Oh man.. Loved? Have I ever felt loved? Goodness, what an arbitrary question. Many times have I felt loved. Many times has someone released themselves energetically to myself. Many times are they that someone handed me the trust of themselves to share and be accepted. Many conversations have been handed to me where one might trust me with their truth and actions in intent. Many times has someone purchased a gift in my name and presented it to me with heartfelt intent. Many smiles and hugs. Ears listening… while I spew hate and emotion to get it OUT! OUT! Many times have I been blessed with an angel carrying a message that I alone needed to hear. Many times has the universe sent me exactly what I needed to grow. Many questions answered. Many dangerous situations diffused. Many times has goddess sent me exactly what I’ve asked for. Many times I have felt all varieties of love. The amount of graces and acts of love are so many that I couldn’t possibly list or remember them all…….
However, those things never came complete with my acceptance and vulnerability. I firmly believe that though, in small ways I’ve accepted these act of love, I have not ever fully emmersed myself into the truth of love itself. Gifts come with opinions and rights. I have just begun to accept me and recognize that I live in fear where love is concerned. To live in an abstract world where negative and positive are only words used as secondary labels in my love. The question remains to me. How can one feel loved? If they have not experienced it themselves, how does one accept love in a mundane sense? and comply with its limits? I’ve always felt love from others I’ve always been handed that opposite of fear. But not until recently have I been able to accept love as the concentrated whole that it is. To accept love fully I would have to be able to look at loves perceived opposite and agree that it makes a whole.. My ego states that this would be ignorant. Can you imagine all the things I would have to change about myself to accept that there is no negative in the foundation of my life story? That those things are love? AHHHH makes me want to locate my gun just thinking about it. I understand this in theory. HA but in the physical world if you want to hand me something I’m scared of I will go insane on you. I am more willing to make chaos my game than I am for it to make me whole.. I have felt whole love but I have not yet danced with and experienced it… I have no faith….. in my ability to return whole (as love, with love, again ignoring the process)
I recently went on a journey to be the love that I believe in. I got cracked wide open. I stood bravely in the face of my own inner fears. What came looked something like The end of ” For Colored Girls”.
Being loved by others while ignoring love in its essence feels like fun. Ive spent many years accepting love from others in the form of gifts and intent….. but they are different words for a reason. Intent isn’t love and gifts have another definition of their own. I, in return, gifted and had wonderful intentions for others.
Khalil Gibran, a perceived father of mine, spelled out years ago what love is and what it will do to me. I had made love my arch nemesis here in this life to avoid anymore pain. I had been unwilling to inflict anymore upon myself and was willing to accept my decision in this matter…… Khalil gave me a choice. I have recently chosen different.. I have chosen to take the ride and I do believe I came out a little more enlightend but I’m not sure( I get to pay my shrink 300 dollars this afternoon to tell me wether I’m even on the right track.) I have felt loved and it is treacherous and amazing and beautiful. The truth is, if love is what your experiencing you have no choice but to come back whole. The experience? HAHAHA what does it feel like? FFFUUUUUUCKKK YOU!
“When love beckons to you, follow him,
Though his ways are hard and steep.
And when his wings enfold you yield to him,
Though the sword hidden among his pinions may wound you.
And when he speaks to you believe in him,
Though his voice may shatter your dreams as the north wind lays waste the garden.
For even as love crowns you so shall he crucify you. Even as he is for your growth so is he for your pruning.”
A few sentences later, he hits on the need for vulnerability.
“If in your fear you would seek only love’s peace and love’s pleasure,
Then it is better for you that you cover your nakedness and pass out of love’s threshing-floor,
Into the season less world where you shall laugh, but not all of your laughter and weep, but not all of your tears.
As for finding love, we cannot direct the course.
And think not you can direct the course of love, for love, if it finds you worthy, directs your course.”
As for your desires, turning into vulnerability, Gibran, who echoes Alfred Lord Tennyson’s sentiment when he said ‘Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all,’ writes:
“To melt and be like a running brook that sings its melody to the night.
