible for murdering my father.' Just replace 'the dream' with 'my life' and 'murdering' with 'the experience of'."

ok, some more on this. when my father was telling me the story of his family - I thought it meant I had finally succeeded in drawing his attention, that now he would treat me more equal - like an adult, supposedly. It is interesting - while he was telling the story, I identified myself with the people that had committed suicide - I was fascinated by them. So when he ended the story I realised I had chosen the 'wrong side'. My mother added to this, that once - when she and my father knew eachother for some time - she had brought the subject up of his father and if he would sometimes 'visit him in the cemetary'. My mom told me he answered: there was nothing of any interest whatsoever to him in that cemetary.

In general this was all very confusing information for me to process - because where the hell did all this stuff suddenly come from?

I forgive me that I have allowed me to think I am responsible for how my father experiences himself.

I forgive myself that I have allowed myself to fear all my father has had to endure is now my fault.

I forgive myself that I have allowed myself to think I have to make up my unholy sin to my father - because he has suffered enough already.

I forgive myself that I have allowed myself to make my father suffer.

I forgive myself that I have allowed myself to not at all realise each and every one is responsible for the experience of themselves.

I forgive myself that I have allowed myself to fear I am the bad guy in my fathers life - and if this is the case, then I should better not exist.

I forgive myself that I have allowed myself to feel guilty about the misery my father experiences.

I forgive myself that I have allowed myself to regret and feel guilty about me running away from home and wanting to commit suicide - because it was not my intention to make my father suffer this greatly.

I forgive myself that I have allowed myself to believe it is my fault the family is gotten screwed up.

I forgive myself that I have allowed myself to believe and think I screwed up my fathers life - that I did this to him.

I forgive myself that I have allowed myself to feel terribly sorry for my father because of what I have done unto him.

I forgive myself that I have allowed myself to think I am in some way Rotten and Degenerate inside - because I brought so much suffering unto my father.

I forgive myself that I have allowed myself to believe and think i do not deserve life - because of what I have done to my father.

I frogive myself that I have allowed myself to judge myself as being a criminal and a terrorist in the life of my father- I blew up his life.

I forgive myself that i have allowed myself to believe I actualy dont deserve my own care and attantion.

I forgive myself that I have allowed myself to believe i dont deserve my own love.

I frogive myself that i have allowed myself to believe and think I dont deserve this world.

I frogive myself that I have allowed me to think my parents should not spend too much effort on me because I dont deserve it (anymore).

I frogive myself that i have allowed myself to believe it is my fault my father feel all miserable inside.

I forgive myself that I have allowed myself to believe my father was in his right to blame me for ruining his life - instead of realising he screwed up himself, for himself.

I forgive myself that I have allowed myself to believe and actyually think I am the "cause" of my fathers pain and suffering and sadness.

I forgive myself that i have allowed myself to believe and think people make eachother suffer.

I forgive myself that i have not allowed me to realize people do it all unto themselves, and blame eachother.

I forgive myself that I have allowed myself to believe I am the cause of my father suffering, sadnees and pain.

Thursday, March 27, 2008

a party with me and then...

yesterday I had my first real fall. Like, from high. I had been doing forgiveness all day - and at a certain point my mind was all in the background of my experience, leaving much room for ME. What I experienced was a form of inner joy and burst-fullness, in wich I let myself go and flow. I ended up singing and making animal-like noices on the street. It was late in the evening and dark outside. This was very much fun, also I began dancing - with me alone and laughing my ass of all the time. But immeditely after I came home - I had gone to work - and found my sisters upstairs, all this inner life - the party inside me with me - crumbled. I started screaming and getting angry with the situattion and got frustrated with my sisters, because they were doing something on themselves and being undisturbed by me. Theafter, I realised the unstable-ness of me, wich was: lack of self-love and lack of self-trust. I had expected them to react in a certain way to me and be supportive of how I was experiencing myself.

So, today I caught myself entering the mind-set of when I entered the house and indulge in the house-world = expectations. I had done some focussed self-forgiveness on fear and stated the -I remain- to myself. Wich helped me stabilize in general. This experience was particularly interesting (me freaking out with my sisters) as I had just some days before realised how self-responsability, self-trust, self-movement is actually all the same. But in the realizing, I had left self-love out of the picture - wich made me allmost go nuts a few days later.

In general girls and woman is where I place love and tenderness in separation. So I believe myself to need woman te be able to be/feel loved and experience tenderness. Because when starting to find out the homosexual desires in me - when i was 15 years old - I could not imagine (and since then have never experienced) myself being tender with a boy or a man. Tenderness and love remained in the female realm, as if love-tenderness and female had become synonymous. All my best friends would be female, and boys I would leave on the doorstep of me, not allowing them even close to how I experienced myself.

In the evening one particular attitude (rather non-attitude) of my sisters had made me go nust, wich was them suggetsing me I should leave the room and go on the computer a floor below in a room on my own (I insisted on taking over the computer leila was using - I wanted to be in "my" room and I didn't wan to leave.) I experienced myself as rejected and unwanted, wich come down to lack of self-love and the expectations I had partaken in as i was climbing the stairs - being exited over how my sisters would see me and be in joy with me - it was like suddenly I had no foundation left. So my startingpoint got painfully revealed - I went through it this morning and afternoon. Figuring I have in particular still some important writing to do with regards to a girl I had been best friends with for more than a year. This, however, is for later.

Furthermore my relation towards my sisters.... Last evening I had become all bossy again - talking and acting like I am formally allowed to expect some level of obedience from my sisters. I was even aware of this in the moment, but the rush of my mind was such that I didn't dare to interrupt it, because of what needed to be faced actually.

Tuesday, March 25, 2008

I cry and scream

After writing some self forgiveness I came back to a memory about me losing my mind once. So, me and my mother we came back from school - we were alone - I don't know how old I was exaclty, but certainly a very young and little child. When my mother opened the door with her key, she got adressed by a neighbour. I would enter the house and she crossed the street to have a chat. Now, I did something... hmm, I don't remember exactly what was driving me in the moment, but what I did was the following. I sat myself down on the floor in the kitchen immediately and opened my schoolbag and take a scisors out of it to cut something out of paper. So I was supposedly doing schoolwork. But, as I start cutting the paper with the scisors I start feeling all miserable inside. The scissor wasn't going like I wanted, it fellt all uncomfortable and I started getting so frustrated that I just stopped and started jelling after my mother. Now, the yelling was very very desperate - I felt all shaky inside and mad with anger. As I got angry and the frustration compounded because I would want to continue and supress this experience, I started to cry loudly - this is when I shouted for my mom. I never shouted this loud in my entire life. I remember the thrilling of my throat - the force and volume of my words, screaming - I leterally gave Everything I had inside me: everything. My mother came in running, because she had left the door open and had heard me scream her name. And when she found me all helpless in tears of anger - she laughed at me, after i shoutingly explained myself. that I had trouble cutting the paper, that it wasn't working, and apparently she didn't ask beyond this explanation. To her I was "making trouble for nothing". She was slightly irritated because she had been panicing for nothing and come in running in total anxiety, interrupting her conversation - because I sounded like some disaster had happened, like I was in terrible pain, as if I had had a terrible accident. Also I felt I had embarrased her in front of the neighbour, becuase "of nothing". But the despair was very real, the experience had been exactly unbearable - I couldn't handle it on my own. Therefore I had screamed for help. I screamed "MAMAAAAA !!! MAMAAAAA !!!" In the screaming so much pain had come up - that my voice went in complete overdrive.

I feel so bad right now - the heaviness go all into my fingers. I'm scared I will not be able to handle it again, if I find the reason why I was so desperate. but anyways, for the moment I'll just post the SF I had written earlier.

I forgive myself that I have allowed myself to exist in fear I may deeply hurt someone - thereby always wanting to anticipate the consequences of my words, of what I say and wanting to controll my words - being 'gentle'.

I forgive myself that I have allowed myself to fear I may hurt leila deeply through speaking me freely. I forgive myself that I have allowed myself to think and believe Leila will be hurt if I speak myself freely.

I forgive myself that I have allowed myself to think and believe that I will cause leila to cry if I am not gentle with her. I forgive myself that i have allowed myself to fear leila - or anyone for that matter - may hate me if I "cause them inner pain", even if I don't mean to.

I forgive myself that i have allowed myself to fear I may hurt someones feelings, thereby causing them to hate me. I forgive myself that I have allowed myself to fear I may hurt somebodys feelings, because i fear this will give me a bad reputation and everyone will hate me.

I forgive myself that I have allowed myself to feel panic when I see somebody cry.

I forgive myself that I have allowed myself to fear peoples tears, because I dont want to see people being hurt around me - as it give me the feeling 'I must do something about it,' but I dont know what.

