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Post by James on Apr 8, 2015 22:17:04 GMT 10
What if your parents said they were sorry?
What would you say to your parents if they came to you saying they were sorry? Oh no hard feelings, you couldn’t help being how you were, it wasn’t your fault?
Or, would you say, sorry?, it’s a bit late for that don’t you think! There being nothing they could say that would change the way you felt about them, the damage already having been done.
Or, would you say, fuck off, I hate you, I don’t love you, you didn’t love me, I don’t want to speak to you - I’m not going to speak to you, Go Away.
Or, would you simply walk away?
And what if your parents came and said they wanted to speak to you - what would you say? Tell them about all the pain and suffering they’ve caused you. Or ask them why do you want to speak to me. I don’t want to speak to you, I have nothing to say, so why do you want to speak to me?
And if your parents were saying to you that they did want you to speak to them, that they saw the error of their ways, and that they wanted you to tell them about all your pain and suffering, what would you say to them?
Or is it all too hard to think about, and you’ll just see how you feel should anything like them wanting to speak to you or their wanting to say they were sorry happen.
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Post by James on Apr 10, 2015 21:57:17 GMT 10
Healing ourselves:
We’ve got to empty ourselves of all the pain and bad feelings we’ve felt since conception before we’ll feel truly good and happy - before we can love truly and feel truly loved.
Emptying ourselves by wanting to bring up and express all the bad feelings we felt during our early life that we weren’t allowed to express.
It’s one huge purge that happens over many years all so we can understand the truth of our childhood. Which is the truth-foundation of ourselves.
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Post by James on Apr 14, 2015 22:02:17 GMT 10
Why hasn’t my book come yet!
It’s been weeks, why hasn’t it come. Why don’t they ring me to tell me what’s going on? Why don’t they say sorry for the delay? Why don’t they care? What should I do about it - ring them asking what’s happening? What should I do... how can I make life work for me, how can I make it be how I want it to be, how can I get my book - I want my new book!
But really what is it all about? Anger. I am angry with the people at the bookshop. Anger. So of course my book is delayed so I can feel angry... feel all the anger to do with it, day after day that it doesn’t come. All the anger of my feeling powerless and unable to make life be how I want it to be, unable to make people treat me how I want to be treated. I am angry! Angry, angry, angry!
So it’s not about my trying to get my book sooner, and it’s not about my trying to get them to apologise to me, they are how they are, the book will come when it does; but it is about my expressing all the anger the comes up in me, the same anger that I felt with my parents when they didn’t allow me to make life be how I wanted it to be, all that anger that’s been repressed in me. And using it to uncover more of the truth of myself and my relationship with my parents and life.
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Post by James on Apr 16, 2015 22:08:52 GMT 10
You will get to the right state if you keep bringing out all the wrong state.
You don’t have to do anything to make it right as the right state is always there only it’s been covered up.
Keep speaking and expressing all the bad feelings.
Keep accepting your wrongness.
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Post by James on May 6, 2015 21:58:50 GMT 10
I am just as my parents are
Today I finally came to terms with and saw how I am just my parents to myself, Marion and everyone else. Having seen bits and pieces of this over the years, suddenly it all just sunk in: I am them. And how I hate being this way. I feel trapped in my behaviour, powerless to do anything to change myself - not that I want to by using my mind; miserable, sorry for myself, sorry to Marion for subjecting her to my revoltingness, treating her like she’s a dumb baby who can’t and doesn’t think for herself so needs to be told what to do all the time. I feel ashamed and stupid, humiliated because everyone else can see how pathetic I am when I can’t, and scared they all secretly hate me because I’m so consumed with myself to the point of them not even existing at all, as I give them so little credit. And I’m so angry with myself for being as I am and angry at mum and dad for treating me this way, and so pissed off that there’s nothing I can do about it with my anger being futile and only stopping me feeling my deeper feelings of despair. I feel so useless, depressed; how can I change myself, how can I be other than I am, I’ve formed like this, I can’t be some other way, that wouldn’t be me, at least the untrue me. So all I can do is keep accepting myself as I am and expressing all I feel about it.
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Post by James on May 7, 2015 20:11:34 GMT 10
Being attracted to another person
I’m attracted to a woman at the Bush Bank. What does that attraction consist of, and why her and not any of the other women. And in talking about it over the weeks to Marion, breaking down all the fantasy stuff that’s come up as a result of it, currently all I feel that I like about her is simply sitting next to her whilst we pot up the seedlings. Nothing more, not looking at her or even talking to her, just the physical closeness. Not actually touching, just being near each other. And not sitting close to her on the other side corner of the table so I can look at her, no, just side by side and nothing more. So what is this attraction, and why don’t I feel it with anyone else as over the weeks I have sat next to numerous people, both men and women.
And again in speaking with Marion all I feel, as my feelings keep drawing me back to it, is that I’m small and at kindy sitting next to a girl I like. And so I guess this woman at the Bush Bank makes me feel how the girl at the kindy did - which is good. And if I imagine being small, which is hard to do, I can sort of imagine what I felt back then that is attracting me now: how she reacts to me, how she accepts me, a look in her eye when we first see each other, things she says to me, how she treats me, all things that made me feel good back then and so still all things that make me feel good now. But other people do things like this that make me feel good, but not as good as with this woman. So is it that it’s simply how she does them, and no one else does them like her, or is she like some aspects of mum and dad and Gran perhaps that I liked, even though I find it hard now to think of anything they did that made me feel good. How much is truly me in this relationship with this woman and how much is me that is wholly conditioned by how I was back at three or four years old. Is there even any real and true me in this relationship with this woman, in any of my relationships, even with Marion, or is ALL of me still heavily conditioned by how I was during my forming years - which is what I’m inclined to think.
