Sober first – breaking up

The hug-buddy and I just ‘broke up’ – over Facebook chat of all possible ways to do so. Not sure if you can ‘break-up’ when there is a no-relation pact and not sure what just happened. I feel I got sucked into a drama which is not my play. I guess it is not my drama then but we are not hug-buddies anymore either. It feels like he is used to women coming after him and demanding stuff. I feel like he wants me to fall in love so he can walk away and I can come running after him. But that is not the way I play. Not sure if that is because I have been trying to be an adult for a few years now or because I am the queen bee? It is a sad drama.

That is a funny comparison because the queen in the beehive leaves and then the guy bees go after her. They mate. And oooh, then they get killed. πŸ˜€ Ok, not funny. Guess the theory on being adult does not hold. πŸ˜‰

I should be going to bed. Tomorrow is Kingsday in the Netherlands: birthday of the king. It is a holiday and the whole of Amsterdam will get flooded with drunken tourists. There is also a marvellous flea market going on throughout the city. This starts at between 03:00 and 07:00 and people sell their rubbish / 2nd hand goods. Good. πŸ™‚ At round about 12:00 ish the first drunk people fall over and that is normally a sign for me to go home. This time friends and I have planned to meet at the other side of the city from where I live. It is only a bike ride of 30 minutes, in the morning. Later tomorrow it will take more than an hour, possibly 1,5. Or I need to take all the back roads but exactly the roads I would normally use will be flooded. And I don’t like masses. I get very stressed out. I specifically dislike drunken masses and I have difficulty with the vibe of addiction which will be all over town from noon onwards.

I don’t feel all too stable. Not sure if going is a good idea. On the other hand, maybe I could use some company and not feel stupid for not going out. I have a new pair of jeans. so… πŸ™‚

I do not know. I will take care of myself and go to bed now.

I am grateful that I do not drink anymore. Kingsday and New Years eve traditionally were my biggest drinking events. I feel, when in this mode, I should take extra care of me and going across town through a drunken mob is not my idea of self-care. On the other hand, fun is good too. And not going out is a way of me keeping me small. I do not fear I will drink, it is ‘just’ (?) that I turn unstable with strong emotions. This evening I went shopping for dinner and there were people raiding the stores for the last bottles and cans of beer, calling mates and asking in a stressed voice “What do I take home?! Brand X is sold out!” It takes me about 2 hours of solid Netflixing to get that out of my system. Not sure why I transfer addiction to soothe myself. Well, put it that way and I am sure. πŸ™‚

I will not worry now, go to bed and see what tomorrow brings. πŸ™‚

Wishing you a good sober night/day!

xx, Feeling

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The land of no self-hate – episode 7

Currently not reading in the Cheri Huber book but trying to notice love and hate as they pop up during the day.

Since I have a lot of energy returning to me now I do not constantly dislike myself I feel I can work again. This is not true according to my friends and I still tear up when I think about my former workplace experiences, but I do like to think it is true. So the last days I have tried to force myself to think about work and direction in life. Guess with writing that down I realise that the forcing part is never a good recipe for getting good results… hmmm…. Well, I force myself and the ONLY thing that comes back currently is a whining;Β  “But I want to be special. I don’t want to do something normal, something average. I want to do something NEW and EXCITING and I want people to be in awe over it.” Yeah, well, not my proudest acknowledgment here.. but it is here and I can not leave from where I am not so I thought I would write about it.

I think to know when exactly I adopted this attitude. It was while admiring a very fashionable, beautiful woman who visited my neighbours and everybody was in awe of her. I thought something along the lines off: “If I become like here they will not touch me anymore, not hurt me.” I am guessing that is where my need for being special started.

It must be about 25 years ago when I spoke with a professional care-giver, he said: “with the right attitude, people do not harass you”. Even after this time I still carry it with me and it was one of the reasons why I hardly ever spoke about sex or abuse in therapy. These tiny sentences with such big consequences.

Being at the receivingΒ  end of that judgement about abuse I wanted to become special even more. Only if I was really, really special, with the right attitude, people would not harass me and not judge me for having been harassed. I would need to rise above humanity to be safe. This escapism, it is so big in me.