I forgive myself that I have allowed myself to fear maite or leila or my mother or my father or anyone for that matter may see me cry - because then they see me being "weak" and vulnerable.

I forgive myself that I have allowed myself to fear I may destroy what is vulnerable around me, through my brutality.

I forgive myself that I have allowed myself to fear my father may see me cry - because then I am not a man.

I forgive myself that I have allowed myself to hate crying. I forgive myself that I have allowed myself to fear I may lose controll when i cry - crying uncontrollably.

I forgive myself that i have allowed myself to want to remain in control of me as the tears that roll down my face - so it don't get "out of hand".

I forgive myself that I have allowed myself to fear that i will shout when I cry and someone may hear me and know I am completely vulnerable.

I forgive myself that I haven't allowed myself to cry freely and unconditionally.

I forgive myself that i have allowed myself to condition myself as to cry in silence and not make the fact notice that i cry.

I forgive myself that i have allowed myself to fear the expression of me when I cry unconditionally - because I sound like "an animal" and a lunatic and a maniac.

I forgive myself that I have allowed myself to judge myself - me when I cry unconditionally - and judge me to be "overdoing it" and just "making a lot of noice for nothing", because according to someone's judgement nothing dramatic has occured.

I forgive myself that i have allowed myself to think and believe "crying is for girls" and it is a disgrace for a boy to behave and express himself like a girl - it is forbidden.

I forgive myself that I have allowed myself to fear my parents will make fun of me when I let myself cry unconditionally.

I forgive myself that i have allowed myself to think and believe I may not show my tears and not burst into tears publicly - no matter what.

Monday, March 24, 2008

more fascinating stuff: being the boss

Today I was taking a walk and suddenly it started "raining ice" (hagelen in dutch) and there was an unpleasant wind that came with it. So I went into some restaurant to have myself a hot chocolat. However, because this place was so crowded they put me in some kind of provisory table, next to the kitchen from where I could observe allmost all the personel working in the kitchen and understand what they said to each other. I could sense everyone was feeling very tense and speaking in a nervous tone of voice. And then there was the "Chef" in white, giving the orders in the kitchen, like a Captain in a ship. At one point the Chef got very frustrated and started treating a guy from personnel in a very degrading manner, he was really being a tirant, and I would get all worked up inside me as I witnessed all this happening, because - man, this guy was all I resent in this world. Giving orders and treating everyone like less than him. Apparantly someone had done something "wrong" and now he was insulting him, afterwards he start insulting even more people around him - and I could sense how this personnel must hate him. They had an inferior look in their eyes - they were so ashamed and embarrased, to be seen like this by other people.

Then I left and start reflecting on my own frustration with this I situation. I started speaking self-forgiveness but I didn't see yet where I was going with it. Because I was angry - yes, but why? In watching the scene, I realised: this is me showing myself something. And if I react to it, than it means I am reacting towards myself. So after a while I started seeing what it was about - very obvious, but the mind will never accept it is deceptive: it is me behaving like the Chef did towards people in my world - wanting to be and believing myself to be the boss over certain people - now this is what you'd call a "cold shower", because this is certainly not how I perceived myself. I believed myself to be the boss over my sisters, over my mother, over allmost all of my female friends - over woman in general - and then the list go on with my friends. furthermore, the desire to be the boss in my world - together with the perception that i actually am. It go through all my relations with everyone (like: am i the boss in this relation? who is the boss in this relation?). Me now going to work for some days - having a job, supposedly - made me see this finally.

This definition of me stemm from WAY BACK - to the early days of me, my childhood. Me seeing my father - whom I so much admired - as The Boss in the house, at school wanting to be The Boss in class and being in rivalry with my 'best friend' because he was actually the boss in class - 'the undisputed boss'. It is the actual arrogance of me, of my mind: the need and want to be the boss. It was like, because my father is the boss - he being my male 'example' - I one day will be the boss aswell. Me myself, I wanted to become a teacher for a long time. Why? To be the boss. Its funny - I had already seen right through this strategy with someone in my life. We were talking about a teacher with some friends, and how this teacher sucks. And I said: she became teacher because she could not 'deserve' a position with authority! There you go. It is the same pattern with me wanting to be right in conversation - being in controll, being the boss. It is the purest and most banal form of Matser-Slave psychology. Its fascinating, I went to an astrologer 6-7 moths ago - and he gave me this as the exact explanation of how my ego works. I reacted in inner convulsion and fear back then, actually not hearing his words.

Now the question would be: why do I wanna be the boss? Why does this need exist? What happens when in a situation I am not the boss? Well, then I feel expendable, unnoticed, inferior. It's like the only way for me - from the perspective of my mind - to feel worthy, is when I see myself as being the boss, being in full and total controll. It got to do with power. I have no power - I am powerless - unless I am the boss, who is GIVEN power by those who submit to "his rule". Fascinating stuff.

Wednesday, March 19, 2008

losing the game - losing self-trust

In the previous post I told myself some memories, but without actually understanding the logic behind them. Because it seems - as I just revealed to myself in self-forgiveness I was speaking - that it all have much to do with feeiling a loser, believing I am "a loser". Now I am writing about this I am - again - so amazed at how I hid my self-experience from myself over the years. Because this had been so prominent - this me-experience - it had been all over the place for, what it seems, the most part of my life. I had appatently supressed it completely. It is interesting it just came back to me as I was going over my fears relating to the Portal-stuff. Because my attitude was: "Nah, I'm not even gonna go into that, because I'm gonna lose this anyways." I hadn't put it in these terms, however, but that's what it revealed itself to be. Its strange writing about this stuff, because I hadn't consciously defined myself in these terms.

So first i feel like giving some overview. Things that just all came back to me very quickly the one after the other. As a child - when being in primary school especially - I had... an inferiority complex with regards to seeing myself as a loser. Now, this is all pretty heavy stuff that I haven't even considered for A LOT OF TIME.

But anyways, when playing chess with my father I would allways lose. And I remember we played quite a few times. To him the game was deadly serious and he would just go for it - or at least thats how I experienced him, being merciless. Everytime I began the game I believed it to be a natural possibility that once I might win too. But I never did.

Something else, when doing sports at school, I'd allways be the slow one the last one. when doing Gym, we'd often start the hour with running a few rounds around the playground. I'd allways end up as one of the last, even if I was relatively tall and a good runner, because I experienced this stabbing in my side after running a long time and it would just kill me - but the teacher would force me to continue running. So I ran with my hand pressed aginst my side, being the last in the row together with my friend W. who didn't have a good running condition asswell. I didn't understand why I had this killing pain, because I knew that without it I would be able to run much faster and be among the first. And because the teacher seemed to believe it was just a matter of "running through this pain/ignoring it", I would believe it was my own fault, that I had somekind of weakness inside me. I started getting used to being the last, to losing - because even if it wasn't a contest, but a "warm up", all the children took it deadly serious, no one wanted to be last. Everytime we started running, I believed this time it wont happen. This time I will be able to run amongst the first - because I had the speed, and I was actually able to keep up with them - but unevitably the pain would kick in and it would force me to slow down everytime as this pain was unbearable. Why was this pain a part of me?

My father used to play tennis with an ex-college of him from work and this college had a son of my age. Therefore, my father would take me along so I'd play tennis with his son, Glen. It's strange I actually dont remember ever having enjoyed playing tennis, except a few times when I managed to hit the ball right or score a "nice point". The thing was tis Glen was much better at it than me. So, obviously, what happened is I lost every time. And again, every time i would start the game with the conviction I would be able to win this time, while after a while the obvious outcome would allways start to shwo itself and I would feel desperate inside. Why am I losing, how come I cannot keep up with him? What is wrong with me? The anger and frustration were extensive. Once I quit the game in tears, because I couldn't "take it anymore" and I hated Glen and I blamed him of taking advantage of me.

Then when playing 'Vampire' - a game I had invented myself, wich involve much running aswell - there was a boy in my class, Way. And any time he was the Vampire, he would come after me first. This was particularly frustrating to me - why allways come after me, it was no fun anymore. So, once after he had caught me - I was already exhausted by the running - I asked him immediately: "why do you allways need to get after me first?" And he answered: "Because you suck the most at this." He said it laughingly - because to him it was so obvious. I asked him this question because I actually just wanted to make him aware of "this injustice" so he'd go after someone else for once, and also, because me and him were the ones who spoke french together, when we were alone, I considered him to be a friend and so it didn't make sense he do this to me. What surprised me was apparently the honesty of his answer. So, if Way say this to me - then I must be really bad at this indeed.