So how do I act with this woman; do I act like I did when I was three and four, or fifty-four, and what is me acting at fifty-four anyway, am I just three and four in disguise? What do I feel I want to do with her, how do I feel I want to be with her... all of which ends up being nothing more than how I am in the moment not thinking about it just responding to the situation. And perhaps there is nothing more to do or think. Perhaps it’s all just another confusion within me because of my wrong state of being - which surely it has to be. And perhaps my attraction to her will not evolve to anything more because it never did when I was young with the girl at kindy.
And as I will never know what it feels like to have a true relationship until I’m true, so there’s not even any point trying to work out what it would be like - what I’d be like, because until I’m it, I won’t know. And then as Marion said, she thinks that when we are true, we’ll be in such a different state of mind and feelings, every part of us being different to how we are, that it won’t matter anyway. And all we’ll be able to remember is that we felt very bad, but we’ll not actually be able to put ourselves back in those specific bad feelings because they will no longer be part of us having expressed them all out of us and fully accepted them for what they were.
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Post by James on May 10, 2015 22:08:27 GMT 10
A woman in black
She had her feet through the wooden fence standing up high on the palings leaning over into the yard. I saw her out of the corner of my eye, her lovely long legs, her short black skirt, her black ankle boots, her black jumper and long black hair blowing freely in the wind. It was only a glimpse and I felt scared, so scared, don’t look at her, it’s rude, I can just about see up her skirt. Don’t Look James! Come away now, it’s not nice a young woman behaving like that. Why isn’t it nice? What’s she doing that’s not nice? She is only standing up on the fence calling out to those people in the yard, the ones working the horses. I’ve very scared; I want to look at her, at her legs, and right up her legs and up under her skirt, but I mustn’t, NO! don’t look, I must hold myself back, avert my eyes, because if I look I’ll get into trouble. It’s blackness that confronts me, is waiting for me should I persist in looking, even a sneaky look. She is in black but she doesn’t make me feel bad, it’s the looking at her that’s bad. But why? I still don’t understand. What harm could come of it? She obviously doesn’t care if I or anyone else looks, she up there high waving her arms about reaching out and over into the yard. Everyone is meant to look at her, she’s a nice thing to look at, pretty, just like the horses. But no, she’s not for me, I am not to look at her. I feel scared, so scared, terrified, everything in me wants to look but if I do the dreaded thing will happen. I don’t know what it is but I am petrified. I can’t stand it, so I don’t look, it’s easier, I have to deny myself and pleasure in looking, it’s not for me to feel good. It’s not allowed.
The dream only lasted for a moment, a picture of her up there and me feeling how scared I felt. Then something shifted in me, and I moved, I allowed myself to look. I wasn’t so much as dreaming but now imagining, and I looked at her and up her skirt and looked at the light blue knickers she was wearing and it wasn’t so bad, I wasn’t struck down, I didn’t feel scared, the bad thing didn’t happen. It was as if I slid myself off the face of the earth, through the no-mans land where I was never allowed to go, and crossed over to the other side. I could look, and look all I wanted. And nothing bad happened. Nothing happened at all. And then I went further in my imagination and imagined looking at her and up her skirt and she wasn’t wearing any underpants, she was naked for all to see and again nothing bad happened to me. I looked, it was just another part of her body like her face and legs and hands that I could already see. And I didn’t feel scared. I didn’t even feel a thrill, it was just a person, nothing more, and certainly nothing to be scared about. And I kept looking until I had had enough, until she got down off the fence and walked away. And my life didn’t end, God hadn’t struck me down, I hadn’t fallen off the face of the earth, nothing. So what was all the fuss about? Why hadn’t Gran wanted me to look; what was so bad, what is so bad about looking at the naked human body?
And the more I talked it all through with Marion, the more I could see that of course the more Gran said not to look the more I wanted to look. And had I been left free to do as I pleased, to look or not look, so I would have worked things out for myself as to what I wanted to look at and why, and not feeling scared to look yet so desperately wanting to look, not being addicted to looking up women’s skirts hoping to see whatever it is I’m not meant and not allowed to see.
So through embracing and expressing more of my fear of looking, I can accept that I have such a fear, and also that I want to look. I want to look; yet I feel too scared to look. And I will keep trying to speak about my problem when it comes up, looking and not looking. And hopefully the damage Gran did to me might one day leave me. Hopefully one day I will no longer want to look at forbidden sexual pictures of naked women, hopefully one day I will bring my relationship with the naked body into its correct context. I am getting there, my healing is leading into such traumas and I’m releasing them. But it’s slow going as there is so much attached to them.
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Post by James on May 12, 2015 22:06:08 GMT 10
My parents didn’t involve me in their lives. They didn’t involve me in conversation, nor in what they were doing. I was just told what to do and how to be, and mostly in a negative unloving way. And because of not being involved I wasn’t allowed to express my feelings, they either ignored them, told me not to, or told me what I was feeling, taking them and everything else I wanted to do out of my hands. And so I can’t become involved in my own life, let alone with other people, I don’t know how to, it wasn’t part of how it was for me back then. So I’m with Marion but not involved in our life, I can’t converse with her truly expressing my feelings getting involved with them and with her feelings as I would naturally have done had I been allowed to do it in my young life.
It’s taken me years to finally come to seeing this truth, as glaringly obvious as it is now. But that’s how it is with our healing, we go over and over the same ground, the same feelings, yet always with a little more truth and insight coming to light. And then one day you feel you finally get there, a word often signifying the truth, and todays it was ‘involve’, as Marion said, “they didn’t involve you in their lives.” So really they didn’t want me at all, for had they, they would have naturally involved me making me feel welcome, wanted and loved. And as far as: how do I feel not feeling involved? I feel every bad feeling I’ve ever felt and have felt this far in my healing. And all I want to do is scream my rage at them, to make them feel the same pain they have made me feel.
