Finding hope in a bottle – but differently

Ok, the thought for after dinner was to select some Bach remedies on finding hope. Bach remedies are natural remedies which influence the emotional state of a person. I always benefit from them greatly but when I go down into a pit I have issues selecting them because I don’t feel worth taking care of me. And I am always too late. I have to stand with my back against to wall to actually start taking care of me.

This is a chart of the traditional English Bach Remedies. Several people around the world have developed their own sets, like the Californian remedies. These are keywords, online or in books you can find more detailed info.

I was not sure how to select what I am looking for but I started crying at Gorse, Olive, Star of Bethlehem, Sweet Chestnut and Wild Oat. So I guess that makes it clear.

Adding Cherry Plum and Rock Rose to soften the blow a bit.Β  Even though it is dangerous to take Cherry Plum when without professional help. I think I have the worst behind me so I guess I am safe.

With homeopathy and Bach remedies there can be the danger of extreme aggravation when the energetic system is awakened by the medicine. I have a pretty reactive system so when I take a remedy against ‘irrational fears’ e.g. I will spend 2 days fearing the whole CIA, KGB, NSA and Facebook are on my case and that the remedy is actually pro-irrational fears and that this is done to me by purpose bla bla bla bla bla. At day 3 I do not worry anymore and can not even believe I ever came up with a thought like that.

Theoretically Wild Oat would be something for when I am ready to look for work again, not for emergencies, but the word ‘alienated’ sticks with me. My brother was killed in the womb by a chemical process which in plain English would be called ‘alienating’ and my first name is based on a noun derived from the verb ‘alienating’. Yeah. I am not surprised I have difficulty landing in this world and uphold a typical view of its inhabitants :-D. Wild Oat, to get my feet back on the ground?

Ok, the above list is quite long, I prefer taking 2 or 3 remedies at the time.

Agrimony is good for anybody with an addictive personality. Not taking that now though because I am opening up by myself and I don’t want to mess with that process currently. Not sure why, all of a sudden for the one process I think I need Bach remedy help and for the other I find it ‘messing’. Which… might strenghten the thought that one can not medicate oneself. πŸ˜‰ You are welcome to give it a try btw. I am curious to learn what you think.

Willow gave the sensation of a cold, bitter lightning through my body. Resentment is certainly something to look at. Specifically because somewhere in my mind there is this cold voice saying: “They deserve my hatred.” (yikes!!) But now is not the time. Or? No. Not now.

I would assume anybody reading this would want to give me Honeysuckle. I am not taking this because it is about romantisizing the past. I thought I did not do that. Until I just read an online addition from Edward Bach: “They do not expect further happiness such as they have had.” which would be true for the womb-dream I have. No greater happiness than being in the womb with somebody who is somebody else, but me. Never alone, experiencing everything without speaking. I like you because you are me – you like me because I am you. Food for analyses. We might have had Narcissus for breakfast. Not sure.

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

You died.

It is called the dream of the womb. Which then turned into the hell of the womb. I realise that I long back to that dream and I will never, as long as I live, experience the intensity, the wholeness of that contact again. Hole in the soul.

I am happy that I quit. πŸ™‚ I assume, know, the mess would be bigger if I had not. Again. I would not be alive. In the last few weeks I have somehow found that I am worth saving. Or learned to not give a shit about others opinion of me anymore, maybe. That would take some pressure off too. Not sure. I am still scared, what if I save myself and fall back in the pit? I am scared but I am going to try anyway. I think I can do this. I mean, I quit drinking and I thought I could not do that. I started with writing down what I was scared of and did not know. And then I started looking for answers. I can do that again. I have got plenty of time. :-/ Well, The Universe gave us all we needed for Life, so let’s see what tools I have and can apply.

Ok, I am happy that I quit. Gonna make my remedy mix now. 1 Or 2 drops of each in a bottle of a liter water. Then poor half a glass and fill up with water again.

Bach remedies are 40% alcohol I believe. So the concoction can still smell like alcohol but somehow it does not hinder me. I have these remedies stored in the brain box ‘medicine’ and that keeps me from linking this smell to drinking. It has never been in the brain box ‘drink’. Funny side note: there is a lemonade I can not drink because I used to drink it when trying to moderate. And I projected my drinking thoughts on it. So now it feels like drinking alcohol when I smell it. :-D. The mind is strange.

Wishing you a good sober day / evening. Thanks for reading.

xx, Feeling

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The land of no self-hate – Episode 12 ‘rock-bottom and becoming help-ready’

Life has been tough. Tougher than I can handle or maybe tougher than chocolate can handle :-). I have let myself slip to the bottom of the pit and stayed there too long. I have been lying to my friends and family about how I feel because I did not want to be confronted with myself. I kept on saying “I am ok” or “I don’t want to talk about it.” while inside I was dying. I lost faith in myself, my life, my future. Everything was very dark.

I don’t want to lose my friends. And I know about the untrue friends and the true friend, but the energy unload which happens when I really let go is BIG. I do not think it is not suitable for friendship relations.

A new truth I found is that I have lived with adjusting myself all of my life. Adjusting what I say, adjusting what I feel, what I think, to fit in. And then followed the hiding and drinking away what could not be transformed otherwise. 😦 Obviously that is a sick system and not sustainable. 😦 So there I was, another much-needed rock bottom again – the emotional one.

This Tuesday I had to visit the doctor who determines whether I need to look for a job or are entitled to further financial government support. She was rather persistent in finding out how bad things were. Her repeated questioning brought me to places I hope to never visit again, though that might be a wish that will not be granted. I was crying and shaking all over. I knew things were bad, I had no idea it was this bad. New memories of my early youth, teenage time and young adulthood have been popping up off late and it is tough; mostly, dark experiences which then feel so overwhelmingly real in the here and now that it is baffling. I assume it is a side effect of quitting drinking and not having tasks on hand which propel my thoughts into the future.

I tell so much lies about how I feel in daily life and adjust myself to the outside world that I have shut myself down totally. I deliberately place cheerful and silly Facebook post and comments with quick responses and smiling emojis to (try to) make sure nobody thinks I have changed.

I notice I build another me at quite an emotional distance from where I actually am. That is what addiction is to me and it is SO DESTRUCTIVE. It is like I am trying to build a several story house but in order to deal with technical issues and difficulties in the design, I shift the coordinates for everything to avoid having to solve stuff or think about what is going on. I do this for all the plumbing, electricity, for every room and for every layer of the building. Now the rooms do no stack onto each other or on the founding even, the plumbing does not connect from room to room or story to story, planks from the stairs are missing, the sewage system is dysfunctional because not placed at the tap or toilet points, the light shines in places where the floor does not exist and the roof lies on its back in the garden. It is how I feel energetically and it is NOT WORKING!!!

I guess telling others all is OK is not working either. :-/ The doctor was a good mirror. She indirectly ordered me to go into therapy; if I do not improve within a few months she was obliged to take action. In that she hinted at ordering me into therapy involuntarily because of danger to self – or shut down the funds. As threats go, these are quite effective.

