ARS AMORATA: A Descent into Vulnerability

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Who asked you to come here with your beautiful eyes and a spirit that, for reasons I didn't understand fully, seemed so wide open to me?

And why are you telling me stories with them, written as clearly as inscribed history itself? Why have I walked where you have walked (or why are you telling me that I have, or asking me about that in questions), that I get so strongly the sense and the weight of experience without the images of the memories themselves? (Later, much would come back to me.)

Why did you just show up, making it clear that you had always been here? Just not in an obvious way?

I was finding and rediscovering the ways in that you seem to be written over me, in intervals. Likewise, I don't even need to touch you to know the ways in which memory is written all over your body. Your history. Now and forever; absolute memory. I have been reading and rereading you. Like a favourite book that has slipped between my senses, and passed out between my translucent skin like a chill wind.

I see memories wrapped like spun cloth unraveled and unspun across time in images and sound and all of the vividness that is the senses. Meanwhile we ourselves are centering around ...

Do you feel it too? Is it just me, right now, in this understanding and this seeing and feeling?

Why are you here, time traveler?


Edited by modmyth

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I never explicitly asked to desire you in the way that I did. It just happened.

But the soul asks for things that the mind does not dare ask for: not to ask for directly, not to look at directly. The soul asks directly in desire, uttered without words, sometimes barely audible. Like the softest drumbeat. Sometimes we hear those desires translated into thoughts, into words. Sometimes, we hear nothing, because it's too much, it's too much … It's like looking at the sun directly; there is that risk of burning away with pain and pleasure and fear. Boundaries dissolve.

So we have all these secret and half-hidden wishes of the heart.

I wanted to feel truly and deeply without holding back, and I did, and now on some level, I have been struggling to release this blame fully. As if one makes a choice and it simply releases. I have been mindful of this, and so I do my best to create the conditions and space for release as if nurturing it. When I get too agitated and think about the time and making progress, it seems like I am falling into another sort of game.

The mind says, don't feel, not like that, not towards that one. And then, the lines of segregation are drawn. You stop feeling so openly, so freely. Inwardly you turn against yourself, all while focusing on this other person in your mind.

And sometimes, holding this person as an object of mind happens simply because of your exclusionary avoidance. You're not thinking of that person directly, thinking of their name, their face, their presence. The memories, their mementos, the way they smell, the way they inhabit space in their peculiar ways of being, the charms and idiosyncrasies, the way in which they are completely irritating.  All these little and smotheringly encompassing things. But their presence is absolutely ubiquitous in your mindspace because you CANNOT think of them. They define the scope of your mindspace directly. You have drawn a perimeter around that person in their shape, filled with a black hole. In a state of relative stillness, you feel their power over you, the way in which they are utterly defining you. Does that make sense?

It's the same thing with unarticulated desires and fears, and whatever it is that you can't face so directly.

So totally understandable and relatable. So very human. This glorious humanness.

Edited by modmyth
For when someone is in heart, but not in mind.

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There was everything that was, that dissolved. Love is untethered. I don't 'own' you, even if I have inhabited you. And I find myself wondering about the ways in which I have failed to inhabit you fully and the ways in which you have not inhabited me, that maybe you never have. What about each other have we not understood? What have we failed to take in of each other, if anything?

I always had this notion in my mind, containing love smothers it to death. The same thing with labeling it too much, as it defines its existence by rigidly making it an object of mind. As in putting it in a little tiny box and then wondering why it fails to prosper when it doesn't have enough air, enough sunlight, or enough room to grow period, to take on its own spontaneous shape and form. For the ways in which it is imprisoned instead of nurtured and simply given the space to be. Like the futility of trying to contain water better by crushing it in your fist. Expressing this sentiment alone makes me seem commitment-phobic, probably, and it's true, I've definitely had this tendency my whole life and then some. Sometimes the best thing to do is to just walk away.

I have harmed others with this praxis.

I have had this thought on raising children, which will not be a part of my life, but it can be related to the nurturing and psychoemotional and spiritual development of all beings. I said, some people, or souls, have a deep and intrinsic need for structure and containment. The structure must be very clear and cohesive, and rules and consequences must be made very evident. It is for a sense of security to their souls that is necessary in order to prosper. For others, this is an absolute poison, even as very young children, like with myself, for example. There is something in me that is easily stamped out with too much smothering (aka. "structured nurturing") of this sort, that fails to grow properly as a result, and that gets claustrophobic so easily in interpersonal relationships. (This is very compatible with the notion of spiral dynamics that I have seen around these parts.)

To love is to totally and devotedly mold yourself in and around this person and their experience, so flawlessly and without separation (while not excluding yourself in any way). How long can we keep this up though, practically speaking, when we're barely on the same page as ourselves, let alone others?

With humans, you could say there is a difference in the size of our individual parenthesis, as souls having this experience of life. You could call this the scope and depth of perspective. This is one feature that makes us so distinct as a species; we really aren't all on the same page, not in terms of speaking the same language. Not yet. And not in terms of relative development, which was what I was speaking about here.

But god, these concurrent urges. They sometimes appear to intersect and at other times, run in parallel lines, never meeting.

How I had you, and I thought I had you. How I wanted to have you, and have you over and over again.

You weren't. Yet you're still here, in me, in these fragments that speak and tell stories.

Edited by modmyth

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I drank from you, and you flooded me. I opened myself to be flooded; it's what it means to feel. To be immersed so deeply and completely in the heart and marrow of experience. To be whole. To experience no sense of distance within and without, no detachment. At the heart of communion.

Who asked you to taste so intensely, divinely sweet? And why does your bitterness offset this sweetness so perfectly? Your contrasts. All these fine distinctions and gradations of your personality, these roads you walked. You becoming you. Your aloneness and your isolation, your feelings of unworthiness. The ways in which you don't make sense to yourself, that you have not made sense of experience (not yet?). Who asked you to be so exquisitely you?

Why do you linger in my mouth, the way you do? Why does your flavour invoke a certain feeling? Some tastes and sensations of the senses, you taste it with your heart. To be whole and to be alive, for better and for worse, you drink in experience with the heart. And so you see and feel it so wholly there that the force of tasting it, tastes you back.

To have you is the ability to taste you over and over again, when it comes spontaneously and in invoked memories. I understand that clearly now, what this means. I understand that imprints and engravings of the soul, transcend memory. It can be described as the weight of memory.

Even in the modern sense now, it is understood that what an addict craves is connection. Communion. That desire itself is no flaw or accident. (It's by design we all act and think like addicts, and those who embrace it the most fully, the most honestly, tend to become the most lucid.)

Also, why am I just figuring out how to put this into words right now? Total submersion makes it hard to speak. You fall silent. You think and speak deflectingly, when you do. Maybe you say frivolous things, things you don't mean directly, things which seem so stupid in retrospect. Maybe there is no other choice.

Edited by modmyth
Tasting you drove me crazy, in every sense of the word.

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When you spend your whole life running against the grain, to run with the grain is what seems unnatural. Sometimes you doubt whether it is possible for what comes naturally, from moment to moment, to feel natural. To feel whole.

You might think it's a complete fiction if you don't have the memory of what this means from early childhood; stories about fantastical beings, like aliens or fairies or ghosts, or ridiculously implausible inventions seem far more likely than this. All these other past and future worlds and imaginings.

Free me, shackle me; what difference does it make? As long as I stop cutting myself into tiny pieces, and disconnecting. Either way, you're still here.

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WHY YOU?: (I feel like I'm repeating myself in slightly a more detailed way.)

You made me believe. And I both loved you for it, and then I hated you for it, in an equally intense way.

You made me feel not alone, and then I started to question the degree to which I was deluding myself specifically with heaping on piles of these covert expectations and hopes and desires. Desires which dare not speak their own name. I blamed myself for this afterward.