To know the pain of too much tenderness.
To be wounded by your own understanding of love;
And to bleed willingly and joyfully.
To wake at dawn with a winged hear and give thanks for another day of loving.
Love is process, not an outcome.”
Love is not the person loving you but the essence inside of them. When love shows up in another person who, in the end, still wants to hold you and grow with you and all of your ugly is hanging out and you’ve become real, like the velveteen rabbit…. ITs the scariest shit EVER.. I feels a little something like slow death.
Tony Robbins and I cooled down after a vigorous run to down town Port Townsend from our motel by the sea. I was looking forward to the outsize Jacuzzi soak after the run, and also logically knew I needed a cool down before immersing warm muscles into the water. So Tony and I chatted. Well, he spoke, I listened. He asked me to think of one thing I want to change in my life. My staunch response was between “I don’t need to change anything because I am perfect right now” and pure panic and another voice saying “Shit. What don’t you want to change…”
And for 4 days, I had a migraine that took my soul out of my body and replaced the carcass with an ailing woman in a cave trying to not only find the light, but be able to emotionally and physically handle the light once I discover it.
Holy Fucking Analogy.
4 days of the worst pain, anger seething in my body and feeling imperfect and raw and ugly. Like a mean dog ready to take a bite out of anyone’s leg lest they show the slightest intent of kicking me somehow. I call this (in my now observatory state) a DEFENSE SYSTEM.
I crack myself up. The need for control, the projection of everyone trying to control me. The sadness, the empathy towards abusers because deep down I know I have that capability as well. The knowledge of how selfish and narcissist I truly am about my time. As though no one else worries about time, only me and I should be placated. Oh Tony Robbins, what did you ask of me?
Why do I feel like my partner will end up with someone else? Is it my historical past? Tony Robbins says if you’re going to blame someone for your past then you must also be honest about thanking them for the goodness they provided to you. Every time I began to speak about my mom, my exes, my old friends whom I have fallen out with, I challenged myself to say something good about them afterwards. I feel a little freedom here, and a total loss of control that also feels a little like something else…freedom?
I was a poor single mom, acting like a shithead for a long time. My need to be loved by a mate eclipsed the love I had from my children. I was a stupid kind of bitch back then, and on the other side my intention was pure in finding love, I know I lacked definition. In every part of my life. I wish I could rewind, and that will always be my biggest regret and sadness. The inability to be loved at that time by my children while they were so formative…This forgiveness of that fact will take a long time. Thanks for the motivation Tony Robbins. The pain I feel from this regret will motivate my change into a human who is beautifully aware of herself, her needs, and the needs of others.
What else? The cave from the migraine and the shedding of my inner lining was physically crippling and all I had was time to ponder what else I wanted to change to achieve inner joy and experience sadness honestly.
I went grocery shopping, a task I loathe but am learning to like (or at least tolerate) as long as I can wear headphones. Grocery shopping is intense for some reason, even though I like shopping. Something to explore another day; Anxiety in the grocery store. (My reward today was purchasing a Palm tree.)
Then I faced my credit. I hate my bank but to be honest I am screwed and have to stay with them because my credit sucks. This is due to a number of factors, and I would admit I am responsible for 2/3rd s of that debt. But no. Tony Robbins called me out again. Get real Peggy, he said, stop making excuses. This is your life. I am scrubbing the floors of my bathroom in my duplex we rent. The linoleum is mostly intact, but there is a weird yellow stain on the floor, paint and corrosion on the baseboards, and I can brush my teeth and take a shit at the same time. We are not homeless, this is great. But when did I decide that giving up and being prideful about my fucking credit was more important than providing a sturdy structure in which to live in with my family? Just pay the $43.02 to close the credit filing from your ex husbands account whose name you didn’t bother removing until he over drafted. Holy Shit Lady!!! Are you serious??? That guy hasn’t been around in years and here you are lugging that pain and pride around. Like I have ever been perfect. Hello two way street. Good to know you. Maybe I should start looking both ways.