Today I had a GP visit – for the record, this appointment was based on a talk I had with my administrative guy to whom I could not keep up appearances – the mask fell of and he stimulated me to make changes.

I found out I have the idea that nobody understands how I am wired. I have the idea that if I tell how I feel everybody thinks I am crazy. Maybe I am, to a lot. But not to everybody and not to myself although I fear to have experienced pre-psychotic episodes off late where I started to doubt the existence of the world. Yeah, funny, in a not funny way. Pressure in my mind went up so big that I could not deal anymore. In order to deal something had to give: it was me or the world, I decided the world was not real and I could walk through walls if I felt like it. :-/ Scary shit. And while my mind is telling me of this new order I KNOW it is not correct but shit the pressure is high. Not advisable.

But it is always darkest before dawn and a lot happened for the good in the last several days. I came home from the doctor’s and made myself an extremely healthy salad. Taking care of myself with a last resort of force, but I did it. The next 2 days I battled the darkness like I battled quitting drinking in the first days; actually using willpower to stop negative thinking and pull it out by its roots. Again and again I find that if I do that, I feel better. Yeah: “duh?!” but ah, difficult when depression has drawn its tracks into the mental state and thinking.

BUT I DID IT!!!! I’m not there yet obviously but I made a start to turn things around. The chocolate is still there but the vegetables are back on the menu big time, so is hope, love for myself and so are the Bach remedies (a type of ‘homeopathy’ / energetic ‘medicine’ to promote happiness and emotional health) I chose something to give me hope, settle the crazy, deal with shock.

In the last months I have sorted my problems into several categories and I found that these are big. The last two days I realised that, as with drinking, I just (?) need to work out what is the problem and where I can find help. My issues are big, but not insurmountable. Or so she said upfront ;-).

In the below paragraphs I write about what I think makes it difficult for me to exist in this world. Please note that I am aware there are billions of people who are worse off than I am. Many of them amongst readers of this blog. But that does not mean I can cope with what I am in this world. 😦 The toughening up I did led me into drinking so I guess there is something I did and do not understand. :-/ Please note this is my own analyses, I should be open to the possibility that things are not as I think they are in order not to close off any learning opportunities. But for now this is it.

What makes my issues, the PTSS, the VTS (vanishing twin syndrome), the high IQ, the hypersensitivity, I am clair-ish sentient πŸ˜‰ difficult is the mix with the addiction; the not wanting to be here and experience what is. That makes it impossible for me to build on anything – that goes for anything: I can not hold on to anything, not to money, not to a job, not to a partner, not to a thought. Only to not drinking actually. πŸ™‚

The Vanishing Twin Syndrome (losing my twin brother in the womb and actually remember that as a very traumatic experience) which leads to a lot but mostly caused my eternal ‘not wanting to be here on this earth’, a big part of my PTSS, the clear sentience and the hypersensitivity. I also believe this openness somehow set me on a path of finding difficulties in the field of sexual abuse. But that might ‘just’ be coincidental. It made me vulnerable to not feeling worthy of being alive: I had already caused somebodies’ death before I was born. No wonder I have no right to be happy and be me.

Because of the hole in my energy system where my brother used to be I am open to all kinds of energies. I feel I am not connected to this body, to this human shape, I am connected to everything non-material.

His death was so overwhelming that it broke my natural defenses and threw me out of my core. I have not been able to repair this. I need to learn to close myself off in order to make myself feel safe in this world and actually want to be here, to fully incarnate. Currently I am like a sender/receiver with no on and off button and no ability to distinguish between incoming and outgoing. I never know where I end and the other begins. Makes for great sex though, when all is well. :-/ Learning to deal with this will hopefully help me to close myself off instead going into hiding or being aggressive, tactless, nasty to others when I feel unsafe.

I am thinking my hypersensitivity is caused by the VTS but has been worsened by the abuse of alcohol, sugar and other addictions which stress out my system and make it vulnerable – not only energetically but also chemically. Over the years I have become hypersensitive to chemical smells and coffee for instance. When my neighbours drink coffee my bowels start doing their bowel thing and I need to go to the toilet.

Next there is PTSS from the VT experience and (sexual) abuse, mother with cancer, father with Aspergers and his religious fixation on the apocalypse. We had a stressful home situation with continuous fighting and passive aggressiveness dripping off the walls. My parents with their structural sexual abuse issues, their continuous financial issues (while they were never out of money! btw) were not able to do their parenting job because of their own mental and physical states; mom’s cancer and their addictions and their own traumas.

Finally there is me being intellectually gifted – which is difficult to say because it sounds arrogant and ha! it does not keep me from being stupid. Intelligence and being streetwise/smart are NOT related :-D. But I guess being best of class for many years of my life puts me in the gifted category. I followed an online course on the subject and I the teacher mentioned that being gifted comes with specific disadvantages as not feeling understood and having difficulty to connect with what is ‘normal’. Also: the inability to connect intelectually actually made and makes people (me!) feel stupid and incapable because others do/did not understand me. Through the years though I have learned to connect to people over the human factor. Which is good, and way more useful in life but it leaves me unsatisfied in working some stuff out and somehow people do not help me with stuff because they think I can manage myself. Not true.

One of the happenings which send me spinning a few weeks ago is finding out my gifted, primary school friend had killed herself, leaving 2 kids behind. We always competed over the best school results. She was very creative and very skilled in that area, she studied to be an architect.

Being gifted does combine badly with my anxiety. In work situations I use my giftedness to oversee processes and all the tiny details which make the business clock tick. In combination with my anxiety and perfection I focus on the things which go wrong. It is a useful trait for a Quality/Safety Manager but it causes continuous anxiety and it is a bad way of using gifts. Also: it freaks out colleagues to see bears on every spot of every road.

My GP does not call my breakdown a rock-bottom but uses the word T-junction. πŸ™‚ Not taking action will lead to darkness, despair and death. Taking action can lead to light. I choose the light because in the darkness of where I was I realised that underneath all of it I like myself.

My GP gave me a few names of therapists, I am to investigate by myself and I come back next week to make a decision with her and sign up somewhere.

I am happy that I quit. Seeing how much I loathed myself when I drank I think I would not be able to bear being alive right now if I would be drinking. Not a positive choice, but a much-needed one. πŸ™‚

The hug-buddy is back. We did not speak about what happened (NEW). After having been asked by the tax service to pay back 4500 euros (half of my savings). I was aware of their claim on my, and I do have the money, but the real thing was a bit more real than I had imagined. I only found out a few days later that they would also be GIVING me 5000 euros for another reason so I’m going 500 plus iso 4500 minus. Realising how extremely stressful these money issues are I suddenly felt ashamed about my harsh judgement of him. We hugged it back to ok. πŸ™‚ I guess some day we will talk.

These days I will be sorting out my issues further and trying to find places and people whom I think can help me with these. For all those who have tried EMD or EFT: there seems to be no organisation without it anymore so I guess that will be on the menu. πŸ™‚

Now is bedtime, tomorrow is another day. I look forward to sorting stuff out and cleaning up this emotional mess. πŸ™‚ I have a lot to give and to live for, if I allow myself to be me.