I don't know, I didn't know how to cope with desire, how to make sense of it directly. I felt so illy equipped for it in every way. To be direct about what I really wanted. You can call it subconscious or societal programming. There has been this deep sense that if I want something deeply; it just doesn't happen. Modmyth does not get what she truly wants. And if she doesn't truly want it, well then the trappings of desire do not interfere and cause self-sabotage. I came to be more acutely aware of this, but it was another thing that was very hard to face directly. Before this point, I never cared excessively about that much, not truly, so I didn't need to think about this issue too much. I was just here on Earth to do what I needed to do. In a sense, this made things simple; it extracted 'me' from the equation. It's survive. Observe. Figure things out. Unravel your issues. Since I turned 15, this has always been my conscious and constant priority. Yes, it's been very challenging at times, but compared to all of this shit below? That has actually been relatively straightforward. Just stick to my priorities.

I also have this sense that I am a danger to myself simply by virtue of being me, so the more “me” I am, the more I am a problem. The more I am possibly going to destroy things and people with certain aspects of my personality: namely rage and impulsiveness. I have spent well over half of my life babysitting myself. This is something that inevitably had to collapse, due to the need to be "me" fully inevitably. For whatever form that takes.

You made me feel like a sense of home was possible, and I hated you for that too. I hated you because I remembered what that felt like, and because you wanted me to remember. At least at some point in time you wanted that, even if not at that moment back then? You seemed to be the answer to a certain and particular sort of connection I was craving. You made me feel like you got me. You made me feel like someone was on my side, truly. You made me want to identify with you so wholly too, as you wanted to with me. I believed in that. Anyone can say they believe in you; it's another thing to show it. In the end, I was not able to reconcile that with this deep-rooted tendency and way of seeing the world: people like me don't get to know what home is, and what it feels like. It never lasts. Not with my kind of upbringing and trauma. For some moments, I dared to dream and to feel it. I couldn't help it; it came as visions for a possible future. I didn't ask for it, not consciously. It's the kind of thing that I would never dare ask for directly anyway, as in, I wouldn't even dare think of it consciously unless it so happened to find it's way into my brain, as it did spontaneously. But it left an impression on me. I placed it aside, saying that things will work out however they are meant to work out. I blamed you for that too, in retrospect. And I blamed you for how you so flawlessly and easily you seemed to have that with someone else. Like oh, I feel completely invisible now, like I don't even exist, and strangely in a way like I never did exist. But the fact that you are able to mean that I guess that was what was meant to happen. Why is this happening? Why do I feel this way? I can barely seem to articulate it or speak it. I walked through about a year straight in a daze, perhaps under a spell of my own binding that I was not able to break at that point. Everything had become too convoluted. Somehow, this feels like an instance of my personal past repeating itself again: Modmyth never gets truly seen or heard, not when she truly needs it the most. Also, I have the joy of being shackled to you and I am stuck with the joy of watching you live your life and visions and dreams like I don't exist. Is this what it feels like? I really didn't appreciate that. How the hell did everything manage to work out like this?

In space hell, no one can hear you scream.

Like, I still can't reconcile that one, really, like what does home even mean, other than finding a sense of home wherever I happen to be, including if that's being by myself? Maybe that's all there is that truly exists? Life was better and made more sense when I didn't dare to dream in that way, when it never it occurred to me to do so. Suppose I should make sure I wipe all associations with that notion of "home" properly.

So I believed in you because you believed in me, in way that goes beyond believing in someone when times are good, when you simply fit their agenda in a shallow, superficial kind of way. Beyond when it's easy to believe in someone, including even when maybe you don't want to believe in that person. You had longevity, that actually does mean (meant?) quite a lot to me. It made me take you way more seriously than I would have otherwise. Perhaps there is element of a lack of choice in it too, because like I said, I wanted to know what it was like to be you in pretty much every way (this means context appropriate for my own life, which arguably has ramifications far beyond what I could have anticipated originally). I feel that I surrendered choice, in a way. Then I hated you for thwarting all of my defensive measures. I hated you for making me hate myself because the end result of this was pretty predictable.

I also very much thought this level of blame was stupid and unprecedented? Why can't I seem to walk away from this more easily? Why can't I give this up?

So perhaps I am still stuck either in some kind of perverse double-bind too, where I expect this to resolve itself in some absolute way: either this whole thing collapses into proper neutrality or nothingness, or whatever is left is the base level of what is truly inextractable. Let it collapse or transform itself as it may. I make no claim or stake in the outcome. I suspect I have no power here over anything in relation to you in any meaningful sense, and so I have started to feel free in that way.

Maybe now, knowing this, you can feel sorry for me, for how I felt. I never looked at you as an object of pity, by the way.

You inspired me; I just thought you must have realized, but in the end, maybe it was just meaningless in context. I have been telling myself since about October, you didn't give a shit. You stopped giving a shit, you were ready to check out and live the rest of your life, so I no longer have anything to do with this. I was not inspired by how much hate I seemed to have in me, hate that I had not faced directly. This tendency to walk away from blame in me did not eradicate the tendency to blame entirely, in a sense, but perhaps made me even more incapable of dealing with it and resolving it directly, for the ways that I have found it difficult to do so with you. My reasons for blaming you seem a lot stupider than blaming my family, or a few other select people. It was so hard for me to wrap my head around why I was so childish for not getting my way for something that I articulated so poorly or well at all. So I have insisted on trying to force that narrative to fit ('you don't give a shit and you never did'), and then attempting to let it go entirely, as if that's some sort of logical progression.

Something doesn't quite match up, and so it seems won't release itself.

I wish you saw yourself through my eyes. Somehow I was convinced that you would understand it all one way or another. If not now, when the time was right. Always a little bit from now, it was never the right time then. Why are things not falling into place? Why are things not making more sense? What am I supposed to do? Time keeps passing and passing. I am doing my best to make sense of the past and the present. My trauma isn't resolving itself.

I had been trying to make myself into whatever I need to be, which is why I keep trying things on. I am not choosing things for my own greater benefit. Not really. I never have. I am and have been learning by throwing things out there perpetually, different priorities and modes of living that don't necessarily involve you, I did exactly what I thought I was supposed to do. I throw myself wholeheartedly into it for that reason. If I thought I was supposed to do something else entirely, then I would have done that instead. Yes, that could involve living ascetically or in the exact opposite way. It could even involve jumping off a bridge. Literally anything that is required of me, I will make that choice on a conscious level with mostly everything if that's what's required of me to serve the higher good (with the obvious exception of doing heinous shit to other beings, I'm just talking about what I'll do with myself here). You know what that means in a greater context now, perhaps?

So if this now is a sort of resolution and “making sense”, I didn't quite picture this particular abyss of meaning. Perhaps I thought my life had been shitty enough up to this point that it didn't warrant anymore, and after spring 2017, I thought I was home free. I blamed you for this.

But for all this blame that I have heaped on you in these ways, I have had just as much blame for myself, arguably. I suddenly see all the ways in which I am lacking, and it hurts. Along with multiple traumas, I didn't really quite feel like myself in other ways, for other reasons. I wasn't that proud to show this, to be seen in this way. I had become distant from myself. Maybe I saw myself as a 'fix it' project. Maybe there was a lot about me that I didn't want you to see directly. So I didn't want to talk about it. I became self-conscious about being seen in ways that I was not before, to the point of paranoia. I didn't have much of a frame of reference for caring in this particular way before. So I was in this bind of wanting to be desperately seen for everything that I am, but also, I really didn't. But I needed it, but I also couldn't bear the thought of you facing it directly.

I somehow counted on you being available in a way that I both wanted and needed when all of this was over, and not like... whatever this is... when I finally felt enough in one piece to get my story straight, to do what I stayed on this Earth to do. But like, on a level of subverted expectations. I thought it was obvious because I trusted enough that things would somehow work out in a not horrible way because I trust you. Why? Because I was being stupid?

