My Truth

[Meh]

I vehemently catapulted myself out of bed before the crack of dawn. I think it was due to a bad dream, if only I could have an anxiety producing dream in the early morning every single day then I could cure one of the more annoying parts of my depression, the hyposomnia. Or is the term hypersomnia......... My eyes are so open, I can't believe it, I will probably fall asleep this afternoon.

Picked up this book at the library: "Finding Your Own North Star" by Martha Beck
The thought of reading this book makes me pissed off. I'm guessing because I don't want to read one more self-help introspection book.
I guess the truth is no matter how much I introspect (look inward) that still life isn't fair, and I just can't change life itself, the past.
I feel like I have tried all the self-help stuff and with 96% effort found it to be 18% helpful.

Five flies are zig-zagging around in this cafe and there is a country song on the radio "1,2,3 Like a Bird I Sing" by Tim McGraw.
The flies look like they are dancing in the air to me. I wonder if animals like music. What are those flies doing, why are they flying together in a bunch, it's like a fly disco. Maybe it's just my imagination but they seem to get more energetic when the music starts and lull between the songs, maybe the sound vibrations simply agitate them, that is quite plausible. I prefer thinking that they are dancing though.

So I have noticed these moments either when I am smiling at the world or when the world is smiling back at me, not necessarily simultaneously. Well, maybe I am smiling but don't always notice my own face muscles. This seems to happen after I have some emotional outpouring. So, yesterday when I was having some fit of an emotion that started by the balloons and frogs, I stopped writing and went outside and people were smiling at me. A woman driving by in a sexy black sports car was smiling at me, bike riders in their aerodynamic suits were smiling at me, families walking by were smiling at me. Why? Why? Why? So I'm asking myself, is this a body language thing, or is this an energy-field aura thing.

I'm asking myself are people really suppose to be emoting on a regular basis?...like how often?...How much?

I decided I want a pet Chupacabra, I would train it to sh*t on people's heads, I would say "Chuuoppy go do some poopy", "Goood Chuopy!"

[Meh]

So, yesterday my fit of laughter happened when I was thinking about the "multiple" versions or images of me.
Maybe behind the laughing is really anxiety about reaching some truth. I could not really identify that particular emotion while I was laughing. I've had it before and I don't know what to call it.

I'm remembering a painting that I did when I was a teenager that depicted a person with multiple heads, the body was sort of wrapped up in white, like mummified, but not really a mummy maybe even a little bit like a chrysalis. The whole painting was white and colorless except for the faces. I use to say my paintings were "feelings". I never wanted to explain them to anyone because I didn't understand them intellectually.

I wonder how many people really have a true self, if it's an ideal, and not a real thing at all. An unattainable thing, like the holy grail.
Like the end of a rainbow.

Or if I am my true self when I am emoting.

Why does society control our emoting so much, I think about the times when I did almost overpour with emotions in my classes. Of course I held it all in.

It is dawning on me that maybe all of my painting efforts were a result of my voicelessness. This makes me rather sad to think that my life has been driven by the experience of voicelessness. Yeah. That makes a lot of sense.
The paintings I have done more recently as an adult, are not about voicelessness as far as I can tell, that's good.

[Meh]

Responding to self:

Yes, I think my laughing yesterday was along the lines of disturbed laughter. I've had strange fits of giggles when working with intuitive people, I don't know what the heck they are tapping into.

Am I "Me" when I am "out of control". Do these fits of giggles come from the real me?....

[Meh]

Replying to self:

Maybe the exhaustion of depression is related to the effort it takes to keep emotions down. I think I wrote this before.
Well only partially. I wish someone could explain this to me. What is the mechanism of keeping emotions down. Am I in denial. I must be. My depression must be part of a denial. And when I'm not in denial then maybe there is all the grief and......who knows what is in there....well on some level I must know what is in there.... the unhealthy me is connected to the healthy me....

I need to itemize my depression into a list. No, that will not help, as if being an accountant of my problems/emotions will control my depression.

[Meh]

Replying to self:

I want to move, I want to throw everything away, I want to become 10 years younger and do it over.
I could cut and dye my hair, get some tattoos, wear different clothes.
Isn't this like a teenage thing, or midlife crisis thing.

I just am stuck in something that I don't want to be stuck in. My place in the world is not where I want to be.
Of course if my place in the world is the result of forces that I don't like (Nar-peeps) then of course I don't like it.
If where I am at now is not the result and culmination of self-dirrectedness then of course it is dissatisfying.
I can take in simple pleasures. But the path. Is this not my real path....

Am I really a derailed train and if so, how off course am I, my face is sort of scrunched up now, I must be making a bad expression at my computer screen. HOW FAR OFF COURSE AM I?

You know if I was sailing around the world in a boat and learned that I landed on the wrong continent it would be sort of an "Oh f*ck" moment in life. Well, it would probably take less time and effort for a boat to correct course back to the target continent then it takes me to figure out where the f I'm going.

that is horrifying, I feel it in me somewhere. I'm pissed or something... Yeah f'ing pissed. I mean seriously I really am fed up. Really pissed.
I want to ruin something, an object, like throw a table through a window but it wouldn't make me feel better. I know that. I'm not going to ruin anything, I'm just day dreaming about it.

I'm a cussing sailor on my crappy boat jumping up and down waving my arms in the air because I have landed way, way off course.

Suppose that is what happens when one does not follow our own "North Star".

