Sober Thoughts

[eos_nyxia]

----placeholder text---- 

[Zigzag Idiot]

In my mind a placeholder is someone so independent minded yet trustworthy that they act on one’s behalf when it’s needed while one is absent. They don’t seek influential power but act only from a place of benevolence.

Their humility compliments their confidence like a cool breeze on a warm day. They are the good Samaritans who do not judge.

[eos_nyxia]

SELF EXPRESSION - THE IMPORTANCE OF STARTING WITH THROWAWAY THOUGHTS: 

I lost the ability to write because I wanted to shut myself up from incessantly writing about things which have not gone as intended and things which I can't change. For some years now, if I asked my heart what it wanted to say, it was more of the same, and I annoy myself quickly when I start repeating myself too much like a broken record. I still kept it up writing here even when it became little more than a habit, as if there was one last thing I could purge emotionally in that way. Or if I screamed or spoke loudly enough, even if it was just here, then I would not be giving people permission to speak over me, to tell themselves and everyone else who I am, what matters to me, and especially what it is like to be me subjectively. Not here, not IRL, not anywhere. 

But one way or another, no matter how I frame it or how I negotiate with it internally, and no matter how I curate my past: my life has been defined by absence, by the absence of expressed love toward me, by the absence of people showing up when I needed them to be there, and as a minor, literally being withheld from places where I could get close enough to people feel seen or nurtured, whether by a mentor or a peer. (Though, I did occasionally find my way through the cracks.) My whole life has been defined by my immediate family lying to me by omission, leaving me to wonder what was wrong with me growing up.

I always knew that opening myself up to find a family that was never there for me, coming from this space of profound lack, was something that could backfire horribly. And it did. 

What else is there to say about it though that I haven't already barfed out verbally? I'm not sure, but I need to start somewhere again. Even if it's with more throwaway thoughts that I don't really value. 

Edited July 1 by eos_nyxia

[eos_nyxia]

THE GOLDEN CHILD?:

By most definitions, I am the golden child and my brother is the black sheep. My brother has gotten way more shit from my mom especially, but he never went out of his way to not step on her toes. I strongly suspect that he has not been able to be anything other than what he was (which is most often cognitively appropriate for a child, if not children in general, then that specific child). He completely lacked my early capacity for survival masking. Not that either of my parents would ever say it out loud because it goes against their parenting philosophy, but it's obvious enough even though they tried to treat us equally according to a variety of objective standards (usually involving money gifts, access to higher education, access to material things). They feel more relaxed and comfortable around me; they feel safer. I almost never challenge them in ways which they don't want to be challenged especially at times which are bad for them, and when I do it's in the most calculated way to both protect myself and to protect them. My brother has mostly has done it whenever he has felt like it (from my perspective looking on). 

Though I've often asked myself: could I really have been the golden child with the absence of praise? If I never felt like anything I did was perfect enough for them and was easily enough subjected to criticism? If I was held to a much higher standard of behaviour and performance than my brother was?

...Is a golden children supposed to be like a martyr and a saint, to save or transform the world, all while not needing love or positive attention? 

Of course, they never explicitly said that while I was growing up. Not until I was an adult. My whole life, I had put that pressure on myself, though it was never just about their idea of "perfect" either.They've been watching, waiting to see what I'd do with my life, and I tell them very little, because I do not trust them. Why would I? 

A lot of things in our family has always remained unsaid.  My parents expect me to forgive their lying, or they hope that I will. Like many things with them, I count on a mixture of dead-accurate intuition and logical guesswork, the same thing I have relied on since early childhood, the same calculated asking, guessing, and scrutinizing that I have always done in a state of permanent hypervigilance around them, as if watching myself from the outside to monitor my own behaviour and any sign of vulnerability or weakness, because I have honestly never felt safe around them, and I always knew something was seriously off in my family despite how it appeared from the outside.

Honestly, I don't feel love for anyone in my immediate family. (Even my brother who has gone to a great effort to make amends, but even he did not start that process by himself, his ex-wife (at the time girlfriend) did. He didn't have the courage for it and was also listening to my parents.) What I feel, and what remains from my earlier life, is a tired sense of duty. 

I look out for these people as if they were my own children. Again, the way I always have, especially with my mom and trying to regulate her emotions, especially her anger. It actually took me many years to wrap my head around being parentified, since I'm not the usual model of parentified daughter at all, like I was not an eldest daughter who was expected to raise her siblings and also manage both the emotions and physical responsibilities of her parent(s), as my parents were very responsible with material things. 