You weren't there, it was logical. Why would have been? Well then, our business is done? Why do I feel this way?

Obviously, if I tell you to do something or to not do something, if I tell you to go away or that I don't need or want you there, or if I have covert desires or expectations: even if I have no idea or possibility knowing what it means in an absolute sense; I am responsible for what I say in that way. What I say has to mean something in an absolute sense. If I say I'm ok with something but I end up not being ok with it, I'm still responsible for that. I didn't anticipate that it would all be such a big deal, that I would be devastated so badly, with all these aspects of unconsciousness and seeds sown in one way or another, all catching up with me suddenly come this summer. Whether I had any conscious intent or part in sowing a lot of what caused me trauma originally in my life doesn't matter in terms of effecting outcome... It's generally how these kinds of things work.

Edited by modmyth
I wanted to understand some aspects of you and your experience more than I wanted to not blame? Because that makes sense in a very logical but convoluted way? ...

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CLARITY: So it is my wish to make clear what was in the past, without a trace of padding or deflection for the sake of clarity.  So it is much easier to speak of this clearly in the past tense now. Somewhat of a bitter taste remains here, but this above is a representation of arguably the worst of the blame and anger I experienced towards you, blown up in great detail to be analyzed shamelessly. To understand cause and effect.

When truly deep in the heart of anger or blame; it is really hard to write with relative clarity like that. The relative clarity of the past tense, even if it is not entirely done with.

I feel more strongly the positive elements of what I wrote earlier today than everything I wrote above, to be honest.

Something in me keeps snagging here and there though.

I could just as easily focus on the positive and leave it there, which is that I opened myself up and was inspired to feel something that I was not willing or able to before. Yes, that means something. Even if it has no exact relevance or purpose in the presence, in any kind of tangible way. There is a value of it in itself, that does not need to extend itself in any way.

Sometimes I feel like I am repoisoning the well by focusing so explicitly on the negativity of the past in the way that I tend to, and so I am feeding it again in some ways, but sometimes I feel like it is really important to give the clearest, most uncompromising view of dealing with an issue with deflecting. No frills and directly as possible.

Suppose I don't want to face it directly, so it means that I should.

So it is. So the way life works out.



Edited by modmyth

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Posted (edited)

HOPE: you made me feel like I could do anything, like I could face anything, that my life mattered enough to bother with the rest of it. I was elated that I had you. You know, at the level of the heart, when you feel inspired to be the way naturally, so you don't have to try to make it matter with your mind by trying to change the way you think, trying to be more positive, etc. And then it seemed to fade away, time kept passing and passing and it didn't make any more sense, a certain spark or magick wasnt quite there. Pretty sure I am making you sad or disappointing you. Is it you or is it me? Pretty sure it's me. Because I still believe in you; can't you tell? I can't feel it quite right... Is this a barrier in communication? It's something that I said or did, wasnt it?  Is it because there's something wrong with me? I'm too boxed in still, it's definitely me and my trauma. I thought you would be happier if you weren't focusing on me on some level; maybe I doubted if l could ever really make you happy at all, except possibly in the very short term. Maybe that's all I'm good for, when dealt with in reality, when dealt with up close. I was starting to wonder if you stopped believing in me on some level, but I couldn't face it directly. Maybe you came all this way, arrived here, and then I was disappointing. I kept doing what I normally do. Just to focus, to do my work that I had been doing, and to keep doing it. To finish it however it was meant to finish.

I stopped focusing on you directly so much. I thought I had to sort myself out, these other aspects of myself that I had not faced directly because I was not capable of it before. For instance, who is the real authentic me, because I feel like something is still so disconnected and so missing. What is my core personality and purpose in an absolute sense? Who was i? Who am I sexually without all these issues? Maybe we should be with other people. Maybe things would make more sense that way.

I thought you all the time you know... Everyday. I missed you. I couldn't seem to make myself stop. I wanted to tell you everything. I didn't want to tell you these shitty stories about myself.

I also never expected you to get so serious about someone else. Yea, that's not what I imagined at all. At that point, from my perspective, we stopped being on the same page more and more. I was kind of trapped within the bubble of my own mind and also in serious denial about reality. Like, somehow this will all work out however it is supposed to work out, and it will make sense.

I felt like I was gaining more confidence in myself as I was learning more about who I was and am and who you were/ are, but also losing it so deeply in other ways. I seemed to be turning against myself in ways that I didn't fully understand, that I am still coming to understand, and that I seem so illy equipped to deal with and to process it consciously. 

For reasons I couldn't fully explain, you made me make sense of myself and everything. And also really not make sense at all, in a way that drove me insane.

Edited by modmyth

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Posted (edited)

Often I start writing for these journals not knowing exactly where it will go; sometimes I have a specific idea in mind, often I don't. I just have a feeling that I follow, like following a scent or an impression. I don't feel fear talking right now about myself and my past as it's been. I just don't care. There is still a “nothing to lose mentality” and the sense that I am doing this as a sort of absolute last resort of resolution after the more private ways haven't quite worked. Throw the rest of this baggage overboard. I want out of this labrinyth of cause and effect now, and I won't stop.

I feel a sense of relief, a pulling towards myself.

Edited by modmyth
So simultaneously, just let it be.

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Posted (edited)


I spent all of October trying to reorient myself after what might be termed a massive psychotic breakdown. I wrote about it a bit in Confessionals; it was either around December or January. I didn't enjoy parsing back over it, and what I wrote was nowhere as detailed and explicit as I thought I was. I was definitely holding back a ton and glossing over it. I did not give a good picture of what it felt like during the spring and summer AT ALL.

People use the word 'hell' in such a blaise way, for ordinary earthly hells, drawn out over time in intervals and in fragmented ways. This was something extreme. This was no ordinary breakdown. It was something fantastic in scope, and utterly boxed in, the pains and trials of the human psyche magnified times a thousand. In terms of raw experience, it was technically the most terrifying and overwhelming thing I encountered.

I blamed you, because I thought somehow you would always be here if I needed you, that you would somehow understand and come to understand. The sheer weight of that expectation. ... When I was in that space, I spent a good amount of that time trying to look for you, as if I could somehow find you there. It was the saddest thing in retrospect, and the most futile exercise ever. For whatever ways in which that was a true representation of absolute psychic reality, it made it clear the myriad of ways in which we failed to communicate and understand each other at all especially over that time period. Like a giant wall between us. The most essential things, the deepest pains and issues of the heart, failed to communicate. I felt like somehow I made a big mistake with you, that I failed to communicate how I truly felt about you, and apparently now was the right time to show it to you, or ASAP.

Do you know that this was probably the time period where I was at the greatest risk for suicide or just accidental, 'psychosis' induced death (let's just say summer 2018 to late 2019, also this February when I stopped writing in my journals here was also a terrible time period.) Other than the fact that I had previously made a pact with myself that I would absolutely not die now, I have come too far in order to do what I put myself on this Earth for, and I always keep promises of a certain magnitude (whether to myself, or to others). Do you know that this is no joke either when you compare this to what my life was like when I was 14-15?

You are a mirror that I stopped being able to see myself in you directly, because I didn't want to anymore. (And yet, you were still in my own heart, and to turn against you, to feel hate and blame like that on any level, whether I fed it or not? I felt a block in my heart. And so, I started another smaller war.) I took you into me too much, too fully, too deeply. (In return for what really? Well, let's just say it exists for its own sake, for better and for worse.) You no longer made any sense, why did you do anything, really? Why did you bother pretending you did anything for me, like you had sacrificed so much, when the end result was an equivalent you checked out with your nice little life finally? Good, maybe you deserved that (honestly, maybe you did, maybe we all deserve this chance at least once, and this time happened to be the most illy conceived timing possible). Maybe you spent enough time feeling trapped and stuck, and now, karma finally made its reversal for you. I guess you were free enough now, and this is what you wanted and chose? Don't act like you have no power and you didn't help create this outcome too.