Last week a friend treated me on a horoscope explanation. Every word the man said was recognisable in my life. My main issue in life was ‘manifestation’ and my fear of it. And indeed: not being fully incarnated in this world, as I had already assumed. It is time. And I think self-acceptance, self-love is the way. πŸ™‚

While writing I try to go from the sort of neutral state of observing my state to acceptance of the situation and love for me. In every attempt I meet up with another blockage. Maybe I should not grapple with the Truth but wait for it to come by. Same shit, different excercise. πŸ™‚ How many reasons do I need to exactly not like myself?

It must have been about 10 years ago that I realised that from all the people I knew, I could not mention one of whom I felt they loved themselves. How many people do you know who genuinely love themselves?

There is this pretty persistent Dutch mentality in me that says “Doe ff normaal!” it means as much as: Act normal! NOW! It tells me I would be bragging if I said I love myself. That I would be stuck up. Dutch culture does not advise you to hate yourself, but a normal, neutral state is preferred. πŸ™‚ Which, now I come to think about it, is as logical as not loving somebody else ‘because that would give them the idea they were too good for this world.’Β  πŸ™‚

Because of the book by Cheri Huber I am starting to doubt if I can love somebody if I do not love myself. I think I can, but it is not unconditional, it is as conditional as I ‘love’ myself. Not only hate is a projection, a transfer, love can be too. When love is not a state of being of acceptance and realisation within the Life force, it seems to be a projection. Lately it seems to me that all emotions I could have about somebody else are projections. Obviously there are many moments I do not want to accept that because I prefer the guy whom I call an asshole to be an asshole rather than having to look at myself…. OBVIOUSLY!

Love can be emitting from my core and be aligned with Life or ‘put on somebody because of how he/she makes me feel’. Or so I experience it 10th of a seconds ever so now and then. (I would not want to presume I know anything about love because I “Doe normaal!”) Reading ‘There is nothing wrong with you’ at times brings me in this state of tranquility. It is a good antidote to the stress which is locked in my body. Ok. Did I tell you I think it is a good book? πŸ˜‰

My new course on a specific gardening subject started this week. Wonderful, wonderful , wonderful! I full classroom with mostly people of the same hair colour all excited about the same subjects. πŸ™‚ We are going to do excursions too. Yay! πŸ™‚

I am grateful that I do not drink alcohol anymore. Slowly, slowly this ship is turning away from the collision course it was on.

Wishing you a good sober day/night.

xx, Feeling

The land of no self-hate – episode 6

A friend came over last week. We spoke and she found out I had not been opening my social security mail. I can not lie about those things anymore or change the subject. When I try to change the subject or speak half truth I feel bad; like my internal system just blocks. Things inside get twisted and I feel like I am threading the path to addiction again. It is very informative and also very unhandy and it feels childish but if this is what it takes to get me unaddicted and keep me sober… then it is what it takes.

As she had been working for such an organisations she says: “80 Percent of the people in your situation have a big problem with procrastinating and actually fear doing their administrative work. A lot of people do not open their mail.” And there I am, hating myself for it, thinking I am the only one. Noticing that I still can not do what I think I should. Still can not ask for help. She was nice and just offered; “Let’s do this together.” We opened the mail, did the online thingies and yay – social security money coming my way.

What will I do? I will contact the social security organisation and really start looking for help. Together we set a date to do so within 2 weeks. This has gone too far. I could not see that earlier and I still do not want to see it. I have read this writing 3 times in the last days and still I internally move away from the shame that is related to, to failing I guess. I feel I am failing here big time.

My inability to get my life in order frustrates the hell out of me. I have so many skills, very unusual ones which are extremely well-developed and when it comes to my own life, I collapse. I notice that I go from utter frustration to admiring what I can do. This, I found, is another trait of addictive thinking: cancelling out frustration with admiration, dreams, ideals, anything unreal, always polarised, never neutral, never the middle road.

Well, the Good Thing from reading the book on self-hate and self-love is that I am experiencing more and more and more peace inside. I can breathe easier for instance. I have been practicing this but now I notice much better when I get upset over a (social) media post. I notice how destructive most of the posts are and indeed: Facebook, anything social media is addictive to me because of the arousal of feelings.

