Monday, March 4, 2013

Why Am I Still Here Today

So this is a kind of sad post but I'd rather be honest than cover things up.
I watched this once, then listened to it while I asked my fiance to watch it, and then just watched it again, and each time the tears roll.

I was never called names on a large scale in school but at home I definitely felt like it was a daily battle. I don't know what things caused me to believe in things this way aside from I guess getting in trouble for small things that didn't make sense to me all the time and feeling under my brother growing up. I still remember the times where my brother and my mom would make fun of me together, about how I would never have a boyfriend because I have an impossible-to-get-along-with personality and an easily irritable temper. I remember they never picked compassion they picked ridicule and pity/look-upon-like-she's-pathetic. Then my dad would tell me to get over it or learn to cope with it. He didn't pick compassion he picked "strength." And it's all really peachy to say I could handle it all but that approach never worked. It never worked because when I chose "strength" I never let myself be hurt or down. I wanted to be bulletproof and unassailable. It took me a while to realise how this wasn't working for me. It took me some ample doses of emotional pain and physical pain - from domestic violence to forced sex - until I could finally see that something in the way I saw things was wrong.

And more importantly, a very recent realisation, they have to be wrong. They can't be right. Otherwise how would I still be here.

The more we hide things the more out of perspective they get. Whoever came up with the idea that being strong by being unassailable was wrong, and my own life experiences are the experiments to that hypothesis. And I can tell you they're wrong.

But only when we realise the deep seated unassailability we all possess by default, spiritually, truthfully, can we then be "brave" enough to tell the truth. But otherwise, we're accepting us as half-good, broken goods, if we put up a facade that everyone can see as bulletproof..the army of friends that call us an inspiration.

I actually had a pretty good day I didn't wake up sad. I think it's because I let myself really cry over this long enough last night and start realising I can pick better. I'll know I've made progress when I come back to this video someday and find that perhaps I'm not crying anymore and understand fully why we go through these things and what a gift it's been to have gone through all these things, and that I don't need them as a contextual field anymore.