So the best I can do is sit next to someone I like and do nothing, that’s the level of involvement I can muster. I wait for them to talk to me, then I can respond, but not with feeling, I can’t express any feelings, only with fact and feelingless mind. BORING! I am bored with myself, as others must be bored with me - YUK! I hate how I am.
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Post by James on May 14, 2015 22:05:55 GMT 10
I love it when the truth comes... I’ve run over my own child, just as they ran over me.
My computer is slowly dying. It finds doing more than one thing at time increasingly difficult. It seizes up and annoys me as I can’t predict when it will happen. I quit a program this evening thinking I was clearing the way for another, but it got gummed up, and feeling so frustrated with the bloody thing, I pulled the plug.
Whilst I was waiting to see if it unblocked itself, which is usually does, I found I was suddenly biting down hard on a finger nail, one I’d not bitten for weeks now. Then having stopped biting and stopped the computer I went to the toilet, and then it came to me, so clearly: I wanted to smash the computer who was my little brother. Like all these feeling/memories I have, it was as if I were back there with him - am with him - and he was/is infuriating me and I wanted to hit him hard. My fury was raging inside me, but I wasn’t allowed to hit him, mum’s so-quick-to-ignite rage being far greater than mine and infinitely more overpowering. So I could feel myself holding myself back; no, I am not to hit him, not to take my anger out on him, not to express myself that way, so I turned on myself biting down hard doing the one thing I can do, like having to bite on the piece of wood in the days when there wasn’t any anaesthetic.
So there it was, more truth about why I bite my nails. And I also knew that really I am so raging angry, and so much of the time, and have repressed it so heavily; and in doing so I am so removed from myself, from my true feelings of anger, that I could relate to and even imagine myself running over my own child, kicking the shit out of the dog because it was in the way, chopping down a whole forest of trees because they were blocking my sea view, beating someone up because they pissed me off, things I have not done, yet I can feel the blind rage in me, fearing that if I ever let it loose I might be capable of doing such things, provided of course those things were part of my life. Doing such terrible things all because I wasn’t allowed to feel as angry as I felt and express such anger in the moment and mostly vocally. Doing such bad things because I am so switched off from my anger believing I’m in control, yet I run over my own child not even aware of where it is and what’s really going on.
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Post by James on May 15, 2015 21:50:11 GMT 10
Raging on
I was out shopping today and didn’t buy my usual - for the last few weeks as I’ve been binging on them - chocolate biscuits. I’ve had enough of them, I’m putting on weight and don’t feel so comfortable, so no more. That’s my pattern, my mind carrying on and of course at the first sign weakness and feeling: I need the biscuits to make me feel better, I’m off to the shops. But today I didn’t succumb, instead choosing to stay with my bad feelings trying to suffer the feelings of desolation and that I don’t get anything nice, that no one cares about me, that I never get anything good.
Then driving home up came my anger, and again I was raging furious that I didn’t get my treat. And then I was back with dad, he said we’d all get something at the shop but then he got angry with us and no one is going to get anything and we’re going home. And then all the agony of all those times of missing out flooded into me, of not getting anything, which was mostly always a food treat. And how for the rest of my life I’ve been making up for missing out and not wanting to subject myself to such feelings of deprivation. Always buying takeaways and treats up until I started to do my healing.
So with the rage I felt driving home, I found I was moaning with my pain, which I have done a lot in the car, moaning feeling so miserable, and today realising that my misery is really just my unexpressed, and my not being unable to express, anger. So instead of feeling miserable today I felt very angry all the way home.
And as I went past the motorbike racing track that’s on the Island, yet another Cape Barren goose was dead on the side of the road. A pair at the same place had been ponderously crossing the road on my way to Wonthaggi this morning, with half a dozen cars waiting for them to decide which way to go, and of course they got half way across then turned back the way they’d come; so we all waited, not that I minded as they are so beautiful, but also with a little dread that someone will get sick of waiting and drive around those stopped and possibly hit them, as I’ve seen people do before (thankfully not actually hit and kill a goose but drive around stopped cars nearly killing them). But today seeing the dead one I could relate to someone being so angry, as I was so angry, and saying fuck you goose, I’m not stopping for you, and hitting it on purpose, just to stick it up everyone who is pissing you off.
Luckily I’ve not been able to express my rage throughout my life, it being so repressed, but now becoming more aware of it, I can empathise with those people who can’t keep it so under control, and it just ripping out of them, and them hurting others and themselves; and then the remorse afterwards, or no remorse and instead feeling the sense of power their rage brings them. But it’s a pathetic way to gain power; sure, the purpose of our anger is to say no, even to hit back trying to regain power when we feel we’re being beaten back, under threat and feeling powerless, but for parents to take it out on children or for a person to purposefully hit a goose having such an unfair advantage, shows how desperately sad such a person is.
And then for such people to often be punished so heavily for doing what they can’t control, all because they weren’t made to control their anger and not express it when they were young... and yet who wants to be around an angry person... it’s all so unfair, and we fail to understand much of what it’s all really about.
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Post by James on May 16, 2015 22:10:33 GMT 10
What’s the point?
What is the point. I may as well wank, pick, eat my way into oblivion, just keep going working to get rid of myself, keep hacking into myself, draining my energy away, hoping to end my existence. It’s like feeling so sick that you wish you can dissolve into the sickness and be gone. To be completely consumed by it, burnt up, so you no longer have to deal with it anymore - no more pain, no more agony and anguish - nothing. When you get to the truth of it, what really is the point of existing in no-love, when you don’t feel loved and have no love in you. What is the point of just being pain and hate of no-love, and all the other excruciating bad feelings. So I pick and eat and try to wank myself away into the oblivion of nothingness, the bliss of not feeling bad ever again, but it’s all so futile, only a short term moment holding back the waters of my misery, then it all comes flooding back in. So what is the point? What is the point Mother and Father? Surely You must have a point. So would You mind please telling me.