For logging purposes: When I opened my online bank account and realised that I misjudged my spendings of the last 5 months with a whooping 2000 euro. That sucks. I tried to reason with that while saying the most ridiculous things to myself at topspeed. My friend asked me if I knew where it went. Since I pay everything by debit card I guess I can work that out. Money and figures are not negotiable and pretty black and white I came nowhere. I realised what I do felt familiar. I did this, I felt like this, when was it? Aaaah! When I was drinking! So, this is denial. Different subject. Same shit.

What surprises me is now I found a little bit of self-love, new levels of self-hate open up.Β  Yeah, that is what it is. And that is how it works. Denial: the ‘not wanting to look at that’, the darkness, the shadow, the ‘not wanting to feel’, the ‘not wanting to be present’ – it is all the same energetic movement away from my centre, away from what is.

Also: energy flows where attention goes. And I guess this is how I learn; build up the most unbearable amount of stress and then explode or implode and sink to a rock bottom from where I start again. Very much how people with an addictive personality ‘lead’ their life. :-). I wrote this paragraph earlier, now, a few days later I have difficulty with the energetic polarisation which is in it. And if it were somebody elses writing this I would get tired of it and wonder when this person’s personal hell will see some daylight.

So, lots going on. Practicing almost every moment of the day with self-care and finding out that love can be in every detail of my life, not only in how I treat my body with eating or not eating but also in how I sit, in how I breathe, what I watch, what I let my mind think about, what I let my eyes see. I read more. Reading beats Netflix and Facebook by far.

I am grateful that I quit drinking alcohol. I feel internally pressured into writing here that I my life is ‘not working out yet’. I guess I could call that shame, it feels like shame. But I am on the right track. Maybe I did not fail, I just found out a 10.000 things that don’t work. πŸ˜‰ I am a way nicer person than I was 4 years ago, than I was half a year ago, than I was a 2 months ago.

Based on the idea that money is not all too tight I ordered some new jeans. The old pair had holes in them. I fitted 20 pairs and send back 18. I had an hour of practise on not hating my formidable behind. Repeating: I can not hate myself thin, I can not dislike myself happy. πŸ™‚ It worked somewhat.

Wishing you a nice sober day.

xx, Feeling

The land of no self-hate – episode 5

I woke up this morning and against all odds tried to love myself. Now I think to know this self-hate and destructive behaviour is an addiction as well, things start to fall into place. So now I continue practising liking me, not hating me. Had some lousy tries and some good ones. I also had difficulty concentrating because of the upcoming ‘we need to speak’ talk with the hug-buddy.

I did however have some help in liking myself from the hug-buddy. And I had some insight in the absurd workings of the Universe. AGAIN! It works out the hug-buddy has not only been addicted to alcohol, he also had/has a sex addiction. Hugging does not set his fixation off, it relaxes him. Other things do. He never went into treatment for either of them. He ‘did a geographical’Β  – moved a few countries away from his abusive wife several years ago and it worked.

To the Universe: how on earth did I, from all the guys in that factory, find the one and only addict? And on my two ‘favorite’ subjects?! :-/ And how to continue?

When we are together we hug and touch and relax and do some relatively innocent sexy stuff. I keep my pants on AND my everywhere hair unshaven – unshaven EVERYWHERE. awkward? Yup. Deliberately awkward because IΒ  don’t want to cross borders I do not want to cross yet or at all. I think I need to learn not only to say no, but also to say yes. And do so from the start, not as an afterthought. I am not there yet – dealing with shame, unease and lack of practice.

The hug-buddy is very good at saying what he likes and how he likes it. I want that too. So, that is my practise. I made it his practise that he learns to touch me as I touch him – he likes the way I touch. They all do, I seem to have magic hands – said the boundariless addict :-/ I also like the way I touch better than how a lot of other people touch. So he needs to learn to touch and really be present in that touch, at that place, at that moment.Β  It is so cool to feel him (try to) do that and not have grabby hands which only take and think of satiation.

Lucky him and me…. of all the women he could have chosen I am one who can sense change from non-sex to curious sex, to needy sex, to single-minded taking sex, to disrespectful sex within a second wherever it may happen in the body, mind, feelings or intentions.

