It's Never Ending

I talk to a kid regularly. By kid I mean someone who's in their early twenties. He has an older brother who was abused, and shows all the signs. He has a different mother, so he escaped the overt abuse. His older brother though, has been to prison a couple of times. He likes to do hard drugs. He has a crazy ass partner, who we all know was abused too. This kid I talk to mediates sometimes when his older brothers life is dark. He loves his older brother, and wishes he wasn't so self destructive. Me being who I am, I am inquire a bit about the situation, and offer what knowledge I can. He says his dad is willing to make amends, wants to make amends. I tell him though, it no longer has anything to do with his dad. The rock has been thrown. It's entirely up to his brother to do the self work. No one can do it for him. Most of the issue revolves around the mother anyways. Much like happened to me, this guy's mother choose other men over him. He got beat for his acting out as a small child, and what followed was a life of anger and rage. It happens to boys so often around here I do not understand how it is not common knowledge.

There are all manner of ways to describe the phenomenon. From spiritual, to religious, to energetic, to basic laws of attraction. It really doesn't matter how it gets described, it is happening. What I tell my abused friends is that it's already the case, you're going to suffer if you repress it, and you're going to suffer if you deal with it. There is no way out of it. If it gets repressed, you're always going to be ignorant of why you suffer. If you deal with it, you'll know why you are suffering, and that sets one free. The truth, sets one free, this dramatically lessens the suffering, but grieving is a life long process.

A couple of days ago I put on one of Louise Hay's affirmation video's on YouTube, and listened to it while I cleaned house. I get tired of chanting in my head, so I decided to let her soothing voice do the work. The order of the affirmations pretty much follows her book, You Can Heal Your Life. When she got to forgiveness, something inside me clicked. I felt a change. This started a chain of synchronicity. My emotions, or feelings, or both, stirred deep within. I started to cry at the sink. Next thing I know I was calculating how to get that kid over to my house because he likes to smoke weed. So there I was, confirmation I've been put in my feels, because my psyche was calculating how to stop the pain. I stamped it out; I'm not mind altering. I'm riding this one out.

"My peers, lately, have found companionship through means of intoxication—it makes them sociable. I, however, cannot force myself to use drugs to cheat on my loneliness—it is all that I have—and when the drugs and alcohol dissipate, will be all that my peers have as well."  Franz Kafka

Ask, and you shall receive. I asked for it, and I got it.

Remember that I said, when you have mother issues, it is the woman you love who will be the trigger of the unresolved emotional trauma? It will be your girlfriend, or wife, or faux mom, who stirs the pot. For me it is my wife. It's just a fact of life if one has unresolved trauma; one is going to manifest the people who trigger the pain. The unconscious wants to bring about healing, so like I said above, one is going to suffer regardless.Whether one chooses to deal with the triggers doesn't matter to the unconscious; it's going to manifest regardless.

Due to my sobriety, and my conscious choice to deal with my feels I have in effect caused myself to be more vulnerable than I have ever been in my life. The resent books, the synchronizing events, are all bringing about the intense feels. I am approaching true grieving. Having recently learned that I've never properly grieved, grieving is imminent. But thinking about grief, reading about it, doesn't heal the wound. The studying is like the first step, a baby step at that. What needs to happen, what must happen, what is happening is a real life experience, with a real life person, and my wife never lets me down.

I'm not going to talk about my wife too much personally, because the truth is it's none of your business. The severity of my mother issues renders it impossible for me to be able to tell what is really going on anyways. The best way to explain it is, I'm two different people. On one hand, I am in total control of myself, but on the other hand I'm a panic filled terrified child. If I'm single, read here, not in love with someone, I have psychic abilities, and operate at a high level of awareness, but the second I love a woman, in regards to that woman, like I said, panic filled, terrified child. I in effect, lose all of my psychic and mental abilities. When in love I cannot tell what the fuck is going on. I've heard this is common for anyone in love, so I must assume having these crazy ass mother issues that it is amplified considerably. It makes what should be glorious times, into terrifying ones.

For instance, say I call my wife, and she doesn't answer, my mind will immediately go to worst case scenario without even a blink. Who is she talking to? What is she doing? What is going on? Why didn't she answer the phone? Say my wife is talking about how much she loves me, then gets home later and seems cold and distant. What happened? What did she do? Why is she cold? Where did my love go? Panic stricken terrified child. The triggers are endless; the fear is real. She doesn't have to do anything wrong. So like I said, there is no reason to talk about my wife because I wouldn't know what is going on anyways. It could be anyone. It has nothing to do with my wife. It has been every woman I've ever been with.