Tony Robbins was shaking his head and laughing at me now. He said, “So, do you want to come out of your shame and fix your life? Do you want to be able to smile and mean it? Do you want to see the change? Then admit your human mistakes and move forward.”
I have always weighed 155 lbs and smoked cigarettes. My kids know me by my cough. That shit is real. The challenge was to find courage to change. One day at a time. One moment at a time. One brutally aware motherfucker. Right here. I want to represent strength, so I need to grow strong. I purchased Beachbody and secretly work out and eat keto. And cheat with ice cream or pizza once a week. I quit smoking all the time. I just keep at it. I will understand this relationship I have with impulses as I continue to listen.
I’ve been reading about the 8 Pillars of Joy. I highly recommend you check out this link, it’s a great description, and a great book.
Oh Humility. Thank you for the lesson.
I called and paid off $1900 in debt. My credit score went up 89 points.
I’m an asshole. I have been for quite some time. Assholes Anonymous, right here. Confession; I no longer want to be an asshole. I want to be a vagina. JK JK. But you get me. I want to no longer further any hurt,with good intentions or not. I want to let go. I’m sorry. This is me eating Crow.
Disclaimer: I never actually spoke to Tony Robbins. I listened. Also, I don’t hear voices necessarily, this is more of an inner voice thing. I’m okay. I’m fine.
First, here’s to meanruthie for Challenging me with self awareness as a topic. I am so self aware HAHAHAH well, until I take tests that show me myself to my face. Then I’m just Carmen living in a confused version of my own vertical prison. Much love to you. And to my lack of self awareness..
I consciously avoided this topic from the moment it was posted. As I read the assignment my eyes got big and my head spinned. ( is spinned a word?) DOUBT.. that’s all I’m aware of.
” What kind of bullshit can I come up with that makes me sound like I know what I am all about today? None.. So, ill just put it off till I can oppose someone else…”
That never happened….
I finally crouched in and made myself not just take this test, but to research it and its intricacies. TO my complete surprise this test gave me quite the overview. Myself in a nutshell. My unhealthy self. My healthy self. My unhealthy reactions. How they hinder my progress, and how I can intercept those actions to integrate into the loop of my higher self. Yes it brought me down even into my spirituality. AHHHH the road to self actualization
As it sits I am a frim 8.. 8 with nothing following closely. The Leader. This… 100%… I can agree with. This we knew. What I didn’t know was how I lead and how this always causes me to strive for independence and knowledge as well as fearing co dependence and ignorance.
The 8 has wonderful qualities for healing humanity and inspiring change through their action in the world. I’ve always known that this was my job. Giving people permission to be whoever the fuck they want at their own will. With ” lead by example” as a motto.
However, I will say that, it also explains my line of work and the fight. HAHAH not to mention many of the issues I run into in relationships. It also explains how to work within them to make them work.
I think I need to be more aware of my judgment and my narcissism. This is not a fault of all 8s but it’s not hard to see, finally, how I , in lower levels of my type,( when I’m not fulfilled) go to work on others or mistakenly use them to fill my ego, and even perhaps, with partners take their own beautiful characteristics as weakness. When the ” weaknesses ” often , in fact, compliment me perfectly.
Basically when I’m at the top of my vertical lines I’m powerful , unstoppable and a great advocate for empowerment and truth in my peers and partners world. At the bottom I am a controlling obsessive, insecure, violating overachiever looking for kudos. That is very hard for my ego to swallow! But its true. I was stoked to read that these qualities coincide directly with my astrological charting and make perfect sense. I am, as of right now, on an immediate path to higher self. Ive looked for this specific map of me and can clearly see what I need to work on to become what I view as an appropriate 8.
Thankfully, the enneagram shows exactly were to go from there and how to break my fearful circles. I am appreciative of this opportunity and will write more later when I’m not questioning the fuck out of why I have been such a pompous dick. I really hope every crow takes the hour or so to look into their test and find the charts on the web page. It was very eye opening to be handed such a clear picture.
