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Latest post 07-08-2008 10:43 AM by Evan. 2 replies.
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  • 07-08-2008 9:43 AM

    • Evan
    • Top 500 Contributor
    • Joined on 01-23-2008
    • Posts 59

    Dismantling my false-self and trying to feel.

    I've Defoo'ed recently.  And I'm trying to do some self-exploration.  I know for a fact that I'm going to need therapy at some point.  But I'm still getting set up in a new place and until I'm more sure of my finances, among other things, I'm on my own.

    I've gotten writer's block trying to write an intro part of this post.  Trying to explain....I'm not sure what.  I just need some help figuring out...stuff. 

    The two journal entries speak for themselves.

    Any help at all would be greatly appreciated.

     

    I wrote this last night:

    http://hoppi-types.livejournal.com/842.html

     

    And I wrote this a little while ago:

    <start>

     

    So, I'm at work with nothing to do. Time for a little self-reflection.

    I feel like I'm trying to hear music. Im listening hard, searching for sounds in the air, and when I find them I focus; trying to make them make sense. To force them all into some kind of melody. Or maybe I'm just waiting for the world to tell me its name.

    And I never can quite hear it.

    Its always Jjjjuuussttttt out of my reach. Tiddly bit to far.

    It feels like I carry a passenger with me. Someone who knows more than I do, but they're dormant, locked up. And from time to time I can cut through the fog and poke em with a stick. But then they're gone again.

    Frustrating?  Oh yes indeed.

    At times I can't fathom why I DeFoo'ed. I feel like part of me was on auto-pilot. My passenger didn't quite take the controls, but he nudged me in the right direction. And he fought with me when he had to. And, he won. Or, we won. But it doesn't feel like a we. He won. My true self. He wrestled me away from my parents. 

    And now I feel like he's not talking.  Or, if he is talking, I can't hear him, or won't.

    </finish>

    I think what I'm trying to do is dismantle my false-self.  And I'm trying to feel something.  Anger at my parents, hatred maybe.  Some empathy for myself.  

    I need some outside input.  I feel really lost.  I wish I could be more descriptive of the type  of help and/or input I'm asking for.  But I can't.    =   /

     

     

    No gods anywhere play chess. They prefer simple, vicious games, where you Do Not Achieve Transcendence but Go Straight to Oblivion; A key to the understanding of all religion is that a god's idea of amusement is Snakes and Ladders with greased rungs-Terry Pratchett, Wyrd Sisters 

    Pulling together is the aim of despotism and tyranny. Free men pull in all kinds of directions. -Terry Pratchett, The Truth

    Evan's Blog

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  • 07-08-2008 9:53 AM In reply to

    Re: Dismantling my false-self and trying to feel.

    Thanks Evan, welcome to the discussion here.

    Would it be more simple to answer questions?

    What were your experiences as a child? (Not, what do you think, as an adult, about those experiences). How were you treated?

    Dave

    "As a vivid, living value, the nation-state as an object of worship and a source of practical and moral solutions is as dead as King Tutankhamun."-- S. Molyneux

  • 07-08-2008 10:43 AM In reply to

    • Evan
    • Top 500 Contributor
    • Joined on 01-23-2008
    • Posts 59

    Re: Dismantling my false-self and trying to feel.

    I had a lot of instruction from both my parents.  I was an extra pair of hands to use.  My mom gave me chores to do and then got upset when I didn't do them.   She'd tell me that I should do them because I was her son and I should help around the house and not be so lazy.  I felt horrible because I didn't do them, but I just didn't feel motivated enough to do them, so I didn't.  I felt like I was being a horrible son because of this.

    My dad would want me to do something for him, I'd do it, and then he'd get upset because I didn't do it right.  He'd sigh, be sarcastic.  Sometimes mean.  I would cringe and look down at the floor.  I looked down at the floor a lot when talking to either of them.

    I  felt shame and confusion.  I tried to do things right, them never being good enough.  Their reactions were mixed.  Sometimes they were good, sometimes bad.   I could never tell which was going to be which.  It put me on edge.

    I was not given a whole lot of privacy.  My parents rarely knocked.  And when they did it was just a quick warning *knock, knock*, and in they came.  This changed as I got older, slightly.  It was about a 50/50 chance I could get a real knock followed by a "Can I come in?"

    I felt afraid around my dad constantly.   And I felt rejected.  

    I was always afraid to express my preferences.  I rarely did. 

     

     

     

    No gods anywhere play chess. They prefer simple, vicious games, where you Do Not Achieve Transcendence but Go Straight to Oblivion; A key to the understanding of all religion is that a god's idea of amusement is Snakes and Ladders with greased rungs-Terry Pratchett, Wyrd Sisters 

    Pulling together is the aim of despotism and tyranny. Free men pull in all kinds of directions. -Terry Pratchett, The Truth

    Evan's Blog

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