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

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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

There is hope :-) <3

Yay! You can’t believe what has been handed to me, on a plate…. I’m back. Well, not yet, but I have hopes I could be. Happy now. πŸ™‚

Since my boat started sinking I have been seeing my GP once a week. Just to ‘keep check on me’. She’s a homeopathic doctor with a GP license. She believes in people healing themselves and she is willing to help that process along with her knowledge and intuition. I like that.Β What I like about her is that she cares, but let me decide what I do or do not want and she does not push things on me. I like that too. πŸ™‚

When I spoke with her about the vanishing twin, me feeling not ‘incarnated’ in this world and lacking self-care she pointed me at the site of Tinus Smits. Smits is a Dutch homeopathic doctor who, as I understand it, focussed on matching homeopathic medicine to different layers of development of the human being. And with that he found, as most doctors would I guess, that some medicine speak to the body very well, and others more to the mind and then finally to the spirit and the connection of the spirit to the universe. (these are my words to how I understand what is written on the website)

Well, this morning I did a little reading through the several (rather funny…) medicines on the site I found:

  • people low in self-care
  • missing ‘a layer’, not able to filter impressions out, not able to stand up for themselves
  • extremely sensitive to impressions, feelings of others, food.
  • unaware of what feelings belongs to them and what belongs to the other
  • the feeling of not being incarnated in this body / world
  • indulging in sweetness and chocolate
  • emotionally unstable (I assume you noticed? :-D)
  • hypoglycemia, obesity, eating disorders
  • feeling/experiencing a lack of attention and love

Quotes from the website of Tinus Smits:

The essence of Vernix caseosa is insufficient separation of its own energy fields from the energy outside.

In such a state we are the playing ball of energies coming from outside, mixed up with our own energy creating chaos inside. This can force us in an attitude of taking distance to protect our selves, of staying home because we need the protection of our house as a second shield. We have to avoid watching TV, to listen to the radio, to read the journal and have only superficial contacts with other people. But this is only a plaster on a bleeding wound. Or we can be completely overwhelmed by all these outer energies, not knowing how to canalize them, not aware of what happens. Many of these patients are so vulnerable that they are continuously in a state of emotional imbalance. Vernix therefore can be of wonderful help at a certain moment in our live, when we have the feeling that we are overwhelmed and unable to defend ourselves. It enables us to build up a natural separation between our own energy and the outside energy.

And now for the part which might…. sound a little funny to those who are not familair with homeopathy. Herewith my laymen’s explanation of things:

We use vaccines to inoculate people against whatever diseases. In those vaccines medical firms put weakened viruses of the diseases. The body reacts to the vaccine by making anti-bodies and therewith strengthening itself. That are vaccins.

Now there is isopathy: isopathy works sort of the same… but uses not only viruses but also ‘chocolate’ or ‘dog hairs’ if you will, in a diluted version to make the body aware of having to build up some strength against those. In isopathy this dog hair would be used to cure an allergy against dog hair.

Take it one step further and you dilute the dog hair* to ‘infinity’, even so far that you do have any molecules of the dog hair in the remedy, there is still a possibility that the solution cures the allergy against dog hair.Β  I am not sure how it works. If I would be able to prove it scientifically I would be rich. Or dead, more likely. :-D. But I do not really need an explanation for this becauseΒ  I have seen transformations and healings with people and animals alike so I don’t really worry about it. I try to find explanations for others though. One of the might be that we all know that an insight in something (like really realising that drinking is not good… to ‘just’ name one πŸ˜‰ )Β  can transform people. Just like that. There has been no exchange of matter, but still there is change. Same with love, with kind words, with sending virtual hugs. πŸ™‚ Not everything that is tangible has value or has transformative impact, not everything that is not tangible lacks value or lacks transformative qualities. Or in short: there are more things in heaven an earth.

Funny comparison on a sober blog actually, only realising the double meaning of dog hair – ‘Taking a hair of the dog that bit you’ is an English saying meaning that one drinks alcohol in the morning to ‘cure’ a hangover.

Well, vaccines to isopathy to diluted isopathy. The next step is homeopathy were you take a material, e.g. common garden nettles and look at what the ‘poison’ of the hairs on the leaves and stem do to the body when we touch it. In me it causes swellings and itching. homeopathy says; if we dilute the nettle we can cure swellings and itching which look like somebody has been stung by nettles. Again, don’t ask me how it works, it just does. PROVIDING: one chooses the correct medicine and the correct dilution and also does not counteract that medicine by eating e.g. mints while taking it. There are a few counter activities but those are minor. The finding of the remedy is the most difficult. I believe for common cold there are about 20 different types of homeopathic solutions. Colds that have been caused by draft, cold rain, anger, sadness. Colds that show white, yellow, green or brown discharge. Colds which appear within a few hours and colds which take days to grow into a full cold. Colds which include sinuses and colds which drop down into the throat and what else we have there. So… yeah… there is a difficulty.

When it comes to dilutions the lower dilutions e.g. D3, D6 and D12 work more on the body while the higher ones like D30, D60, D100 and D1000 work on the mental, emotional, spiritual field.

