Buddhism / Self Awareness

Sit. Until I am done.

It’s almost like finding out that, years ago, you were hypnotised to believe that you are wrong, defective, bad, useless, and the someday, something pulls you out of the fog of hypnosis. However, to begin with you can’t be sure that you’re not still in the fog, is this just another trick? Something feels different though, there is a new sense of hope perhaps, a strong sense that you can’t go back. You wouldn’t want to, but even if you did, you couldn’t.

So the trance is broken, or more like breaking, so many layers, so many lies. Who am I? Was that really me in there? Holy crap what happened?
The trouble with this work of self-discovery is that, because of the nature of what you are working with, many times, you have to go back through the past and, in some regard, re-live, re-experience the trauma before you can fully appreciate what it is that you went through, to be fully aware of the cause and effect, to be fully aware and awake you have to follow through the experience watching as your body responds to the unconscious processes of the mind, catching the clues, feeling the pattern and rythym, up and down, down and churned up, gut wrenching fear, heart-breaking pain. All of it all over again.
Sit. Sit. Sit. Let it flow by. Sit. Breathe. Be here. Breathe now. Now. Here. Sit.
Fear. What am I afraid of? This process. I can live life in ignorance. Most do. Why bother? Because the fears don’t leave, we have to transform them to find peace. We have to face and accept them to be free. Ok. So what am I afraid of?
– I want to help but I am scared of being used.
– I want to give, but I am scared of being taken from.
– I want to live my dreams, but I am scared that they’re not really mine.
– I want to succeed but I am scared that the needs of my loved ones will mean that I have to give up my dreams because my need to give is bigger than my need to succeed.
I am a good person. Aren’t I?
I don’t know who I am because all that I was, was torn apart with criticism, negativity, negligence and abuse. The scattered pieces fit so beautifully together but the process of picking them up and re-aligning them is painful, exhausting and seemingly never-ending. The hurt and fatigue fuel the fire of self-doubt, maybe it is me, I despair. Maybe it was always me.
No. Now I know. It was them. It was always them. I was a child, a small, scared, lonely child without someone to hold me and tell me how good and clever I was. Without someone who said with their arms, their eyes and their heart that they loved me, completely, unconditionally, without question. I was the child left, abandoned, 5 minutes, an hour, 3 hours, days, weeks and then months. What needs could I have had? What could I possibly have needed from them? I couldn’t say. I’d lost my voice. I was voiceless.
I feel lost again.
Sit. Sit. Sit. Let it flow by. Sit. Breathe. Be here. Breathe now. Now. Here. Sit.
Can you see what I’m saying? Can you see me? Can you tell me who I am?
Sit. Sit. Sit. Let it flow by. Sit. Breathe. Be here. Breathe now. Now. Here. Sit.
There is trauma. I need to heal and that will take time. I’m scared of time and all that it will bring, but I have nothing else. All that we have is this stretched out, drawn out, moment in slow motion, a fleeting window of opportunity in which to find ourselves, our not-selves, our true selves. My relative self is tired. Mature wisdom will have to wait. I need to sleep. Tomorrow. I will Sit. Sit. Sit. Let it flow by. Sit. Breathe. Be here. Breathe now. Now. Here. Sit.
Until I am done.
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