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Post by James on May 27, 2015 21:44:38 GMT 10
I just had one of those bump into someone setup experiences, and how perfect they are.
This afternoon I was umming and ahhing about going to the supermarket. I was going, then I wasn’t, this going on for about an hour. Then suddenly I was going. And as I parked I thought the car near me looked like a woman’s car from the Bush Bank - and it was. As I was getting out she was walking to her car calling out having seen me. What was the likelihood of meeting her there at the specific time? And why did I meet her? What feelings came up during and after the meeting?
It was good to see her but it was also odd meeting her out of the established context of the Bush Bank, being caught off guard so to speak - what do you say, how do you behave? It’s not as if were good old friends but we do enjoying working together at the nursery.
By the time I got home I was beginning to feel guilty, like I’d been naughty having a secret meeting with this woman, behind her husbands back, as he was apparently still in the supermarket, and away from Marion. I felt very young, and like I wasn’t meant to see this woman because I like her, it was wrong in some way, even though it’s all innocent with neither of us having anything to hide.
And the more I talked about what I felt with Marion suddenly I was back at the home of a boy I went to school with, the memories were very vague, feeling-impressions more like, and it was his birthday, I was probably about six or seven. And then I suddenly felt that I really liked his mother, and more importantly, she liked me - just like I felt with the woman in the carpark. But there was something wrong about that in some way, which I still don’t understand, it was wrong to like her, hence the guilt in having such feelings.
Then incredibly, as I’ve only done so a handful of times during my healing, I started to cry a little. And each time I felt this boys mother liking me I cried more. And then suddenly I saw in my minds eye a picture of an older woman’s hands, more boney, and I knew it was his grandmother, and she was hugging me, and I cried again, she too liked me - loved me even?
They were a Jewish family, and the more I expressed my feelings and talked about it and cried to Marion, the more I could feel the strength and intensity of their whole family’s love for each other and how welcoming and non-judgemental they were of me an outsider and all the other boys there for the party. And how passionate and intense they were in their relationships, the whole family and all the relations actively involved in them, not like at other parties where the kids were all just over there in that room carrying on whilst the adults are doing their thing in the other room. And the men too, I wasn’t scared of them, his father, suddenly I was focusing on him, and I cried again. So much sudden emotion and so unexpected, and I had totally forgotten and buried all these memories.
And the more I spoke with Marion, as she pointed out, having an experience that was more loving than my own at home, and how I blocked it out, it probably being too much affection and positive attention compared to what I was used to at home. And as I also saw, mum wouldn’t have liked it, in some way, I might have said how much I liked the boys mother and family, I don’t know, I can’t remember exactly, however one way or another she stopped me going back and made me shut this boys mother out, putting herself in her place as the one and only who loved me and that it was wrong to look anywhere else for affection. All of which has helped to explain more about my relationship with her and perhaps even what I look for in my fantasy sex life with women.
So what an incredible setup by the Mother and Father to engineer myself and the woman from the Bush Bank to be at the supermarket at that time, all so I could have the feelings I had to help me unlock this part of myself that has remained completely hidden for all my healing years.
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Post by James on May 31, 2015 21:54:39 GMT 10
Distraction We can so easily use our mind to distract ourselves from our bad feelings. My whole life has been one long bad-feeling distraction. And so by looking to amuse and occupy ourselves with things that make us feel good, we are keeping the bad feelings we refuse to accept buried. I’ve said that with our mind we can ‘make’ ‘false feelings’ - good feelings by doing what we think up to do that will make us feel good, all to keep our mind off our bad feelings; but really we can’t change our feelings, we can’t use our mind to change a bad feeling into a good one or a good one into a bad one because they are two separate things. Today I was feeling miserable, crushed to the point of despair, then I started thinking about good things distracting myself from my bad feelings which seemed to go away. But I didn’t want them to go away, not like that, only if they were no longer needed to be felt, their truth seen, so I tried to make myself feel miserable again, to feel as crushed and despairing as I was, but I couldn’t. But then slowly the impact of the good thoughts wore off with those good feelings going and the bad ones coming back. So I can’t actually change the feeling I have with my mind, but I can make a new one happen overriding it. And I guess should I want to go the other way, make worse feelings come up overriding the bad ones I already have - I could do that if I wanted to abuse myself even more. But I don’t want to alter my feelings in any way by using my mind, I just want to be true to the feelings I have leaving my mind out of it.
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Post by James on Jun 14, 2015 17:42:54 GMT 10
Expressing The more I express myself to Marion, the more she expresses herself to me, and the more I want to express myself back to her, and it’s the same for her to me. Which as obvious as it sounds, is how we’re all meant to be, thereby helping each other bring ourselves out into Creation being the full expression of our soul personality that our Mother and Father want us to be. We’re not meant to be alone; we’re meant to be fully expressing every feeling all the time.
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Post by James on Jun 15, 2015 21:41:03 GMT 10
I write because... I’m realising more that my writing reflects my need to exist. Up until my healing I was always okay, nothing phased me - on the outside, yet I was scared inside. I never could openly and fully state such things as: I am here, I am angry, I am cold, I am hot, I am happy, I was always just okay so no one had to bother with me, as really on some level I wasn’t even here, didn’t even exist. I’m powerless, just a physical body, a physical object that can be moved around - nothing else. My body was the only thing that was taken any notice of because it was in the way, no one was interested in my feelings - the real me. So my writing is like I’m laying myself down in cement, in black and white for all time, to make myself in a way be real, to show myself and the world I exist - to make a statement: This is me and this is what I think and feel, because I couldn’t do it when I was growing up. If you are in a room with other people and they all ignored you as if you weren’t there, they didn’t even seen, didn’t hear you, didn’t take any notice of you whatsoever, it wouldn’t take long, so I would imagine, before you were feeling demented, freaking out all over the place trying to gain some attention as you feel yourself disappearing into nothingness. Is all extreme behaviour only attention seeking because of the persons desperate fear of not existing and fearing they are falling off the edge of the world? Falling into the vacuum of blackness - annihilation? Growing up, we all need to feel we exist, with there being crucial times when it locks in and when we need such confirmation that we are real and important in Creation; we need to be paid attention to, to the feeling-person we are. And if we’re not given that attention how do we know we are a real person, and a separate person, someone who can say, because they know through their feelings: I AM ME, AND THIS IS WHO ME IS. It’s too traumatising to think of being the little person I was and not feeling like they are even noticing me; and I am traumatised, I’ve been traumatised all my life having to cope with being a person who is sort of here, in body anyway, but not really here in the rest of me. If I don’t write it all out I will forget it - forget myself, so I have to keep writing myself into existence. And the saddest part is that really I only exist in my USB stick and on some of my websites and forum where I keep all my writing. And I wonder: when I finish my healing and know I do truly exist, will I no longer have the need to write?