Johnny died today, eleven years ago. Well, it was probably today. He was found sitting peacefully against a tree by some hikers. They thought he was sleeping until they came back hours later and noticed he had not moved and had a needle in his arm. He had overdosed on an eightball- crack cocaine and methamphetamines.
I like to think he was smiling, that he had his most euphoric, happiest memories at the last moment and all the beauty flashed before his eyes, none of the ugly. I like to think he thought about how much I loved him, how he was my best friend and that he remembered before the drugs when he loved me too.
I don’t want to think that he remembered our last words: a fight on the phone a week prior. When he called he asked if he could go to our family cabin in Alaska and I said no. I told myself it was because I was worried he’d get in trouble there again. He had already been in prison for armed robbery that occurred when he was there last. It was another user and Johnny’s desperate attempt for meth money. I was scared of him traveling from Arizona to Alaska.
The last time I saw him, he drove up in a beat up old car with candles on the dash for defrost because it didn’t have a working heater. He had a girlfriend with a two year old son in tow and they spent a week sleeping on our living room floor, only getting up to eat chips and hot dogs, while I cared for the baby who had burned both hands on our propane stove right away while under their supervision. The poor little guy was miserable with gauze wrapped hands and diaper rash. He melted onto me in need of affection and love. He wanted me to hold him constantly, even when his mom was awake. I knew they had been on drugs and were crashing. My husband and I frantically thought of a way to keep the baby. We had already blown our grocery budget and were struggling. Then they were asking for gas money to leave and I was honestly relieved, although terrified for their safety. I regret that I didn’t save that baby. Or my little brother. I didn’t know what to do. I was in denial then. I stuffed the guilt away.
When he was found, I was on a fabulous, all expenses paid, 3 day wine tour with my coworkers and friends, our bosses, and our wine rep. We wined and dined, visited wineries and grape fields, had lessons from expert growers and were drinking expensive, beautiful wines from 8am until the bars closed. I was having a great time. On the long trip home in the rental van, I recounted the story of how Johnny and I had recently talked on the phone and it ended with him angrily shouting “Forget you ever had a brother, you fucking cunt!” then slamming the phone down. I told them that I felt so guilty because he had been living on park benches or in shelters in Phoenix and he hated it there, and called it the armpit of America. They all agreed that I’d done the right thing, forbidding him from the cabin. Little did I know what I was about to walk into.
As soon as I got home, I was so excited to see my family and give my little girls their presents. As we were hugging, I sat their dad’s gift of a few nice bottles on the table, noticed an alarming look on his face, then turned around with instant foreboding. Right in front of me on the counter was a scratch pad with the words Maricopa County homicide detective, a name and phone number. The last thing I remember was an inhuman howl coming out of me and falling to the kitchen floor. Later, I recall few moments of lucidity as I was in a sedated state in bed for some time. I saw my babies’ scared faces as they cuddled me in bed and gave me so much love. They took such good care of me.
Eventually I came back to life for my family’s sake. But inside, in the darkest place, I was hating myself. Our last words were vile and I realized that the reason I said no to Johnny about the cabin was because I was afraid he would steal everything and sell it. He had done that already when my grandma and dad were alive and had not been in their wills as a result, which is why he was asking my permission to go up there. I became aware of my ugliness, my selfishness. And I started to hate myself in earnest. This awareness started a downward spiral for me. I did anything I could to numb my feelings. I started to think my life would be better if I got a divorce and my husband was willing to support whatever I needed. So I looked at apartments and got really scared. Then cheated on my husband. I hated him then, unfairly. I turned everything that was miserable about my life into his fault. But I stayed and after awhile of hating myself and my husband, we reconciled..without ever discussing what had happened, although he clearly knew. I think he pitied me so much that he allowed all of my bad behavior. He took care of me and the kids when I was hungover in the mornings. I slowly returned to a stable place, but it was short lived.
It took a long time and a lot of struggles to get to where I am now. He’s been gone for eleven years. I can say that I’m happy that he’s not hurting anymore and I believe he is somewhere that’s better than here. I think he has that infectious smile on his face and giggles all the time.