Bail and run. Good for you. Gold fucking star.

You became a reminder of the worst aspects of my past, my vulnerability, my being unseen and unfelt. Myself. Anything that reminded me of you, when it cropped up, made me feel this sense of disgust. You know when I keep talking and talking but I'm not actually being understood properly at all, and I'm at least aware enough of that? But I keep talking still? I kept talking to you before it tapered off, and it very much felt like a self-hating act. Why am I doing this still? Why can't I stop?

Every major choice you've made after a certain point felt explicit not like me, that had nothing to do with me. I on some level explicitly defined myself as 'not you'. I thought to myself: I hope you're proud of yourself. I don't care about your work. I don't care at all about what you do with your time or energy in the future, as long as it has nothing to do with me. I don't care about why you didn't understand or get me. I don't want to think about you at all anymore. I'm not responsible for your life anymore in anyway, not even in the most abstract and universal way. How can I be, like this? I don't recognize you anymore, which means I don't want to see you in me either.

And especially, especially do not have the pretense of having known me well enough during that time period. Do not represent me as if you knew what I was going through. Don't you dare. Did you think I was bored? I was suffering. You at least knew that much, I'm sure. I had so much hope and I got to watch myself lose it all. So I'm not going to blame you for not knowing well enough what happened in my life before that, the weight and magnitude of it. Maybe I did things which caused you pain inadvertently, maybe I had been a negative presence in your life, but I never did anything so bad as to deserve this, unless this really is a karmic 'tit for tat'. It felt like this at time, even though I rarely think this way at all. It's not like 'deserve' works like that in life. But do you think small, frivolous things make me suffer the way I did, probably to a degree or magnitude that you weren't even aware of?

Do you think I'm a person just carelessly addicted to having problems and making myself feel ill, and in this way, I can't help myself? Like every single day since I turned 15 hasn't been a work of extreme discipline and self-restraint? Do you think I was compulsive and unrealized? Or god... irrational, as if I didn't have a good reason for this level of anger and resentment?

As I have said, I have actively not wanted to feel this way. Most of the time, I managed to push this kind of hate and negative thinking out of my mind and to deal with it in very strategic and boxed in intervals, when the opportunity presents itself. But it's the kind of thing which is always on the periphery, it colors your experience.  Your heart is the sum total of all your psychoemotional imprints and unresolved experience and karma, and I felt that already cleared house with pretty much all of the other major issues, only to 'choose' to return to this mess.

So in the background, I could not help but feel: I sure hope these choices were worth it. And when I felt furious, I felt furious. When I felt disgust and contempt, it was very wholehearted. Tell me, was it? Was it worth my life? Your family? Your home? Everything else you have? Your reputation? Your life that you've built it as you know it? I hope you're happy. Seriously, don't even pretend to care or be interested in me even a little bit. You might as well wish me dead. Fuck you. I wish you never found me. I wish I never knew you. That's how I felt at the time. I blamed you for everything. At the same time, I tried to make the best of every day and moment to the best of my capacity, in the spirit of positivity. In the spirit of finding something new to life for and perhaps to inspire me again.

Is this why I'm here still, the reason why I'm still alive? To hate? To hold on to the past like this? Seriously. I do deserve better than this.

I hated you because I felt like you were a user. I ended up feeling like I was just a means for you to process the past and move the fuck on, except somehow it felt like you didn't even have either decency or capacity to let go of me fully. On some level, you were also keeping me on the hook. I can feel these things in an absolute way; sensitivity.

And who is this woman who apparently is worth the weight of my life, as it works out through a twist of fate, or not? Helen of fucking Troy? I don't care who she is, no woman or person is worth that; but looking at her anyway; yea, I don't think so.

I didn't know I could be so vitriolic. That urge to compare myself started to crop up, as some kind of fundamental act of self-loathing that had never been there before, not like that. I hated it; that whole issue made me turn against myself'; then I realized that don't have permission even to hate fully and aggressively in order to experience it consciously in its entirety. Because I was not worth even that. There was that urge to filter, repress, reframe, represent, which had negative consequences in my psyche until I finally learned my lesson because subverting it harmed me directly. I had to stop turning against myself for some false notion of virtue, and certainly not for you (whatever that even meant anymore).

I blamed you thoroughly for having something fresh to blame you about, for this entanglement, as if I did not have enough in my past to deal with; so that when September passed, I felt that I should have been in a complete state of resolve about my past and my karma. After undergoing that sort of trial and purge, of sorts, as was last summer. But I was not. Somehow, I was still stuck with you. Why?

Anyway, I feel that I have maintained a certain kind of respectability in my life by treating people with composure and extreme self-restraint, namely my family and certain friends from the past. This has been related to absolutely brutal, life-destroying, twisted stuff. This came down when it became clear that it was it was a matter of preservation or self-destruction.

Side with myself first above all else, as a matter of instinct. Survival instinct. 

Well, I decided to throw all of my composure and self-restraint all out the window in public here. I might as well finish my teenage rebellion. I might as well not give a shit about who dislikes what I have to say and why, I mean what else do I have to lose?  Is this what it feels like to have been you, even a bit? To have been abandoned? To feel invisible? Like what I have to do with the rest of my life doesn't matter, but I have do get up any do anyway? I seriously doubt this . Are you gonna blame me for that? (Who cares.)

So yea, I am angry still, clearly, but not quite like I was before.

Edited by modmyth
I used to ask myself, how does this make me look? The proper answer is, who cares? Take your own side especially if you have a history of subverting yourself for others' perceived wellbeing.

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Posted (edited)

SELF LOVE IS?: It really doesn't feel that good to write such vitriolic stuff either now, but I don't feel the need to think twice about it, as a sort of act of judgment and a personal vendetta against myself. It is a sort of a combination of a last resort and making a beeline for direct resolution. My heart has shades of conflict in it, but my mind is lucid and positive. This is the perspective a choose consciously, as I have this means right now. The heart will reorder and reintegrate itself soon enough. I have absolute faith. This is an area where belief wholly works in my favour.


*to take my own side, against any possible judgments anticipated. These imagined and projected judgments by others are ultimately my own preconceived tendency to judge, first and foremost.

*I am relentless; I will not give up on myself, ultimately.

*to take my own side, but not necessarily against others, and only when absolutely necessary (see above). Note: you can take the perspective against others (aka. play the part), and if you do this consciously and wholeheartedly, it kind of collapses upon itself and resolves itself pretty quickly. IMO this is the sort of mechanism behind the advice you sometimes get from spiritual teachers, to commit wholly to experiencing your negative emotions and thoughts, and so experience it in a deliberate and conscious and mindful, but relatively unrestrained manner. It's good to be mindful of what your words and actions may do socially... if you can afford to do this. Sometimes you can't.

*to take your own side is necessary in order to be fully integrated (practically by definition), but it occurs at a deep level beyond constructed identity and language as we know it, but does not necessarily exclude it either. This does not all necessarily mean to take your own side against others (against the perspectives of others), unless for some reason your situation specifically calls for it. Like if you have a history of always, unconsciously, and impulsively taking the side of others against yourself, sometimes doing the exact opposite could be the fastest remedy to break out of that dynamic IMO. It's conflict-ridden (not, conflict aversion normally gets you into these kinds of situations in the first place), it probably makes you feel shitty about yourself as a person in the short term, and in my experience, it tends to work!