Hmm... this is a heavy one form me. Ok, when in primary school and in fifth grade, we used to have football every two weeks, with the "voetballopa's". This were two grandpa's, from i dont remember who - that came teach us to play football. actually they were called grandpa's just because of their age, even by the teachers. anyway. Once there had been a more or less great event. To me it was massively important, it was to everyone. Boys from another school - or from a footballclub? (because they wore the appropriate shirts and all) - came to play a match against our school. I was wearing my grey joggingtrousers. All the parents were invited to come and see the game. I think it was after schoolhours... Idont remember, yes I think it was - because the rest of the school was empty. Or no - it was in the weekend ! So, my parents had come along to watch the game, to watch me play. THEN. The other team was playing simply way above our level. They actually had a strategy, them bastards. They played - what looked to me -professionally. They made the one goal after the other. And we didn't make a singel one, if I remember well - or maybe just one, because their keeper had made some mistake, so nothing "to be proud of". For me this was untolerable, this whole setup was of the most unfairness - and the coach of the professional team was even screaming at his team that they should play even with more attention and presicion. yes, they were animals. The sole fact they allw wore the exact same outfits - actuall football-clothing - was intimidating like hell, because we stood before them as a bunch of... well, u get the picture. I was so frustrated and desperate about the situation that when it was breaktime, I dropped myself on the ground, on my buttocks, in complete misery. Then, I dont recall if it was before or after, but I became so angry that I left the football area for a while. My father, now, came after me. We were quite alone on the playground - and he started to make clear to me that he was very disappointed about my behaviour, because according to him I was quitting. I sarted to defend myself and sarted crying and then he said "you're just crying because you're losing," in an angry tone of voice, really like i was a piece of shit to him. What really had triggered my anger was seeing how even our own coaches were becomming aware of the absurdity of this mach - they too felt helpless. I just couldn't comprehend how my father could call me weak, because it meant he was actually supporting the whole setup of this mach - for him I was not allowed to even question it.

What actually killed me was people seeing me lose the game. My parents, naturally. Because I felt helpless as this game progressed and with every 'bad move' I made I felt embarrassed - because of poeple watching. I really felt clumpsy and i hated this clumpsyness - why couldn't I "just be good at it like the others." This feeling of helplessness because I'm losing a game and I cannot in any way change the outcome, that's a real killer for me. To me it was unbelievable I was losing - everytime again, it was incomprehensible: what is it that I have inside me that hold me back, that make me miss the ball or put it somewhere where I didn't want it to go? "Why? Why Why?" I remember in tennis this would be so awfull. Because I knew from myself I had been able - in the past - to hit the ball super-effectively and in full confidence, it had come natural and without thinking. So in the moment of hitting and feeling the wrongness of the touch I would go mad inside and feel desperate - like: "why is not working anymore!!!!" It's allmost like I could feel my mind interfere in the moment of hitting. Once I was playing tennis with my father alone, we were waiting for his friend to join with Glen - and at one point I hit the ball back-hand (that's the harder way, you have fore-hand = 'normal', and back-hand = the opposite arm movement). I had hit it so 'correct' and I felt the naturality of my arm-movement, wich was really enjoyable, completely without thinking about how I did it - in full self-trust- , and I for a second amazed my father completely, he was stunned, because I gave him a ball so fast he couldn't even catch it. It was me letting go completely. So thats how I 'knew' I was actually able to do these things.

Now, this - to me - is getting very interesting, because I see now how things got to do with me having problems with self-trust. In gym, the teacher - who was called Kristien - was kinda onto this aspect of me. Apparently it had gotten so obvious to her that she once let me repeat an exam-test (jumping over a highly suspended horizontal rope, without touching it), because she had seen how, during the year i had performed much better and with much more easy and how I now was falling in the rope out of pure nervosity and anxiety. So - and this was really unique - she said: "no, do it again." Its like she admitted it "didn't count" because it wasn't me. I was very greatfull she said that, because it was like she actually knew and understood me - giving me the opportuntity to prove the real me. So, I jumped again and this time I didn't hit the rope.

Tuesday, March 18, 2008

frustration about unequality

Yesterday, after terminating my previous post, I kept on wondering about the patterns of my hate and anger. It starts with a memory I have about me being a child and riding bikes with two or three friends. near our huose there used to be a "racingparcours" for bikes. Basically you had to start on a high point and immediately take a (Oh fuck dees stuk schrrijf ik int nederlands: het parcours begint dus met een hellend vlak direct omlaag en kort daarop is er een "jump", gewoon een horizontaal uitgelegd heuveltje en als ge daarover reed met wat snelheid, dan sprong uw fiets wat in de lucht.) SO, what happened is, I fell down my bike as I crossed over this little jump. And I was very hurt. I didn't have the bike with the "ressorts" or special geering at that time. So the bike just went somewhat out of control, as it came down brutally, and I fell very hard. This pain was so uncool - because now the fun was over for me, as the pain didn't go away. And one of the other children said in a compassionate tone of voice: "You have ALLWAYS bad luck, you." I felt angry and irritated, because I was persuaded he was just talking bullshit. What did he mean, "I have allways bad luck"? What the hell is that supposed to mean? How come that's how he saw me? As someone with bad luck - for my ego it was unacceptable, I refused to even try making sense out of it.

Its funny, when asked some time ago if I ever had been bullied, i would allways say no, completely persuaded of what I say. While the truth is I had been bullied. In my neighbourhood for example there was a kid - K. - and he would allways call me names, whenever he saw me. He did this for no reason, I had never even spoken to him - we didn't know eachother. Especially he would yell at me "hey, you Girl!" because I had long hair (there was a period after primary school people would often confuse me with a girl because my face was not very pronounced.) Even though he was younger than me - I never dared to speak up agaist him, because I felt helpless against what he called me. I found being called a girl - especially in the way he did - very humiliating and also intimidating. Once I was on my rollerblades, and he and his friend came by on their bikes and they just spit on me, both of them. That time, however, i got so mad I chased them for several blocks, but eventually I got so exhausted I gave up.

I dont lnow where I'm getting at, so... I'll just go on. Ah, yes. It all got to do with the feeling of injustice, the unfairness of life I experienced. Thats basically it. To me - life was unfair. Inever understood why my father would hit me - and then hearing from the other children of my class their fathers never hit them. I was What the FUCK !!! Ah, yes - and having a hero-syndrome - I also felt proud of myself, because taking pain and suffering was the "sign of the hero." I was thougher than the others - so I imagined, basically. But in the back of my head also existed the need to explain this discrepancy. Why am I the one being beaten here? Why does there exist this UNEQUALLITY? Basically i was convinced all the other kids had a better life than me, who had this angry father. I continue later...

Monday, March 17, 2008

Am I this psychopath?

getting shot in dreams. I can't recall how many times I've been shot in a dream - like mortally wounded. Since I'm in process no such dreams anymore. However, I wonder if they hadn't stopped already. I remember one day I told Hélène "hey you know what this time I didn't get shot in my dream! Thats amazing!" But she was not in the mood or something. Anyways, I really experienced this as little miracle - because I couldn't see any reason why the pattern suddenly changed - , as if suddenly the tide had changed - because, man, It's so frustrating to dudge a bulet in full confidence and then find yourself shot anyways - like this bullet was unescapable. I allways got shot by unescapable bullets - there never was anything i could do about it. I would get a mortal wound in my stomach and know I was gone, i was dead and don for. I always remember the sense of surprise of the bullet hitting me - because I actually expect myself to be able to dudge it. So that's the fatallity pattern of my dreams.

You know what it is? The moment when I jump I am convinced i cannot die. So, the bullet hitting me is the fear of death kicking in, right in the stomach - merciless. Today I was lying in my bed a lot because i had pains in my intestins again - although I think this time it might actually be the end of it, because I have realised me being equal with my intestins, and a lot of tension disappeared - and I realised how much fear there exist in my world. It is fera everywhere, where did all this fear come from. I'm so Sick of it! Especially when I try to be common sensical about it - meaning: I am responsible for my fear, you do it to yourself, etc. - then anger kicks in, because I find it the most disgusting lunacy, the reality of my world and my experience within. It is complete insanity, designed by a psychopath. See, that's how it feel, all the pointless suffering - designed by a psychopath, someone completely and thoroughly evil. So, when I try to go into self-forgiveness all just compounds, because I still cannot and will not accept this reality as my responsability. Why did I do this to myself? All this torturous rage and fear? Whats the fucking point here? Its like I pushed my own face deep in the sand and then kicking the back of my head even further down with a boot. It is so clear now and I'm really hysterical about it, like What the FUCK !!!!!!!! Am I this psychopath? Why am I this psychopath?!!!!!!!!!!! - and its like I really expect an answer that will 'comfort' me - There's still loads of blame towards people and the world and fucking everything inside me. A few more years and I had become a maniac - guaranteed.

I also feel jalousy with regards to other people because I tend to wanna see the easyness of their process - and start fucking up myself.