I am grateful for the people and professionals I have been meeting this last week.

Thank you for hanging in there and reading this rather unedited, dark process of me unaddicting. I want to become clear, transparent and I want to become me. To feel safe to be me. To not be afraid of me. I also want to understand the energetic ways of life. I want to love and be loved.

Wishing you a nice sober experiences.

xx, Feeling

Coping well with a crate of empty beer bottles, some shame, some darkness and some understanding of the internal Universe.

Yesterday a friend and I returned a crate of empty beer bottles which had been on my balcony for over 4 years. As I live on the 4th floor without an elevator I used to drink from cans but… at some point, 4 years ago I was trying to quit and then favo beer came on sale in the bottles. I promised myself that it would not be so bad if I just moderated. Well, I guess you know how that works out…Β  Some 4 years and 2 days later….Β  I FINALLY got to bringing it back. πŸ™‚ It has 4 euro deposit money so obviously I wanted to cash that.

All this time of not drinking I had been hesitant to bring the bottles back. At first the rattling of bottles in a crate ignited thoughts of drinking. Later it brought back specific memories of what I call our ‘drunken nest’Β  at home. My dad, brother, friends and I would drink bottled beer on a summer evening at a campfire. I won’t go romanticising this because the truth was that I was already addicted then and the family dysfunctional partially because of the use of alcohol. Looking back now I realise that both my parents had ‘the gene’ even though they never got into it to the max. My father did for a few years when he studied but that finished off his study and he had to move back to his teetotaler parents so that sorted that.

That is the thing with drinking while having a family: it is not only the person who drinks who is affected, it is everybody. When drinking my mother was not available, not for normal conversation, not for connecting, everything was ‘dealt’ with quickly and in an irritated manner. She made clear that we came between her and her drink, or as she would phrase it: “the only moment of the day I have to myself”.Β  A lot of the issues I could have used help with as a teenager, like sexual assault where not spoken off because she was already irritated when I mentioned something simple as school stuff. That is what she taught us; alcohol is more important than you are. And in my twisted and already addicted mind that read: drinking = solving problems.

When my dad drank he would become even more convinced of himself and start orating for 3 hours on end on dark subjects nobody was interested in like doomsday and the end of times. Hmm, orating for 3 hours… how does that sound familiar? If anybody protested, specifically when my mother protested, he would lash out like trying to win the first price for bullying.Β  After that we would all smooth it over with more booze. Flush the tension away.

Mike from the blog ‘dharmaholic‘ spoke about having a family and drinking a few days ago in an interesting post and the shame based family:

For your information, here are some of the things Bradshaw (edit: writer of the book ‘Healing The Shame That Binds You’ about shame, shame based families and addiction) speaks about parent modeling and why shame-based parents have little ability in these matters.

β€˜Modeling includes how to be a man or a woman; how to relate intimately to another person; how to acknowledge and express emotions; how to fight fairly; how to have physical, emotional, and intellectual boundaries; how to communicate;how to cope and survive life’s unending problems; how to be self-disciplined; and how to love oneself and another. Shame-based parents cannot do any of these”.

That was how my parents failed to be present to my brother and I, to themselves, to eachother and to family and the few friends they had; because of their drinking and their fights with themselves and the fights between them. 😦

The tv-series Patrick Melrose (addicty trying to get clean and trying to deal with his past of abuse) is on in The Netherlands. Obviously my parents were not quite as far away from me as his and the abuse did not come from within the family – but what is very familiar is that undertone of dread. continuous insecurity, fearing I, my integrity, would be attacked, abused. In early childhood I could ‘get over things’ and ‘forget about them’ but the older I grew and the more incidents added on the more I would freeze. And from early puberty onwards I was continuously in a fight/flight/freeze….. and drink mode.

Ok, well, back to the crate on the balcony. I had cleaned the balcony but the crate was staring at me. Earlier I thought keeping it was a good idea to remind me of my stupidity and all the wrongs I had done. I mentioned this toΒ  friend who came by and she said: if you do not dare to do it alone, let’s go take it to the store together. We did. πŸ™‚ While walking I spoke about the sound being a trigger. She mentioned that it triggered her to drink cola because it reminded her of bottles of cola. πŸ™‚ That is about focusing on not continuously fighting the old, but replacing our behaviour with new behaviour. In this case that would be drinking cola which I will not – but the sound could be from apple juice or water bottles too. Good changes. πŸ™‚

Also: now I am able to detect what was going on and how this crate calls up memories, guilt and self-hate. In the last 4 years I have also developed some form of self-worth to realise that the hurt coming with the memories and my own judgement is not so much ‘what I deserve’ but more ‘what I learned to do to myself’. I realise guilt is a suitable emotion when applied in moderation in the correct situation. However feeling guilty, always, about everything, about being alive is not a sustainable way of living – so to say. πŸ˜‰

For me shame is a big issue and finding back my voice, my right to live and right to protect myself, my right to be safe is difficult. So many damaged my physical and emotionalΒ  integrity to rid themselves of their own feelings of shame through aggressive sexual acts against me. Sexual abuse was the key ingredient of my parents marriage with daily doses of forced sex. That layer of vile acts seeped through the family and poisoned everbodies’ mind, heart, soul and energy system.

So yeah, shame is something to work on for me. And I am guessing at some point in my life it would be nice to be free of reproaching my parents for letting me down. Hell, not reproaching parents for having kids and thinking they can keep them safe while my mother actually knew their marriage would be a destructive one, would be nice. And yes, I know this is twisted thinking but that is a part within which is fucked up badly. I decided that I would never have kids because I would not want to do to anybody what my parents did to me / did not do for me. Everybody kept on and keeps on saying ‘but they were trying their best’. But if unleashing ones own shame on kids is the best… I don’t want to walk down that road. And knowing I was addicted to alcohol: what did I have to offer? Continuation of damaged genes and sick coping mechanisms?

Back to the crate: 3 Years and 10 months sober I do not have to ‘keep up appearances’ and then buckle under the weight of shame and self-hate only to drink again. I am now able to voice my worries to a friend who comforts me and helps me out in a practical way: walk with me to the store, be present to my discomfort. And I am able to accept that just as it is without feeling inferior. I can thank her for that without feeling stupid and not suitable to live.