*To gain my own trust and a certain sense of wellbeing that comes with that, so that I have belief in myself no matter what happens. To get yourself to this point: I am on my own side, and I have a sort of effortless confidence in that. Like I would take it for granted, but there is still some trace of, I remember what it's like to feel like I have practically nothing in that way. If you have severe childhood trauma, this is absolutely essential. If you don't, you probably have a level of security and nonsplitting which you really take for granted. Again, this precedes the development of language and social identity almost entirely. I am speaking of having the direct experience of consciousness cleaving itself at the level of raw perception. When you have trauma of this sort, you turn against yourself and split up and dissociate, and blame, and self-harm in ways that are almost impossible to keep track of, and to track down at times. There is no map. I have generally figured it out though.

It starts with making a commitment to yourself, that you will identify with yourself no matter what to the best of your human ability, with everything you have at your disposal. You will fight for yourself if you felt no one would fight for you, and consequently, you came to feel that you weren't worth standing up for. You will not treat yourself like shit with casual judgments on a day to day basis. You will not emotionally neglect yourself. You will not abandon yourself the way it feels like others have abandoned you, and vice versa. You will not hurt yourself the way others have hurt you. You will not chronically misunderstand, project onto yourself, and using psychological narrations to talk over yourself; which is also to abuse yourself essentially. It might be at a micro level and easy enough to ignore out of sheer habit and socialization, like this is the reality of how people live right now, but it doesn't mean that harm isn't being done all the time. That you are actively in the process of splitting yourself with both your perception of yourself and choices, right now.

You will learn how to provide yourself active moments of self-love and you will come to be the understanding and love that was never provided to you. You will nurture yourself. You will provide both a safe space, the nurturing grounds, and the sort of challenge needed in order to heal and to grow. You will know yourself well enough in order to provide this, you will learn how. Why? Because you matter. And someday, you will barely even have the memory of what it was like to feel like you didn't matter.

You are every lover, every friend, and every possible parent that you ever needed, in a sense. YOU ARE.

But, you will also come to attract people into your life who will help you in the most positive sense. I believe in that, that this is possible for you, if you are reading this.

I feel an intensely, fierce protective love for myself in the way that I never received growing up. It is a blessing to be able to be opened up, conscious, and to be able to move into space right after relieving conflict directly in the way that I have written about above. Remember, think inclusively! When it comes to emotional states, projections, aspects of the past. To collapse some aspect and to dissolve it, that can be a sort of inclusiveness but used with a different intention (Which may be unconscious), it can also be a sort of splitting.

To you reading this, if you are, I wish you this: infinite self-love. And to every human in the collective consciousness, I wish you the same. May all of your issues and pains dissolve now, directly and painlessly, and without so much effort.

Edited by modmyth
I am relentless with myself, and so, I will not give up on other people either.

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SELF LOVE IS, 2 (in the human, all too human sense):

It means that I don't bail on myself when I'm not what I'm supposed to be, because I write like this. Because I think and feel like this, having experiences I'm not supposed to have, reactions I'm not supposed to have.

Because I've had this kind of life, which has made me stuck with this kind of identity.

Because god forbid, I get angry. Because I felt the weight of the survival instinct, of impulsiveness, of relative unconsciousness, or the inescapable need to blame because it seems that I have cornered myself again (again, blame is usually not my style, it's what I tend come out consciously as a deliberate last resort) Or alternatively, because I get sad and inconsolable. Because I want to give up, or because I even dared to think the thought, to feel the pull of it, to take it seriously.

Self-love is the light of absolute love and consciousness dissolving all patterns of unconsciousness, all psychoemotional weight, all trauma, all sense of problems. It is dissolving the weight of memory in all the energetic bodies down to the physical body. Instantly, effortlessly, and painlessly, and for no reason at all. (For the ways in which it is outside the chain of causation ultimately, but participates within it.)

Because I called it as such, into being.

Sincerely, if you find self love phenomenally difficult (and hasn't every single person at, at some point or another?), may you be imbued completely with the highest love, to wrap around you and within.

May you be free from everything that is weighing you down, everything that troubles you, Everything that blocks your way back home. All pain, trauma, fear, shame, unconsciousness, splitting, and much much more. Now, and for no reason at all.

It's going to be ok; it is.

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Lately, the past few days, I have been shedding skin (as in, the fragments of former selves) during sleep especially. Sometimes I dream normally, as if locked inside a private chamber with a running movie reel, the usual experience of having dreams in varying degrees of detail, vividness, and memory. Other times, there is no sense of place or being centered, but I hear voices, as if sorting through some of these issues I have written about here.

Writing these open letters has been unhinging something. So, this is the sign to keep going?

Free me of the burden of the past. Free me of this barren sense of personal love that goes nowhere, that bears no fruit. That has been barren from the outset. This graveyard of broken dreams and hopes. Free me of this myopia, this claustrophobia.

I don't care if there is nothing left at all at the end of this, no one, and nothing that means anything. I thought that this was what I had in mind originally, and what was the designated outcome of post-September. The Great Reset. Meaning and attachments start again, and with it, sometimes with new issues.

So, what should I write about next here?

I could finish writing this history from my perspective, I guess.


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Something got messed up, I am sure, when I started looking directly at you, for whatever ways you were already looking directly at me. You can still look directly at someone in the orientation of your soul (it's in where your compass points) without focusing directly on someone as an object of consciousness. It's in who and what you're attached to, the tethers that you believe will lead you home.

After this summer, I thought, probably I never was supposed to look directly at you, or to stay doing this, not like how I was. Not for very long. So I was completely invisible to you in that way. After this summer, I thought that this was finally the end of it all. Something between us changed permanently when I started to look back at you, and started to have hopes, expectations, visions, dreams, desired, unanswered questions and problems of my own. I saw it in that space. (Subtract me from this equation between us. What does what I want have to do with any of this anymore, again and again, as time catches up?)

There was nothing that you were apparently meant to help me deal with directly, as in, to be responsible for. That's my issue. Everything's my issue. The more I talked and talked to you, the more brutally lonely I got. Again, being lonely but with people is one of the worst feelings, in all the ways you feel unseen and unfelt.

I was never able to anticipate the ways in which you became a stand-in for my own personal house of infinity mirrors.

I got attached in the most myopic of ways. More attached than I would under pretty much any other set of circumstances. Too attached in a way that negates survival and the self-preservation instinct. I made you my one exception. It didn't quite register, did it? Night after night, I fell asleep holding onto myself, holding onto nothing but my own imagination, a sense of lacking and loneliness, of being alone. I blamed you so thoroughly for this. I never had the pretension of being entitled to anything more when I was younger. I managed to both grow closer, in identifying with certain aspects of myself (outside of this body and outside of time), while growing more and more isolated from myself on a more absolute scale. Like experiencing heaven and hell simultaneously. The ways in which I was tearing at my own seams, magnified.

Congratulations, maybe you finally did get to become me? To see what it's like to be me in that way? To be totally oblivious as to the effect you had on me, that you too have the power to be the catalyst for complete decimation? Did you not give away your power to me too because you wanted to?

If so, what does it feel like to be me in that way? I took responsibility for everything you blamed me for, I tried to. I tried to find every last scrap of blame and thought and all these aspects of yourself that you had left behind in time and psychological distance, these dissociated fragments left scattered in bits and pieces. To gather them up, to see them, to love them. Is this what you needed? Did you get what you wanted from me, at least during that time period? Tell me, did I succeed? Did you get what you needed and what you wanted from me? Did you truly feel capable of moving on from what was before I tripped over myself again? Was it working out fine and good for you before I did? It sure looked like it.

Or is my unhappiness too contagious? Am and was I still like a poison to you? I took everything I blamed you for personally.  I did my best to live and understand and feel as if I was you. I wanted to understand you properly. You said I never look back before I destroy.

So tell me, was I of adequate service or of use to you? (And if I was, surely I am not so much anymore.) I exist to serve. You might as well use me for all I'm worth.

Edited by modmyth
The thing with asking so many questions: you create a whole field of possibilities, and a lot of paths that eventually must exhaust themselves.