My life feel mostly like a prison, like there's nothing flexible. This is all the mind obviously. So for people who believe emotions and feelings are so great, take a look at me. Everything is contained in patterns of repetition by my own fear. Oh, I'm so not enjoying myself, nor this post...

inspecting the trash

when I was in kortenberg I had been in a relation with a girl. Once we were sitting with a bunch of people in one of the hallways that lead to the bedrooms, and she (N.A.) was there too. She was lying half against me and because I wanted to be nice and certainly not look like I was scared of girls I pretended I didn't mind. Well, in a way it had not so much to it, because I hadn't experienced it as something leading to something sexual per ce. It was just someone lying against me - but I was nervous though because My arm or hand was constantly lying somewhere near or against her breast. So I was wonderng if I should put my arm in a different way so as to not touch it, but I didn't want to make her feel like I rejected her - in behaving in a stiff and clumpsy manner. It seemed she was enjoying the way she was lying - her head resting on my thighs - and I actually did not want her to move positions, because I enyojed someone lying against me like this. It was a form of tenderness that had gone out of my world a long time ago. I liked the attention she gave me. And then when the other people had all gone, me and her we were still there and she had not moved. She asked me if I would kiss her. Instantly I felt panic inside, I was affraid. But I supressed this and "played the part". I bend over and kissed her, with my mouth tightly shut though. It wasn't done on purpose, I just couldn't think of any other way to kiss her on the lips. She immediately said in a sober tone of voice: "You have to open your mouth." As this whole thing was new to me I think I trusted her, so I opend my mouth and put my tongue through. Now the sensation of our tongues together in both our mouths, to me, was actually morbid - or so it became as we continued. I supressed this impression and "tried to enjoy the kissing instead". It was all very very confusing. A part of me was "proud of me" because - look! - there's a girl giving me a french kiss! Wow, I never expected a girl "would want to do this to me/with me". (Like in the movies, etc.) The moment we started kissing "for real" she put her hand in my neck - now this was a thrilling sensation to me. Not the kissing - but this gesture of tenderness towards me, her hand lying on/touching my neck and the lower back of my head. I couldn't remember when anyone had shown me so much affection. I felt loved and accepted. But who am i kidding? To feel this pityfull love and affection, I was prepared to supress me completely. hence, as we went into a relation, I started hating her extensively - the look of her would make my stomach crumble. In the beginning I would be able to keep on going - bu with every kiss and with every touch the feeling inside me just became worse. It didn't take long before I told her we need to break up - and she pretended she understood, because she didnt wanto to feel ditched out of the blue.

But she wouldn't leave me alone and keep on trying. It was subtle though and it was actually my own stupid fault. I kept "playing games with her", because a part of me got addicted to the "being together with someone and experience intimacy". So she hung around me and she lookad at me with "begging eyes" and spontaniously I exclaimed I wish I could till kiss her - How fucked up was I actually? -and she said "you may". And there it went again, but this time went on a higher level, because she would let me touch (and lik) her breasts - wich I tought were ugly - but I was trying to figure out a way so I would be able to enjoy her. Also I masturbated her and she almost came and I was amazed at how excited she was and I would kiss her and grab her breasts to feel some excitement too but there was none. (haha, when done she lied on the - bed eyes closed, it looked like she could fall asleep, - and I took a quick opportunity to smell my fingers. She saw it and asked: "what are you doing?" and I said: "oh, nothing". The smell - to me - was not very tastefull.)

From this I develloped a very strong hate against women - I wouln't even admit for myself it existed - but it showed when Maite and Leila would grow older and start developping breasts. Euhm... But anyways, I would be disgusted with the sight of their breasts. I would prefer not to look at them. And if by accident I would touch them, I'd feel not very ok inside. Inner disgust. There still much of this to this day actually. Got to take it out.

So now I got to figure out the 'logic' of this hate. because it was me who allowed myself to abuse myself and even another person - the way I see it. While writing this down there would pop up thoughts about my mother aswell, so gotta look at that too. Pfff, I'm done for a moment.

Sunday, March 16, 2008

expendable = being a burden?

So, realization number etc. Just a few moments it has become even more clear how I have operated the biggest part of my life. I had already written about wanting to be a hero etc, and feeling expendable, recently, but now I found this: when I say 'expendable' I found it equally valid to say 'being a burden' - when applying self-forgiveness ( probably have to do it all over again aswell ) wich then started making much sense. Because now I understand and see where the urge to validate myself comes from, specificly. If I perceive myself to be a burden to someone else - or if I am terrified of being a burden to someone - then I have to make myself Wanted to a very very high degree. People actually have to be proud of me - they must adore me and be greatfull to call me their 'friend'. I must be a bright star - that everyone want to be in the prsence of. Otherwise I experience myself as a burden - expendable - because that is the feeling of me, the experience of me I have allowed myself to become and wich need be supressed at all cost.

And hear this: I see now the motive for having wanted to commit suicide (see previous post in order to understand what I'm talking about ). because I already had seen for myself how Kurt Cobain had become a hero in my imagination, after reading his biography - but i hadn't been honest about the reason why, as yet... So, I wanted to commit suicide aswell. Why? Because if I commit suicide my friends will "have had a friedn who commited suicide", who is, in other words: a hero. Therefore, when I sat in the train and started wondering about life after death and just bluntly realised maybe I will completely cease to exist: then how will I be able to see myself as a hero, to see the sorrow and regret of my friends because I am such a hero and - hear this - because I am SUCH A GREAT LOSS. So my purpose was my world experiencing THE LOSS OF ME, wich has not much to do with taking revenge, but me wanting to experience myself as absolutely necessary and Unexpendable (onmisbaar). Wich is the exact opposite of expendability, being a burden.

Hmm, so iy is very important - I would say - to be specific in one's choice of words when it come to being self-honest. Because in the beginneing i would just quickly lable my self-experience as feeling worthless, but this is much too abstract - it lead nowhere.

Once I was standing with some 'friends' and a newcommer would want to join us - he was somewhat insecure about himself, he wanted to fit in with us - and suddenly I turned towards him and barked at him: "Go away! You imbecil !" So here I have an example of what it means to project my self-experience unto others. I made him feel a burden, expendable. This degrading of others I would often do - this was my apparant arrogance towards others during the years at public school, after I had gotten out of Kortenberg ( but fisrt I was depressed for +- half a year, thats why i had to re-do my forth grade.)

Friday, March 14, 2008

Oneness and equality

I'm not sure I have something to say. I just felt like writing. the touching of the keyboard is nice.

I see now how I have been operating for a while now. It begins with the title of this blog. Why do I give it the name "mind robot". In the begining I saw other peoples blogs, with "me" and "life" in their titles and it fucked me up. I've had problems with seeing myself as equal and one with everything. At a certain point I even dropped speaking the words - as I made myself believe it was unnessecary - well, it is nessecary so don't make same mistake as me. The onness and equallity is the whole point, and I missed it completely. That's why I had so much trouble accepting statements like "you are not your mind", because I felt there existed no support-structure outside of it. I would want to argue, missing the point every time, as the words "one and equall" meant nothing to me. Only now, reaching what I'd call the very bottom of me, seeing the experience I endured of me - being expendable - I sensed the urge and absolute nessecity to restate myself completely. So, with some cool assistance from Eagle, I sart speaking new words and make them my own - until I am one and equall as all as one as me.

thge very sound of the words "onness and equallity" would sound like piss in my ears. I almost had to break down before realising the arrogance of me - and I see all that needed to happen before I would hear, before I would even bother to see. I'm glad I'm here now with me. I'm truly amazed about myself.

Thursday, March 13, 2008


I just found an easy test for myself, to determine if I have self-worth, self-love etc. or if I don't. Apparently i stiil don't, because I asked myself a simple question: am I enthousiatstic about myself, about me? The answer was undeniable: No, not the slightest bit of enthousiasm. I still live in sepatation with enthousiasm, expect certain people to be enthousiastic about me - when I say something or do something - because I'm not able to be enthousistic on myself , by myself, for myself and as myself. I completely lost my enthousiasm.

continuing this post a few moment later... Today I'm supposed to make one or several drawings for someone - and there's the possibility I might even make big money - in my experience - out of it on the long term. I already talked somewhere about my experience with drawing - - and how I lost the 'appetite for drawing'. Apparently it had got much to do with enthousiasm aswell, especially. Now I have this potential little job-opportunity, I realise I have been avoidin and working myself around, ignoring this fucked up experience of me with drawing. Because I see now that I have become scared of drawing, while as a child I would draw all the time. It seemed to be unnessecary to look at it - or so I believed. But now I start considering enthousiasm - and where I actually lost it - the chances are big they got something to do with drawing. Recently Jack told me I would eventually 'return to my expression of drawing' - like a matter of fact statement. The point with this is, it seemed so absurd when he said it. Inside I felt like - 'now why would I even do such a thing, what would be the point of that. I don't wanna go there anymore. NEVER.' It seems like some part of me didn't take him seriously - as I often experience with dimensions, still (when they say something my mind cannot cope with).