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Post by James on Jul 30, 2015 15:29:21 GMT 10
Being true to my afflictions Being true is true to all my own afflictions, true to all baggage I carry, true to the yuk that I am. Being true is allowing myself to be it, and knowing that I am it, not resisting it, not trying to make it go away - fully accepting it. Jesus showed us we’re not to fight, so we’re not to fight against our feeling bad, he didn’t when they did all those horrible things to him. He allowed himself to feel bad, it was the truth, so we are to allow ourselves to feel bad, and be the truth of those bad feelings. Jesus stayed true to being on the cross, he didn’t say this is no good and use his supernatural powers to take himself off. So we are to stay true to our illnesses, true to our untruth; we’re not to use the power of medicine or anything else to take our illness away. We’re to stay true to it expressing all the bad feelings it makes us feel, and uncovering the truth of them - the truth of why we are sick. However of course if you feel strongly that you do want to seek medical help, then you do, expressing all your bad feelings along the way. Nothing is fixed, I’m only pointing out the theory, something to aim for. And if it works that way, that you express all your illnesses out of you without needing outside help, great; and if it doesn’t, then there will be feelings and truth for you to feel and find whilst seeking such help.
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Post by James on Jul 31, 2015 22:00:21 GMT 10
Slowly slowly the picture reveals itself - how it was for you during your early life, and all you felt in it and all you now feel about it.
I am them; I am missing - where is the true me? I don’t know how to be, what to do, what to say. Being with mum and Gran they did it all. So I put myself with those people who accept me, and they are to do it all. And I support them going along with all they are, do and say. I lose myself becoming them, like a shadow of them, which if they are like Marion gives them the shits because they don’t want to be having a relationship with themselves, with another them, they want someone separate to them, an individual in their own right. And if they are like mum and Gran they love having a companion who never goes against them, is always there for them, listening to all they say, willing to do all they ask, be just how they want them to be. But being with those people makes me feel like I don’t exist.
I’m scared bad things will happen. Always so many fears. What I really fear is the bad feelings that come when the bad things happen. What I’ve come to realise through my healing is the bad things have already happened, I’ve already felt all those bad feelings I so dread feeling again - I felt then during your forming years. If I’d not have felt them then I’d not know to fear them. We can only fear what we already know is scary. So what I’m really scared of is the bad things happening now making me feel as I felt back then. But the more I express my bad feelings and see that the things causing them now are not that bad, I can deal with them, and that it’s only the bad feelings I’m scared of, the more I can also deal with my bad feelings, because now I know that I can at least express them. I can use my will in expressing them when I feel so bad, and I can long for the truth so see why I am feeling bad. So I no longer feel as powerless when feeling them as I did when I was young, with no one in my family back then allowing me to express them. Back then the bad feelings were so intense and built up inside me with no outlet, no release, threatening to extinguish me - this being what I fear: That I will be obliterated by my bad feelings. Now I also know that the worst has happened to me, it happened back then, and nothing can be as bad again because it’s all just feelings, and I’m losing my fear of them.
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Post by James on Aug 2, 2015 20:20:24 GMT 10
Bits and pieces
We have to see the truth. We are in a bad state, so we have to see the truth of that bad state.
I have to quickly move along putting my mind onto something else, such as what’s happening in the world or thinking about the spiritual stuff. They quickly moved me along as they didn’t want me to make them feel bad, so now I quickly move myself along so I don’t feel bad or as soon as I do feel bad.
The thing about the physical is we can destroy it, we can have ultimate power over it. If we don’t like it we can get rid of it. And if you believe there is only the physical and nothing beyond or greater than it, then you could quite possibly think you are god, in charge of your realm able to make it be exactly how you want it to be. So believing you have all-power, heady stuff indeed. And you can kill anyone you don’t like, you can even kill yourself, so can think you have ultimate power, being able to attain the ultimate solution to all problems - get rid of it! And as it’s all up to us to make babies, so we are the centre of the universe, the physical being the be all and end all. In spirit we can’t kill, others or ourselves, so we have limited power that way. We seem to gain other powers of the mind, but they are not as all-powerful as being able to ‘disappear’ those who you don’t want. So in spirit in that sense at least we can’t delude ourselves we are gods, but from what the spirits have told me, we can in other ways. Primitive man starts off believing we have to kill to survive, so killing is good, that it’s right and how else can you live without killing - and look at nature, it’s killing other nature all day long. And then we read about the Tree of Life in The Urantia Book and see there is an ultimate way to live on Earth without killing anything.
They told me off for biting my nails, for picking chewing, and now I tell myself off. However my biting, picking and chewing are the natural result of my distress, the distress they caused (and are still causing) in me. They shouldn’t have told me off for the consequences of their actions.
Marion’s worried that if she ever does manage to get rid of all her bad feelings there will be nothing left of her, as she is only bad feelings.