He says touching like stroking and massaging of the non sexual areas is ok. So we did that and suddenly, because of the newly found trust in each other it all spun out of control. I do feel alive now. πŸ˜€ Yesterday I was looking to feel alive. I do now. However I do not feel proud of having let myself go feeling wise. Nothing happened, but we did put quite some gasoline on the fire so to say.

He says: “If I go into the sex mode I end up drinking and having financial problems in no time.” So what kind of woman am I that…? Well. Ha! Addict trap 2109: “I will help you with this….” And still: my whole body, mind, aura is alive with expectation and desire. Both not good words in the addict world.

If anybody has a title for a book on how to deal with sex-addiction I would be grateful.Β  I notice that I want to think I have it ‘all worked out’ myself already (not!) but I’m not sure if that is helpful. It actually feels very egocentric of me somehow. Possibly because the addict in me wants to make a pact with his addict ‘because it feels good’. I really, really, really need to get a grip on this because I do not want to take him down because he makes me feel good.

Second thing that happened; he did his ‘we need to talk thing’ and probably a lot of the energy he had put in building up fences fell away. So the next layer came lose: enormous dislike, anger, almost hatred of women of his own age (he is more than a decade younger). I can imagine what he is experiencing; he is tremendously handsome in a ‘Disney prince without a dime, all alone in the world’ kind of way. Girls latch onto that like crazy. But princess attract princesses and those all want something of him; very aggressive, very demanding and very demeaning when he does not give them what they want. Something in that dynamic must have its influence on how he looks upon women.

And now he has given me the feeling of being alive and a basis for loving myself again. And I want that. But at what cost to him? And can self-love filled in by the other? Or is it absurd of me to expect to be able to do everything on my own? Yes Ainsobriety: I am overthinking here. πŸ˜€

The addict within me says: “But geeeeez! I just want to be happy!” But I’m guessing there is no ‘just’ anymore when I want to stay sober and I want him to be stable. But am I at this stage using my co-dependency to ‘help him’ and feel better myself? Or should I stop overthinking and go with the flow? Ooooh, no no no no no no nooooooo – hair on, pants on, brain on. Agenda for the next meeting with the hug-buddy: where are the boundaries, what is the safety zone. What happens if these are crossed (playing the tape forward). How to stop us from crossing the safety zone.

Ok, I could have made this a shorter post and some of it is redundant but then I would not have experienced these corners of my feelings/wishes/thoughts. I guess that’s it. By writing stuff down I get to go to the next door behind I find other, new stuff.

So much for today. I am grateful that I do not drink. Today very much so because it made that I have insight in addiction and e.g. did not laugh at the hug-buddy when he came out of his closet about this. Also this gives me a good reason to more structurally work on myself because I do not want to take him down because of my self-hate.

Because of self-hate I need/would like to use others to love me. Sex is an easy way to get my claws into somebody.Β  And I noticed today that I am familiar with this track and that we can both run down this track very easily. When I do not hate myself I do not want to use people to fulfill my needs for love. I hope. They say that is how it works. πŸ˜‰

Wishing you a good sober night/day.

xx, Feeling

The land of no self-hate – episode 4

The book ‘There is nothing wrong with you’ by Cheri Huber advises the reader to ‘go one day without self hating’ andΒ  ‘if the results of that day are not satisfying, you can double up on the self-hate the day after’. Well, not exactly her words but something along those lines. I tried. I had a wonderful day. And then life happened and I could not keep up the non-hating and I indeed doubled up on self-hate. But not because I wanted to.

It is funny in a not funny way: self-hating, or no matter what negative behaviour very much feels like and addiction. I wrote about that before and placed this vid of which IΒ  strongly urge you to watch. It is a part of the movie ‘What the bleep do we know’ and it explains how emotions work through (natural) chemicals in the body. The physical part of emotions. And also they speak of addiction to emotions or certain emotions (like self-hating).