Those are a lot of changes. πŸ™‚ I am not in AA but seeing how my developments go I can see how they touch upon the 12 steps. πŸ™‚ And indeed, how resentment is an important part of me and it hinders me. But I can not step past the deliberate hurt they caused me, for putting me in harm’s way on purpose, for not listening when I expressed abuse. For sending me back into social situations in which I had been abused. For not believing me when telling them my brother was egging the abusers on. For not believing me my brother pulled a knife at me. For disbelieving everything I said from that point onwards because ‘he would not do such stuff’. Well. He did. And they did. And while I was losing myself and almost soiled myself my mother was looking sincere but not fully. I never understood until I learned about micro-expressions; that explained the glimpses of joy combined with power and sex. Vile. She was smiling at me and experiencing lust when sending me back into the crowd with luring, lusting and grabbing guys willing to go to any length to get some action – there was no protecting me. Because drinking. Because my misery made her feel less alone? I do not know. She had been perverted and now it was my turn. That is what families are about: handing down experiences. Unfortunately that counts for the darker ones too. 😦 Patrick Melrose is very explicit about not wanting to live in this system himself and at the same time behaves exactly the same way his father did. 😦

That’s the thing isn’t it: we all think we will be there for kids, friends, nephews, nieces, family,Β  colleagues, neighbours when they want to express something awful and need help. But the reality is: as long as we do not look at our own pain and darkness, kids, friends, nephews, nieces, family, collegues, neighbours turn into people who are uncomfortable to be around with after they have been hurt. Typically kids who have been abused or bullied will not ‘just cry’ so others can feel sorry for them and comfort them. They have been touched by the shame of the abuser and therefore do not feel the right to cry anymore. They whine, become silent, they can become aggressive or withdraw and stumble over their own feet exactly when others ‘need’ them to be inspirational and show off. And if they can not perform beautifully on Sundays at grandma’s, at school or at football, at least don’t be a whining embarrassment. I cried, I begged, I moaned, I sabotaged and I got dismissed by my parents for whining so they send me back into the lion’s pit. I learned I had no value.

“You are an embarrassment, I am ashamed of you.” actually means: “Your behaviour touches something in me I can not carry, and I dislike you for reminding me of the shame, guilt, self-loathing I have inside.” That is how transfer works. I have shame, you remind me of it, I need to lash out so I can feel better, you feel worse and now you carry my shame.

The other way around: I am thinking, when experiencing discomfort like shame and unworthiness in dealing with somebody, especially kids, it is extremely important to be aware of what is going on and what is carried over, what does not want to be seen, what has no right to exist. Alcohol and other drugs prevents parents, teachers, therapists from doing that because addiction is a shame fueled misunderstanding of life.

In the last months I ended up in a dark depression and allowed myself to go into my underdog mode. Rock bottom will be the solid bottom on which I rebuild my life – I hope ;-). I will sink and sink till I let go of the attachment to destructive patterns. Knowing that I let go. I cut out everybody who did not exactly believe me as I experienced my life and speak about it. No matter how much I moan I expect people to listen and if they don’t they can get out of my life. I had to do that to make space for me to believe me, to take myself seriously, to take back room in myself to experience. Moaning only happens when people do not take their own pain seriously. Moaning is a structure of squeezing a non-existent pimple right next to a giant white head. I was going to not dismiss myself too, upfront. Not going to set boundaries to experiencing the damage which has been done. Not going to slightly change my story or leave stuff out to make people accept it.

My dreams looked and felt like this vid, that person. “The monsters are running wild inside of me. I am faded. So lost. I am faded.”

 

It was informative. The utter darkness of not wanting to live, not being able to be social, not taking care of me; it was dark. Days filled with planning on how to take my life. How will I make sure the right people take care of the cat and will keep her. How will I make sure they do not suspect that I’m not going on a holiday. Dark. Some days in I realised I was wanting myself out of my body constantly. Do you recognise that?

Also, I had changed the security settings to my blog and I had to type in the name to this blog every time I wanted to read something. I realised that I was not feeling my way back into life. I was pushing myself away from experiencing what was going on but making a ‘kill the ego’ solution to it by wanting to die. As I was laying in my bed anyway I dove into what was.

I can tell you, the running for the darkness and going into suicide thinking is dark. What is behind that within me is dark too but there is a difference. Behind it is destruction. It is natural. It is Thanatos. The Universe has 2 main powers: one is life and the other is death. You can call it light and darkness, yin and yang, whatever. One is expanding, the other is subtracting. The one can not live without the other. The substracting balances the growth. It is that which brings order to the chaos so the growth can follow a sustainable path, not grow wild, not overgrow itself. It sets boundaries to that without boundaries, which is infinite, which is unlimited. I dread endings. Every ending has an atmosphere of my brother dying. I dread boundaries and limits. I ‘chose’ an addiction which I thought helped me to avoid all of that – only to find that the alcohol in the end limited me. Which is correct. That is how Life is.

The darknessΒ  is where I do not want to be, I relate this back to the suffering in the womb when my brother died. And funny; I realised that me backing away from this energy to quit building, to make sensible choices instead of wanting it all, makes it impossible for me to fulfill any project or actually achieve something in life because I dread the ending of it. The energy connected to ‘being done’ is for me connected with terror and death. So I back away.

And obviously, in backing away I do not accept life on life’s terms and get unbalanced. 😦 Just Universal laws. :-/ The darkness, it is real. It is part of Life. It is natural. I feel I have gotten an extra leg to walk on, like parts in my body have re-integrated with experiencing this darkness within. The suicidal thinking is another darkness, one with ‘opinions’ and ‘wants and needs’, an ego created darkness. The darkness of Life, as I experienced it then is just what it is: destruction. Not personal. Not focussed on the ego. Overwhelming and powerful but true and clear. Quite a relieve actually.

The last month has been about falling apart, looking at all the pieces and the glue which kept them together. Most of the glue is/was not so much a life force but it consists of freeze. Frozen emotions, frozen processes, blocked paths through life. Funny how that what I fear ‘the darkness’ actually ends up building my system itself and preventing the opposite ‘Life’ to happen. Which is… exactly how I think it works. I wanted to find freedom in alcohol while I found enslavement. I wanted financial freedom while I found that depletes my funds :-). I wanted to live without boundaries while I found that means that indeed I reach nothing. I want to explain stuff and bury people in words. :-/

Living Life on life’s terms. πŸ™‚ I have made a big step and while I thought I stepped into the darkness I stepped into freedom. Not kaboom Light, but well, relieve, understanding of the workings of me. Experiencing internal freedom, you know; when you understand stuff and feel your DNA change. πŸ™‚

One of the characteristics of people with a vanishing twin is that they can not finish stuff. Their energy is in the start of a project and then…. pfffff…. they seem to lose interest, fall into pits nobody else would fall in, digress (like now ;-)) find another subject which is way more interesting. I have that. It looks like something which could be just ‘solved’ with improving my moral. But that is not how it works. Like addiction is not a moral disease, my running for the darkness which I connect to endings is not a moral failing either – it is a structural design mistake of my energetic system, or a solution my system made up to deal with the trauma. It would however be very nice to sort of get a grip on my life. πŸ˜‰ Fix it. Quick! πŸ˜€ Getting there.

Some days I can eat well which means 2 home-made meals a day. Sleep well, which by now means going to bed before 02:00 (waaaaay to late for me). Read some, currently the Artemis Fowl series again. I clean the house before visits from friends and the hug-budy which means at least weekly cleaning. He is a cosy, sexy comfort but even after 7 months I do not want to engage into a full sex act. It is actually quite interesting to do all the other things which normally fade out of a relation. When was the last time you spend 4 hours hugging, talking, tickling, massaging and well, some more sexually oriented frolicking?