It's important to realize this has nothing to do with thoughts.  I can think all I want that she is doing nothing wrong. Matters not. I am dealing with unresolved emotional content.

This is something that I have carried with me all my life. It has taken a tremendous amount of inner work to even get to the point where I can do this. In the past, the only relief has been to be single, to create incredible ego defenses, walls as they call them, or to maintain such a level of control that I know for certain what is going on at all times. Let me tell you, all of this requires a shit ton of energy. Luckily a childhood of trauma provides just that.

First the Louise Hay trigger. Then the wife trigger. Shit fuck. My chest is tight. I feel panic, fear, creeping in all around me. It is all around me. I feel out of control. I feel like I'm going crazy. I've got no outs, no drugs, no alcohol, no friends. Just me, myself, and my feels. No one is coming to save me. Down into the dark I go.

I get on Facebook. It's my only source of news. Got to keep up on the shithole. I'm a member of a group that is about recovering from childhood trauma. The person who runs the group did a live video, and what do you know, it was about triggers, right at the top of my feed. I give it a listen. She talks to the fact that if one wants to heal from trauma they must use their triggers as a guide. She says a trigger is a sign of where the past unhealed trauma lies. By avoiding triggers one is basically avoiding growing up. You see, no one is responsible for how we feel. I don't even get to blame the woman that gave birth to me at this point. This shit is mine.

I think this is part of it. It must be the case. I was only seventeen years old when they put me in the hole. There is no way I dealt with that emotionally, properly. Anyone who has seen photos of me says that I look totally different after that experience. All alone. No friends. Months and months alone in a cell, trapped like an animal, pacing, talking to myself; no one was coming to save me. It seems as though part of me died in there. My own mother turned her back on me.

The feels are crazy. Maddening. How many times was I abandoned? How many times was I left in the dark? How many times was the shit beat out of me and she never came to save me? How many times did she leave me alone with those men? It's literally a physical sensation. Tight chest, feeling panicked. Terrified. No where to go. No where to hide. No one can help me. No one to blame. This is between me and my own body, my own psyche; this is my life. I lock myself in the bedroom. I tell myself I"m not going to die. I feel like I'm going to die.

Where is she? Where is my mother? Gone.
I am motherless.
I just cry and cry, and cry some more.
I just want a mother.
I just want to fill this hole.
Where is she? Where is my mother? Gone.
Motherless this life of mine.
Just pain, and pain, and pain on pain
I rock myself, I clench my fists.
I just want this pain to end.
Where is she? Where is my mother? Gone.
It's never not the case
I've seeked and sought, and used my force.
Nothing but triggers to stir the pain.
I am this hole
Where is she? Where is my mother? Gone.
The rock has been thrown.

I'll never stop crying about not having a mother. It's not something one gets over. There is no moving on. Self medicating doesn't work. There's no positive spin to spin. Some days are just better than others. The woman who gave birth to me is still alive, but that is not my mother.

“Do you not see how necessary a world of pains and troubles is to school an intelligence and make it a soul?” ― John Keats

The pain of my life has awakened me. I can't imagine having woke up had I had a "good" life. I'd be watching TV, voting for Obama, working some shit job making some asshole rich.  I can't say it hasn't been terrifying. All I can say is; I'm wide awake. The day is coming, sooner than later, when I will bridge that gap: I will fill this hole myself. That is my only concern in life.

It's just that today I'm going to cry.

I'll never forget watching that food documentary. It was about this farm to table chef on the east coast. You see, at first I was like, damn! this guy is fucking handling business. Wife, kids, jogs before work, running this crazy ass restaurant, but then the tears. Half way through the show, while interviewing the chef, he teared up talking about how his mother died when he was a young child. Turns out all he was doing was covering up his pain with his work. His marriage wasn't good. He was so busy there's no way he spent time with his kids. His job was his life. He openly admitted to being a screamer with his staff. An addict without the drugs. For all we know he used drugs, it's not like he was going to admit to his bullshit on a documentary about his "success." Everyone praising him for his seeming success.

Not this guy. I know what it is to not have a mother.