 

On top of doubling up on self-hating get signals from the hug-buddy that he wants to make changes to our dalliance. I thought I had protected myself well enough from heart-break but no. πŸ™‚ Obviously I rush to conclusions thinking that ‘change’ means ‘shut down’. So I was all over the place yesterday and last night. Very painful feelings of loss, loneliness, heart-ache and ‘being good for nothing’. He has not even said a word apart from ‘we need to talk’. But then again, I don’t think he’s pregnant or wants to marry me. :-/ When a guy says ‘we need to talk’ that is pretty ominous.

I realise that when I want to change this personal hell of pain which I walk in lately, I need to dig some deeper than bringing on a mantra of ‘you are ok’. While in my bed thinking: ‘I might as well face this.’Β  and I went all in. Again and again, I run into what one could call survivor guilt. I did not come into this world innocent, I came into this world after having killed my twin brother. And even though this memory has not always been active in my life there have always been hints of me knowing, of me feeling guilty. Like the time I explicitly told my mother that I existed and this meant that somebody else did not exist. She reacted as if it was a futile and ludicrous attempt on philosophy by a 4-year-old. It was not. I have really said some bizarre things. Funny how nobody ever picked up on that. I remember being explained what the word ‘murder’ means and all the kids being shocked while I felt guilty and had no idea why. Everybody saying “I could never do that!” while I tried to say those words but I knew I was lying. I knew very well what it is to cause somebody to die. I know it was not ‘my fault’ – but ‘preferring the other to die in stead of me’ makes it feel as if I had a choice. I tried to help him. But I was too late.

This shadow hanging over me, this darkness I take with me all my life. It is fertile soil forΒ  whatever accusation is coming my way.. On good days it is only there as a destructive notion of self-hatred, of self-destructive behaviour, of addiction. On bad days I wake up with hatred so big that I want to jump of the building. My ’emotional body’ feels like I am walking through a world on fire. Flames all around me scourging me.Β  I can look at this screen and see the screen and the letters forming words. When I turn my eyes inwards I see flames in the darkness and there is nothing else. It is real strange to be speaking with friends on the phone while inside I am burning with flames.

I don’t want this anymore. Last night in bed I realised that a few years ago I got sober and decided that I need to feel my way back into life if I want to un-addict. WELL F#CK! There is so much I do NOT want to feel, do NOT want to be present with, do NOT want to be. I do not understand how other people do this. How do you live? I can really feel into this shit for 5 to 10 minutes. Then it takes me at least 2 hours of zoning out over a computer game or Netflix to be able to, dunno, get up? Do the dishes.

But I have a cat so I have to live and maybe deal with being me. Days have been very dark and destructive. I am guessing when in the process of fo finding self-love the self-hate pops back up too. Both become more alive with a current emphasis on the hate 😦 No surprise there. It feels like ‘drinking extra because next week I will stop anyway’. Gosh… hmm, that still sounds logical. That is not good. Guess it was a myth that Jason Vale or I did not debunk. Hmmm, needs looking into.

If indeed self-hate is addictive behaviour, like I am now/have been convinced off, some part of me will feel threatened by letting it go. Bullocks, not parts. I feel threatened by letting it go. I would not know whom to be if I do not destroy myself. Now that…. hmmm…. straight from the heart. 😦

The social services offered help with my mental state. Then I got in such a bad state that I could not fill in the forms which are mandatory for getting help.

I wrote the above and took a break from writing. With an ef it all attitude I dove into the darkest darkness and ended up in front of my dying twin-brother.

I was addicted from birth onwards. My parents were surprised about how cuddly I was. My mother called me ‘a bottomless pit’ when it came to cuddling. They were also surprised on how demanding when it came to food. Seems like I screamed with rage, high and loud, till I got my food, several times the neighbours came to see if all was ok.

The memory of my brother’s death is a vivid one. It came back to me in half sleep while I myself had no clue of there even being such a thing as vanishing twins. Him being so close, no, that is not the word, we were each other:

You are me,
I am you,
We are you,
We are me.

Then,
you were not.

So who am I?