I am starting to notice differences between us which I am not sure we can or I want to bridge. Also I am not sure if being friends with benefits is a good thing for my dysfunctional heart. Sometimes it only teaches my heart to be more dysfunctional; loving is ok, receiving is impossible. Addict trait; don’t touch me. My heart is shut.

Workwise I am still lost on what and where. The social security people have put me at the bottom of the pile. I guess this is because I start crying every time they ask a question…. sigh, how will I ever be ‘normal’ again? I just don’t know what I want. I want a simple job in a safe environment. But the simple jobs don’t seem to come with safe environments until I find some stability within myself. Having stepped in the darkness behind my own ‘made-up’ darkness is a good thing. However, I do not know how many layers this onion has. And if I need to peel them all to be able to function again at my level of education. Or maybe, maybe, the level at which I am supposed to function is not equal to my emotional intelligence or stress control and maybe I never will. I am going to ask the social security if they can help find out what I want and can do, where my strengths and weaknesses are. Writing short posts is not one of them ;-).

Post 526 in this blog. πŸ™‚ I am happy that I quit. I realise that my happiness is something of an ‘obligatory’ thing. I do not experience a lot of happiness lately, more ‘relieve’ from the darkness. That does not count in my daily practise for ‘being happy that I quit’ but there is no other experience currently. I do resent drinking. My SIL was eating an oven dish with mushrooms in a wine-cheese sauce. I had forgotten about the wine and took a small bite. MG. Tastes like cheese vomit. Brrrr…. People with alcohol breath smell like they swallowed cleaning agent. So no, not in the danger zone but it worries me that I do not ‘repair’ more quickly. And then again: I have gotten a big dose of the darkness and this comes back layer after layer. These last weeks have changed a lot. I hope when the next bout of depression comes a long I am brave enough to really feel into it again. πŸ™‚

Wishing you a good sober night/day.

xx, Feeling

Dying itself is not the problem – sort-of-ish

Afbeeldingsresultaat voor dead flowers

I was reading and commenting on a post of Renovatio06 and went into experiencing the death of my womb brother again. I copied part of my comment to his post here and added some.

I must really improve my phsysical health because at moments like this my heart feels like it is exploding. Pumping like crazy. Can’t breathe, can not inhale actually. Not sure what that means. My lungs are full because I do not exhale. Guess it is part of the experience in the womb. Well, anyway, staying with it did give me an insight which I thought I would share: Dying itself is not the problem, though overwhelmingly BIG as an experience it is within the human spiritual domain. The pain comes with the resistance and the longing.

Which, yeah, everybody tells you that, but telling and knowing is, at least in my life, not the same as realising it at cell level.

Comment to Renovatio06: Not sure if you heard of this, but thought I would drop by and leave a comment. I have not gone through the full text of your link but I am familiar (ish) with Grof’s work op BPM’s, having had several days course on the subject, several holotropic breathing experiences and some ayahuasca trips. The darkest memory I have of prenatal trauma is that of my twin brother dying in the womb. That brought me right into hell. I had no knowledge of vanishing twin syndrome (VTS) or the effects of it at that time in my life. Based on a several second spontaneous experience which I am sure was a re-living of what had happened before I wrote down 10 points which I realised were ‘odd’ about me and had been shaped in that experience. When reading my first book on VTS I found that those 10 were either chapter subjects or otherwise important paragraphs in the text itself. It was like a homecoming – into a hell of enormous loss and sadness that is, but it was.

10 Out of a 100 pregnancies start as a multiple, only 1 out of 100 is born multiple, so 1 out of about 10 people have lost what I call ‘half of myself’ before they were born. A fetus, a baby is no less human than a child which can not bike yet, or a teenager without a drivers license, or an adult without a 50 inch colour TV (Edit: although advertised and understood by many as such: being able to do things, or have things, does NOT make a person more of a person – conciousness already exists within when life kicks in.) A fetus is alive and has consciousness – less developed, not fully expressed, not fully incarnated often, but it is there. Having re-experienced the impact of the death of my twin brother as an adult I can only say that I would assume it to be a ‘good’ base for hellish NDE’s (near death experience). It is my understanding today that dying is part of the human experience which the consciousness understands and is ok with. Logically the biology resists it but it can be integrated when the mind/ego does not interfere too much. Experiencing (not seeing; experiencing, re-living) somebody else die which whom you identify as yourself mixes stuff up big time. Like having Kali over for tea. 😦

Funny idea though, to combine experiences before birth with after death. πŸ™‚ Although, writing about it now I realise the hell was my resistance to him dying. Dying itself is not the problem, though overwhelmingly BIG as an experience it is within the human spiritual domain. The pain comes with the resistance and the longing.

End of comment.

Obviously dying ‘not being the problem’ is something different when haha, experiencing it for real and having the biology kick in. πŸ™‚ Biology on itself does not want to die, it wants to live and procreate. Now the practise for me is to maintain and uphold the status of ‘not clinging’ insight in daily life. Ghegheghe….. guess that will take some practise since we live in a world where clinging, wanting, striving is very much stimulated as a tool to ‘make you happy’. Advertising never tells you that, it actually makes one very unhappy and causes all kinds of spiritual maladies.

I guess that is the same for not drinking and living in itself: it is not the experience of not drinking which ‘hurts’ it is the clinging to what I think I have lost. It is generally not the experience of being real to Life which hurts the worst, it is the clinging to ‘how it should have been’, tryng to have and experience the imagined ideal.

I am grateful that I do not drink alcohol anymore. Experiences like this, however painfull at first bring me insights which, dunno, cool down my system a little? Take out parts of the continous stress my system seems to be in.

I wish you a beautiful sober day / night.

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

Feeling comfortable to be me

My last post was about darkness, I have been introduced to light and am liking it! A lot has happened since. This starts of dark but hang in there. πŸ™‚

A while ago I was totally submerged in the horror of reliving the death of my twin brother in many aspects of the daily life. And when I finally decided not to go into that subject again because ‘no use – only painful’ I met a guy in the train who, within 5 minutes started talking about vanishing twins, dead sister, dead mother. Yup. Sigh. I really, really can’t believe my own life so now and then, but it happened.

He was connected to a Facebook group and I signed up too. The ladies who run the group call themselves ‘lightworkers’ and are into all kinds of spiritual corners which I have never visited. Subjects include Reiki, Tarot, chakras, healing with stones and all kinds of energy transfer. And even though I myself practise these or am knowledgable in some of these areas I usually do not interact with other because too much carnival and ‘Twin soul? Had one, he died, now move along.’

