Little Girl Cry

I keep meeting a weepy little creature on a regular basis. She is a fragile flower scared of the big boys. The big boys are mean and make fun of her in those corners of the play ground where the parents’ eyes are blind. That place where the scary kids try cigarettes and kissing. She wants to run for mama, but mama can’t see. Or maybe she is busy elsewhere doing the laundry or something.

My emotional reactions are grande. They come as waves or house sized tsunamis. They are the result of the sensitive one being scared of the harshness of the others. The sensitive one wants to hide in someone else’s armpit. She is calling for someone strong and supportive, but instead she keeps getting the cold or the weak. She feels that she will not be able to take any more. Even a hint of harshness and she wants to bury herself deep.

I behave like a drama queen. If you look at my life and you might say that my reactions are legit. Sure, I have some pretty weird stuff going on from the point of view of my 47 year old mother of one colleague Sarah. She would freak listening to the instability that I regularly hangout in. But hell, I must be attracting this somehow. How else would I be in constant mess. I want to scream at my boyfriend for having other lovers in his life. I want to tell him to crack open and stop being so distant and walled up. Aaaaaarrrggghh!!! I want you to save me but you are nowhere near doing that. You make me insane with the twisted answers you give me with the level of Mr Trump. My friends say, leave. My spiritual friends say, thank the universe for such an opportunity to let all your fears come up. But I want respite! I want to hold my hands up and give up. I want to feel good! I just want to feel good!!! I’m scared of feeling bad. I’m sacred of not having anyone to rely on to take bad feelings away. Or really it’s just the hope I’m clinging onto. Nobody has so far come and erased the shitty feelings.

Who will console the little creature? Is that my job too? Show me how and I’ll do it, I promise.

Weirdly it has taken about zillion iterations to realise how this ego is pretty much entirely constructed around feeling bad. I have learned from childhood that feeling bad is me. I start my mornings by feeling bad. I always did. I anticipate something horrible to happen from go. That’s the me that I have gotten to know. Now I need to show it love and say there-there – the big one will take it from here. Surrender! But the little voice is still shouting for someone to love her. Someone big to come and say, ‘you are enough’, ‘it’s all going to be okay’, ‘I’ve got you’. All of that stuff.

As ever, I am here to set the intention of seeing all of this without filters and in truth. Thank you, I’m sorry, I love you!

Love,

Woman A

Don’t Look at Me Now.

What if you can see all of me? You will see all of that I want to desperately to forget. But I can’t. It’s there just waiting to be looked at. It weakens me and makes my face red when I receive attention from people I don’t know well enough to predict. Unpredictable people scare me. I can’t know if they will humiliate or ridicule me. This is true. I am so deeply ashamed of myself. I have even received a mirror person in my life, with almost the same amount of shame attached to them, to really highlight this. Massive ‘look here!’ sign in a form of  a colleague.

What has my shame made of? There is so much subconscious, I can’t even tell what it is. Sure there is time when my mum called me in from playing outdoors when I was six. I had soiled my underpants earlier that day and tried to hide them in the laundry basket only for mum to see and my sister to ridicule me of. But sometimes six year olds shit their pants, right? But I was so, so very ashamed with me. I still keep it with me. There is also that time when I was four and my dad told me that I smelled like pee when he lifted me up on his shoulders.  But sometimes four year olds pee their pants, right? Why not forgive myself for being a child and not knowing how to do everything. After this I suffered from urinary infections for many years. i was carried around from doctor to doctor to sort out my peeing problem. After that subsided, I got the crown jewel of shame diseases – psoriasis. It screams, look at me!!!

I’m a classic dad issues woman. Daddyyyy didn’t pay attentiooooon…. and so on. He was not much interested and if he was it was pretty negative. And the other thing he liked to do with me was to take silly photographs of me pulling faces. So as I was a young budding woman, I got my attention using my body. I was pretty good looking young lady, so it wans’t particularly difficult to get boys into bed. In fact I had a lot of them on one year only. I got drunk on weekend after weekend and had sex. The boys treated me like a cheap slut and I couldn’t understand why. My group of friends started to become sparse. I had gone from the quiet sporty college girl with good grades into a slut whore, who couldn’t possibly be successful. I learned that my sexuality was disgusting. I cried to my mum how my friends have started to reject me and she responded by stop sleeping with so many guys. My sexuality had become the most shameful thing about me. I went into college day by day hiding myself more and more. And to zero my head, I would get drunk and sleep with more guys. Also my sister was doing exactly the same. But she had better friends who didn’t dump her because of that. I felt that nobody in the world wanted me around them. And seriously, I don’t think anyone did. There was nobody around.