----

A wound added on top of this is the way in which others have sometimes done the same thing (observed me and spoken FOR ME while I have never agreed or consented to such) and expected the same thing of me (martyrdom, self-sacrifice, that I should fix this world, or god forbid fix THEM).

And as much as I really, really don't care to see this behaviour within myself especially in a sober state of mind, this is why I act "UGLY", because I definitely do not have the energy, time, or patience to be this for anyone else.

--- 

Anyway, when I see a child who appears a little too mature and put together as, where people say, wow, he/she is just like a little adult! -- I don't think, oh, how sweet! What a well behaved child.  I assume that they're probably being emotionally neglected, or maybe they're expected to act perfect and not be a burden. I see someone who has likely been parentified. I see someone who is self-conscious and hypervigilant.

When I've worked with kids like this in the past, I give them just as much positive attention and engagement as anyone else, even if they act embarrassed and uncomfortable at first or it doesn't quite land (I would just back off appropriately and keep trying to reapproach them in ways that makes them feel safe and seen), because I know the kind of damage this can cause. Generally speaking, the rule is this: You pay for that kind of maturity (for where you feel you have no choice as a child) as an adult. You pay with your future self. (So you get to feel messy and small like a child as an adult so long as you're not managing to run away from yourself -- great, right?)

But always, with anything and everyone, try not to project to much of yourself and your own issues, preoccupations, and burdens onto other people, especially to younger people who are more of a fresh slate than us adults, ok? 

 

Edited July 1 by eos_nyxia
(0/10, do not recommend the experience of having your entire immediate family lie to you until the age of 25 about ---what is wrong with you---. )

[eos_nyxia]

TO THE ONES WHO WILL NEVER, EVER ENTER MY LIFE: 

The biggest mistake you made, if you ever expected me to DO anything for you, to be anything for you, to bring you to your potential or somehow free your soul or bring you some great revelation or sublime pleasure or whatever... 

...is to treat me like a person.

Because the truth is, you don't anyway. There is the pretense of such, but why? I took you very very seriously at one point to the point I literally bet my life on my it, but why? 

You can't treat me like a person if you don't really know me on a personal level, if I don't let you. And you can't "know me" with whatever crude effigies you made of me in your own head, on your own time, with your own fantasies with little figments of whatever it is that is there which actually might be "real" for me as well.  You literally only see what you want to see, that you are capable of seeing, which dictates whatever is within the range of your Sight. (keep in mind I'm using the word "want" in a way that doesn't correspond to the common notion, but rather the "soul's desire".) 

Why do you waste time with the pretense of serving me in some fashion as a personal entity? Seriously, what good is it doing you right now? Are you getting what you want? 

If it's because you get pleasure from it and you're an animal apparently that can't help themselves, fine. Whatever. No need to barf it out in public and make it like some secret religion. 

Here, I'll say it more clearly. If you want me to "save" you, don't bother dealing with me as the pretense of a person at all. Don't treat me like one, don't address me as one, don't bother trying to humanize me, don't make this about any kind of "love" or attraction (either abstract or not), don't waste your time trying to understand me or my story. I'm not saying this for my sake or because this issue has made me emotional and very angry in the past, as if I had somehow been betrayed. I'm saying it for yours, if you want me to fast track whatever ongoing process that is already happening, so let me do whatever I can do from here and stop wasting everyone's time, especially your own.  I'm saying this to get you from point A to B in the most efficient, least damaging way possible. Walk through the valley, but don't touch anything, and fix your gaze on the proper things.

And honestly.... the end game is that there is no more personal connection (or pretense of it) between us, ever. It IS actually for the best. Not sure if you got the memo. Not sure that you realized that I've spent far more energy and time watching you to see what you would do in response to what I do before I made up my mind. Literally, if I know where to find you and I accurately typed what your deal is, I have probably been watching you for years. The fact that you could be receptive to me and NOT NOTICE that I am watching you, this is baffling, Which means that this whole time, while I was looking for a type of person who had the raw potential to become a certain something... reminding me that they don't exist, and can't exist in this world for some time, some lifetimes away. I know that I asked and expected far too much.

You didn't see my dream, and you missed what I valued the most. Oh well. Not your problem. 

...in retrospect, it was always heading in this direction.

And maybe we could start over, but why bother? What does that even mean?? From my perspective, it never actually started in the first place. You never showed up because you waited for me to do the showing up for you first, and while you went on doing whatever it is that you do. There is no point anymore talking about how I myself did not get what I personally wanted within the appropriate window of time where I felt like there was no choice but to "test" people. I promise you that I would not pick that particular strategy unless there was a damned good reason for it. Anyway, it's a new world and a new era (though it might not look like it yet). Might as well scrap it all and do something new, yeah? 