I was in the group for several weeks when the leading lady signed me up for a healing. They do these with several women. One sends in a recent photo and the three ladies concentrate on you and work out what is energetically awry and try to heal that. Her signing me up was a little forceful but I am happy I (reluctantly) complied. At the said time I was in front of my computer trying to see if I could notice anything going on. The lady I had chatted with was alone. Well, imagination or not, I did feel stuff. I felt somebody zooming in on me energetically, then stepping back in a sort of fright and then frantically starting to take away all the boundaries I have around me. Ha! Get to know me…: “Don’t think you can take away my boundaries like that! I’ll fight to keep my protection, even if it kills me!” πŸ˜‰ Which I then realised was pretty counterproductive. Things were already set in motion and I experiences a breakdown of this layer of dirt and old memories I carry around. I wrote about this in one of my early posts where I see myself as a caddis; an underwater larvae which builds a little house for himself by glueing pieces of dirt together. I do that with bad experiences and painful memories. Well, I felt she was breaking that down. I resisted out of reflex and in this fight for power turned nauseous and started throwing up. One of those days; crying so badly my eyes bulge out, not able to breathe through my nose due to total blockage, shaking all over and hanging over the toilet for a good 10 minutes. After which….. I felt really relaxed and at peace with the world….. something with darkness before the light. πŸ™‚

We chatted on Facebook about what had happened. Days later I got a new invite for a new healing with three ladies. The first one replied to my photo with comments about being angry – I have this resting bitch face and ha, I have anger. So yeah in reply to a “Let go, let go.” I can only say: “I was born this way. I am sorry. If I had any skills or way to not be angry, I would.” Which obviously I did not tell her. πŸ™‚

The second lady spoke about my defences being high, heart ache and soul loss, being totally disconnected from the world. And, the theme for me being ‘detachment’. Gosh ;-).Detachment is good for the spirit, it is the path to enlightenment so they say and it is very lonely and very hard because the intention I am born with is to either attach, cling even or, in other moments; totally disconnect in a not always healthy way. She mentioned that. She mentioned me having issues with ‘being’ with taking the right to exist. I read that and all of the darkness and despair I had been trying to contain flooded over me and 2 women asked me what happened because they felt utter misery.

Again the layers around me started shaking and I could feel the pieces of dirt the cadis collected fall apart and I was ok with that. I cried, I puked, I shook and then I bathed in light and universal love like I was in heaven. πŸ™‚ “No sense of belonging in this world.” Yup, that would be me. And then I found it. πŸ™‚

Together they lifted the darkness and I could see that it was not all me. I could see that I attach myself to it but that I do not have to. That I can learn not to attach to misery and darkness. Sort of uncomfortable in saying that a big part of it is like addiction and can be unlearned. It was very nice to be without the weight of the darkness. I am not sure when was the last time I was like that. Possibly in an Ayahuasca session. So… good stuff πŸ˜‰

During this session I found my energetic place in my heart where I dare to exist. Where I take my place in life and am ok with that, ok with me. Like they kept on saying: you have the right to be here, you are allowed to be here, you are allowed to be alive. Things look so much different from there, well, here. No whining, just doing, no condemning of me, peace. So much more energy!!!! πŸ™‚ ❀ ❀ ❀ And like I did with alcohol: when dark thoughts come up I try to see where they connect to me and cut them loose. Not sure how to explain that: it is like I am a cylinder and there are all kinds of energetic things connected to me, some like wires, some like spider webs, some like dark clouds, some are close, others are far away, some are clear and others are hidden, hiding even, or i.o.w. I don’t want to be aware of them. And then I visualise cutting threads, removing spiderwebs, dissolving clouds and experiencing and cutting away all the perceived advantage I thought I had from them and then staying in the moment where I live without these energy things. Breathing. πŸ™‚ I am whole.

I am thinking this experience of attachment to darkness and how not to attach is important. Knowing me I will forget because life comes along and basically I am lazy and do not want to do this extra step I need to take. Ooh God,Β  give me the strength to take care of me. To do what I know I need to do; headbutt that next bear on the path and continue fearlessly. Because I can. It is my stressed out being, my being stressed out, my spiritual misshapenness, laziness which keeps me tired and whining and whining and tired and it withholds me. A big part of me prefers to feel sorry over doing what I need to do. My bottom dog. I fear growing, I fear the stepping into nothingness but clinging to the past, to darkness left me in the dark nothingness.Β  I do not dare to love because ‘love’ meant sexual abuse in our family but I do not have to walk that same path. But I do not have to look back, I do not live in the past. I live now. Ha! Which now I come to realise are the exact words of my hugbuddy. πŸ™‚

I feel comfortable being me now. I realise that this might take some training. Hmmm, pfff, don’t feel like that. I will take the being comfortable RIGHT NOW! πŸ™‚ No more stalling! Much better decision. πŸ™‚ ❀ ❀ ❀

Different subject but related: days before this all happened I had an experience which I find worthy of noting down; a friend of mine is throwing a wedding party, several years after the date and all our mutual friends had received an invite – except I. I was upset. I had not seen that coming. For days I struggled with the idea that my life was such a dark mess that I started to loose friends. I actually internally agreed that there were little benefits to quitting drinking if I did not work on the underlying causes. And because I (find that I) do not (do this enough) I still find myself in this dark mess. I agreed that there was no use in living anymore because I did not have the energy to fight another fight. And then I realised that I had based all of this on assumption. I had no clue as to why this friend would disinvite me (is that a word?). I made several up and then got in such a painful situation that I could not do anything but cut myself lose totally from all connection.

That was another one of those Feeling things: Not sure what parts of me did so, guessing a big part of it was ego; I got so suppressed, caught, locked up in the darkness that I could not deal anymore and I internally twisted, spun and broke all energetic connection to the world. It was a reflex. First thing I thought: “I have done this before.” I have done this when I was born, I have done this with some relationships, I have done this with memories I wanted to forget, I have also done this with alcohol. I was born in a funny way; like my brother I was going to come out face upward and had been stuck in the start of the birth canal for several days and during labor, and then I worked myself loose (impossible so they say) and twisted around (impossible so they say) to be projectile born into this world in 3 pushes. Screaming mad with raw survival aggression.

Ok, long story longer: I could have contacted my friend, I did not, I was feeling too low. I realised that it is initially painful but educative to learn that my friendship with her seemed more important than her friendship to me. Which is ok, things happen. A week later we see each other and I was totally ok in my disconnected world, being able to genuinely love again. And she asked me if I had received her card because they had tried a different mail service and several people had not. πŸ˜‰

Different subject: I have been uncluttering my house since the first of February. I throw out (bring to the give away store) as many items as there are days in the month. Today is the 21st so I should take out 21 things. I list them all and share them in a Facebook group. It feels great. And strangely enough I can actually let go of stuff I had been hanging on for years.

I upped my Iodine intake and feel loads better. Funny enough in homeopathy Iodine is related to letting go of old trauma. Hey! πŸ˜‰

It sort of sounds like I am learning to let go. πŸ™‚ Tadaaa!

Concerning the project I have sent to the business contest: they mentioned they had not received it. I continued working on it and noticed that I need more inner rest to be able to deal with all the issues coming up. Part of the project is an online community and I realised that I get engaged into right-fighting online too easily. Tried to change that. Did not work. Maybe in the future.

The social service people just called and they want to meet me to discuss my unemployment. At one point I applied for benefits but I did not continue because feeling bad and dark and I could not deal with the pressure of having to apply for a job while not knowing where to go with my life. Also, I could attempt to apply but it would force processes and I would be lying to the employer, to the benefit people and to me. That feels like putting back layers on the onion I am trying to peel off. It did not feel good and I had no energy to set it right inside. Next week they want me to come by. I told him I was in no state to apply for jobs and hence would wave my rights. He said: “We are here to help.” I guess I could use some help. As long as it is without attachments. πŸ˜€ πŸ˜‰

Pffff, all that darkness. Don’t want to go there anymore. The sun has been shining for about 7 days now! Yay!!!