He died at tiny arms length of me. The disintegration of a soul, the destruction, the immensity of the very intricate, living structure of enormous intelligent power, of consciousness which holds together every atom in a person. All this fell apart in front of me. He fell apart. We fell apart. I fell apart. The insight it gave me in the imensity of the Universe, the quality of the substance of life, of consciousness, of what holds us together. Losing him, losing me, it broke my essence and threw me into the Universe with no protection what so ever. The purpose of the body is to experience separateness, time and death. These three things make up the human experience.

This is what it looked like. Well, not literally, but the energetic explosion had the same quality as this photo. Only this has no center, no axis and no direction.

gasphotouniverse

My brother and I were Mono Zygotic twins. And yes, everybody says that is not possible male – female monozygotic, but it is. First, because that is how I experienced it – which haha, has little scientific meaning but I searched literature till I found that indeed it is possible. Chemical wonders. Secondly, what happens is that hormone wise putting a guy and a girl in one sac is a chemical time bomb so one has to go. Which is the reason there are currently only 5 or so sets of living MZ twins. Google it. The stem of the scientific verb to describe the process of the one twin ‘killing’ the other is the stem of the verb of which my first name is derived. Amongst others it means alienate. I know, sounds all carnavalesque but it is true.

“Let’s have a baby and call it after an alien. Sure she’ll just fit in nicely in this world and feel so very welcome… ” Ok. Childish. I just very much dislike my name since I heard what it means.

I need to own this story. I still have difficulty believing it myself. Which I guess it keeps on coming back here in the blog.

I have been in contact with Vanishing Twin groups on the internet and I can not find what I am looking for which is the understanding from the inside out. Most people come to this conclusion of having had a (vanishing) twin from the outside in; they read something and it fits their profile.

I did it the other way around: I experienced something and went looking for medical and psychological theory to back me up. Well, these groups feel like talking about addiction to somebody who has not experienced it. Or worst: being ‘helped’ or in most of the cases actually being ‘talked down to’ by somebody who has ‘been through this because the book says so’ but really thinks others ‘should not make such a fuss because THEY themselves have done so well’. Haaaahahaha, sort of how I treat addiction: “I advise you to read the book. It will fix you.” OMG. OMG. Uncomfortably close to the truth that is.

Ok. Long story longer. I looked into the abyss. I feel better now. I hope it did not sicken you to have a peek into the abyss too. This is what happened to me. I looked into the Universe. I saw life and death. This changed me. It made it VERY HARD for me to walk in this world and feel normal. I do not feel normal. And any attempt at feeling normal is futile because I’m not made of the same stuff 9 out of 10 others are. When with the bookstore man I felt normal because he was like I. 1 Out of 10 people has a VT. People with VT syndrome have addiction issues. As a statistic 1 out of 10 people has issues with addiction. I think there is a big overlap between the VTS people and the addicted people. Double diagnoses is the favorite VTS thing: addiction and mental health issues, specifically bi-polar. Anything polar, anything extreme is very VTS. As it is addicty.

Even longer: things are unearthing. Self-hate and self-love are fighting. I need to delf into this because I do not want it to fester. It has festered several decades. I should put a stop to it. If it is true that it is an addiction, then I know how to deal. ‘Just’ don’t do it anymore. πŸ˜‰

However dark my days I am grateful that I do not drink. I experience this as a sick world (for reference: Syria bombing) and if I want to change anything to it I need to not self-destruct by booze. Now looking to un-addict from the other self-destructive behaviours. Maybe, maybe, maybe I can enjoy life again. Maybe I can learn to like living again. Be happy without that crocodile under the bed, that presence of doom and damnation around the corner.

Wish me luck with the hug-buddy.

Wishing you a nice sober night or day now in Australasia! Say hi to the kiwi’s and the platypuses.

xx, Feeling

The land of no self-hate – episode 3

I wrote hist post about 1,5 week ago but could not get myself to post it. Long story short: I was in a good place, called my brother and my whole world came tumbling down again. Family is good when it is good. Very destructive when it is not. I would assume that at some point I will get to the point where I can ‘let things go’ as in, create a sort of energetic Teflon layer which allows me to see destructive comments for what they are; projections of the other. Not there yet. πŸ™‚ Self love first.

