Feeling like an archaeologist digging through long lost artifacts, not really treasures, most of it are like a lost civilization’s garbage, but it’s a funny picture I get when realizing how thinking about my life is like digging through an ash wasteland wondering what happened there.
It’s my life but feels so disconnected from my reality now that’s incredible, all those feelings are only an echo, they carried so much pain and now it’s just a light sting, like when you note something and dispassionately remark "well that sucks ".
Some of the things that I dug out while I had time and bothered into indulging in this "study":
Weaknesses and generalizations constructed by the trauma are a common finding.
The way your mind is filled with thoughts. How much energy employed and wasted in trying to give yourself a sense, some value and worth, thinking about what to do, how to do it to find appreciation in others, so you can believe again that your life has meaning.
This is a weakness that is very common in many other situations, some call it dreaming, i catalogued it as cope.
I think when your value is stolen away from someone close to you, you lose your compass and direction. A performer pretending to perform a fantasy stole your reality and instead of realizing that they can’t really steal anything from you, understanding they are just acting in a grotesque tragedy and try to make you an extra, you pick up the performer role too and become living the script of the extra, you become the victim who tries desperately to change their role in the act, the fantasy of the protagonist (or main villain).
In doing so you give up your reality for a spectacle that you didn’t like. It was kind of the worst thing and instead of forgetting what a bad show you got suckered in, you become a playing actor who tries to improvise to change their story, in a fantasy novel that was never written for you.
Funny how one can lose agency instead of reclaiming it, our own issues can be activated by the issues of others.
Then the change of perception that makes it all black or white.
Emotions are liars. Love is fake and a fantasy. People are opportunistic and deceitful. All women are disloyal. All men are backstabbers. Nobody understands others. We are all flawed.
And more weakness follows the generalizations.
You should match and join the others. You should compete in the validation circus. You can’t change the world because it’s sick.
This is the kind of junk I commonly see when scanning back the wastelands of the past.
And all the memories of the thoughts and efforts to follow these "guidelines " to merge and lose the weight on your soul, at the cost of changing your soul, better lose it entirely for something else if it means you can finally breathe again.
And the constant disgust of trying to push yourself into this path, the frustration of your senses rejecting everything of this becoming, turning into lower self worth as you realize that you can not put into practice, because it’s repulsive, but since your trauma reasoning set that idea as "the normal " this can only mean you are broken.
Unsurprisingly when gotten through the abyss and back to sanity, is like lifting a mountain from your chest.
You were broken, but not because you couldn’t become a sociopath. You were broken by pain and pain became numbness trying to find a way out. The way out seemingly being the same way of the people who hurt you. They did and show no remorse. That means they are happy. You know they are not evil because you loved them. It’s you who is dysfunctional, what they do is normal.
A mountain yes. Of trash.
Then one day you open the eyes, like they weren’t open for years.
And you see the world. I see. I accept it.
The beauty of nature.
The natural joy and care of people. There is love between some of them. Many of them. And it looks like you always imagined it, like you thought you had before that.
The nature is different, fresh and vital. The sounds are complex. The air, smells light, is all so marvelously simple, spontaneous, it looks like home, and just moments ago looked like a nightmare.
You see. Again.
So what did you see until now?
Those people being manipulative and slimy? All those women who looked at the ready to make you their affair partner? Those men hitting relentlessly on paired women? Did your brain imagined it all?
No it didn’t.
That was real as what you see now is real.
The pain and elucubration of your mind until now was like a filter. Your head was so busy, so hyper focused on what you suffered, that both your conscious mind and your subconscious were set every second for the last years since the event into scanning for what hurt you.
And the rest was filtered out.
You could see but you couldn’t see.
And the mind built and weaved upon this.
The pain and the weakness made a reality from th fantasy of someone else who hurt you. A reality that wasn’t real and echoed the same story over and over mercilessly.
While trying to escape the pain you buried yourself alive beneath it, seeing only one side of the coin, blind to the other even when it was in front of your eyes.
And when you opened your attention to the rest your eyes started registering the rest. The coin was easy to flip, and the side you don’t like so easy to spot and discard now.
Is good to see again.
But the archaeology is still baffling, what can make you get lost in the haunted house for so long?
It wasn’t the assholes who did hurt you. Something inside you allowed for it to persist.
That would be the good thing to find in the big dig of the archaeo dumpster. And once you find it, keep it I. The museum of the never again, quarantined forever.