I have been painting. Now I don’t know what to do with my life I might as well do the things which I have always wanted. A part of the Roy Lichtenstein collection is in Amsterdam right now and some friends and I went. We are arrogant enough to claim that “we can do that too”.Β  Bwaahahahaa….. been trying since. And that might very well be true, after you put hours and hours and hours in it to learning how to. πŸ™‚ REALLY. I am really handy, I can do crafts, I can do a whole lot of hand-skill creative stuff way better than most people, but painting is partially a skill and partially an art. I am DELIGHTED with doing this in my livingroom and not getting anywhere with it. This is sooo freeing. I checked out some YouTube vids and started. No need to be able to do stuff because I realise I can not. Ha! Friend of mine does not believe me, we will be painting next week for a full day. Hihihihihihi…. She so did not believe me that she is planning on buying actual canvasses to try. Looking forward to this.

Not Lichtenstein, but very appropriate however insensitive it might seem. πŸ™‚

youcanstopcrying

I am happy that I quit. Not sure why. Saw a photo of me and it actually looks like I am still drinking like crazy. Wonder if that is because of the sugar (yes, fell of the sugar wagon, again…). Although directly after the 2nd healing I felt no need for it, there was nothing it could add. Maybe I should practice that feeling of wholeness till I get to the part where I feel that again.

Now I’m moving away from the screen and go do stuff. πŸ™‚

Wishing you a wonderful hopefully sober time. ❀

xx, Feeling

 

 

 

Hole in the soul

I want to write but somehow I do not finish a post and when I do I re-read it (NEW) and start changing stuff (NEW) until I get lost and then start a new post. That has been going on for a few weeks now. So I’m trying again. See what comes up.

In short: I have been all over the place since I left my job 2 weeks ago but things are settling down now and my last official working day finished 8 hours ago.

The wife of my boss whispered another ‘you really need to get laid’ in my ear when we parted. And I do not want to go into this feeling again but I need to list it for future reference because I want to inform you and myself that really this is how people are. #Metoo and me telling her 4 times over that I do NOT want her to discuss anything sexual about me did obviously not reach her. So again I leave a workspace not because I want to but because I am not able to deal with the (stupidity of) other people. (Arrogance much?) Guess this needs to change at some point. She also said that she had never in her life met somebody whose personality was so alike that of her husband (my boss) and that it had astounded her again and again: ‘You seem to be the same person, you think and act alike.” He and I differ 3 days in age so I guess there is some proof for horoscopes. πŸ™‚

I took her up on the needing to get laid and I started ‘dating’ one of the workfloor guys. Ghegheghe… there I was thinking it would be easy. Had a sober-first kiss (NEW), had a sober first bra taken off (NEW), the girls fell down (NEW 😦 ) and got a sober first fright like “WHAAAA!!!! Not sure if I am up to do this.” I had a lot of flashback to unhappier sexual activities. Not nice. I was afraid that would happen now when trying to have sober sex and being more aligned with my senses. But I had not thought it would show up so quickly with so little trigger. One hand lustfully groping instead of holding and feeling set off all the alarm bells. Well, well… yes, I had seen it coming. Yes I did not listen to me (he is gorgeous, like drooling from the corner of my mouth gorgeous – when I first saw him I had this surge of ‘I want’ going through me – psychiatrist say you need to quickly run away when that happens but, hey, I do things the hard way…. I am entitled to stupidity so Thou shalst not deny me more stupidity and misery πŸ™‚ ).Β  Lucky me he is as complicated as I am so I guess now we are not fuck-buddies but hug-buddies with a tiny hint of sexy. And that is actually really really nice. πŸ™‚ I just found 2 Tantra books in my cabinet and I’m thinking I should work through these to see if they can help me with this. Letting go is another important possibility.

I notice that I am loud about stuff which is important to me. I do not want to be like that anymore. I miss my more considered self. Not sure why I need to be all out there. I guess it is another state of addiction of not wanting to feel. 😦 I am so tired of living. So tired of being me. When addiction goes untreated things go wrong in a person. I guess that has been happening with me over the last 1,5 year or so. I don’t want to write about it. And it is not all bad, although I am so very tired of, well, yeah, being me. Lately I also noticed that my whole body, my energy system is starting to function again. I can laugh again sometimes, relax, enjoy and joke again. I am cleaning my house, just sorted out a meter of books to sell or give away. I am cooking again. I helped out my friend a few days with his shop. So, I guess that is all good.

This new liveliness might have to do with the homeopathic medicine I am taking. I am still on the medicineΒ  Vernix Caseosa which is (diluted, diluted, diluted!) waxy stuff from a newborn baby. It is meant to create an extra layer around a person. I guess I could do with that. πŸ™‚ And obviously the hug-buddy is of influence on my kundalini. πŸ˜€

The homeopathic medicine does however bring all kinds of things about my vanished twin brother to the surface. So much that I did not want to involve myself with the subject anymore and turned off FB to read a book. Ooh, gosh, this is about twins. Hmm, let’s watch a movie. Aaaah, movie about twins. Well, might as well turn Facebook back on. Look a cute movie about two girls, one black, on white and they, oooh, they think they are twins. Aah.. well, I’ll just take the train to my friend and gosh, this men sitting opposite me starts talking to me about his lost sister and twin-sister. Right….

My heart had difficulty beating those days, it literally hurt, it was so heavy, so sad. I spoke with a friend and she said, if it were her issue she would go to a shaman and then she mentioned one. (She also told me to go to the GP btw but I feared I would be on intensive care an hour later if I would, so I did not.) Did not know there were shamans in the Netherlands! So I googled him; the google maps photo of his practise has a woman with a twin pram in front of it. I can’t even think this shit up.

twinpram

 

In continuance of the twin brother issues: I have dreamt of my boss walking around in my dreams trying to find me and tell me that he misses me. There is this glass layer between us and I think he can not see me, he is just searching while I am standing there. Frozen in time. I can not react because if we would connect we would both explode with all the built up energy and things unsaid. No, don’t worry, nothing sexual – but I guess there is a weirdness over the closeness we had which would normally be worked out sexually. But that would have been an absolute no-no. It would not work either, I energetically zoomed in once on him once trying to find his sexual energy and all I found is that he’s not my cup of tea. I felt him energetically zoom in at me several times and slammed the door shut. Hmm, did I tell you that was after I let him appraise me several times while I was being brainy and al managerial. In order to be effective it is better to slam the door shut when he thinks he can enter, not? πŸ˜€ Ooh, sorting out what is true in this is so confusing when in the situation. Guessing here denial is a tool for survival too.