The last years I still would draw, it had become the utter expression of inner disgust. That's how it feel now, when writing about it. The making of a drawing, was with the sole intention of making people enthousiast about me - the process of drawing, being total controll and precision, life-less bullshit pictures. I didn't even like my drawings anymore. If nobody 'd give me a compliment, become enthousiast, I wouldn't have drawn. I would always be 'pleased' when people reacted in this way, I would feel accepted. I would feel greatfull for them liking my picture and being anthousiast about it. But where was I "in this picture"? I was NOwhere.

The expectation and greatfullness where very prominent. I wasn't greatfull for me though. I felt zero enthousiasm about me drawing. (now I gonna take a shit, and after that, dinner)

Monday, March 10, 2008

The feeling of me

The feeling of me = I am expendable. Why the fuck do I even exist? Therefore, I must constantly validate my existence.

This evening I experience much supression, anger - I basically

I don't even have a clue as to how I should put this in self-forgiveness...

I forgive myself that i have allowed myself to reject myself.

I forgive myself that I have allowed myself to completely separate myself from life and completely reject and forget myself.

I frgive myself that I have allowed myself to kill myself. I forgive myself that I have allowed myself to kill myself.

I forgive myself that I have allowed myself to think and believe i am not worthy to exist.

I forgive myself that I have allowed myself to think and believe I am expendable to myself.

I forgive myself that I have allowed myself to wonder why I even exist.

I forgive myself that I have allowed myself to want to validate myself, because I believed there's no particular reason why I even should exist.

I forgive myself that I have allowed myself to hate myself.

I forgive myself that I have allowed myself to hate existence.

I forgive myself that I have allowed myself to separate myself from existence and fucking hate it.

I forgive myself that i have allowed myself to be angry with myself.

I forgive myself that i have allowed myself to separate me from life and to hate life.

I forgive myself that I have allowed myself to hate life.

I forgive myself that I have allowed myself to hate being alive.

I forgive myself that I have allowed myself to hate and resent being awake.

I forgive myself that i have allowed myself to look for peace in sleep and drugs - thereby separating me from me as peace.

I forgive myself that I have allowed myself to hate other people - because they seem to enjoy themselves.

I frgive myself that I have allowed myself to be jalous of other people - because apparantly they don't have much trouble in enjoying themselves.

I frogive myself that I have allowed myself to hate my body and resent it - because I have judged it to be ugly and inadequate.

I forgive myself that I have allowed myself to experience me as being expendable - instead of valuing me as me, for what I am in the moment.

I forgive myself that i have allowed myself to judge myself as being inadequate to exist.

I forgive myself that I have allowed myself to judge myself as being not worthy to exist as me as who I am.

I forgive myself that i have allowed myself to fear people will see and perceive me as being expendable.

I forgive myself that I have allowed myself to define myself as something not worthy of my own notice.

I forgive myself that I have allowed myself to see myself as nothing.

I forgive myself that I have allowed myself to think and believe I am actually less than nothing.

I forgive myself that I have allowed myself to think and believe I exist for the purpose of others - so they will enjoy me.

I forgive myself that i have allowed myself to blame my body and my intestins for what I allow within me.

life and death

I feel like shit and I think its got to do with fear of losing myself. I suspect I might have done the following, or something along those lines. I'm just exploring here.

When I see my mother these days - a fear comes up, because of the way her face is changing. She seems to be getting older very quick, an impresson further balblabla, because also she has lost much weight, and the skin of her face got more cracks. Especially when she eats and opens her mouth widely - her face looks old suddenly. I notice this scares me very much. The other day her head looked like a skull to me, I can't describe it. I have been 'pondering and reflecting' much on fear of death these days - taking the words into consideration, spoken by the dimensions, that fear of death - essentially - is the fear to lose yourself. So, what I figured was that maybe I fear the death of my mother more than my own... Meaning, I'm "more scared to lose her than to lose myself." Wich doesn't make any sense. So, apparently I have put/projected something inside my mother - as if it 'belonged to her' while in fact it is me. what have I placed inside her, that would be the question that concerns me... what does she represent for me? If I don't fear losing myself as life - but instead fear losing my mother, wouldn't that mean she represent life - as that wich I have separated myself from?

I wrote some sf, the threw it away and spoke some out loud, so... too bad. I'll continue with this motherfucker later.

Sunday, March 9, 2008

maite enters the room

what is humiliation? I asked this question to someone. He said, maybe fear of being less than someone... Maybe. For the moment, it's like I don't even want to really look at it. All I can say is that I do feel humiliated - very much so. Yesterday I was speaking forgiveness about fear of being made fun of by my mother. As I spoke the word 'mother' it came out all stuttering - and i experienced panic inside. Therefore I would like very much to get started with this, as it is virtually knokking on my door, but I'm too affraid to let it come in and face it for what it is.

So what IS the experience of humiliation? Right now i'm feeling very uncomfortable cuz maite entered the room and sat herself down to write on her bed. i'd like her to get the hell out, but then I listen to my mind, don't I?

Ik vergeef het mezelf dat ik het mezelf heb toegelaten bang te zijn om kwetsbaar te zijn waar maite mij kan zien. Ik vergeef het mezelf dat ik het mezelf heb toegealten bang te zijn dat ik misschien zal wenen wanneer ik schrijf over vernedering en dan zal maite mij zien, kwetsbaar en weerloos. Ik vergeef het mezelf dat ik het mezelf heb toegealetn bang te zijn om te wenen waar anderen bij zijn, omdat ik bang ben om mij kwetsbaar op te stellen, om uitgelachen te worden. Ik vergeef het mezelf dat ik het mezelf heb toegealetn bang te zijn om door maite te worden uitgelachen. Ik vergeef het mezelf dat ik het mezelf heb toeegaketn mij te willen 'verbergen' omdat maite mij kan horen en potentieel ook zien. Ik vergeef het mezelf dat ik het mezelf heb toeegaletn gelijk te worden aan mijn ego, als de prsentatie van mijzelf, wanner maite mij kan zien. Ik vergeef het mezelf dat ik het mezelf heb toegelaten mij te schamen over mijn angsten tegenover maite. Ik vergeef het mezelf dat ik het mezelf heb toegealetn mij te schamen over mijn angsten tegenover papa. Ik vergeef het mezelf dat ik het mezelf heb toegelaten bnag te zijn en te denken dat als maite mijn angsten kan zien, ze mij zeker zal uitlachen - en denken dat ik minderwaardig ben. Ik vergeef het mezelf dat ik het mezelf heb toegealetn bang te zijn om mij infreieur te voelen aan maite. Ik vergeef het mezelf dat i het mezelf heb toegelaten bnag te zijn dat maite superieur zal zijn aan mij wanneer ik mij schaam over mezlf, over mijn angsten. ik vergeef het mezelf dat ik het mezelf heb toegelaten woedend te zijn op maite omdat ze de kamer binnenkomt terwijl ik 'graag alleen gebleven was'. Ik vergeef het mezelf dat ik het mezelf heb toegealetn woedend te zijn op maite, 'omdat zij alleen maar aan zichzelf denkt'. Ik vergeef het mezelf dat ik het mezelf heb toegealetn gedegouteerd te zijn van maite. Ik vergeef het mezelf dat ik het mezelf heb toeegaletn gedegouteerd te zijn van maite, omdat zij 'in mijn weg is'. Ik vergeef het mezelf dat ik het mezelf heb toegelaten woedend te zijn op maite omdat zij 'niets verkeerds kan doen en overal graag gezien wordt.' Ik vergeef het mezelf dat ik het mezelf heb toegelaten mij mateloos te ergeren aan maite en aan haar verschijning, omdat 'zij alles opeet'. Ik vergeef het mezelf dat ik het mezelf heb toegealetn ernaar te verlangen dat maite niet zou bestaan. Ik vergeef het mezelf dat ik het mezelf heb toegealetn woedend te zijn op maite en ernaar te verlangen dat zij niet zou bestaan. Ik vergeef het mezelf dat ik het mezelf heb toegealetn te denken dat maite beter niet zou bestaan. Ik vergeef het mezelf dat ik het mezelf heb toegealetn te hopen dat maite verdwijnt. Ik vergeef het mezelf dat ik het mezelf heb toegealetn te hopen dat maite ergens verdwaalt en nooit meer wordt teruggevonden. Ik vergeef het mezelf dat ik het mezelf heb toegealetn maite te haten omdat ze 'te veel' is. Ik vergeef het mezelf dat ik het mezelf heb toegelaten het liever te hebben dat maite niet was geboren. Ik vergeef het mezelf dat ik het mezelf heb toegelaten te wensen dat maite nooit was geboren. Ik vergeef het mezelf dat ik het mezelf heb toeegaletn te wensen dat maite zou verdwijnen. Ik vergeef het mezelf dat ik het mezelf heb toeegaletn maite te haten en woedend op haar te zijn omdat ik nu alles met haar moet delen. Ik vergeef het mezelf dat ik het mezelf heb toegealetn te wensen dat maite niet was geboren, want nu moet ik alles met haar delen en nu heb ik minder voor mijzelf. Ik vergeef het mezelf dat ik het mezelf heb toegealetn maite te zien als 'diegene die alles opeet, die dingen van mij afpakt.' Ik vergeef het mezelf dat ik het mezelf heb toegelaten te denken dat maite helemaal overbodig is en niet het recht heeft om 's morgens mee te eten van de choco. Ik vergeef het mezelf dat ik het mezelf heb toegealetn te denken dat leila helemaal overbodig is en niet het recht heeft om te eten van de choco-pot, want choco, dat eet IK graag. Ok... I'm gonna contine later with this. Maite left the room a while ago anyways... (yes, I written in dutch, because it goes more flowing and easy for me and it was in the moment, so I might just as well leave it here.)

