weight, back, despair,burden

SO, I have been crawling around for about three days now. Can’t straighten out my back. Can’t read, can’t watch TV or movies ( did last night though- and have read some short articles and re-watched the Flower of Life videos, among others. Mostly, I just lie here and watch my mind. I get caught up in this all the time. I am trying to figure out how I am what I am presently, why I can’t straighten out my back. I did do and look at the back points, but honestly, there are so many repeated words that I find these documents very hard to read. I know that I am somehow “giving my power away”, that I am judging my self as less than, that I am afraid and that I get righteous.

One night I used the word “victory” in all it’s forms and this created some “warmth” in my back. I realized that I want to be victorious, I want victory; I had too many scenarios of “saving the world in a wave of righteousness” projecting as movies and “play outs” in my head. This, within the persona of righteousness, was happening in my mind incessantly. After hearing Bernard talk about the process of the breath orgasm, and how sexual images might suddenly appear in the mind with more frequency, I realized that this accurately described what was happening in my mind regarding righteousness. This must be the “system demon” at work.

Vindication as personality is righteousness at play, is fear.

Lying here, I have stopped to look at my self when I desire a cigarette or some coffee and have “gone into” what is the “presence” that is the “heaviness” in my back.

Which took me into images of experiences I had through childhood and as an adult. I remember having high fevers as a child. One day i was left at home alone during such a fever. When my mother got home, she found me naked on the living room rug and asked me why I was there. I said my robe had become so heavy I could no longer wear it. This feeling of an impossible weight has happened often. I used to be afraid of it and one day I decided to “go into ” it, to jump into this. It seemed like this “slippery” thing that moved around and was hard to “catch” and was only that description of itself and nothing more. But even when I realized this, a fear of it, from earlier experiences, always lingered.

But the process of this made me realize that “jumping into” the thing that is inside often reveals the “thing” as nothing. Fear is simply perception.

Anxiety is what drives me to want a cigarette and some coffee, and the way I bite at my nails, and the way I procrastinate. I have stopped my self from procrastinating, had to to write papers, prepare for concerts, but what lingers is the anxiety before facing what needs to be done and I end up going through the ‘weight of the perception of fear” before entering what needs to be done.

I would often wait for the last minute to get things done, to allow no time to think of anything else but what I was doing.

In this, was I allowing anxiousness to drive me?

I have a persona of anxiousness. A “theme” of anxiety and worry. It is what my mother has repeated often in her wording of how life is onto me. My mother always said that a little bit of worry was a “good thing”, it allowed one to be humble and watch what was going on with caution.

Worry=caution=humility all coming together as anxiety. This is being “anxiousness” as the force that drives/motivates/propels.” What would happen if?” as what directs. This is so heavy, so consuming. so exhausting, so blinding, it is no wonder I cannot walk, or sit up. As I “go into this” my whole back starts to throb and become heavy, as thought this heaviness is all that exists and I am once again lying on the rug naked, burdened by the constant persona of worry.

I decided to look at the development of my “personas” as themes and realize when these “themes” appeared in my life. When do they “pop up” as the fear before the thing. When did I start with this anxiousness/worry as “helper/guide”?

When did I start smoking cigarettes with regularity. In college. When did I start biting my nails? between 7 and 12-somewhere. I remember having a really high fever before second grade. But that fever had no images only the room I was in. The later ones had “weights” and people coming out of air conditioners etc. Interesting that the first fever I remember had no “delusions” attached to it. It is as though I am remembering a time when “anxiety” did not exist as me. Why am I here saying this? I am relating the existence of my self to what was said in the “Flower of Life” videos.

So, this anxiety that has become me, as persona, is not me. And wether this realization is of the mind or not, I remember when this was not who I was. But i seem to do this, want an idea of what I am looking for before I go there, or release whatever!