I don’t know, well, I do know; the moment we first met he mentioned that we differ 3 days in age and at that moment I projected this ‘You are my lost twin brother!’ thing on him. He was my brother, I was his sister. My brothers always need taking care off even before they know that themselves. The die, so I need to save them, I needed to save my boss. Not sure what his issue is. Ooh, I do know! It is exactly what is going on: he can not be in contact, he can not find ‘me’ (his sister) She is there, all is well, and then she leaves. Oh my god. How sad! His wife says he is an autist. That is not true, he just can’t find her. He is living his trauma. Oh my god. This is so sad. (Well, projected sad but I think I’m right here). My former former boss (the woman) said about him: ‘He can not hold onto his staff’ – that is such a typical vanishing twin thing: not being able to hold on to, well, anything. Always, always on the road, searching for I don’t know what. Well, I do know. 😦 Looking for the person who is not there. To feel whole again. To fill this hole in the soul.

Ever since we have been in this brother-sister bond where we assume to understand each other completely, take that for granted as if we have known eachother for years and are angry when this in reality does not seem to be so. And as in any brother – sister relation sex sometimes pops up by accident and is banished immediately too. And anger builds there because anger is a solid foundation to base a decision on. So I guess, looking back, it is not strange that I left. Looking back I think the alternative was an enormous falling out. To those not familiar with Vanishing Twins, there are some education vids on YouTube if you like. Mainly it is about people who were created as twin or multiple of which one or more died in the womb. Funny in a not so funny way this influences the personality a lot. Almost all things found in addiction can also be found in the life of a person who is a half twin. I see the connection there within me. Does not have to be, but I’m thinking there is. For me there is truth in it.

Well, I have started to meditate. My hug buddy is from somewhere Middle-East and he says: “If I have problem I sit down and think of nothing. It is good. You think too much. Relax.” πŸ™‚ ❀ How is that not good for me :-). So I sit down and think of nothing. πŸ™‚

My birthday falls in this period before Christmas. I always cry a lot the days before I have my birthday. Again and again I feel like I failed at life. While actually I did an amazing thing this year: got the company I worked for to a hell of a high score on their certification. Learned that I could learn and manage an enormous load of new information in a short time and make company policy out of that. Aah, well, I can try to be grateful for that but mainly I am sad because I had to leave to make myself safe again.

I did realise one thing: I have several things which are repetitive, the thought of ‘I have to leave anyway’ and ‘They will destroy it anyway’ and ‘If it is nice it will go away.’ have stuck with me for all my life. No idea who They are but in my life I can always point out some ‘they’s’. Well, at some point in time the last week I realised that the assumption that I have to leave anyway comes from having to leave the womb. This theory just aligned for a few seconds with all my cells so I guess it is one of those personal truths. My mother said I came into this world SCREAMING with anger, no, rage. My mother, baby/kids nurse for I think at least 4 years, had never in her life seen such an angry baby. I found it all very unfair to be born (this way?). Guess that is one of the ‘childish’ notions I have about this life: unfair. I’m thinking these notions stop me from doing what I need to do. And obviously Facebook helped me along with this beautiful tile:

considerforamomentwhatyoucallyourpersonality

I think I should write a post on answering that question for myself. Things are ‘separating’ within. One second I can be in an emotional hell and the other moment I think: ‘mwoah, let it go, let it go, it is not now.’ Which often works. But then I can step back into the ‘drama’ (?) easily too, like with the trying of having sexy action.

For a while I have been thinking that I (we humans?) tend to hold on to experiences too long. Letting go would make life so much easier. Not there yet but it is starting to happen. Need to keep on meditating. πŸ™‚ The cat LOVES it when I sit down. She climbs on my lap and sleeps within no time. No tail wagging which is her normal restless situation. πŸ™‚

A woman who loves herself would pay more attention to herself but shit I have so much I need to hide from. I can not do ‘this life’ on my own. It just often hurts too much to be aware off. I prefer Netflix then. But I guess I have to sort out how and where to work. No inspiration yet.

Yesterday, when the hug buddy came along I had bought some clay as an inspirational act which I thought: let’s follow that. I started making a little baby, my brother. With whatever part of the body I was claying I had these flashbacks to his health. Somehow I think that if I know why he died I do not have to blame myself.

The man I met on the train was mentally handicapped (is that how you say this?). He reminded me a lot of my brother. I wonder if my brother was mentally handicapped too. Thing is: in the womb that does not matter yet, the womb is about existing – well, moving in and out of existence sometimes but building up a connection to the body, settling, incarnating. And awareness of the world and body slowly grows and is there. From the experience in which I relived being in the womb and seeing, feeling my brother die I know that awareness was already there. We as people in this life just don’t remember it because we are trained in mental and physical skills in this world, not in awareness. The overstressing of the importance of mental skills diminishes the awareness. And then later, after we all got addicted we go do yoga and meditate to get the awareness back πŸ˜‰ .

The clay puppet is not done yet. Can’t finish anything these days. So I left it under a wet paper. Now the bottom side of the puppet is soaked and feels as yukkie as the body of my brother did when he died. I’m thinking this clay practise is a good thing because it gives me a canvas (well, clay) to project on. Things just ‘pop up’. Like folding and bending and forming and then suddenly: the neck was not like that, the head was (still) bend forward. I guess tiny things like these will at some point enable me to find the age range in which he died. But I don’t want to look at fetus photo’s now because that could influence my process.

Well, that is a long post again. And another one for me more than for you possibly. I am not fully selfish if you think so. I worked in my friends shop for 1,5 days, helped a lost and crying woman at the train station, ha, found another cat and got it back to its owner (this time all online, but still). Cooked for a friend, for neighbours, for my family. Gave some spiritual advise to a friend of mine. And I gave some Dutch lessons to a Middle East man but, well, that turned into something totally different. πŸ™‚

A woman who loves herself would really really really start to take better care. I have no clue how to incorporate that other than through not feeling ashamed for outside sources. Ooh, that is called accountability. πŸ™‚ So, I guess I need to keep on inviting a certain person to my house in order to clean it well. Or…? Isn’t it funny that biology can fix in one afternoon what I myself could not do on will power for half a year? vacuuming my floor and cleaning out some rubbish. πŸ™‚ If that is the way, that is the way.

I’m off to bed. I wish you all a nice, sober, aware holiday season. Remember whatever shit you might find yourself in: there is no problem that does not get worse with drinking. πŸ™‚ And for those who are still on the fence when it comes to drinking and whose mind does not want to compute the double negative here is the simple version: alcohol always makes everything worse. Just so you know. I did not for years. I thought alcohol made things better. That is a lie you have been fed by the alcohol industry and society and now your own internal addict might be telling you the same lies. That is nasty. But for me, realising this statement is true will made it easier to fight urges. Well, it quenched the urges. Or helped me to see them as a passing train. Standing on the track trying to block the urge train with will power is tiring and in the end pretty destructive. Stepping away from the track to a safe distance and just letting the urge train pass is way nicer. And easier. πŸ˜‰ Wishing you strength and wisdom if you need it. I will most likely not be doing anything with Christmas so feel free to mail or comment.

I am happy that I quit. I would have made such a huge mistake with the hug-buddy otherwise. πŸ™‚

xx, Feeling