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Posted (edited)

IN HELL, NO ONE CAN HEAR YOU SCREAM// AIRING MY DIRTY LAUNDRY 2/ IDGAF (probable trigger warning, recounting life trauma)

You have the very dubious honour of being the straw that broke the camel's back, as the saying goes. Probably it is not the kind of thing anyone would choose to sign up for. I feel like I had gotten way more than I had signed up for. Maybe in time you'll come to understand what this means fully, and not through lived-in experience. God, I'm not quite that cruel.

If you come to get it, probably it's because I gave up completely that you'd ever just get it; I surrendered and released my grip on that expectation greatly. (I have absolutely no idea how much damage that belief or premise would cause me.) Now what I need and expect is that simply there will be absolutely no deviation from the standard in my conscious awareness, everything must come into line one way or another. I will not abide by this.

Come last summer, for some reason, in some portion of my heart that I dare not look at directly, my dumb ass (I say this a bit more tongue-in-cheek now) thinks I still have you, or I get to have you, that if I just try harder, reach out farther, if I'm patient enough, if I just clarify things or if I can fully understand what's gone wrong. I realized now there is so much I missed in simply focusing on what I thought I should be doing. Nothing I intended was supposed to end up like this, was it? And if it was, I could accept that, as long as things made sense when I got out of that space. Nope. It was the Mega Apocalypse.

I heard all sorts of things. Namely, I don't listen. (One of many things.) It wasn't my fault, not consciously. I didn't come with that kind of equipment to hear and understand situations properly in certain ways, not yet anyway, I mean this on a relatively absolute scale. I always relied on intuition and mostly a highly accurate ability to fill-in-the-blanks, which, for a lack of a better way to explain it, is not guessing. Zero guesswork, I can tell the difference. It's a sort of thought/ experience that can be accessed directly so you completely bypass the need to process anything through images or other representations of the senses, a sort of gnosis, as in instant apprehension or nonsymbolic processing that I relied on a lot and continue to rely on.

So it seems my personal feelings, expectations, and myopia blindsided me completely even though I knew from the outset, yea, I have a very bad feeling about this, about us, this proposition of trust and opening myself up. I have spent my whole life trying to preserve myself to the best of my human ability up to that point. 5+ years ago, or even at the age of 15, I probably could have told you that myopia blinds you to proper procedure and getting accurate feedback about a situation. This is universally the case to my knowledge: whether psychically and through dreams or in direct face-to-face relations. Strong, overwhelming, personal emotions blind us to the reality of a situation; it's not a revolutionary awareness.

Last summer, I broke myself probably thousands of times (or some uncountable number) hoping to finally reach over that wall of communication in that space. There was some of the most terrible shit you could imagine, and honestly, it reaches beyond the scope of my conscious imagination as I had ever known it, and I have a very good imagination by probably pretty much any standard. I have heard every painful and traumatizing thing that has ever happened to me in any significant way, any notable self-doubt or fear, any self-consciousness, magnified, mirrored back, personified, and repeated over and over and over again in a deafening, visually vivid way. Like full-blown hallucinations. I had to relive my own rape at the age of 14 in a hypervivid way and a few other notable traumatic events of early childhood, I got to relive it over and over again. I spent quite a lot of time just staring at the wall.

For every thought or justification or response you have, for every otherwise perfect escape or deflecting mechanism you have, there exists the perfect counter. Until you are ground down into either nothing or whatever is left.

Picture a space where anything you fear or have an issue with instantly comes true in a very realistic way, in a way that is more realistic than most everyday experiences of reality. These are ordinary and more dramatic traumas coming into contact with an aspect of INFINITY, so everything is blown up massively to scale. You see the absolute cause and effect of everything, and everything is experienced in a relatively absolute way, often moving through rapid succession. This is HELL. It's not a fucking joke. Anyway, I may have mentioned this in Confessionals without going into great detail at all, like I tried to get at what I could get at, but honestly, I was so well conditioned to lie about the actual reality of my experience in order to survive, for social propriety reasons. Like, how is this going to make me look? Honestly, how many people all over the world do this everyday, all the time. Fuck that. Take your own side unconditionally (this is why we split into pieces and dissociate, in both everday ways and ways that are more commonly associated with severe trauma).

I may have also mentioned this somewhere online already, but I deserve a goddamned medal for being able to "function" during this time period. As in, I continued to have a job, shower, sort of feed myself despite having not much appetite, and feeling like solid food is going to make me throw up much of this time. I also sometimes managed to write and to draw/ paint. I barely slept because it never stopped, essentially, or it never did for more than maybe a couple hours at most. Then, it's back to hashing it through hell. I got sleep where I could. (Here, back to a note I made near the beginning, where the blender was a godsend.)  Find one fucking person who is capable of dealing with an hour or two of that, tops, while functioning socially, doing "normal" thought processes and functioning. Try not passing out on the ground somewhere. You survive that, if you do. And then there was whatever remains. I survived 2 1/2 months of this. Two and half fucking months. This is a testament to both my discipline, psychoemotional self-control, and sheer force of will when faced with something extreme, because I did make many choices in that space as well.

Anyway. In that space, I thought I could reach you if I tried hard enough, as perfectly futile as it seemed. No. I listened perfectly there. My dumb ass (again, not said disrespectfully to myself at this point) thought that there would be some kind of positive personal outcome, or at the very least, at the very minimum, I would be completely free of whatever it was that we had, whatever it was that we were doing. There was neither.

Last spring, I gave up hope on my life making any kind of sense in a massive way that I ended up holding so close to my heart, it must have been completely invisible. All while trying to make the best of whatever presents itself, and to make sense of myself, something is drawing to an end. I am exhausted. I have lost hope on an absolute level. I know I must die soon. I pulled the trigger on myself, in the sense that I used 'magick' to shatter my own heart for the purpose of opening up and moving into the next phase. Whatever. It was broken anyway. It was going nowhere. It seemed like there was no other alternative. I wanted to die anyway.

Everything feels stale and like decay. Nothing seems to grow properly in this space, psychoemotionally. I made the best of what I could there, so I tried. I am opening myself up, but I am also giving up hope of being understood and felt properly in a way that... will redeem me as I am. I don't think I can be saved. I think what I am doing is retreating into games of imagination here. I couldn't cope with physical reality that well. I had issues that I was terrified to face alone, health issues related to childhood trauma, and the childhood trauma directly itself, and I wanted you to be there. I felt like you needed you there. I can't do this alone. I thought we had a special sort of union. I thought that I wouldn't have to feel alone in my own head and heart and face this; I can't do it. I'm exhausted. I'm near the end of my rope. I knew there wasn't a chance in hell that you would be though. How did I manage to get myself into such a stupid vulnerable position? Surviving my whole life has been hard work requiring ascetic discipline.

Pretty sure it's just me and my fucking imagination at this point. It seems like somehow I have managed to draw a box around myself. I can't even seem to properly convey to anyone around in my life what my psychoemotional state is actually like. I mean, I'm going to work and I'm teaching, I do art and I write, I'm capable of experiencing positive human fucking feelings and having a positive enough attitude relative to what I'm actually facing.

I felt like you gave up on me. I gave up on me, as I was. I carried that feeling around with me everywhere. Not as a thought, or as conscious thoughts. Yet another thing I dare not face directly, and anyway it didn't seem to present itself as the-thing-to-do yet. I don't think you knew me that well at all, nothing like how I believed you went (ridiculously high or impossible expectations that were covert? Probably). You left. Do you think I asked you to leave and I meant it? I was simply doing what I had to do because god I can't do anything like I'm supposed to do in the future, not like this. With all of my baggage and my unresolved shit? Not being able to open up properly?  I had to do something. Dude, what I experienced was beyond a fight. There is not even the capacity to fight back meaningfully with a lot of what I faced.

Such is life.

Was that not the definition of a tragedy though?