Marion’s petrified of her parents, therefore petrified of everyone else, her parents being her all-consuming world, so being all people. She’s scared all people will treat her the way her parents did. She didn’t have anyone else who treated her differently, with more love and respect. Our parents are the world we live in as adults. Her parents blocked everything, she couldn’t push past them, so she can’t with other people.
The struggle to be how my parents wanted me to be is why I’m sick, why I can hardly move, why I’m fucked. It’s like how the Europeans tried to make Australia be another Europe, and why the aborigines are sick - why the land is sick. White man treated them as we treated the land, like how we treat our children. And then our sick children grow up doing more of the same. We take it all on from our parents wrongly believing their way is right and we have to be as they are. We lose ourselves becoming untrue, forever creating errant behaviour, and remaining ignorant as to why no one is truly happy and why nothing really works right. Then we keep trying to change the effects, never getting close to dealing with the actual causes.
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Post by James on Aug 4, 2015 19:10:57 GMT 10
How sensitive to feeling are we to be? Can we be oversensitive - is that such a thing?
Marion was carrying her cup of tea to the table wanting to go her usual route except I’d sat down blocking her way. She felt bad because she couldn’t do what she wanted to do, and waited for my acknowledgement saying sorry for being in her way. It was only a very small thing, and mostly people don’t worry about such things - or do they? I don’t know, we’re all different in our relationships, some people being more sensitive to their feelings and how they treat others and how they want to be treated than other people. For Marion and I as we’re trying to bring up and express every bad feeling, so it’s all very important that if she feels bad she speaks about it, including expressing how she then felt annoyed that I hadn’t said sorry, that I wasn’t even aware that I was stopping her from doing what she wanted to do - that I didn’t know her well enough after all our years being together. And it all does matter, and not just because we’re doing our healing. I have been so blocked off from my feelings, and so unaware of what other people are feeling, with Marion’s ‘ultra’ sensitivity making me angry, because she could have easily gone around the other way or asked me to move. But it’s not the point, it’s not actually about anyone being right or wrong, it’s only about each of us being free to express all we feel. So she can say all she feels, as can I, and we do, and we often argue or fight verbally thrashing it out, all of which helps us get more in touch with deeper repressed anger; all of which leads us to seeing more truth about how we are. So it does matter and we are to be as sensitive to our feelings as we are. Having expressed all her anger and pain of not feeling loved by me as I’m not after all these years aware of her routines, she might no longer feel bad about this, and might not care that I block her way in future; or she might ask me to move, and it is no big deal with no bad feelings coming up. Or I might smarten up knowing this way about how she does things, and even be aware next time of being in her way and stopping her from doing what she wants to do and saying sorry. Or I might not and on we go and she might get upset with me again over the same thing... but it’s all more feelings to express and seek the truth of.
I blame everyone else for all that goes wrong and for what makes me feel bad; Marion blames herself. Mum and dad blamed everyone else for all that went wrong for them and all that made them feel bad, and they blamed me too, but still taught me to blame everyone else. Marion’s parents blamed her - always. So my anger is always directed at everyone else, the government, the computer, the..., I don’t blame myself. It’s not me, I’m not bad, I’m good, they are the bad one, they are the bad one because they are making me feel bad - I don’t make anyone feel bad, I’m good! Yet by blaming someone else I’m making them feel bad, and I believe it’s right they do feel bad, because they are bad - unlike me. Mum was never bad, she never blamed herself, it was always me or ‘you rotten kids’, we were bad, she always good. So I’m very screwed up about: am I good or bad? And who really is to blame?
Do you force your poo or wee? If you do - why? All the truth will come to light through your feelings.
Make a commitment to yourself: at anytime I feel bad, I will try and express those bad feelings understanding they are connected to deeper repressed feelings, all of which I want to uncover the truth of. So then stay vigilant in your life and at any time anything you do or anything that happens to you that makes you feel bad, stop, acknowledge those bad feelings and work to express them. And this is all very well if you are able to apply yourself like this, something you were able to do through your childhood. But if you are like me and you don’t want to discipline yourself to keep on your bad feeling case, because you feel like you’re just being told what to do still, even if it’s yourself telling yourself now, then it’s very difficult to stay focused on and willing to express all your bad feelings. And worse, you actually - as I do - feel your bad feelings are interfering with you, they are a pest, so fuck them off, ignore them, move on past them sweeping them aside, especially when they are all because of little things and are not so strong that you have to pay attention to them. Marion was heavily disciplined to pay strict attention to all that her parents told her she had to do, from doing practical things to articulating herself using the right words. So it’s easy for her to stay vigilant on all she feels, and all she says about her feelings, she never letting a bad feeling pass without expressing it, because if she does, her parents will punish her. My parents didn’t give a toss about what I said and how I said it, mostly they didn’t care and weren’t listening anyway, wanting to speak themselves or get on with doing what made them feel good. So they tossed me - a bad feeling for them - aside, just as I can so easily toss my bad feelings aside.
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Post by James on Aug 9, 2015 16:13:45 GMT 10
I feel so miserable, I hate my life, I hate everything in it, it’s all so meaningless, nothing makes me feel good, I can’t bear any of it - NOTHING!
Marion and I have been going through another hard patch. On the one hand we feel better about certain aspects of ourselves, yet on the other we feel worse and worse about ourselves and our lives - with the truth serving only to help us see even more how bad a state we’re in and more how bad it was with our parents.
And to feel so unloved, that mum and dad didn’t love me, God doesn’t love me, the Mother and Father don’t make feel loved and supported, I don’t feel They are there for me or are with me. I feel so alone, just as I felt with my own parents, they not being their for me, never supporting me with love, sympathy and compassion, always throwing it back onto me by telling me that I only have myself to blame, so smarten up!