Aha, when maite was around, I had the feeling I wasn't the 'most important' anymore. I saw her as a 'thief'. Everything she owned, she had kind of 'stolen' it, because it could have been mine. So, much self-frogiveness to do still on this pain-in-the-ass-topic. ARrrrrgh... I'll come back on the humiliation an other time.

Friday, March 7, 2008

vulnerability vs Hero

I have some new revelation/realization (real -I-zation - I become real as me) I want to write about. I figured out some more about vulnerability. This I find particularly interesting and also quite funney: the way I re-descover me is in a kind of 'backward way'. I work completely backwards. First i find one thing and I go: aha ! Then I find another thing and go: oops, I was slightly mistaken, but now i am 'aha !' again. And so on. Mistaken, meaning: still being dishonest with myself. Its fascinating how -from a mind's perspective - I didn't know myself at all. I was completely lost -therefore it was impssible for others to really 'get to know me'.

ok, so about vulnerability. I found being vulnerable had - for me -become the opposite of the 'hero'. The (ideal) hero is - preferably - unvincible, undestroyable. He's unvulnerable. And what does the hero do? He rescue's others, who ARE vulnerable. Thats the whole point of 'going to the rescue.' Some moments ago i came to realize this. The jears I was in university this became particularly cristalized. Because I had completely changed enviroment - nobody knew my parents or my sisters, nor my whole previous life - I could 'finally pretend to be a hero', meaning, being unvulnerable. This I did through pretending/believeing i could solve peoples personal problems - through listening with much attention and then giving 'my opinion', as to what I thought they should consider. People would thus believe I was a good listener and someone with great insight.

Me wanting to be a hero, meant: me not being able to experience myself as being vulnerable anymore. What I did was separate vulnerability from myself - I couldn't find vulnerability inside myself no more - and place/project it into my surroundings, people I became 'friends' with - especially my female friends. So, my big ego, was/is mostly this: me perceiving myself to be the hero in 'my world'. Took me a long while to figure out.

I just recall, with Hélène I had this particular thing I would 'start to get worried' when I could not reach her by phone for a while, fearing something 'might have happened to her'. This fear would become really exagerated, completely baseless and out of proportion. So, now I see why I had this fear. Very simple once you understand.

These days it is becomming very clear and obvious too just how the mind is there just to keep us busy - because now I clearly start to see this for myself, whereas before I didn't.

vulnerability and fear of death

I was thinking I must write about leila now - because the forgiveness is just going in cirkels. Kind of awkward, because I dont want leila to know what my experience of her is/was. I'm also afraid I might say thing that are not true, or 'correct'.

Right now I just wonder - have I put my own vulnerablity inside leila? Because that is how i see, experience her: she's vulnerable. tears in my eyes means: yes.

Why did I not want to be vulnerable? This question really freaks me out. I also projected my vulnerability in a friend I had. O, what the hell, I might just as well tell her name. I'm talking about Hélène. So - I first 'put' my vulnerability in H. and then apparantly more in leila, as i dont see H. anymore. Many - too much - comes up right now, things start making sense.

Why do I fear being vulnerable? has it got to do with my father again? my body is going nervous, as I ask myself this question, so there's probably something to it.

I'm afraid of having pain - to experience pain.

When my father gets angry at me, I still can feel many many walls closing in on me - inside me, to seemingly 'protect' myself. I become a wall. Last time I could clearly experience this locked-up-ness inside me. me locked up in fear. I'm really starting to get amazed at how much fear I have inside - when I do forgiveness, it just keep coming. So what the hell do I need this fear for anyway? Why and how could I blieve this fear protects me? and against what?

For some reason my thoughts go to the bird right now - I experience the fear i have of doing him harm - tears again - I was afraid of killing him, causing him torture-like pain, through touching him wrongly or something, or he might hurt himself. A couple of moths ago we cut the nails of his toes, was a real mess, and we hit many vains -so there was blood coming out of his toes. I even pulled out an entire nail, without actually cutting it - because I couldn't control the movement of my hand. it was too presise work and I was nervous and very afraid of hurting him.

So, obviously - when it come to vulnerability, there is much fear of death involved.

I also get worked up over the very word vulnerability, because in dutch it is translated as 'kwetsbaarheid' - wich literally means 'being in a state of possibly getting hurt'. So I feel much anger towards this. because, why should I WANT to get hurt? In my experience it's like 'being vulnerable is actually asking for it'. Or maybe it is an expectation. Yes. Well, expectations dont come out of the blue, do they? This is my anger speaking... ok, I have 'enough material to work with for now'.

Thursday, March 6, 2008

Revelations III

Now I'm here it doesn't feel like I want to write anymore... ok, I'm back. This moring I took some hate out of myself. I was speaking forgiveness about a teacher whom I really resented because of the injustice with wich she would treat me, and act towards me for no reason at all. And then suddenly I applied the same forgiveness on my father - and much, much, much started to reveal itself. It didn't take long before I felt overwhelmed by massive amounts of hate - it was old hate, it came from 'far away'. And as I became this hate again, I spoke self-forgiveness and walked trough it.

I forgive myself that I have allowed myself to hate my father because he got mad at me and hit me for no reason at all.

I forgive myself that i have allowed myself to hate my dad because he got mad and hurt me a lot for no reason at all - I hadn't even done anything.

I forgive myself that I have allowed myself to be disappointed in my father because he hurt me and punished me and got angry with me, for no reason at all.

I forgive myself that i have allowed myself to hate my mother because she allowed my father to hurt and punish me for no reason at all.

I forgive myself that i have allowed myself to be disgusted with my mother because she would never interfere when my father got angry with me and beat me, for no reason at all.

I forgive myself that I have allowed myself to feel betrayed by my mother, because she would always 'tell' my father - thereby allowing him to exert his anger and hate towards me, for no reason at all.

I forgive myself that I allowed myself to be disgusted with life and the world, because my father got angry at me and hurt me a lot for no reason at all - and my mother didn't even care.

I forgive myself that I have never allowed myself to stand up for myself and say to my father: "Now it is enough, you CANNOT hurt me and hit me for no fucking reason at all!"

I forgive myself that I have never allowed myself to see and realise I am responsible for what i allow being done unto me.

I forgive myself that I have allowed myself to create and idea of myself - the desire to become a hero - because i hadn't stood up for myself when I actually had to.

I forgive myself that I have allowed myself to despise myself because I never allowed myself to stand up for myself aginst my father and allowed him to get mad at me and hurt me for no reason at all.

I forgive myself that i have allowed myself to want to become a hero - as a means to hide from myself because of the extent to wich I despised myself for not standing up for myself against my father.

Wednesday, March 5, 2008

Revelations II

So, what else do I experience when I fear my father. let's have a look. Just some moments ago, I was sitting in the kitchen and finishing my cup of tea, all the while speaking self-forgiveness (silently to myself) to figure out why I was reluctant to walk to the front-room - where my dad was watching football - and take a dvd from the 'schouw' (dutch term). The 'problem' was that if I would just proceed to get the dvd wich I would then go watch upstairs on my own - my father would inevitably see me. Now, why is this such a big deal? First of all, this is my general situation - I'm 'supposed to' be looking for a job, or at the very least be thinking about it - but actually right now i am not, in any way. There's two reasons: first, my intestins are still giving me a hard time and make me impossible to focus most parts of the day - wich make me practically useless, but there is improvemetn as I walk trough the forgivenss, step by step. Secondly, I'm seeing at how long I can hold this out - meaning this situation: me still not working and still livin under my fathers roof and this for allmost eight monts now.

