Yesterday’sPost

When I quit the post I wrote yesterday I had another crying fit. The same thing, feeling like I was not wanted. I can feel this again now as I write. It feels like it is sooo real. But it is not.

I also think I play the violin because somewhere in my youth this is what my father wanted me to do. I refused to play as I grew older when he asked me to perform for people. I rebelled. I don’t even know if I wanted to play or not, I just remember being so angry that he wanted me to play. As though , finally, I had something he could show off, when the rest of me was unlucky and not as “pretty” as my sisters. When everything I said made no sense, when I questioned why things were the way they were and would not accept what I was supposed to accept and then receive extensive anger and labeling as stubborn.

I remember the anger. I remember hiding under my bed for a whole day, listening to my father search for me. When he finally found me he climbed under the bed and lay next to me and apologized. I cringe when a man apologizes to me. I feel sick, I also do not like compliments from men. I wave my hand and tell them not to say that to me. It is like I don’t want the compliments, they are meaningless.

I had a friend I dated for a while the second year after my husband’s death ( because everyone told me I would see what a “real ” man was like- and it didn’t happen), and he told me I grew prettier the more he knew me, which I have been told before. I have taken these words to heart but don’t like the implication because it suggests something about my sisters, and I don’t want to think about how the fuck I look.

I don’t like compliments or apologies from men. I think this is because 1) I was too angry with my father, or 2) it means I have to take this “yucky” emotion and accept what I don’t want to accept because it is not going to change anything.

I remember just being angry.

Just sitting in the car next to my father is a state of tension and friction.

He really has nothing to do with what I have accepted and allowed within myself. This anger, coupled with this awe full feeling of believing that I should just disappear, be eliminated from the earth is as much a judgement as what I have believed to be the judgement of my self by another. This burden, energetic burden, has to stop. This fear behind this burden that I might cause harm just by saying the wrong thing, has to stop. From my perspective right here I am only seeing this ominous presence this belief in what I am as being real.

But somewhere in this is the key because life does move with absolute purpose. Life is there, here and I can shed this belief and accept awareness of myself.

But what if this is true?

Meanwhile, playing the violin has been a place where I face fear, where I have realized that in order to play one must know every inch of oneself, where one must not judge, not fear, not want, where one must have no expectations. Where one just is.

So, in doing this, I have experienced that I am not nothing, that I am life. It is not the thing that I am doing, it is how I am doing it.

So, I must disperse this belief of my self again, and probably again. Being this is a drag. Being this is pointless. Having this is so unproductive. Who needs this?

I forgive myself for allowing and accepting my self to believe that I am a problem. I forgive myself for allowing and accepting my self to believe that anything I say or do could endanger another person because I believe myself to be unlucky to those around me. I forgive myself for allowing and accepting the belief of luck and/or unluck.

I forgive myself for allowing and accepting my self to believe that any compliment paid to me is meaningless because it could not possibly be true. I forgive myself for allowing and accepting my self to want to hide from the world in and as a belief that the world should not see me. I forgive myself for allowing and accepting my self to fear causing problems. I forgive myself for allowing and accepting myself to wallow in my judgment of myself that I accepted. I forgive myself for allowing and accepting my self to not realize that the things my father said had nothing to do with life, were a reflection of how he felt about himself, are/were the same feelings/beliefs/ideas that I have projected onto my son. I forgive myself for allowing and accepting my self to not realize that I know my son is not a problem ( he is a teenager), that it is me lost in my own worries and fearing dealing with what is here in how the world exists and the demands of the system. I forgive myself for allowing and accepting myself to be angry with how things function and in wanting to escape I become annoyed with situations that are here and place the frustration of dealing with the situation onto my son, as my father did with me, as a belief that they are the cause of the situation. I forgive myself for allowing and accepting my self to become what I hated. I forgive myself for allowing and accepting my self to not realize that these thoughts of my self being a problem/unlucky/better off non existent, are constructs that separate one as life as all as one as equal. I forgive myself for allowing and accepting my self to feel like there is this little girl inside of me that is covered up because she hid herself away in fear.  I forgive myself for allowing and accepting my self to believe my mind. I forgive myself for allowing and accepting my self to judge my son as a problem. I forgive myself for allowing and accepting my self to judge myself as a problem. I forgive myself for allowing and accepting myself to not realize in every moment that ANY thought , feeling and emotion is not my self as life, is but a construct. I forgive myself for allowing and accepting myself to react to my father by saying to myself that I am important. I forgive myself for allowing and accepting my self to feel sad that I have allowed my self to believe that I am a problem, and to feel sad that it is ludicrous that I have allowed and accepted this.

ludicrous; from the latin “ludicrum” meaning stage play.

ludicrous ludicrum= foolish stage play.

I forgive myself for allowing and accepting myself to participate in a ludicrous ludicrum .

I am here. I am life. I am not the frustrations of my father that are of a system. I am not the beliefs that are the mind consciousness system. I am life. I am not this feeling of believing I should hide.  I am all as one as equal. In breath, in breathing , here in every moment I am my self and not the beliefs of my mind.

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About rebeccakarlendalmas

Desteni I Process Equal Life Foundation livingincome.me eqafe.com
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