[sKePTiKal]

Helen:

I know about painting "feelings"; did it myself for quite a long time. And your visual metaohors are right up my alley - they communicate clearly & directly to me. Loved the balloon heads - or frog eggs, even, particularly seen as potential "being". Maybe that's why I connected so strongly with your writing - your expression of your self is visual, too.

We aren't working on the same thing, you and I, right now. Yet there are overlaps - and some of the things you're writing about and thinking about really open up new perspectives for me, in my own work. Things I didn't know how to say, can now be said using your metaphors... or understood, even.

The balloons - yes, we can push them back at the people who create them. I'm thinking that the balloons represent that person's perceptions of us; how they see and define us. They have to own that balloon - it doesn't belong to us - it's not us. I don't think any of the balloons could be called "me". "Me" is the person holding on to, selecting, the balloons. Maybe balloons = personality or identity?
What I've gotten used to calling "roles". I have multiple roles: mom, grandma, wife, employee, employer, sometimes artist, sometimes writer, sometimes pirate or indian. So for me, the balloons are associated with those roles, how and who I am in those roles...

"me" however is something else. I am the "chooser" of today's balloon. I have a closet full of balloons - like different hats that I wear. Choosing involves emotion - even as simple as like/dislike. Some roles have more complex emotions associated with them. And I think I have very private balloons that I created... ones that I feel aren't completely "socially acceptable" ... or have been TAUGHT that aren't "socially acceptable" - and so I keep them private, mostly. They do get pulled out here, a lot more. But, ya know what? I'm coming to the conclusion, now, that maybe those balloons are feelings, instead.

And that I've been taught my feelings aren't socially acceptable... making ME that way... because of course, I can't exactly not own my own feelings. I'm sorta stuck with them until they change by themselves... or I choose to feel another one. I guess those are the private balloons.

Any of that make any sense? Can you do anything with that?

[Meh]

Is my path a place, an accomplishment, persons, a state of being. You know I could run around my neighborhood screaming obscenities in a half-naked state and I would just exhaust myself and accomplish nothing at all. If I was a sailor I could make someone walk the plank , I could even walk the plank myself, and I would have maps and compasses and junk like that. Telescopes. Ropes. All sorts of handy stuff.
Harpoons. Sails. Motors.

Are there tools for emotions? No tangible contraptions to extract them and bottle them somewhere else. Put them on a shelf where I can see them, in clear glass jars.

I'm really fed up with this internal muddledness. There should be a f'ing clear science to this. I refuse to be confused anymore.
Ok, I CAN and WILL see exactly what the f I am and what the f is in me. That's that.

[Meh]

Message to SELF: I'm not f'ing around anymore, come the f out, right now. Now. I mean it. Now.

[Meh]

Re: Phoenix,

Yes, that does make sense to me.

[Ami]

Alice Miller would say to take chances little by little to trust yourself. Have s/one to talk to who won't shame you and who has been where you have but has healed sufficiently NOT to project their emotions on you and RE--Hurt you.
 These two things would help lead you on the path  to wholeness.        Ami

[Meh]

What side is pushing harder, my mind pushing inward or my emotions pushing outward. I really am wondering about this invisible barrier that contains the emotions. And do I want to break it. I'm a little afraid of doing that. Breaking the emotional container. Opening up the lid of that Tupperware that has been in the fridge for way too long. I picture it as a sac of amniotic fluid that eventually can and will burst.

Come on, I need a map of me so I can locate these things. Some sonar so I don't run into a jagged rock.
Is there ever an ideal time to do this? Probably not.

Maybe there really is some good stuff in there though, along with the bad emotions are other good things that got clogged up along the way.

[Ami]

You want to hear a cosmic joke, Helen? All this time I was thinking I was BAD and I was only human, just like every flawed human being out there.
 I had so many deep troubles , so many heartaches ,so much destruction for a stupidity?         Ami

[Meh]

I'm searching for a word, it is like desperation, futility, exhaustion, frustration. Now I'm one of those shipwrecked people laying on a shore barely alive.

[Meh]

You want to hear a cosmic joke, Helen? All this time I was thinking I was BAD and I was only human, just like every flawed human being out there.
 I had so many deep troubles , so many heartaches ,so much destruction for a stupidity?         Ami

Ami, that is not a very funny joke... 
The only laugh I get from that is a painful one.

Yes, humans are imperfect I do agree. I think that some people actually have self directedness though. And strength.

Ok, I need a new plan for my life a "kick some A" plan.

[Meh]

Sometimes it really feels like god hates me.

I don't believe in karma, it just doesn't hold water for me.

But it really really feels like god f*cking hates me.

I'm still holding a grudge against life. I want to kick it, life. Kick at it like a little kid kicks and screams with a red howling face and streaming tears that pop out of the eyes one after another. I want to throw a tantrum towards life or god. I would kick god in the shins and stick my tongue out and then I would run away and from a distance turn around build up some momentum and velocity, run right back directly at god with my hands straight out in front of me and crash into god, just like kids do. A running little bull.
Maybe I really can beat up god to a pulp.

You know I think this is really coming from the fact that it's not spiritually mature to direct anger. That is not primal reality though.
The primal reality is that I can direct my angry thoughts to my parents. And I am. The truth is they were not responsible. I don't want to forgive them, I did forgive them years ago, it was premature forgiving.

That is it god, you are not an authority figure any more, you are a snail and I'm going to step on you.