 

Bon Voyage. Have a good life, truly. And for everyone's sake, including my own sake (as a specific person with my own issues), my will is that you never find me again. Truly, even if you were to somehow see these words, may you see nothing, feel nothing, identify with nothing of me. 

May you forget I ever existed.

After all, I am not a person, and you deserve to be free. Maybe you don't understand the value of this yet, but in time and coming into yourself, you will. 

Edited July 15 by eos_nyxia
This could have just as easily been written to my whole bio family. Mood Check: writing this I feel a bit annoyed, but not really angry or personally wounded anymore. Feels like a record of the past and my choices/ desires/ hopes more than anything.

[eos_nyxia]

HAPPY HAND WASHING BEHAVIOUR:

Yesterday, I woke up and felt a deep sense of peace to have finally written the words above and fully meant it. Today, I feel equally at peace. I've also felt surprisingly excited and optimistic at the possibility of the total absence of such of thing in my life, to never be bothered or to concern myself with these type of questions again -- what would be done for me in my time of need? Who would be there for me? What would be done in my relative absence? What do people do when I hold back? How do they live their lives, what do they value, and what choices do they make for themselves? What things do people correctly attribute to you and which things are false or at least highly twisted? What are these people hiding about themselves that they expect you... or someone... to see? To fix or heal?

The same type of concerns have been circulating its influence since early childhood near incessantly, though at first I knew the feeling without having the ability to put it into words. And even when I never thought about it consciously, the imprint was marked so deeply on me that it affected everything I did and who I was to become. The choices I actually got to make as well as the large variety of things I had absolutely no control over, the situation I was born into.

And all the things where accountability and responsibility has been shunted onto me and I simply expect it to take it and EAT IT (so that I might have the immense and high privilege of transmuting people's undigested psychological rubbish across time and space lol), when all I ever needed was to remain fully dedicated to serving ""The Highest Good"" as fully as I possible can, without pretense. And this looks however it looks, I need not concern myself with how I'm perceived or what people take from it. I need not continue to latently concern myself with all this heaviness than I have worn my whole life like a mantle, but instead I do need to be strong again, to be a person willing to wholly live this life and make the best of it without overly concerning myself with what people will or won't do, as if I am waiting for them still. The lingering self consciousness and the shame and embarrassment where the rage has quieted. I am not waiting to meet anyone as if life will start, and I wish I had stopped fixating on this at least 5-7 years ago, once it was obvious that my "test" or "leap of faith" was a failure. But it is what it is. Everything always takes far too long to get rid of all traces of so it's not negatively impacting my psyche in some way that is seriously holding me back.

When I was in 25-30, I was able to figure out that the minimum amount of time to make a major psychological change, not at the level of habit, but on the level of deeper emotionality/ the worldly presentation of the "soul", about 3 years. Absolutely never less than 2. This took 7 years. SEVEN FUCKING YEARS of my life.    

I took the wager with myself, I somehow survived that bet (it was not at all a given to me that I would), and ultimately it only really hit me the worst, it seems. The inhuman amount of rage at watching people live their best life while I sunk, with the original pretense and belief that I mattered and that I was needed. Bitterness. The sort of thing that poisons you first and most deeply, and often no one else, or else those who are closest to you that actually WILL be there for you. From my perspective: I paid off my debt fully; it's over, like it would be inevitably. 

The question has been answered, and the book has been shut. It was always waiting for me to shut it, and I've had to be the one to make that decision. To be able to put that final brick in place. And there is no way with how much continuous effort and time its taken these past years, as with every major decision I have to reinforce within myself which runs directly against the emotional grain, that I would ever consider changing my mind. Again, who will pay for my future years? The law of balanced exchange still applies even if one person has agreed, in their soul, to take on a lion's share of the work/ sacrifice. My blood and time and energy? No one. Not worth it. Extremely poor risk-to-reward ratio. After all, I have to look after myself and look out for myself like everyone first before I can be operational to serve ""The Highest Good"", or whatever form this life's version of it will take, whatever it is that I both desire and can feasibly sustain. As they all have. I'm not much good if I'm dead or incapacitated am I?

And if I have nothing left that I would willingly offer, then I'm completely off the hook in terms of what I do with my conscious energy, who I spend time with, and if I chose in the future to be completely absence and out of reach for an indefinite period of time (which means the rest of this life). This has at times been something that has been hard to wrap my head around, but it's my issue to make it work. No one else's problem, and I guess it never was. 

Anyway, every time I have felt that sense of definitive calm no one and nothing has ever been able to get in my way or to stop me. It is very literal when I say nothing will stop me. So of course I feel at peace. I have finally received the rest of my power that I had given away. 

