anger

the anger is at me. for getting fat. for not being able to stick to a diet. for having no will power. for being weak. for not being able to succeed. Mostly for being weak. And when it comes up, I have no where to direct it, and end up wanting to direct it at others. Those close to me. Small announces become raging anger triggers. I feel they have been weak. they have let me down. they haven’t been perfect. When it’s all about how they reflect what triggers the self anger. I’m not perfect. I let myself down. I betrayed myself.

How to change this?

Knowledge/awareness is half the battle, I guess, and today I have that awareness.

It doesn’t stop the anger though.

I rage at myself, but I can’t yell at myself, so I yell at whatever/whomever I can.

I also realise that I believe myself to be a fuck up, and I punish myself because of it. I punish myself by behaving like a fuck up, by behaving like a person others don’t want to be around, and then self fulfill the idea that I’m not a person others want to be around. I want the comfort of a person, but push them away with anger and bad behaviour, because I don’t believe I deserve their comfort. I believe I’m horrible. Ugly. A mess. Then I behave that way. Then I can say I was right, and punish myself for being that way.

so tired

so tired of being me
of not being accepted fully for who I am
why do people put conditions?
be happy, be positive, have your sense of humour at all times, don’t bring your shit with you

well fuck you if you can’t accept me.

Hurt

I watched Australia’s X Factor today and the last female to sing, blew me away with Christina Aguilera’s “hurt”. She was better than Christina. Her voice coupled with the lyrics of the song, tore at my heart. I’ll paste the lyrics here.

Seems like it was yesterday when I saw your face
You told me how proud you were but I walked away
If only I knew what I know today

I would hold you in my arms
I would take the pain away
Thank you for all you’ve done
Forgive all your mistakes
There’s nothing I wouldn’t do
To hear your voice again
Sometimes I want to call you but I know you won’t be there

I’m sorry for blaming you for everything I just couldn’t do
And I’ve hurt myself by hurting you
Some days I feel broke inside but I won’t admit
Sometimes I just want to hide ’cause it’s you I miss
You know it’s so hard to say goodbye when it comes to this

Would you tell me I was wrong?
Would you help me understand?
Are you looking down upon me?
Are you proud of who I am?
There’s nothing I wouldn’t do
To have just one more chance
To look into your eyes and see you looking back

I’m sorry for blaming you for everything I just couldn’t do
And I’ve hurt myself
If I had just one more day, I would tell you how much that
I’ve missed you since you’ve been away

Oh, it’s dangerous
It’s so out of line to try to turn back time

I’m sorry for blaming you for everything I just couldn’t do
And I’ve hurt myself

By hurting you.

They voice a truth for me. I’ve hurt myself by hurting you. My self protection mechanism now is to cut from life (immediately) people who hurt me in any way. That hurt can seem insignificant to others, but to me the smallest injury to my ego is a catastrophic blow to my psyche. In a flawed attempt to prevent a person’s rejection, or dislike of me or my behaviour, I sever the ties at the first hint that it may happen. It’s supposed to be protection from pain, but it brings me huge pain, and it injures me on a deeper, more damaging level…. each time I do it, the cut gets deeper.

I bleed tears from every part of my body, and yet I have to do it quietly because I have no where to go to be isolated from other human beings, so that I might scream out my pain and rage at myself for destroying my happiness more and more each day.

Recently, I wrote to someone that I don’t know how things got so bad. I still don’t know. Yes, trying to be strong for too long leads to depression. I did that for years and years. And the avoidance that I had some degree of control over has now swamped me. I try to control my pain but bring more pain by trying to be in control of it, by trying to anticipate it. My pain is controlling me. My fear is controlling me. I will do anything now to avoid hurt and rejection.

I see no way out. No one can help me. It has to come from me. I don;t have the motivation or desire. There is nothing to do it for. Yet, I cannot live the rest of my days as I am. In fact, I will not live the rest of my days as I am. That is not possible. The reality is, I will get worse, or I will find a way to get better. I fear the former will win out.

I know what started it all. I know what has amplified it. But I don’t know how to let go of the past and of all the pain.