From 1,5 week ago:

 

Sobriety to me, currently, is very much about peeling off the layers and layers of unprocessed emotions and memories. Specifically now the subject of self-hate is on the foreground, a lot of old memories shift, are charged differently. During the day I practise not walking down the path of self-hate, perfectionism, self-loathing which is so standard, some might even say ‘typical’ for me. One of the IMMEDIATE effects of it, is that I have way more energy. You can not believe how much energy it takes to not like oneself continuously. Life just wants to live, and putting a stop to that every second of my day really takes huge amounts of energy.

Currently I can not yet apply that energy usefully. It very much seems like the neural network is not set up to do something without the continuous counterforce. As if I can only work, do something when I am on the battlefields in a state of shock. I seem to need this to make a new way of getting me to do stuff. For me this would connect back to my Basic Perinatal Matrice by which constant stress and the fight for survival where ingrained in my cells. I think I can say, I might have found a tiny space in which it might be possible to get some air from this rather destructive make-up.

But haha, healing hardly ever unfolds without a few traps. A few days ago I spoke with my brother on the phone. He asked how I was, I tried to explain about the newly found love and peace and before I was even 3 sentences in he got his say about it, trying to obliterate all what I had said. It reminded me that indeed the culture of the family is not one of self-care, not one of self-love but one of self-hate.

I want to say now ‘Not sure when I will learn he is not good for me.’ but I think I already know. I keep on being surprised on how this undefinable energy for which ‘family ties’ is a container word, make me go back and back again to people who, if we were to meet them in other circumstances would not even become acquaintances.

Back to the self-love; earlier that day I had been writing about apologies (not here) and for a few seconds dreamed that my brother would say this to me; “Sorry that I stood by when my friends molested you. Sorry that I egged them on. I was jealous of you. I was irritated by you, I did not know you anymore you were not my playmate anymore, you were changing into this girl-woman. Your newly developed body confused me, you did not even notice it yourself but I was older. I did not know how to react and somehow I was excited. When my friends reacted to that I stood by because I was excited and wanted to see what happened because I was curious. I did so because I wanted it even though I knew it was wrong. My drive to do so was bigger.” I can’t even finish this now because I spoke with him in real life again. I assume he will never, ever apologise. But.. ok for what it is worth, for a few seconds I imagined he might do so, one day. You can not believe how much stress fell away from me. Which was quite informative.

I was flabbergasted to find out how much resistance, maybe resentment or ‘moderated hate’ or ‘hate molded into semi functional family structures’ was present there. I have no other words for it than call it ‘That which floats between us’. And he is not even aware. Or maybe he is. I doubt it because it took him only a few seconds to realise he had to put me back into my self-hate space. That might not be something one does if one is aware of the dynamics. Unless one is really really evil. This is just non-conscious destructive behaviour. I see it everywhere, a lot of families and people in workspaces specialize in it because they have no way out.

EDIT about 1,5 week later: I can only assume that if I am so pissed off with my brother as I write here. He will notice that there is ‘something which floats between us’. Consciously or subconsciously. No need to diminish my own destructive part in this. 😦

I am thinking these destructive family dynamics in which I obviously had my own role too, were a big reason for me to drink at an early age. Did I ever tell you that for at least a year I bullied my brother for just, well, whatever reason did I need, I hated his guts for not speaking up against what happened in the family. Trying to stop the fighting between my parents. I did and I lost, time and time again while he ‘stood by’ – doing nothing. I hated him for that. He once said he hated me for always making waves. 😦

Again and again I find it amazing how these memories, experiences are so energetically charged and how this charge with changes and lessens with every new skill or insight I learn. Well, following my typical path everything first gets worse and then it gets better.

I keep up a lot of energetic walls within me. I specifically do so against my brother. With these few seconds where they miraculously fell away I noticed how much energy goes into maintaining them. Not good for me. Not seeing him, or not expecting anything from him would be a healthier option. I would never ever appreciate him as a friend or possibly tolerate him near me if he were not family. Or, in an afterthought: I could have not spoken with him about personal stuff, I try and try every time again and more often than not it leaves me feeling ill. I would place that trying under another one of those family dynamics, or?