I lack a lot of the social skills and have many hard edges as a result of the life I have lived, particularly the things which I have had no conscious input into or choice about, about the years of enforced isolation and the things I was kept in the dark about -- what you would call "soul contract" stuff. I could have learned (at least I told myself this, as I both believed and would have been willing to put in whatever time and energy that was necessary), but I could not make things line up and they did not. I tried my best; so I am at peace. I rescind my own judgement onto myself for the things I actually did consciously choose that failed, my own anger and piss poor attitudes at times (from my perspective), despite my own lack of knowledge of certain things (or else there would have been nothing to test for near absolute certainty).

I still think that we all collectively chose the HARDER OPTION and it does link into how I was treated and received. Take whatever you want from that. 

But you if you picked THE WORLD AS IT IS and the values it holds and expect me to hocus pocus things for you or do things through THE POWER OF LOVE AND SELF SACRIFICE, well, that's your business now.  

 

Was I ever actually loved by anyone other than my husband? Honestly I do not give a fuck anymore. 

Edited July 17 by eos_nyxia
And writing this, I feel at peace with knowing that they have chosen what they have chosen, they have chosen what they stand for and what they value, and I am no longer involved directly in this process at all. That's their business now!

[eos_nyxia]

Focus on what you want, not what you don't want. It's that simple, right? 

 

At this point, it's far too easy to look around at everything I don't want. (And everyone that I don't.) At some point, the forever shadow work must end.  It just... has to end. It's probably not going to wrap itself up nicely in a bow either.) Especially if I was never originally willing to live and die a full human lifespan on those terms.  Why not now? Why always later? What reason do I have to wait to make a decision?

I simply wanted to know the truth. And now I know. I understand my tangible value in this world as it stands (or lack thereof). 

It is not a crime to decide that the visible part of my story ends as well here, or is about to end. Even so, I've struggled with the guilt (otherwise what would I have to so strongly push back against, as I have above?). Because I feel like I OWE something, so much so that I've given away so much of myself that I never really wished to give in the first place, often without realizing it at the time. Inevitably, it continues what I was conditioned for growing up -- being accommodating by default. It's either that guilt after which I start to second guess myself, causing me to keep the door open, or not being able to rule out that I have left some important stone unturned. The latter is a serious issue for me and violates my premise for even being born into this specific life and identity to start with. 

I have nothing positive or negative to say about some future lifetime in which all the work I did in this lifetime paid off. While it might feel like there is no real separation between that self and this self, which surprises me very little given the sheer amount of psychological deconstruction and erosion that has occurred in this particular lifetime (both by choice and not), whatever I know is very little help for this life. Functionally, it's irrelevant.

... so now I suffer the burden of knowledge for what I felt compelled to go out of my way to look for.   (I did that to myself though. It doesn't have to intrinsically be a problem but I've very much made it one.)

...........but is it any wonder, with my tendency to do things "backward", that I was 15 when I marked down its importance as a psychological function: erase your memory to lighten your load in every sense. On the body, the emotions, the higher psychic functions, what we call the rationalizing portion of the mind. Erase aspects of your identity. Erase all traces of your path. (And if you can't get yourself out of whatever bind you got yourself in, blow it all up and start over. Not doing this anymore though lol.) I don't just mean the traumatized self, I mean literally anything and everything. Like truly decide what it is that you need and what matters and shrug off the rest. 

Age: 13-14. I understand that I can play "character creation" with this life, this body, and this personality, before I even knew that such a thing existed in video games.

(I always want to get to this point far earlier than what has been already set in motion and is still working through. Impatience. As if I had not already had enough patience waiting for the simple privilege to be alive and to not be in debt to people through. What do I have to show for that impatience? Pretty much nothing but some footnotes!)
 

 

 

Edited August 21 by eos_nyxia
...and now I will try to live for myself, whatever the fuck that means, after however this life has already gone. I will push myself to do much better than this. What else can I do? What other option is there? Live badly and make excuses? (When has that

[eos_nyxia]

A Solution to Limerent Tendencies:

Become the "man" you always secretly wanted to be, that you felt like you couldn't be for whatever reason. Take on the qualities you most admire. Learn those skills. Develop the identity, the focus, the sense of purpose. Take it to its farthest logical conclusion and manifest those talents fully for some greater purpose (...or not). Show yourself off to the world... or don't. 

Be direct, be bold. (I know you don't really want to be small anyway.)

More than anything, CALL IT TO YOU. Expect that you could call it perfectly and in full form and potency, with minimal effort (as in, struggle). Do not set up a specific sort of game and wonder why it plays through the way it does. (As in, the friction of a certain mindset when it comes to the attachment to "effort" often calls more of the same indefinitely.)