Also, you're not to blame for a lot of this directly, but do you know how it feels to watch you celebrating and getting married during all of that? I heard and saw things that had never heard before simultaneously. For when you must have blamed me, hated me, or given up on me with certain things, and I was tone-deaf because I had to be. Maybe just like you were tone-deaf because you had to be; you couldn't help it, I know.  Most of it was my paranoia and fears probably, some of it clearly had its basis in reality but with the worst possible negative spin. And because it was my fears and my interpretations of it, I did at many times experience it as if it was coming from you. I'm not an idiot; I know it wasn't actually you, but my own projections and I'm hashing it out with myself. Can you blame me for wanting absolutely nothing to do with you or even the idea or thought of you in anyway after this was all over? Excuse me if I do not care at all about your career, your personal or emotional life (yet somehow, I still do).

This is the actual basis of my intense hate towards you, your marriage, and your personal life in general, by the way. Excuse me for the ways in which I did not give much of a fuck at all after all of that. Post-September, any sort of siding with you loops me back into aspects of the above, which quite literally is an issue which infringes on my survival. But thanks to dealing with the above, hey, it's a piece of cake, relatively speaking! (See, there's an upside to everything.) Also, you were the one thing I held onto the most intensely. I really did not ask for that. Who would. But again, my life mission over literally everything else. Since age 15, I have done acts of devotion and dedication over and over again. I did not survive this long to do nothing with all of this. I will not die or jeopardize myself needlessly before I finish whatever it is that I came to do.

I'm done with holding onto all of this, and certainly with being even a bit obtuse about it. IDGAF about any sort of judgments about this, truly.

I'm done with that all. In an equally absolute way.

Edited by modmyth
Survival or 'virtue'?// 3 am typos.

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Posted (edited)

ON OPENNESS + FACING YOURSELF DIRECTLY IN PUBLIC: I grew up in a family and with a background that very much values image and propriety over everything else, when push comes to shove. Everyone tends to be like this to some degree or another (that's socialization), but some people are much more extreme than others. At the extreme end, if you're not dead and you at least sort of ok, then congrats, you're ok! And I went along with it for years and years. This is why counteracting it directly and in a conscious way is so powerful for me. Probably I have said that near the beginning in Confessionals somewhere. This goes against my natural mode of being entirely.

I woke up today, after going to sleep way too late and also waking up way too late, thinking: I've said too much here, and feeling a sense of disgust. Well, this is all hardly ideal, but it's how it is. Not at myself exactly, but at the way, everything turned out in my life despite my best conscious, careful efforts. Most of what caused the greatest aspects of my collective trauma was well beyond my ability to either prevent or honestly understand it from certain vantage points. (If you're honest with yourself, and in a state of relative clarity, you can just see sometimes there was no way of figuring out certain things or preventing certain things from happening. And so, being aware of this and accepting this may stop the tendency to blame yourself or ask, why didn't I figure it out, or why didn't I see it coming, or why couldn't I fix it, altogether.

I still care about how I look (or how I think I look) on a social level, or putting myself in a position that causes perceived excessive vulnerability on some level, and for that reason, there's still some level of intense calculation going on when I write something like what I've written. It's social instinct, to survive and prosper.

And also: No one's going to take anything I say seriously ever again, which then, in turn, may jeopardize anything positive that I'm going to do with my life. This line of thinking is objectively not true for a few reasons. One being: absolute conviction and being on the same side as yourself, strategic intelligence and clarity literally has the power to overcome ANYTHING, the greater these two aspects are, the more power or potential you have in an absolute sense. This is an absolute truth.

My life path requires me that I do that and be open in this way, and there seems to be no way forward either. I tend to come into this position by process of elimination; it's the last resort to clear my own karma in regards to my whole life. If I didn't have to do in a way that feels so incredibly voyeuristic at times, definitely I would not have. It's really not been my preference. But you get fairly used to it, like mostly anything else.

However, we all tend to have these habits, these unconsciousnesses, that we only tend to face by last resort. There is a certain kind of freedom and relative power when it comes to choosing when and how to face it, as opposed to having life forcing you into facing in eventually, and then carrying out that latent sense of fear or anxiety that usually accompanies it. You can choose to "lean in" when it comes to dealing with personal issues, for when you have the energy and capacity to do so. Or, maybe you'll never have to face it and face yourself, which some people might consider a blessing, but then you've lived an unrealized life. The closer you get to the source, the more you realize that all these disowned and unfaced aspects were all with you in your moments of relative unconsciousness at this time. Inside you, beside you, everywhere.

But do you know what I don't have? Uncertainty. Self-doubt about this. A lack of clarity. Not even a little bit. This is a blessing. (Also, this is noteworthy because I have mentioned here and there, I really lack much of a subconscious at all, which is yes, fictitious in a sense.)

At some point, I lost the ability to lie to myself without being acutely aware of it. And to this I say, thank you.

Edited by modmyth
PALETTE CLEANSER: So I process stuff like this, and then it''s not gonna be on my mind otherwise. Also, I'm gonna listen to some ABBA, which has been stuck in my head anyway. It's a fresh day.

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Posted (edited)


A friend once told me, you have the soul of a scientist. He was a premed microbiologist, but he legitimately loved his research and being in the lab, and took it super seriously. So he was consistently in the lab, and was even harder to get a hold of at the time than I was, and I was mostly in the library. Sometimes we spent some time talking about scientific stuff, the wider state of academia in general, knowledge and research, and I also talked about my own academic research/ translation work at the time. (A particular preoccupation that almost no one listened to me about at the time except a few of my friends was this notion: the sciences and the arts must speak or communicate properly, because I keep talking to people, professors and grad students mainly, and no one has any idea what the other people are doing in other fields properly, despite this growing notion of the value of the interdisciplinary. It's not complicated. Just start having conversations, which starts with listening properly. It didn't help that I was an undergrad, but I had connections or w/e.) 

Sometimes would I read my friend's research work and other research papers in his field. He would get me to interpret data, and I would try to get him to think more about this process of interpreting information more carefully and what it meant in the wider sense (at this point, I had already read Thomas Kuhn's “The Structure of Scientific Revolutions”, and just generally, am really preoccupied with metamethod in any discipline in general.

You're not supposed to let other people into the lab to go around looking at and touching the shit. I mostly just watched him do his research, and asked a billion questions. Fastest way to learn anything. It super relaxing to watching him, actually. Probably it was the most wholesome thing that I wasn't supposed to be doing, that was I. :D

This was actually my favourite compliment I've ever received! I guess it worked because deep down, we both have a very romantic idealistic notion of what science is, and what it could be. A sort of, knowledge for knowledge's sake, sort of romanticism. Dreamer spirit? He had a sort of love affair with the lab, and I had my own love of affair with the stacks. (I used to tell people that I was in a LTR with the stacks, despite being in an actual LTR; it took precedence over everything else at the time.)

He looked beyond whatever boxes I have been put in at the time, whatever boxes I put myself into, and saw something in me that made me see myself differently for a moment, through his eyes. He made me see an aspect of myself more clearly. And it was like, yea, you get me. You see me.

AN AFFIRMATION: Look and feel deeply into someone and honestly appreciate some aspect about them, that perhaps they are not yet on the cusp of realizing. Or maybe they realize it but they're not yet sure if it has value, or what it means exactly to anyone beyond themselves. To appreciate that freely without any intention of reciprocation. That has so much intrinsic value. It gives you great social value as well, but perhaps awkwardly placed compliments are kind of risky.

Also, a compliment which is specific enough to be individual, which shows that you really listened and paid attention, especially in an empathetic way. Maybe a recognition of shared values.

So I have heard this notion that goes something like this: if a woman is used to be complimented for her beauty, compliment her on her character (or her brains), but also vice versa work as well. At least in theory, there is no reason why this shouldn't work. Except you have to peg someone correctly first!