Ok, so, that was a laymen explanation of homeopathy leading up to the funnyness of the medicine my GP proposed. Hold on to your seats. πŸ™‚

Saccharum-officinale: cane sugar. :-D. For those who lack sweetness in their lives and try to fix that from the outside. I hope this will help me deal with my addiction by helping me find an answer to the spiritual wrong turns I made when developing an addictive personality.

Lac maternum: mothers milk. Yes, from women. Obviously with their permission and with my many thanks because I hope to be able to repair the energetic ‘workings’ of what went wrong in bonding over mothers milk with my mother. That is what I hope for.

Vernix: is made from the sebum of ten different new born babies. Sebum is the white grease newborns have on their skin in the uterus. It protects their skin. I hope this will help me build this missing layer I have felt all of my life. That is what I hope for.

I have this theory that several of the energetic processes in me are not working fully or not working at all. Like being a clock with a few gears broken, others out of whack. That is doable when young and energetic, when old and on a wrong path of addiction with an addictive personality this is killing. Which…. is how it is ‘meant’ to be in the evolution; that which does not function should not procreate and die off. But still, I would rather live happily than ending up dark, work- and friendless. :-/

So…. I am HAPPY that I quit! I am happy that I have this extreme sensitivity which at times is very hard on me (but I guess most on the people around me because I it can make me a real asshole) but in times like this sends me to the right person in the right time. It is a gift. And as gifts go: they can be great, it is also another word for poison. πŸ˜€ Well, ain’t I a little ray of pitch black? πŸ˜€

Another wonderful experience at the doctor this morning. I said that I believe that sustainable healing begins with the person themselves wanting to heal and looking for solutions. But that I, in the last months had lost that ability and I could only look for help. At which she says: “Looking for help is also something that you do yourself.”

I am happy that I quit. I hope you are happy that you quit too. Or planning to do so. Not saying it is easy – well, the not drinking part was for me fortunately, the living part is a bit more eh, challenging. But I have hope, and something like desire (?) again. A want to do stuff, a want to live. Haha, finally my search for a way ‘out’ might actually help me to find a way in. πŸ™‚

I am happy.

nigellawhiteish

Wishing you a nice sober day/evening/week!

xx, Feeling

2000 light years from home

I guess that about sums it up. Life has been tough. Reading another book on the vanishing twin syndrome has really confronted me with the issue and the sadness I have felt all my life. All the details, every point of it, everything falls into place; even the constant oversharing I do on this blog. Between twins this is not oversharing, it is normal. It is the norm. And in doing so I try to recreate what was. Everything falls into place apart from me. I fall apart.

This immense overwhelming feeling of not being whole, of living and constantly looking for something which in reality cannot be found. Ever. The inability to settle in a house, a life, a job, an occupation even, a relation, a family, always searching, never finding. Always on the road. They call it a hole in the soul and yes, there it is and now it finally has a name. At first I was happy of having found what uprooted me even before I was born and turned me into somebody who is ‘different’, not normal. Now the realisation of having been born this way, knowing that what makes me different has rendered me structurally unsound, unfit to actually find what I am looking for, longing for.

I have always thought that what I am looking for is, well, must be around the corner, where else? I just have not found it yet. But it is not. I now understand this palm reader who, while looking at my hand called out: “I don’t understand you are still alive?!” Like it was written in my palm that I had died, or should have. I did not, my other me did. I have a simian crease as a reminder. 😦

I am tired, lost, lonely. And I don’t understand. I have finally found what ‘ails’ me but shit it hurts. And yes, I understand it must be strange for people to understand this, or even believe the existence of something like a vanishing twin syndrome but I know this is geographically correct, and probably, most likely historically. My mother had blood loss while being pregnant with me, well, me and my twin brother so there is more than ‘only’ my experience of him dying.

This is a sonogram from a twin brother and sister. He is too tiny to survive, holding his big sisters hand.

twinsholdinghands

Funny thing: do you, since you quit drinking, know pretty sure who drinks too much and who is a normy? Can you tell within seconds of seeing somebody? Same here with the VTS. This openness, the hole in the soul, this hole in the aura even. The ability to bond and as I put it ‘make an energetic coccoon’ around two people within seconds. That. Excluding the world and only living for eachother. Where ‘you are me and I am you’ is reality.

Currently I am living in the darkness of his death. So horrific, so overwhelming to witness death up so close and not be able to do something, nothing I could do could save him, nothing I could do to save me from taking it all in; death, destruction, the falling apart from the essence that kept together what I knew as my brother, the other me.

There is not even a path to walk on. I am just floating through the universe and everything is far away. I don’t want to have to search anymore. I am so tired.

This vid explains it ‘all’. Like with the Craig Nakken book on addiction, in this vid almost every sentence is true for me. Please also watch when you are bipolar, have eating disorder, sabotage yourself, have co-dependent relationships and/or addictions. The addictions are not mentioned in this vid but are in the books and website info of a lot of sites. Please not the half black and half white puppet in the presentation, that is my description of me in this dream where I had ‘born myself‘.

 

It is way past bed time and I am not doing what I should be doing but I am happy, well, happy in a very sad way I wrote this post and found the vid. I am also happy that I quit drinking. Life is tough right now but imagine being so sad AND drinking. Ieeehks, not good. 😦

Thank you for reading. I know it is not the most uplifting post I have written. πŸ™‚

xx, Feeling