I hate them, I hate God, I hate everyone, I hate myself. I hate more than I ever have, and I’m so raging angry, more than I’ve ever been. And it’s making me think this healing thing and all I’m writing is probably all bullshit, just for my own amusement because I don’t feel like I’m getting any better. The truer I become to my untruth the worse I feel, which of course I have to, but it makes me feel like it’s all crap and I don’t want to have anything more to do with any of it - which of course is that’s how I feel and how I now know I felt when I was young. But back then, like now, I didn’t and still don’t have a say in it, it’s all being done to me, I just have to put up with it. Marion and I can’t move to a place that would suit us better, and it’s getting increasingly difficult for her where we are. There are no places readily available, the rents are way to high and we don’t want to move back to the city and yet neither do we want to keep living in a holiday shack, as that’s about what this place amounts to.
And it’s so frustrating not being able to do anything to help yourself, being too pathetic as we are, so just having to stay in it, feeling always so bad, and with nothing more to do than express our endless bad feelings. When will it ever end? To find out the truth of your childhood, that none of it was good, and then to understand the truth of your adulthood, and none of that is any good either, and then to face that nothing in the future will likely be any good too, it’s too much, just one long miserable life.
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Post by James on Aug 10, 2015 18:10:35 GMT 10
How much pain?
The question of pain and how much to suffer it has come up again. Say you have a really bad toothache, your gum is all swollen, you’ve got a really bad headache as well, along with intense other pains in your head, jaw and down the whole side of your face and neck. How much is one willing to bear it, or should one go the dentist and take pills to reduce the pain? And what happens if the pain doesn’t go away, gets even worse - or eases off only to come on strongly again - what does one do? And how is one meant to deal with this concerning staying true to ones feelings?
Marion maintains the real life is the pain. We should be focused on the negative because that’s where the pain is; the positive, some of which might be false, will take care of itself.
She says that all the pain of ones tooth in this instance is still only the same amount of pain one is already feeling, it being what one felt through ones early life. And that one can’t experience more pain than what one has already experienced, one only experiencing it now as an adult because it’s what is already within you. And if you didn’t have any early childhood pain repressed in you, then you’d not experience adult pain; or if you did, you’d experience it in a different way. She looks to Jesus for the guide in this.
Jesus didn’t have repressed pain, so didn’t have any pain in him needing to come out, so nothing happened to him that brought up such pain so he could use it to help him connect with his buried childhood pain. But what out the pain at his crucifixion, couldn’t it be said that that pain was the pain from his early life not expressed, he needing such an extreme experience as being crucified to help him get more in touch with it? And ordinarily had Jesus been like we are and imperfect, this would have been so, but as he was perfect and remained true throughout his life, so the pain of the crucifixion must be another painful experience. And perhaps he experienced this pain differently to how we experience pain - I don’t know; perhaps he didn’t experience any or perhaps it was a lot, but until we are completely healed and then experience pain, we won’t know what it was like for him.
So far as how Marion sees it, all the pain she experiences is her - it is her pain, naturally enough, but further: the pain is me, she declares. I am the pain, so I don’t want to do anything like take pills or go to the dentist to get rid of it, because if I do then I’m getting rid of myself (the pain that I am), which is what my parents did to me, how they made me feel, that they wanted to get rid of me, they rejecting me.
So the harshness of her parents rejection and the pain that caused her, is how she is, and it’s all still within her, it is all the pain she is feeling. And so as she doesn’t want to treat herself as her parents treated her, and as how she consequently learnt to treat herself, so she doesn’t want to do anything to reject any part of herself - so any feelings, so any pain. So she is going with all the pain, refusing to reject it, accepting it, and seeing what happens. And if she can’t bear it anymore then so be it, she will do something; but until such time, and she’s pushed right to edge over and over, she will keep going as she is feeling the pain being herself and just accepting herself being such pain. This being self-acceptance, unconditional and so truly self-loving. Which the opposite to how we were taught, that not attending to the pain is mad, you’re an idiot, go the dentist, take the pills, do whatever you can to stop making yourself suffer as life is already too hard so why make things more difficult, particularly when with a toothache you can do something about it. And with this way of thinking we have lived our lives but it hasn’t proved to make us any happier or heal us of all our wrongness. Sure the pain might be taken away for a time, but sooner or later in some other way or even in the same way, it returns, and will continue to do so; and so far as Marion is concerned, do so forever, until it is fully accepted - so fully felt.
So rejecting our pain is rejecting that painful unpleasant part of ourselves. And this is the same as the parent saying: “I’ve had enough of you”, the parent wanting to destroy, annihilate, wipe out of existence its child that is in that moment agrivating it so much. And it’s this terrible rejection that causes our pain the first place. We don’t just have the pain for the heck of it, it comes because we feel rejected, unwanted - unloved. And as that then becomes part of the truth of our unloving state, so we continue to treat ourselves the same way.
For me today with Marion saying these things again, I thought about dad and my grandfather dying of cancer and all the pain they must have felt. Then I thought that all that pain is the pain they felt as young children - and I could see how much terrible pain they must have experienced during their early lives. They had both told me of how much they didn’t feel loved by their parents, but it’s hard to see how that is when you’re not there. But if I look at all the pain they or someone is experiencing as being equal to the amount of feeling unloved and rejected they felt through their forming years, then I can get some sort of indication as to how bad it was for them, all of which they too have readily denied.
But then I look at my grandmothers and neither of them seemed to experience that much pain, nothing as bad as a long protracted death from cancer. So what about their pain and its relationship with their early life - did they not have such bad early lives? But this is no good either as they might just not have had much pain during their physical life, but a lot awaits them in their spirit life. Or perhaps it will come to light through their healing, as I feel it has been doing for me. I’ve been spared (so far) such physical pain like Marion is going through, but feeling so demented about my life and myself as a whole. I feel very pained about it all, with my brain feeling like it’s being scrambled most days just trying to do the simplest tasks, and my body is wracked constantly with minor pains which stay minor so long as I don’t tax it too much. Along with all the constant fear, misery, anger and all the rest.