There is no one for me to talk with. No one for me to cry on the shoulder of. No one who cares that much. My mother would, of course. But the pain I would bring to her to see me as I am, and my inability to be that vulnerable with her, means it will not happen.

I have nowhere to turn. I don’t even know what way to turn. I want to drown in an oil slick. I feel weighted down by it already. In my dreams I used to fly. Now, moving my limbs is so difficult I can only pull myself along, move each laden leg, or crawl. I have these dreams a lot now. Life is too difficult.

I fight through treacle and rubber to move forward, but each attempt to move one leg, takes a lifetime’s energy. In my dreams I persevere. I have not yet dropped down and waited to be saved or to die. I wonder if those dreams will come?

where butterflies go

For 26 years she has wandered, confused, through the dark echoing empty mansion. At times she found her way into the maze outside it’s grimy windows and heavy walls.

It was there, that she was able to feel the oppressive weight of the darkness lift, and she could float on gentle breezes, observing the peace and happiness that exists in the world. If she lingered there long enough before the anxiety of having to find a way out took over, causing her to become lost yet again, that happiness would begin to penetrate and the illusion of being a part of the world she knew existed but had been imprisoned from for so long would descend.

Panic would always come though. Worry about what she might surprise upon in the maze; what she might be unprepared for. What if she couldn’t cope? What if she was betrayed by her perceptions and what she thought was a safe place showed itself to be harmful? In fear, she would try to escape the maze, but it always led back to the dark, suffocating mansion. Empty of anything but her painful self analysis and self doubt echoing like memories through the decades.

It was isolated and sad in there, but she knew each and every dark corner. She could more easily sense the possibility of an intruder who may threaten when she dwelled in the darkness. She was safe there. Safe with her known fears and aloneness. No threat of new dangers to batter at her senses. No new opportunities for perceived betrayals.

She dreams, still, of leaving the mansion and the maze outside its door. Of living among the others without fear. She knows, though, that it is only a dream and she gains more comfort from her visiting familiar nightmares than she does from her hopeful lingering daydreams.

And I thought nothing had changed

I’ve just taken the time to read back over some of what I wrote in the past few months. I see clearly that things have changed. I still fall down a deep dark well at times, but far less frequently and for less time.

I know that is because an external trigger is removed from my life. How to keep it out of my life when I return to Cambodia?

I also know that I would have made more progress if I had had someone to bounce off while in Australia. I haven’t. I’m still isolated. I still have only my internal resources to get me through, with the possible exception of one person in another city here.

I still have long moments of wondering why to bother fighting to recover and to become as productive as I can be. It still feels like a mindless game played out by a completely imperfect member of a completely imperfect species.

“God”, I sure hope you didn’t stop at us, but instead went on to improve on your prototype. I hope you have treated us as a step in the learning process. No wonder we are banished to a galaxy seemingly alone. It’s akin to throwing us in the rubbish bin. A flawed project, but one that leads the creator on toward what is sought.

beneath the dither

lies stupid romantic notions
a desire to have a happy ending
as quickly as possible

Conforming to society’s norms

unless a person marries, has a child (or tries to), settles in one place, and is seen to be taking responsibility for ensuring a financially secure future, they are deemed to be playing at life, not growing up, not taking responsibility.

Let me share a little of my view. I in fact am taking responsibility for my role in life and living in a way that I wish the world would live. That is, I do not make my major life decisions based on how much money is involved. This is not being irresponsible. It is refusing to live a life I am told I must live in order to be accepted and deemed mature and a productive member of society. I make my decisions based on my morals and beliefs and what I want to achieve in the world and the type of person I want to be.

Please, tell me how being in a developing country doing my best to contribute to a better life for people on as large a scale as possible, can be deemed being unproductive and immature?

There is more than one way to live in this world. Aborigines have successfully travelled their land for centuries… longer than any other civilisation. Native Americans chose to wander their land. What brought about their (almost) destruction? Those who decided their way of life was better than the aborigines and the native americans.