For some reason, you projected that into an idealized form of a man. It made it all easier to survive. (Try not to hate yourself for doing your best to survive, at least you tried inhumanly hard, for as many times as you did, and to great inconvenience and pain to yourself, to minimize the damage you caused people.) You weren't even really the type to do that sort of thing either.

It's not that any of this was ever inherently a competition, but it knocks the wind right out of the unhealthiest aspect for me. 

(In general, watch where I'm projecting my energy and account for it. Take it back already!)

 

 

 

 

In general, outsourcing >insert positive trait or attribute< to the opposite gender, placing it outside yourself and then projecting onto it, is some dumb shit. ESPECIALLY if it's related to an intellectual or creative domain.

Edited August 21 by eos_nyxia

[MuadDib]

Edited August 22 by MuadDib
Image is hyperlinked

[eos_nyxia]

WHAT I'VE AVOIDED SAYING TOO DIRECTLY//  THE SHEER FUCKING BANALITY OF EVIL: 

Why is it STILL so hard to speak directly and plainly about everything that has happened to me? (And why must I always talk around it? And why do I have the urge to protect the people who couldn't be assed to protect me?)

 

THE WORST OF MY PARENTS' SINS (from my perspective):

1. The Jeopardy question of the day is....
2. ....and the answer is my father. Yep. I found CP on his computer because I was nosy child and my parents were very secretive, and I also never felt safe around them without fully understanding why until I was a teenager. I felt uncontrollably compelled to see exactly what type of people I was living with, even if I definitely did not have the means to understand at that age. Even up until very recently, I seem to keep "forgetting" that I found this. That this was a real thing that definitely happened. That the girl I most remember seeing.... had nearly the same hair cut I had at that age. The same stupid fucking hair cut that my mom forced me to have. The last time I brought this up to my husband, I was going through the motions of finding it impossibly hard to speak up, like I was mute, as if I was both making myself mute and being forced to be mute, as if there was some hidden contract I had "agreed" to and had been forced to keep all along. As if I had never told him this before (and up until now, he was the only person I have ever told this to). My husband was like... well, yea. I know. You've told me more than once. Also, remember when you were in uni? We found CP on his computer then too.... (it's not like he really went out of his way to hide it very well... and we certainly were not snooping around on his computer, I was just printing off something he helped me proofread for school.)  And then I felt both embarrassed that I STILL keep forgetting that I told him about the CP more than once. --- then he asked me: do you think that girl was you?  Nope, it definitely wasn't........... I'm pretty sure. As far as I know, he's never done anything to me. Unless.......  (my soupy memories from 4 and under are not helpful here. But there is something still... not right.)        ADDED NOTE: My father has been blind for a number of years now. (1) ""Dark Thought"": I sometimes help take care of him and I feel for his situation, but ""karma""... he doesn't really deserve eyesight...)
3. My brother molested me between the ages of 5-10. 5 years straight. He is 5 years older than me. When I mentioned in an above post that he has taken great pains to make amends with me, this is the specific thing I am talking about. Anyway, when I first started journalling on here some years ago, I briefly mentioned that I had a moment when I was 7 when it felt like my own "Higher Self" left me, and told me that it would fully come back when I was an adult. This is why it left me. My "soul" fractured so that I could maintain a semblance of normality and safety as much as humanly possible to protect myself. Literally it was my best attempt at developmental preservation, to have a sense of childhood that I could build upon as an adult, and that requires salvaging some sense of orderliness and relative "safety", like maintaining a certain sanctity of mind and soul (I'm not sure how else to explain this...) I suspect that the age 7 is significant because that is when children start to have a concrete sense of reality, operational logic, and a rational sense of self, is it not? I lost my memories of everything that happened as well as the ability to form and keep memories about what was continued being done to me. Dissociation. But as they say now ---- THE BODY KEEPS THE SCORE. Anyway, I've heard the perspective of everything that happened in quite a lot of detail from my brother in bits and pieces. He always tends to "bubble wrap" it in his choice of phrasing (as to not retraumatize me and be generally disrespectful and gross), but honestly I might as well have asked for everything in a disgustingly graphic amount of detail so at least there is no sanitized ambiguity about every exact thing that happened). My motto when I was younger was to unturn every stone and find the Truth. To return to myself, as I must eventually. And this.... might be the real day. (...and why not today? Why must I delay the inevitable?)   (ANOTHER ADDED NOTE: where I live, I have learned since my brother told me that he was willing to turn himself in because he feels that he deserves to be punished in some way. Which I myself find pointless (for myself, not speaking for others). The lawyer he talked to said that unless I was willing to prosecute him myself, he could not just turn himself in for something that he admitted. Basically a waste of time legally.)
4. So both of my parents knew the whole time, according to my brother. I found out about my family's secret that they all kept from me because my brother's ex-wife (and then girlfriend) told me. My brother had gone to my parents while I was in uni and asked if he should tell me about what happened to me. My parents said no, don't disturb her studies. Later it turned into, you should have to live with the weight of what you've done and bear that burden in silence for the rest of your life (my dad said that, my mom doesn't give a shit lol). That is the only moral thing to do. About 3ish years ago before my brother moved to LA to live with his now wife, right after things fell apart with his ex-wife (a CSA survivor herself, which is why she was able to instinctively identify the dynamic between my brother and I without him revealing his shameful dark secret), we both sat down with our parents to talk about what happened. Honestly I'm surprised that my parents even agreed to it; they definitely did not want to. According to my brother, my dad tried to stop him from molesting me once, but never tried again. My dad admitted that he knew what happened. My brother also actually came to my mom while he was still molesting me. According to him, it is because he said that he knew deep down, without anyone telling him, that what he was doing was wrong but he just couldn't manage to stop himself...  and that he wanted my mom, that he expected both my parents, to stop him, I guess. To be parents. Because he was very insistent on trying and trying to get them to be parents in the EMOTIONAL sense in a way that I would not be bothered with because I knew it was a waste of time, like trying to make a stone cry or have feelings. This is what she said back then when he came to her about what he was doing to me: well, did you do PIV to her?  My brother: no.  My mom: well, it's not that bad then.  ....and then that was the end of that. He did not go to her again. His mental health continued to deteriorate.      At that same family meeting: my mom aggressively and vehemently denied that she ever knew, and also that it ever was her responsibility in any way. My brother then called her a liar. At this moment in this family meeting: I do not feel anything except shaken and very open, yet at the same time I will not give them the privilege of seeing my vulnerability, because they always turn against me if it's anything close to "too much" for them to handle and/or be bothered with.