So I find my self-acceptance is accepting the dementedness of myself, how unable to communicate and express myself I am, and how painful spiritually that is. I can tolerate my physical difficulties and the relatively small pain coming from them, but on a deeper level I feel like I’m constantly screaming in agony with the misery and madness of being so engrossed in mum. She was neurotic, and I feel like having grown up in a neurotic environment, that is all I am, worrying about myself, Marion, everything, too much; demented by everything, not able to function properly, all too emotional and close and yet so unable to express any of the intensity of such feelings. My head feels, if it’s not full of smoke and all foggy, like mush, and if it’s not like that then to think too hard and try to deal with any feeling difficulty makes it feel like it’s going to break. I feel perpetually bound up in myself with very little free room to move, and having to keep living doing normal everyday things like the banking, paying rent, buying the bread we ordered is too much, I can hardly concentrate long enough on these small things without being swamped by all the emotional madness cycloning around in me.
I write these things about Marion and I with the understanding that it’s all works in progress as we blunger along, and that it is all we understand only for ourselves, and not something that another person should adhere to. Naturally for anyone new reading this I expect they will take from it what they will, but I want to say again that in no way are we, or rather am I through writing about it all, saying it’s how it is meant to be for everyone. We’ve all got to find our way along in our healing for ourselves, it all being so new and without any more obvious or real guidance and help other than our feelings.
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Post by James on Aug 12, 2015 15:50:49 GMT 10
No!
“No mother, get thee behind me!” “No father, get thee behind me!” That’s what I want to say to mum and dad. No, no more, no, I am no longer going to listen to your evilness; no, I am no longer going to do your evilness. No, no, no! I turn my back on them - rejecting them. It’s effectively what I’m doing through my healing each time I have to stand up for myself and say no: no to the behaviour and beliefs in me that are making me go against myself, no to my untruth as it becomes exposed and revealed. No, I don’t want to be treated unlovingly anymore, by them, or by myself, or by anyone else. It’s slow going, I’ve got a million no’s to say, but I love saying them when they come up to say.
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Post by James on Aug 14, 2015 17:32:45 GMT 10
Marion of late has taken us both further into our yuk. She has been ill and is so thin hardly eating anything but refusing to do anything against her feelings. I’ve been having to face the idea of her dying and then what. I don’t think she’s on deaths door just yet, but a few times she’s been close these past couple of years, or so I have thought. She is giving up her wrongness more and more every day- how she was made to be going against herself. She is determined not to do any of the expected usual things people say you should do. She went with her pain, not taking anything or getting any help to make it go away, almost fainting a times. But still she’s showing each day that she is being truer and truer to herself, and if that means she’s leaves the world she won’t be sad about that because she’s always wanted to go. And more and more we are seeing how I am her parents for her, so as she rejects my unloving behaviour she is rejecting her parents and as she is able to speak and tell me all she feels, so she is able to do what she could never do with her parents as they never allowed her to express her feelings to them. And she is my parents for me, as I’m having to do more things for her about the house, all helping to bring me into life, into my feelings and out of my mind where I had to go and find some level of sanctuary in life, she’s making me do all the things my parents didn’t allow me to do that made me feel life wasn’t for myself it was for everyone else.
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Post by James on Aug 15, 2015 18:15:03 GMT 10
I look at young women and think - my mother was her age when she had me. And I want to scream.
I was walking past a young mother and her young child in the supermarket, the child was crying, and its mother said “You’re Ok.”
But the child is not OK, far from it, if it were it wouldn’t be crying. And encapsulated in this is all the Rebellion and Default, all our wrongness, and all that happened to me.
My mother saw me as nothing more than an extension of herself. I am crying like the little boy in the supermarket, she looks at me thinking I have nothing to cry about for I am really herself and as she is not crying she has nothing to cry about, so she tells me, which is really telling that errant part of herself, you’re OK, you’ve got nothing to cry about.
So I feel like I as the person James doesn’t actually exist. I only exist vicariously through her, as some extension of her. I am like an arm that behaves badly at times and must be brought under control. There is no me, the real person, she is not making a direct connection with me, just as I can see the mother in the supermarket is not making one with her child - which is of course why it’s crying.
And no one in my life showed me I was anything but an extension of my mother, they all told me I was OK and with nothing to worry about - just do what your mother says.
So that’s what I have been doing all my life, trying to be as she is and not being myself. I don’t exist, never have, don’t know what existing truly feels like, wouldn’t have a clue. I can see with Marion’s help how I might be, but I’m miles away from that, and with no idea as to how I will ever get there.
And I feel so wretched, so crushed, just ticking along, I’ve never felt truly happy, and I feel so miserable about not being myself, and not having any idea or feeling for what that is. I feel so lost, so disconnected, show shut out from life, from myself, from any relationships. And I wish I could end it all, but that too I don’t know how to do. I don’t know how to do anything, I need Marion with me every step of the way helping me with my feeling expression as she helps me extract myself from projecting my extension of being mum onto her. And I don’t know what to do because I was never allowed to do anything for myself, it always being done as an extension of mum or Gran.
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Post by James on Aug 16, 2015 21:07:23 GMT 10
My parents stamped themselves on me taking over my will.
Lately I’ve been able to feel mum and dad in me as I’ve been speaking to Marion, which answers a lot of the behaviour I do that when she asks me why I do it or why I say what I do, I don’t know, not really feeling connected with my words or actions. Now I can see in certain situations because they were too forceful telling me how to be, I became them unable to be myself expressing myself as I would have done. It’s weird feeling I am more them that I am myself in so much of what I do. But it’s good to feel connected more with these aspects of myself, and it’s nice to feel my rage surfacing about how unlovingly I was treated by them.
Hi navzky6210, welcome to the forum.
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