So, a couple of nights ago, my father got angry with leila for some bullshit reason - he asked, "are you still up/awake? (and not in your bed cuz tommorrow you have school)" in angry tone of voice. Because I stood there aswell, I say: "While yes, she is," trying to make him see the banality and irrelevant startingpoint of his question. To make long story short, for few days now, he's really nervous, and it's aggravating, because I had given him 'arrogant response', but he take it out on leila. Anyways there's a general atmosfere like he can use any event as an excuse to get mad, and I catch myself all the time wanting to be carefull to not upset him unnessecarily. He's so irritable right now I rather avoid him. my father, he's actually like a truck. He load all the time all this frustration and trauma, in many different ways, and then when he can no longer take it, - and he supresses his load extra-hard with alcohol and non-stop television - he's gonna search a way for him to be able to 'unload' - to express his anger towards someone, through merciless blame and shouting, so he may feel better again fo a while and start loading again.

So - where do i stand in all of this? I'm scared like shit he might get mad, that's how things are right now. Note, it has got nothing to do with me not working - anger don't work according to any 'logic'. That's why I dont even consider looking for or finding myself a job a valid 'solution' to this particular problem. This is not to say, I won't work just to be a pain in the ass for him - when I'm ready to work, THEN I will work.

Again, what was my fear? what did it consist of? Well, there's a genral problem that 'arise in this moment before my eyes'. My father never knows what the hell I'm doing. I kind of keep my whole life 'secret' to him - so he won't judge me, or want to interfere. Its interesting how I manage to do this even now. I spend all day on the second floor (my room), writing and speaking forgiveness and watching films on my laptop to - yes, distract myself- , while he live on the two other floors and mostly downstairs - so we mostly just sit together for dinner and that's it. He soens't even know anything about desteni or process or whatever. Right now to speak to him about this things - now, that is not an option. He'll just assume I got involved in some sect and dragged my sisters along with me. He doesn't hear anyone but himself, so I dont bother anymore. When I got into research a year and a half ago on 9/11 and I tried to talk to him about it, he just got furious (because I - offcourse - got brainwashed) and we nearly started to fight about it. So imagine what it'd be when i start explaining to him what a mind-system consist of and talk about dimensions....

Ok, again. What does my fear consist of? Well, also there is my fear of him even being around. It make's me completely uncomfortable - knowing he's in the house, completely changes my mood. More specificly I don't like it to be in his near presence, this due to his unpredictablity - I never understand whatever he does, especially his anger allways surprises me. His anger allways comes in sudden moments, when you don't expect it. So it's often awkward to be in his presence, because he never talk much and actually keep everything that goes on in his mind, to himself. but when he's irritated, the rule is he sooner or later take it out on my or my sisters, whatever the source of his frustration. And what i also have found very scarey is how fast he supress himself. One moment he can be a raging madman and the next he's all 'calmness' again, watching television 'peacefully'. My mother would use this to reasure me: look, he's already forgotten all about it! But me I would still be tormented inside, nevertheless. The fucked up thing is, my mother told me this becuase she thought it would actually reasure me. (Nope. Not reasuring. You maried a psychopath!) I found this very very frightening aspect of his anger, the way it would come up and then vanish again, as if nothing had happened. See, that's the crazy thing. I'd be all tormented and traumatized inside for several hours and even longer - several days -and he would just go about his day, not mentionning what happened ever again - it simply did not happen, it was seemingly of no importance to him. There was no 'balancing' of anything - there was just him exerting his anger and we suffering it. That's the way it was. Now i think back at it, this really strikes me. there seemed to be some sort of agreement of forgetfullness. These moments where my father got mad, could never be mentionned afterwards. Once we spoke about it to my mother - only ONCE ! - and it was actually leila who was unafraid to bluntly say: "I'm tired of dady beating the crap out of us!" ("Ik ben het duswell beu dat papa ons altijd afslaagt, hè!") And my mom only replied, as if we were making abig deal out of nothing, and trying to de-base the serioussnes of leila's question: "Have you been sitting and talking together again, yes?" Wow, now I just write these words I cannot believe she actually said that... But she did. It was tue, we had been sittig and talking together. We did this sometimes, sit together and dream about leavng the house. But we'd put it in strange terms. we would want to 'move to another house' - as if the problem was generated by the house. Well, life was this house actually. So, moving to another house meant: moving to another life. I'd love this, to pretend to my sisters we'd one day move to another house, even if I knew then already that such athing was actually impossible for us to get from the ground. I dont know if maite and leila both belived it, next time I'll ask. This, however, we perceived to be the only solution for the injustice we were living. To just fucking beat it.

But anyways, it was clear from that moment on - as a certainty - that our mother wasn't actually on our side. We were on our own, we received no support. I dont remember my mother ever interfering with my father when he would get mad at us -I mean physicly. Maybe a few times she stood by the side and said to my father: "allright, allright, now its enough, " but never after he'd make his 'point' though. I always had thought her interfearence had been completely redundant and of no real help. I must admit that - things being as they were - I was relieved my mother dared to speak to him, even if it was of no real avail. It proved to me it was not impossible for her to do. But this I now remember - she did only on or two times - when my father was clearly getting mad over a misunderstanding. Hmmm...

I dunno if I gonna write about this, because I dont see where it will bring me this time... but, i'm writing already ain't I? So, once my father had beaten me - I was in first or second grade of public school - 'because I had started shouting to my mother' - because i was getting frustrated over some schoolwork and her questions didn't help me, so he came in - and his face, boy, I can hardly remember having seen him THIS mad. His lips were curled so all his teeth were revealed and he gave me one big smash in the face. I dropped myself to the ground out of complete fear and panic not knowning of anything better to do, just protect myself and my head, and then he'd continue kicking me with his leg and again I felt he was holding himself back - that he would actually like to kick me much harder. And he shouted: you don't shout at your mother! I had apparently commited a holy crime. I had actually just raised my voice somewhat out of frustration. So, that's when mom interfeared, in the end, saying it was well now.

Me I fled to my room and my nose was bleeding. Now - he had not punshed me. So i said to myself he had not inteded for my nose to bleed. 'he just hit me in a way he did not intend to' - wich was true. normally he would slap me with more 'precision'. So - in a weird twist of mind - I understood it to be an accident from wich he could be excused. Before I ran upstairs my mom had asked me to wash my nose (actaully to hide the fact I had a nosebleed), before I got down again, because my father had not taken notice of it yet. but instead I let it bleed a while letting the blood show itself clearly under my nose, and THEN I went down again, pretending to need somthing from the livingroom. My father was still speaking with a mad tone of voice to my mother - they were standing in the kitchen - very agitated and still quite angry. So, the moment he took notice of me he fel silent and his face even went a little pale. My mother immediately reacted - shocked - "I told you to wash it off !" because to her it was obvious I wanted to make my father feel bad about himself, wich was the case. Well, I was not lying or anything, i was just showing him what he'd actually done - It is true, because I felt sorry for myself too. I gave my father a specific look too: I was frowning and looking in a blamefull way. It wasn't clear to me though if I was standing in my right or not, but I knew - from television - that now I had some sort of proof of his violence. And this proof I wanted to use against him. It was the firts time - that i remember of - it was me blaming him. Now my mother felt sorry for him again, and so

wow, I just had massive revalation as I was reading kiki's blog - i dont remember how exactly, but check this out: the reason why I left the blood where it was, is because i felt like a hero now. Amazing... This hero-motief, even though I just discovered it, put many things in an unexpected perspective. I actually remember it. I was watching at my own blood with a cartain sense of admiration towards myself. Wow, I had managed to get a nosebleed! Like the heroes, when they do their endless fights, they allways end up having nosebleeds. very, very, interesting. Imagine, just recently I had fantasized over making a post with the title 'Hero vs Victim' - wich I didn't make because it would heve been a fabricated presentation. But here I am - realising in the moment. Being a hero means being a victim aswell - every true hero is a victim. It's both the same - one polarity. (remember, every 'hero' get attacked sooner or later)

Thereore, I was upset when my mother shouted I should wash my nose, after i had come down, because she made it clear to me: I was no hero, but a coward.

nice, how things can 'fall into place' unexpectedly. Much better than thinking of a storyplot !

revelations in the moment

I feel a bit like shit right now. Been doing forgiveness for some time - just now - but I cannot sort aal the emotions out right now that I feel. Generaly, it's a heaviness in my shoulders and ..., kind of everywhere. But as I speak forgiveness I notice many movements, like little slow-motion-explotions in my body - like enrgy-waves - (I say 'energy because i dont know of any other term right now to describe this sensation accurately) they move along my spine eventually - and that's where these movents seem to come together. In general this 'explosions' - they are soft and not violent though - give me some kind of relief in the moment, that's why I guess its probably sensations of release.