5. In general, and what I do very clearly remember about my mom was her literally looking the other way when I was molested on public in on a bus when I was 13 when I was in Hong Kong for the summer, and then I wondering if I was insane because ... I could have sworn that I saw her see that happen, and I saw her hardened, dead expression as she half-registered what happened and then looked away. Not her problem. I was 13, and had not yet blown up in rebellion. At that age, it was inconceivable that my mom would see what happened and ignored me. How could that even be possible?? I still wholeheartedly believed my parents had my best interest at heart, lol. Sure, I didn't feel loved at all, but still........ I mean, my mom was also a victim of patriarchal thinking, by this I mean old school Chinese culture. Quite literally, a boy is intrinsically worth more than a girl as he carries on the family name. I know that her own father abandoned and went to start a family and went on to have the son that she could never be, the son that he later bragged to her face about. She deeply fears being abandoned even though she puts on that hard, fake front, like "no one has the power to hurt me!" and "hurt them first and cut them out of your life before they can hurt you" type of mentality. Dog-eat-dog shit.  I know her fears about aging and apparently 18 is the prime beauty age of a woman. (Forever 21? Why not Forever 18?... is unfortunately one of her phrases that lives rent free in my head.) Great mom. We both know by 18, we both also mean younger too as well, right? ((Oh, by the way mothers, if you have body image issues and issues related to aging, your body image, your weight, you've probably already given it to your daughter(s). Whatever garbage cultural virus you've inherited. Your actions and how you treat and talk about yourself speaks a lot louder than anything else. Kids aren't stupid and can very often figure out even if you've said nothing, but chances are you probably have. Maybe you've forgotten. Maybe you don't know the true weight of your words.)
6. Shit my parents have said to me as an adult:   EXHIBIT A) my dad: oh, you were so good as a child, so well behaved. The ideal child. That it was easy to forget that you existed (unlike my brother, who would shove things in both of my parents' faces, especially my mom's)  EXHIBIT B) My mom, very recently: telling me about telling her friends, when they keep commenting about how great I am, such a wonderful, caring, respectable, GOOD daughter. She said to me recently: You're not like a daughter at all, but more like a friend. (This is a positive thing, apparently. What I hear in this is that: I feel justified in whatever parental responsibility I assumed for myself on my terms only, and nothing else (because my mom never really apologizes) and I don't feel any parental responsibility now. Thanks mom!)  EXHIBIT C: My dad: well, at least you turned out as well as anyone could have turned out given your circumstances. Thanks dad for that. I actually KNOW that already without needing you to fucking tell me that. Jesus if I actually had no self esteem it's not like you'd be complimenting me now because that's not in our """SOUL CONTRACT""", apparently.  Now continue to ignore and gaslight me when I tell you that adolescence was very, very difficult for me emotionally, that I was very severely depressed and hallucinating left and right, when I told you that it's fortunate that I'm even alive at all. That that is the truth of it. That it was not a given that I should still be alive. Keep telling me that I somehow would have figured out myself (great! And I did! Wow! I am so strong and awesome! And I did it pretty much entirely alone except for my now husband, and even he didn't know how bad it was or that I was planning to die after a certain age if I could not manage to hit the reset button on this body and identity and actually start over cleanly with a life that wasn't a continuation of the same dynamics I inherited from my ethically deranged family.) 
7. The things I wrote above about emotional neglect in above posts, and then some. When I first started to try to understand what people were saying about their own experiences surviving multiple types of childhood abuse, I have heard this this sentiment multiple times and its echo has lingered still:  the emotional neglect and the lack of love was worse than any of the (usually physical) abuse that I had experienced growing up. This has been very hard to wrap my head around when I was younger, and also I had never experienced normal "physical" abuse. But now, I am inclined to agree. 
8. ""THE CURSE"": There is a certain pattern that has happened across my life. I call it.... the Curse. These are some of the rules of my "soul contract" with my family, apparently.  1) If I truly need someone at my most vulnerable, there will be no one there, very conveniently. Both literally (physical absence) and figuratively (emotional absence). You could try though, if you like. 2) I try to articulate my needs as clearly as possible while trying to cause as little offense as possible, but it is dismissed. No, those are not real needs. They are imaginary. I am erased in plain sight. I am nothing. A mute shadow. I don't deserve to have needs. Therefore I don't have them... etc. etc.  3) Now this is the thing that trips me up the worst as an adult, like it's disturbing to me: After I make peace with myself, resolve to see the Truth in full clarity, to do the work to resolve what I can of my currently available layer of trauma with literally every possible resource available to me, to whatever intuitive powers and raw intelligence and sheer willpower I have... I feel as if I am manifesting the means from thin air, at times. Finally, I get to the point that internally at least, I don't give a flying fuck about anyone's approval, and certainly not my parents' approval. I am free to act benevolent and civil toward them (and not feel like trash about myself because I greatly dislike holding ill will against people, and if I have it, I am almost certainly stuck in some way because I DO NOT AND NEVER HAVE wanted to be like that. A small, sad hateful shell of a person, even if maybe there are some good reasons to feel the way I do. It manifests in like this: Like I stop seeking their love. ...and then suddenly, they decide to praise me when there was no praise as a child. Decide to say they love me. Hug me. (Which makes me viscerally recoil in disgust on some deep level, if I'm being honest.) Tell me that they are proud of me.  ...what in the everliving fuck is this? They're afraid. I smell it.   (great, more power games with my parents, and managing their guilt which they refuse to acknowledge. Because the surface must be maintained at all costs, right? They themselves, a mirror of civilization at this moment. You can't be fucking serious. Oh... they are............ so small. And scared. I see their fear in their hearts. I can't be mad at them, they are like children...)