Sometimes I have gotten the “wow, I didn't realize you were so smart” from guys, and then there is that pause in the conversation, as if they expect a gold star or something like they're the first guy to recognize that while having a "not like the other guys" moment. If I had an identity growing up that I associated with and was also slapped onto me, it was Very Smart Kid. Everything else was pretty secondary. Sometimes I felt like a floating brain. So this comment came at the point when they didn't know me well enough to know my history, or maybe our conversations never went in that way. That way of giving compliments can easily backfire, haha.

Unexpected, honest recognition is the best.

Obviously, it can be so hard to gauge what a person both would like and most needs to hear, but this is why you listen properly to people, instead of just talking to be heard, and feel into them in an empathetic way.



Edited by modmyth
Modmyth puts on her research assistant hat// My Lamborghinis, my Ted-X talks, my book shelves, here on the Hollywood Hills...

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Posted (edited)

FOOLISH AND THOUGHTFUL STUFF (Done in the name of love): I wrote this a day or two or go, and thought it seemed like a waste of time at the moment to post; I wasn't feeling it.

*I never talked too much about my past. You knew stuff was in it that was poisoning me in a sense and was not right. That's was enough at the time, for then. I was going to tell you one way or another after I was done dealing with it. You're kind of an open door. Surely you must realize that when two people are open doors, the more open you are, the more all the unresolved shit and crazy stuff comes flying out in a very chaotic and rapid way. That itself is a risk; it can be very very hard to get a handle on it. I wanted to be careful with everything I was doing.

So then, did I miscalculate everything?

*INTERNAL QUARANTINES: Without intending to coddle you, I feel like you suffered in enough in life. You said that you were tired. I took it personally. I considered for all the possible ways in that I had been the cause of that for the ways in which we have been bound to each other before we even met. I didn't want to cause any more weight, not more than I already have. I don't like being a burden.

*There were things that I stopped talking to you about or never talked to you about at all. That I never opened up about. Anything that I faced, I would have faced for you. Apparently it took getting to the place and that space to realize that. I felt the futility of it all in full force, at that point. Still I couldn't stop trying to look for you, to look for you...

Is it pathetic that at any time with anything I faced in that space, if I could have had you afterwards, that somehow it would have all been worth it?

I really didn't try to feel that way... I just did. Who asked for you to make my world make sense, and then to just not be there? (Is that what it means to have been you?)

There was SO much I wanted to show you once it was the right time, or that I was utterly convinced that I was going to show you. I wanted you to be the first person I shared those things with. I wanted to be that person for you. I thought that was what you wanted. I believed in you. That time has never come. I am coming to peace with this; that it seems that time will never come.

*What I asked for this summer: that I be hurt instead of you, even though I seriously doubted you were being directedly affected by me anymore at that point. If you were, you were hiding in phenomenally well. This means if you weren't, I succeeded in quarantining or isolating mostly all of my pain from you successfully. My fear is somehow that you would have to relieve my past in any sense of the word.

*This can all be true, and I can still be furious with you. Yes, furious. Whatever I have in anger now pales compared to what came before. You were there, I couldn't access you, I was furious. You were there for someone else. Do you know what I did? (You have to understand this comes more from level of instinct, of heart and gut rather than a consciously made choice.) I turned against myself and split myself up into pieces AGAIN so that I would not risk hurting you in some way with my anger, so I sort of my need to blame at that moment by turning it against myself directly. If there was even a smidgin of this risk, I didn't want to risk it. Call it being extra careful in the psychic sense. There's a reason why I'm open now in this way in a more absolute sense, and not before.

(In general, if you are reading this, do you believe that really truly powerful thoughts and emotions shape the world as we experience it? It very much does. So, my own anger in this way is no joke.)

I have been told that I don't care. That I'm callous and cold. Tell me, do you still think I'm heartless and dettached?

*I trusted in you to understand me and get me, and it seems I overextended myself. I expected you to understand what I wouldn't say directly. There were things about me that you showed you already understood anyway. I thought that you of all people, would know that I was at risk? That I can still be at risk even when everything looks “fine” enough? I thought you 'got' me, I assumed too much. It broke me.


Edited by modmyth

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VULNERABILITY: Things I have never ever said to anyone:

I felt a profound sense of guilt for my own vulnerability, and a sense of increasing dependence on you, in a way. I couldn't say it aloud. I couldn't face it directly. It is one of those things that feels so monumental, you can't face it directly. As if you are looking infinity straight in the face. You are supposed to be responsible for yourself, your own life, and your own feelings; you are supposed to resolve your issues yourself without burdening another person excessively. so how does this square with absolute communion and connection, exactly? (We are all infinity mirrors when looking at each other most directly.)

I thought you had been waiting for me all this time; you told me you were. You commemorated me. 20 something years a memorial. If I had remembered certain aspects who I was on my own, I would never thought I was worth remembering. What had I ever done that was worth remembering? My whole life and then some, I based my value of it based on the idea that I would do something worthwhile AFTER a certain time period, something that would really stick.

Tell me, how does "normal" ideas of romance fit into this now? Tell me, how is everything working out for you? Are you satisfied intrinsically? Would you be satisified if you thought I was ok; is that it? I have trouble looking at you directly now. So I am writing this instead to face it, in a way. Last resort. Here out in the relative open.

You came to me, you had me see everything through your eyes, to see and to hold and to feel, and I reached for everything that I could, that I could find, that I could receive of you. You were exquisite. If I was a sieve that was capable of taking you in, I lost track of the number of times I felt you passing through me again and again so I could feel you and refeel you because I didn't want to miss anything. There was a time that I had known you and I saw how much you had grown; I was so proud of you even though I never said it directly, and I really should have. And now, I can't talk about what you've done more directly, in public, because of the path you have chosen. The words you have said. It's stuff you can't take back, isn't it?

You told me that I was your addiction. You told me that you never stopped thinking about me. You told me that you never wanted to stop. You told me... you told me... you told me. (Your words echo still.)

I believed you. I let you become mine. I recognized you in me. I have been telling myself, I can undo this. This you being in me. Well, maybe I can't. Maybe all I can do is come to terms and come to peace. Once someone is inside you, truly, you can't unsee and unfeel it. (Maybe unless you truly manage to cut yourself up into pieces get again).

Now, I had been wondering if I'm crazy when I looked back in my past before I knew who you were as a person, before I remembered and seen and felt traces of you there. How somehow, you had always been with me in this life as I've known it, since I was conscious. Here and there. I thought we were... eternally reoccurring. (I thought you would have never believed me anyway, because it wasn't what you believed.)

If you meant every word that you said, honestly and truly, maybe I would be at peace in a certain way. The things you said about someone else; it's like I'm not even here anymore, like I don't even exist. If I could at least be certain you meant it entirely, then I could say that everything came to this point, and we truly were nothing at all. Or it was all in the past. Like a closed book. I keep trying to close the book, you know. So, why do you still linger? If it is just echoes, that's the reality of that, I could come to terms with that. But if you haven't truly let go in a certain sense, what on Earth are you doing lying? How do you justify it to yourself? Doesn't it feel wrong to you in an absolute sense, like living in misalignment with the truth, regardless of anything else? This is one of many ways in which I don't get you anymore; that I haven't gotten you.

Haven't we been inside each other? How is this even possible to have what appears to be this level of miscommunication. (Practically speaking, I do actually have idea; it just boggles the mind.)

Also, is this another thing that is beyond being undone?

So then, I guess I was supposed to be the person who fixes your life and helps you resolve things so that you can move on and live the rest of it without me. Like you do, but you also don't, not if you can't truly let go of all attachments towards me and I am in a sense, just another person with a former history. Because that's how it feels like.

When “go”, doesn't mean go. It means “don't go” or “go and come back later”. But god, not like this. A reversal of meanings.

Edited by modmyth

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