Oooh, to top it off he ended his ‘you shut up and don’t change my view of the world’ with a rant on how my mother’s only position in life was that of a victim, that she liked that and that it was “just the way the feminist of the second wave looked upon marriage and sex: sex could not be enjoyed because men were bad”. When I reminded him that she spoke with me about rape and my father also told us that is what she told him…. he backfired that she too had “she said that she liked sex”, “once too”.

I was there, that conversation. I thought: mom, you are lying through your teeth. I was too young to really understand what was going on but shit, she was lying, I knew that for sure. She forcefully continued telling us in a very ‘woman of the world way’ that “Obviously there are women who deny their husband sex because they want things their way. But that is just childish behaviour.” Again, lying through her teeth although I had NO clue as to what part she was lying about. Message? The message of this conversations was: Sex is horrible but it is not politically correct to say no and not popular or mature either. Or in other words, what my childhood brain made of this: sex you don’t like is how it should be.

I am guessing some of you, specifically American people who read this might be horrified about this openness. From my mother, from me possibly (likely :-D). There is another point to this. I need to write unedited because a lot of my addiction had/has to do with the pressure of thoughts and feelings like this I can not bear. They are crushing my soul. Often, I do not dare to care. Even now, after drowning in the memories of that darkness I suddenly think that loving myself is useless. Who am I, even. To think I could.

“I don’t want to have to fight anymore.”
“That is exactly it: don’t fight, just be.”
“I CAN NOT!!!”
“Feel how you feed the aggression against you.”
“I am tired. I have to learn sooooo much.”
“Hmmm….”
“This is it, nah? Cutting loose, not hating on me, cutting lose the negativity?”
“Huh huh.”

Practising staying in that non-hating part :-). I am not at the point where I need to take care that the hating does not go underground again, take an extra hidden route as in: “See how glorious I am, I am FINALLY OK now I am not hating on me. Do you see me not hating on me?!!!” This need to hold on to old patterns…. And also: gosh it is hard to let go.

Another thing: I feel, well, before writing this post I felt ready to go do something again. I was in contact with social security on possibly getting my unemployment insurance money etcetera. Then darkness passed and I did not answer any of their correspondence with me. Guess not answering is not going to bring me browny points, money or help. And I am/was too ashamed to speak about it with friends and in other moments I thought I had it all ‘under control’. It is ‘just’ (?) another version of self-hate and self-destruction. It is unimaginable, even for me who, at some point I feel bystander to my own life, which level the darkness takes on when it hits me. I know it is always darkest before the dawn but shit. These attacks. Getting lost in them, then realising it is me. Then letting go. Finding peace. Living in peace. Walk into a full-blown attack out of ‘nowhere’ – it is never nowhere btw and letting go again. Quitting drinking was easier for me. But maybe that is so because it felt more as an external thing I had to avoid.

“Ok, you can write about not hating or let go and not hate.”
“Sigh…. Yes :-)”

When quitting drinking it is at first Very Handy and advisable to externalize the addict within. To give him/her a name, to separate oneself from that danger. To turn it into the enemy.

After a while, when my brain calmed down a bit I realised obviously… that it was me who was addicted. So I started to explore my ties to the addiction and changed the name to ‘the addict within’.

With unlearning self-hate behaviour I am trying to change the soil, the air and the water within so the darkness and light within can balance out and can shape a constructive environment for me.

I find what I need to do is to learn more about self-hate and self-love, and if this gets too cheesy maybe something about self-neutrality too but for me that would border on love already. That is all. I need to read and paint. And go to bed on time. πŸ˜€ I love going to bed on time and waking up really early and since a few months I don’t anymore. Maybe this too is punishment of me?

Sorry for the long read, if you even made it this far. Undoing lifelong patterns is difficult.

I am grateful-ish that I quit drinking. And in the back of my mind this voice says; “Really, you would have been dead already if you had not. That would have been much easier. And more appropriate than this scrambling.” And I agree to that. Amongst many other reasonings and attacks, that is what self-hate looks like. Lots to learn if I give myself a chance. :-/

I am not happy that I quit drinking but that is because I stay up too late here. I need to change that to become happy again and I feel it does not interest me. Ok; READ THE BOOK. Just sleep, wake up and try again.

Today is the first day of the rest of my life.

xx, Feeling