When he died he was thirty-five and only 2 years younger than me. Emotionally and mentally, he was like a teenager, which is when he first started using anything he could to numb his feelings. There was no substance he would not eagerly and repeatedly use. From cough syrup to meth. I picked him up once at a crack house in Portland’s notorious Columbia Villa, a 1942 housing barracks for shipbuilders in WWII turned gang ridden ghetto to some 400 households, where drive by shootings were common, and I was terrified. When I parked my car and went into the dilapidated apartment, several people including Johnny were smoking crack on a sofa.They passed the pipe to me and I refused. The air was thick with smoke and I got him out of there as fast as possible, took him to inpatient treatment, and he soon ran away. There were so many of these incidents with Johnny, and they broke my heart over and over again. He abused my boundaries time after time, stole from me, and conned me in every way. But I still loved my brother fiercely. As much as when I hid him in a drawer to save him as a baby. As much as I do today.
I have forgiven myself because I could not save him. It was never in my power. I still feel ashamed that I didn’t do something for the toddler he brought to my home because I was ignorant and afraid to make Johnny hate me. I have forgiven myself for how I reacted to his death, for how I wronged my family. I accepted that my feelings of selfishness for preserving what was left from our ancestors were real, but forgivable, and that it was my great responsibility to protect the land they left. I have forgiven Johnny for leaving me alone. I know he was not meant for this earth. He was too sweet, loving, and hurt. He could never seem to hold onto a wallet or identification, but he always carried a picture of me. He would show it to his friends and say “You want to see the most beautiful girl in the world? My sister”. I know he loved me as much as I loved him. And I know he’ll be waiting for me one day. And we’ll build forts and climb trees, and it will be worth our time apart.
I was busy being self aware the other day by telling my husband what to do.
“What you SHOULD do is…” and “What you’re not doing is…”
Look at me having all the answers.
As life often time will hand you your own behavior, life spoke up and I realized in a moment of husband awareness that every word I spoke to him was meant for myself. I apologized and began noticing my pattern of self-awareness through projection. This is not a quality value nor an endearing trait. I was being a real asshole.
I listened to my advice I gave out so freely to friends, my family, the world. Every word had my own beliefs wrapped inside safely and delicately and was delivered to the wrong recipient. I have to stop talking to become self aware, and with that glaring obvious detail, I wrapped up cozy in a blanket of self and observed. I did not even know what the problem was arising, but I felt my third eye opening, and it felt like salt water on a wound. Somewhat painful, somewhat delightful. What I want to be reality is a persona of Peggy, walking around and letting the world’s problems roll off the shoulders like a Buddhist practice in understanding and empathy. Instead, my anger would build and build and my response was in the form of an explosion.
I began to observe my habits like a psychological experiment. I monitored (through my FitBit) the variables that contributed to the anger feeling. How much sleep was I getting? How much exercise? What is my BPM when I get the warning signal that my patience is about depleted? What did I do in those times of emotional distress? The answers were pointed.
I need more sleep, I cannot talk to anyone after 113 BPM with a logical brain (therefore, I take a 5 min time out to breathe and return to resting BPM), I need 1.5 hours a day for workouts and hygiene. I need to eat clean (no unnatural sugars). The questions and the answers were simple enough, but bringing self awareness to these habits helped me to make decisions concerning my own “treatment” plan.
I also learned that Full Moon and my emotions are directly linked. I have been studying this data for 1 year now, and I believe a nice cave is needed when a full moon is in play. This is the time when I need to be especially nice to myself. I listed comforts on little sticky notes and placed them around my work place as a reminder.
My moods are directly linked to frustration out of lack of planning. A simple meal plan quells my soul. The food nourishes, the exercises builds strength and self esteem and is a natural anti-depressant. I need to take better care of myself.
This exercise in self-awareness was beautiful and I truly thank MeanRuthie for the blog prompt.
In order to be, we must practice.