(God, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing........)

(.... I'm still so angry... how can they be like this? how can they be..... so casually and negligently evil? So absent of Love? How do... human beings live like this? In such emotional squalor, in a world without the Real and the Colour? In the absence of Love? Why has my spirit been dragged down with these... people?)

(you keep telling yourself, as you have your whole life, because this is just the way humans are. Our animality.)

(......no animal has or would ever treat me this way though, so no wonder I often preferred the company of animals. I was also a witchy sort and had my soul-bonded Familiars. The saving grace of my years as a minor. They saw me when no one did, in the way that animals can often see your true emotions and other things you hide in your heart that other people cannot see because you mask those traits and feelings, even if animals do not cognitively understanding you.)

AN EXAMPLE OF SOMETHING WHICH DIDN'T MAKE THE LIST ABOVE: 

• I've told this as a joke a few times before: My parents traveled somewhere new every year, and when I was 6, we went to India. I was at the Taj Mahal. It was about 40 celcius, probably a bit over. The joke was that my future claim to fame (and maybe something I'd put in my autobiography in the future if I ever wrote one) is that I threw up on the Taj Mahal when I was I was 6. Haha, I threw up on a very beautiful, pristine looking UNESCO World Heritage Site when I was 6. I was deathly mortified about it then. In reality, I was afraid. Afraid of my family. Afraid of being an inconvenience, afraid of them being angry at me, of being told I was too sensitive and a whiner, afraid of being an embarrassment to them. 
• Other adults walked up to my parents and asked if I was ok. My parents had given me a bit of water reluctantly, because their thing was aggressively conserving and rationing bottled water so that we wouldn't be completely out of it if we "really needed it" in a place where none was available at that moment. What I felt was like was a horrible embarrassment to them. And that I better not pass out. That's not acceptable. Don't want to find out what happens then. That would definitely be my fault. This is already all my fault. ...why am I so weak? 