I do not agree with many things about the corporate world. I sold my soul once to go back to working in an investment bank – trying to be socially accepted and conform. I will never do that again. It was hypocritical of me then and would be more so now. yes,

I need money… but at the cost of my beliefs and morals? NO!!!!

The corporate world can self destruct for all I care. i willed the international global crisis to become so severe that people were shaken enough to start thinking outside the box. No such luck.

I was fuming that people view me as being immature and irresponsible as a result of my decisions. You come spend time in Cambodia and see the difference between your lives and theirs …. and don’t dare tell me it is better to go home and play at house in blind, ignorant safety.

You choose that for yourself? Fine. But don’t judge me because I do not choose the same.

So much more to vent on this subject.

But I’ll finish by saying that my parents are so fully supportive of what I am trying to do here. They have been my biggest financial supporters while I have struggled this past year and a half, because they admire a daughter who wants to do the right thing in life and try to make a real difference, even if it brings struggle to myself in the process.

I so want to swear at all those who share the opinion of those I just deleted from my FB friends list (and my life list)… I’ll refrain this time.

BELOW ARE THE COMMENTS MADE ON FACEBOOK, WHICH IS WHERE I FIRST POSTED THIS >>>>

C WROTE:  That’s the thing B. People who follow “the rules of society” and the daily grind, stay in loveless marriages for their kids, and don’t have many experiences outside their own culture… well I feel bad for them. And you should too. Who are they to pity you? You live completely openly, honestly, and with a healthy critique of the world we live in. You make helping people a priority. You have had more life experiences to speak of than many of your friends will have in their entire life.

Seriously, fuck them. They are confused by you because the one thing you CHOOSE to lack is the thing their whole life revolves around. Gotta have the new SUV, gotta make sure my kids each have their own iphone, gotta have a new dress to Mrs. Houseisbiggerthanours barbecue.

You are a kind, humble, giving, loveable person who has enough gut to say “Hey, I’m just trying to figure out this crazy world we live in and how to be the best person I can be while I’m here.” Which is what we’re all doing – but some are too proud to be anything but perfect on the outside while their insides are crumbling. Well I prefer it your way. Much love and gratitude for being the person you are ♥
I WROTE:

C, thanks for all your words, but most especially for these ones … They are confused by you because the one thing you CHOOSE to lack is the thing their whole life revolves around.
thanks for reminding me of this perspective.
thank you too for being you xx
….

as a follow up, the reply i received said that “being a mother is the hardest un-paid job on the planet – but I wouldn’t swap places with you in a million years” … quite… ‘cos you don’t have the guts to (is my response)

C WROTE:

Oh please. I was a full time nanny for twins for 3 years (and yes, I had to take care of the errands, the house, and cook!) , and have been surviving on caring for the children of workaholic parents for a total of 9. I loved each of them like they were my own and treated them so. “Difficulty” depends on what gifts you have – some people have a great amount of patience and are inherently nurturing. Some people are great at math and business. I am not one of those people, and my professional jobs have proven insanely more stressful and difficult than any of my childcare jobs.

I’ve also found that the younger a mother (or father) is when they have children, the more they tend to live vicariously through them, which I think speaks volumes.

B WROTE:  hit the nail on the head yet again…. difficulty depends on what skills/gifts a person has.

Escape

part of me watches
as you seek to escape
your mind becoming numb
as thoughts thrash against each other

frantically, internal plays out
what external is constrained from
inside your mind turns inside out
flips upside down
runs uncontrollably in circles

there is no escape
not in your oft repeated search
like a nightmare lived out in daytime
the routine plays on and on
no escape

you resort to actions
finally portraying the inner turmoil
the splatter pattern extends

exhausted mind
now sees chaos lying about
atop the debris of previous twisted torment

it is not there
vision instead through distorted broken reflections
no escape from mind’s infractions

ooh i feel a little better now

so don’t worry.
I’ll pull through. Always do in the end.
x

Don’t care anymore

not about work

not about losing my job

not about people who are a lost cause

not about myself

had enough so the meltdown and making my situation worse than ever, begins