I have become so single minded about my focus on spiritual awakening that my thought uttered out loud to someone who isn’t going through the same feel full of weirdness. I want to be speaking my truth and that only. But I am worried about some imaginary consequences that isn’t really even clear to me. I guess it’s being laughed at. Or when I’m joking, not being laughed with. I worry about the silence I create around me and how uncomfortable it makes people feel. That’s why I generate bullshit just to keep the noise going. Just so that we don’t see the pain we are really in. And at the same time I’m raving on about honesty and truth. Holy contradiction Batman! Want more daddy issues…here they come. I wasn’t allowed to speak to my dad when I was a kid. . Unless I was being entertaining him somehow. Ok. That’s it. Doesn’t sound too traumatic, now does it. But still I am here thinking that what I say to someone can be only valuable if I’m entertaining or giving some wisdom nuggets. Otherwise I feel like a kid in the adults world wondering what the hell are they all on about.

So holy, beloved shame. Show yourself in your entirety and I promise I will listen to you and you can be finally in peace. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

 

Love,

Woman A

I Am the Monkey

What you resist persists. I have heard this so many times and rephrased in so many ways. As I go thru layers and layers of sludge, I find more and more things that I’m resisting. You know that experiment, where a monkey is given a box with a hole and a banana in it. The monkey puts her hand in the box and grabs the banana. But the shape of the whole is so that the she can’t take her hand out when it’s grabbing the treat. But the monkey wantw the banana so bad it won’t let go and therefore has her hand stuck and no banana. That!

There’s a permanent clentch in my stomach, just above the solar plexus. Same on my throat.  I’ve had so many talks and down right arguements with it. It says ‘listen woman, the piano will drop on your head at any point so we better be ready’. According to it, it can come pretty much anytime.  This of course is learned so amazingly it can’t be a permanent part of anything. In my case it’s the dear old family environment.  Psychologists wet dream (which is probably the reason I went to study psychology, to try and understand what the hell was going on there). But that all has been analysed to death and a lot forgiven, we need to come from a different angle.

So all I can do is practice is forgiveness/love, which is ultimately breathing. I’m dropping into the clench and feeling every little bit of it.  I frequently forget but I also forgive myself. Pain, please tell me what you have to say. I’m listening. 

Love,

Woman A

Never Enough

Relationships are the best catalysts and mirrors for this shadow shit. It brings all sorts of crap to the surface that you never thought you were harbouring. I used to just think that there’s something deeply flawed in me for not staying in a relationship for very long.  Now I see that I outgrow them very fast. 

So what’s going on in the current one? First of all, it’s an open relationship.  I date other people too when I have time or will. He from the beginning didn’t the profile of someone I could imagine being with. There’s been an endless amount of pain as I’ve twistex and turned in it’s details. He has been deeply involved with his ex-girlfriends and boyfriends all through the six months of this relationship.  Almost all people in his life are based on a sexual or romantic connection.  I have come to accept that more and moved onto dispersing my sexual energy to multiple people. But for the first months it brought up nothing but jealousy. ‘How could he, I’m so much hotter than him or any of the people he flirts with’. Oh yes, there’s that one who values herself and others based on their looks. More on this…

So after numerous deaths and rebirths of this relationship we hage both transformed swiftly. He is showing me his vulnerability and I love that. He is not hiding under detachment so much and that makes the exchange of energy so much free. Our sexual connection has always been amazing as we have released so much already on that front. But why do I keep coming up with new reasons why he is not the one. Now it’s the way we are unmatched with looks. The thought of ‘I can do better’ lingers despite of my genuine love to him. We have a lot of fun too. We dance! 

So now I’m asking it to become clear, is this just my fear of nit being special enough. Surely a hot boyfriend makes you look like you’ve got something special about you. Or is it that we are not supposed to be. Please let me see the truth though this. Thank you, thank you,  thank you. 

Love,

Woman A