I forgive msyelf for allowing and accepting my self to believe the words of my mother, that “a little bit of worry is a good thing”

I forgive myself for allowing and accepting my self to be anxious. I forgive myself for allowing and accepting my self to exist as anxiousness. I forgive myself for allowing and accepting my self to desire a cigarette and cup of coffee to take my self out of anxiety for a moment. I forgive myself for allowing and accepting my self to fear the future. I forgive myself for allowing and accepting my self to resist doing this forgiveness on anxiety. I forgive myself for allowing and accepting this feeling of resistance. I forgive myself for allowing and accepting my self to feel despair right at this moment, as though somehow i am not able to do this because something is not “right”. I forgive myself for allowing and accepting my self to feel a “knot/not” in the doing of this forgiveness. I forgive my self for allowing and accepting my self to feel so much resistance at this moment I am beginning to feel nauseous. I forgive my self for not being able to type the word “my self” correctly. I forgive my self for allowing and accepting my self to want to go and smoke a cigarette and drink some coffee RIGHT NOW! I forgive myself for allowing and accepting this feeling that something is sinking down from my head to my back as I write. I forgive myself for allowing and accepting my self to not be able to fucking type. I forgive myself for allowing and accepting my self to feel like this is impossible. I forgive myself for allowing and accepting my self to feel indifferent and despondent. I forgive my self for allowing and accepting my self to type from the mind. I forgive myself for allowing and accepting fear the future. I forgive myself for allowing and accepting my self to do forgiveness as a means to stop pain instead of as a means to self realize. I forgive myself for allowing and accepting my self to want to stop typing because every time I type the word my self I mis spell it. I forgive my self for allowing and accepting my self to feel that I am not able to push through this point and as I do all these feelings of despair and self pity and woe suddenly “cloak”around me. I forgive myself for allowing and accepting my self to  not realize that all these emotions are a form of worry, the “pieces of coal” used to get the engine of anxiety going. I forgive myself for allowing and accepting my self to use the feeling of “what if” as “woe”/ “self pity”/ “despondency”/”despair” as worry of what would happen should I not “do what needs to be done to survive”. I forgive myself for allowing and accepting my self to believe that I need worry/despair/woe/sadness/self pity/despair, which is how my mother exists, especially when she calls me and pours this all over me, after she has had a late afternoon drink. I forgive myself for allowing and accepting my self to feel disgusted with my mother, which is really my self disgusted with my self for allowing the same thing within my self as what I see in my mother. I forgive myself for allowing and accepting my self to have stared at my mother at Thanksgiving, the way she could barely stand and was bent over, which is what I am now, and how I was disgusted with this and sad and woeful and frustrated at the same time. I forgive myself for allowing and accepting my self to hate y mother for telling me I am just getting old and that there is nothing I can do. I forgive myself for allowing and accepting my sel to want to never see my mother again because I don’t want to listen to her stories that this is sad, and that that is sad, and that she is old, and that she has money, when she has inherited money, sold houses and made a profit, and now has a fucking huge mortgage on her house  that she inherited with no mortgage and asked me to sell my fucking house to pay off her mortgage. I forgive myself for allowing and accepting my self to be disgusted with the emotions, that are here as my mother and my self. I forgive myself for allowing and accepting my self to be angry. I forgive myself for allowing and accepting my self to not realize that what is here that I am allowing are emotions and not what I am. I forgive my self for allowing and accepting My self to not realize that I am not worry and anxiety, that I as my self as oneness in equality is here, has always been here, is what I am as life.

I forgive myself for allowing and accepting sadness that I have allowed emotion. I forgive myself for allowing and accepting my self to be emotion. I forgive my self for allowing and accepting my self to be the emotion of fear. I forgive myself for not realizing the energetic weight of emotion as something that is not my self here as life. I forgive myself for allowing and accepting the energetic construct of anxiety to become the persona of my self in order to believe that this is what I need to survive. I am not this energy motion and though I have accepted and allowed this, it is not my self. Time to peel the “skin of the snake” off. LOL

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About rebeccakarlendalmas

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