The other day - I was 'delving in myself again' and becoming more specific -and I had a re-experience of a moment where I had freaked and I felt completely lost, my body convulsing - because I was lying down (I was going to sleep) - very very extensively (my head was jumpng up and down on the pillow and I breathed like I had a pannic attack - well, probably it was just that.) - but now I was sitting on a chair: I felt the initial panic come up again and my breath going all on his own -way to loud and fast -and tears start rolling on themselves, but I take a hold of my breath and focus and speak forgiveness all the while I cry. Then it was over and apparently gone, taken out. It had to do with a person and fear of loss - and when I was done I realised why I had needed that person so much, and that it actually had nothing to do with this person, who was my best friend for many years - so I saw myself as I had let go of her and I was calm inside.

Since Helena (see previous post) gave me her replie I've started to see my dishonesty - though I was already aware of it but didn't seem to find a way to 'break out' of it - and gave me much 'broader look on myself' - to the allover design of my mind, I would say. The reason why I did not 'want to go there' is because I still had this fear inside: that certain feelings must be forgotten as soon as possible to never experience them again. And so I avoided them -because, have a look: I had never known of any way to free myself from this, so what would be the point in 'going back to it', it would be blunt self-mutilation - and also, i must admit, I had a fear to lose control and cry like a baby. But with self-forgiveness the 'going back' serves a purpose: to actually take it out forever and be free again.

Can I write about it? i'm thinking of my father again, that one of these days he's definitely gonna explode BIG TIME. Who will I be when this happens? Will I fall back into paralysing fear? It was interesting, last time my father got angry I was able to observe myself - luckily the situation permitted this - and sense what it is I was actually experiencing inside myself. I found that, besides the fear that made me literally tremble inside, there existed other kinds of anxiety asswell. I found a fear to start crying - I haven't really investigeted this one yet - to lose controll, because I was trying to hold ùyself together - and man, this is HARD and goddamn heavy. Concentrating so as to not show any of my feelings to my dad - so that he may not think I am weak. But, I guess my eyes allways betray me - because I allways knew whem he could sense my fear. He'd be pleased with himself. Lately when he gets angry and afterwards I look him in the eye, he turns his eyes away, however. So, I discovered that he has fear too, or, I dont know. it is as if my look - however short - dethrones him from his position of certainty. I remember me and my sisters we'd allways look away - when he was mad at us, we couldn't -or at least I didn't dare to stare him in the eye - thereby, without having any intentions, making it kind of easier for him to let himself go on us, because he must never face us.

This was klind of the rule. after he dot mad at us, w'd never look at him because he'd be looking at us and still judging us wth a look that says: "yes, I despise you." with fury still in his eyes and the way he curled/formed his mouth.

Monday, March 3, 2008

move on please

It is so ridiculous how the mind works - because that one place in your life where you absolutely need to go, it will say: "nope, not important - move on please." And you continuously "scroll" over it - not even taking notice of it. I'm talking about memories here.

here's an answer i recieved from Helena, (==>, my Tree of Life, a Dimensional being who stand within and as me, to a question I asked, related to pain in my intestins:

"Yes - there is still self forgiveness to be done. The intestines are still harboring suppressed emotions - most specifically anger and resentment specifically related to 'family', this world, life and your 'situation' as your experience of you in this world. See, you have much blame towards your family with regards to 'how you and your life turned out' and you've attempted and tried many various ways to escape this absolute 'fucked-upness' within you with regards to your family - and the only way you've succeeded to keep your experience towards your family at 'bay' = is suppression. This intolerance towards your family - brought you to the intolerable nature of 'life' itself, meaning your experience of your 'life' in this world - like there's no escape from what exist within this world and you've 'mothered' a 'deep hate' within you towards this world, 'life', your 'family' = everything. And it's that 'hate' that absolute intolerability within you - from which you've attempted and tried to escape, which made you 'do things' in your life and 'become someone' that you don't enjoy 'being with' - you don't enjoy being with you. Now, this is quite deeply rooted, so with regards to self forgiveness - you have to go in to the very core of the root within you - the root of the anger, intolerance, irritation, fed-upness, frustration - have a look at what 'triggers' such emotions within you - observe all the points within yourself and your world - and start with self forgiveness from there. From tHERE you will find the 'points' within you and your life experience that has caused this experience within you and your world - and so effectively release you and the pain your intestines is experiencing at the moment. --Helena"

So, what I started to do was self-forgiveness on my father and so on. Now there is a whole new 'chapter' of my life to be remembered and faced - and it's a little village called Zafarraya. (forgiveness now, i continue later)

Sunday, March 2, 2008

the death of a God

It is 'very late' and 'normally' I would use this beliefs and idea's as a justification for laying back a while and watching some movie - with the hidden intention of wanting to slip into the mind again for a while. But instead I apply forgiveness and direct myself here. And now I write on my blog again.

What shall I write about? I already know that... today I read maites' story on our father. I was glad she had written it, because I was kind of waiting myself to get started on this subject. Lets' begin with an observation. I found not so cool reactions inside myself when she talked about my father hitting her. Why? Because I dont fucking remember it the way she does... I know now that I have been doing some cover up work, unbenownst to myself... Its particularly shoking for me because even after reading her words, I still dont fucking remember. She said he hit her so hard she would experience a burning feeling for a long while after on the skin (several hours). I always made myself believe it wasn't the spankings/hitting wich was scary, but the anger with wich he did it. Out off all the memories I have about getting 'punished' I mostly remember the fear, not so much the physical pain...

For now I haven't anything to add to my initial remark, so I'll just tell some story of my own. As I was doing forgiveness aftr reading maite's blog, I found myself gravitating around the following: seeing my father as a hero - kind of the complete opposite of maite's perspective... ok.

My father had been the most important human being in my life. I remember him being the one who 'introduced me to the world'. I relied on him with blind faith, I loved it when he told me all the things he knew about the world. his knowledge seemed so vast at the time - he seemed to know and to be aware of absolutely everything. I always had the sense it was him taking ALL the descisions - and this I admired about him, because to me he appeared to be doing so without any doubts. He knew what he was doing and there was no messing around with him. He was the one who gave purpose to both my life and my mothers, because she relied on him extensively aswell. He was the one who made my world go round. he stood in the absolute center - there stood NO ONE next to or even near him. He was the God of my world, the center of everything that i knew off. He gave direction to everything. With my mother it wasn't the same. Even though they were both THERE, he would take on the leading part, he was in control. My mother just being his support.

Obviously this image I had of my father could not last eternally. Yes, in primary school I had already started to figure out he wasn't all that great, but the great 'awakaning' happened somewhat later. Being in public school I'd meet several different kind of adults (teachers). I had never met 'intellectual people' before in my life. They seemed to exist on a complete different level than anyone I knew of in my family or anywhere else. This is also the time I took serious interest in writing short stories - this was all a year or so after I had taken my leave from kortenberg. Now, with this 'new kind of people' supposedly 'giving me an education' I started noticing that my father wasn't all that smart after all. So, one thing leading to another. It ended up me seeing my father as a pathetic and coward man who understood nothing about anything. On top of that he would at one point stop caring about how he looked like and get really fat. In a few years time I had 'lost my father' - nothing of him remained. Basicly I felt betrayed. Because my mother was undergoing the same process. I saw the dumbness of her. suddenly both my parents had become dumb people - my mother even more than my father. I felt all this 'life-situation' was getting really groteske. I lost all respect for them. My kindness became an act i performed out of practicallity.

Together with the loss of the ideal father-image, I lost all sense of purpose in life. I always had relied on him to be knowing what he was doing, so the choices he made for me would be absolutely necessary. In point of fact he knew shit. It was one great desillusion. Life lost all its splendour and hope. All this I am telling now happened somewhat more dispersed in time, and actually started earlier, bu that dont matter. My father had stood as the purpose and direction I had separated myself from and now he appeared to be a fraud. At some point i wouldn't even bother talking to him anymore. he never understood anything about what i said or about what i did.

So what i did was re-design myself some sense of purpose and direction. Now -apparantly - I had to become famous and recognised. I would make shure my name would get known - no matter what. I'd become a novel-writer. Now this choice is very specific of course. The purpose and sense I was 'giving' myself was all mirage and illusion-constructs - it only existed as a dream in my mind. it had no foundation whatsoever in reality. The stories I wrote would be attempts to experience some sense of purpose. Stories always have a 'clue', they revolve around something - there life can still be myserious. Because what I believed to be 'the real world' had lost all its mystery to me - no mysries left. The world was just a pointless and emarrasing performance run by idiots.

additional observation, in-the-moment realization:

an aspect of my father I didn't very much consider in the account I have given so far, is the HERO- aspect. Yes, I thought my father was a hero and this I have mentionned already. But what does this mean in relation to me and me growing older? The dethroning of my father from his god-like position, was the realization he was actually no hero. But here is the problem, I had already set myself the purpose of wanting to become a hero like my father. now, I'll be writing some more about this soon. Damn, is gonna be long and tough one. Its strange how unaware one can be of oneself...