My husband: that is child abuse. Pretty sure you were having heat stroke...

Me: I was fully willing to accept what they told me at that age, that I should toughen up. Not be so sensitive. That it was for my own benefit.

My husband: that's not how you toughen up a child lol. They were physically and medically responsible for you. The reason they gave you was them justifying their own selfish priorities (and basically not doing their duties as a parent). 

(Wait....you mean this is not a normal childhood thing?)

.......

(Oh, I guess I have been physically abused. Just not beat with a belt or slapped across the face. Actually, remember when you rebelled as a teenager? That was the only time in your life where you told both your parents to go fuck themselves. You asked them to treat you like an actual human being instead of a science experiment, and not like someone you could just mould into whatever idea of what I should be as a person based on whatever values they had. Your mother told you ... well, why don't you just call CPS if it's that bad? Lol you have food and a roof over your head, access to education, what could you possibly have to complain about? What, are you going to go live with a foster family? Do you think that would be better?)

(Oh wait, remember all the times you spent traveling and your feet were bleeding because you were being forced to walk for hours and hours wearing shoes, on the rubbed raw, bleeding blistered skin? You recall your mother being annoyed at dealing with the evidence of your injury? As if you had personally done it to offend her? You remember how you felt like somehow that too was also your fault? That you tried to make yourself as small, pleasant, and quiet as possible, while you spent hours trying to psychologically numb the sensation of pain, but at times, the feeling of pins and needles was too much. Still, stay silent. Try not to look bothered, or else mom will take it personally. You look weak and like a whiner. I feel the shame. I try to employ the right level of dissociation to adapt perfectly to my situation. Watch where you're going, eos_nyxia. Don't dissociate too much and forget where you are.   ....eventually, like some years later, my mom did help me get wide fit shoes.)

........I learned to bear psychological and physical pain to the point of learning to control my ability to dissociate. To hold what causes Memory and Unmemory. To run higher cognitive functions (enforced homeschooling because I was being a "bad kid" and rebelling) and higher extrasensory functions (the latter being much more energy consuming at the time), while under this type load. To leave no evidence of vulnerability that could be picked apart by people who are like animals drawn to scent of blood.   .... like, haha. I already know that I had done the best a human could probably do with my particular situation. 

......and there's always more to remember, if I wanted to. Which I do not. It always seems to go on and on and ON. I am DONE. I have done my best to specifically avoid situations which would result in me getting so angry I feel compelled to disown all of them, and I am very intent on wrapping up our karma as a family and I have believed disowning them to be running away, specifically in my case. And also, I believe that it is bad juju to curse (hold seriously ill intent in your heart) toward the woman who birthed you, regardless of what she has done. Mostly, you'll probably just poison yourself and divorce yourself from the Nurturing aspect of Reality, shutting yourself off from experiencing secure love and attachment, emotional safety, and groundness in the future, and honestly even a certain aspect of Presence along with it.)

Anyway, At that point, I'll feel absolutely nothing about it, like I always have. And that's fine. Because I am done with it. 

Also at the very least, I need to admit to myself, these people tortured me. Not just that they hurt me and they had their reasons. I need to call it what it was, and what was actually true for me. I must stop dissociating and splintering myself in small and larger ways out of habit, returning and looping back to the inheritance I was born with. 

I must end this whole war within myself. I have to finally tell myself, this ends now, and believe it.  

To put it in place. To put things in place. To switch on all the lights and leave them on this time.

....

..

..

 

I have been waiting for this moment my whole life. 

I want to use my real power now.

I want to remake the world in my True Image. 

Edited 8 minutes ago by eos_nyxia
This is absolutely the last thing I will write about it unless this situation somehow turns a 360. It's it. I spoke my truth about this thing. I'm finally done...

[eos_nyxia]

But before I can be DONE, I have to be fully committed to the Truth of it all. I have to BE Truth. It ends the contract. 

 

I could have done it before, I'm sure, but the grief........ 

Edited 36 minutes ago by eos_nyxia
....the people who I prayed would show up, but didn't... as it was written, in the contract... I agreed to this... I own it now fully. And you can't be here. That's fine. Nothing has changed. And I'm ok. :)