decline or accept

Why is it that the green accept button is always on the right? And the slide option is towards the right too? The right side is inherently associated with the right choice, like the Angel that sits on your right shoulder, looking over you, whispering goodness and stuff. What if I’m left-handed? Anyway, I digress. Still, the choices we made, wrong or right, ends up being the right purposeful one somehow. No matter how shitty the choices and the voices were, and how shitty the consequences and screams became, it is always, and indefinitely, unapologetically, the right choice.

But I made some pretty bad choices which have affected me to this day. I am healing now though. I made a choice to heal myself. As I painfully discovered that no one and nothing can truly heal you except yourself. So I dragged myself out of the muck by sheer wilful force. A force that I never knew existed but still came out of that ancient place within me that declined being dragged down, controlled, subdued, or subjected and misguided by substances or people. I have forgotten what is was to be self-sufficient, self-reliant, self-respecting and free. I wonder if I ever was free. I wonder now if I can really begin to understand self-love.

At long last, I am transitioning, hopefully, into a person that is prepared, ready, exhausted and willing enough to accept. I am no longer resisting the accept button, no longer surrendering to decline the truth, or accept a downward spiral. Fuck that shit. It’s not worth it. Things are not worth it. People are not worth it. And the notions and ideas and pasts memories and misconceptions and grudges and anger no longer serve weight to intoxicated victories or infested emotions or warped existential psychological freedom. It only served as a dead weight, a paper weight holding down papers that should fly free when the winds of change come gushing.

I accept that I have emotional issues that need to be addressed and taken care of and it’s ok for me to take my time into understanding them.

I accept that forgiving my parents and moving on from the resentment I held towards one or both of them is essential to my individual growth and finding out who I am with and without the reflections of their inadequate selves projecting through me and my behaviour.

I accept that letting go of people who have existed in my life for too long and accepting the differences and changes that have occurred between us is part of a bigger plan and accepting that fact is the best thing I could have done to myself in so fucking long.

I accept that I live in a unforgivingly negative country thriving on socio-economic issues, political mistrusts and soul-pollution and it is going to take years for any pure change to take affect.

I accept that I must live in a bubble.

I accept that I must work very fucking hard to achieve any relief financially, physically,  emotionally and ultimately spiritually. Very fucking hard.

I accept the Now most of all. I accept the Past and I accept the Future as non-existent entities that have piqued the denial I’ve lived in and robbed me from true clarity.

 

 

 

dry me a river

A river of expression has been flowing within me but that flow keeps coming to a splashing halt against this invisible dam. I have no idea what sort of dam it is or why it is there. But it is there. Majestic, thick, menacing and shall not let my thoughts, feelings or creative purge flow at all.

I am stuck in this state. Over the past couple of weeks I have been delaying, procrastinating, writing a post because I kept yo-yoing between what topic I wanted to write about. I had one topic lingering that I chose to title “forgiving the parent(s)” and others that kept bouncing off the peeled plaster of the walls in my head. They are still bouncing, mad, like angry birds.

Could it all have started with the parents? The agony of growing up? The blaming game when the going gets tough?

So this is a post of my inability to purge in hopes that it still succeeds in purging something.

My mind is restless. My body is screaming for a change. For a state of what it once was. Self-effacing, self-loathing. Sometimes I can feel pretty good actually that I have come a long way. Faced shitty people, shitty environment, shitty substances, shitty realisations. And sometimes I wonder what went right. What went wrong again. What went where why? Back and forth, forth and back. The mental cobwebs go as quickly as they come, like the spider themselves, always in a hurry, always still. The left side of my body is out of balance. From my left eye to my left foot. All the points and joints hurt. But still, I am, amazingly, astronishngly, surviving unscathed. Just yet, for now. Sipping on tea with milk. Extra milk. With that sourly sweet aftertaste at the back of my throat.

want

Not too many years ago, some eyes rolled one day because I had an opinion about relationships.

My opinion was that we all want something from each other.

I never quite understood why I got heat back then and for the longest time I felt shaken over such an obvious concept we perform consciously and subconsciously. I began to scrutinize matters of the innately selfish human condition, how I dealt with people and how others dealt with each other. I surprised and contradicted myself many times, got confused, lost face but hell, I came out knowing I was right.

Not too many years later, and after a cascade of heavy experiences, I still believe in that opinion, and if anything I reaffirm it more now since ultimately we do want something from each other whether anyone cares to admit it or not. I am not afraid to declare that, yes, I want something from you. For example, I want you to read this post, provide an opinion, a critique, think, hate it, like it, ignore it, whatever. You will still provide a reaction that I may want and may not, that you may share or may not share depending on what you want. But I want something useful still. Something that can inspire me, amend me, help me grow, shake and stir my emotions for a moment to reassemble me, or you.

Just because I “want” something doesn’t mean that I want it because I am a an emotional hoarder who is keeping track of everything that everyone has given to me so I could feel special for a while until I want more. No. I could want the good company of a good friend. I could want you to pass the salt. I could want to share something meaningful and beautiful in any given occasion over any random reason for no particular intention. I could want to be alone. I could want to make a move. I could want you to make a move instead. I could want to be evil, do something bad and hurtful. I could want to be understood or appear enigmatic. I could want want itself.

What are relationships loosely based on if not on a certain specific and non-specific set of exchangeable actions and reactions? Who, out there, who, can really not expect something in return? Or at least half-expect something they want returned in some form or another? We attempt to be humble and say we will not expect anything, a brave and noble attitude, but some time during the day and night we expect and want, if not need, secretly; attention, appreciation, money, gratitude, sex, praise, love, ass-licking, a smile, forgiveness, a kiss, a slap on the face, a ding on the phone; because ultimately we want to be acknowledged, we want to stand out, we want to have an opinion. We want to exist in someone else’s world. We want our wants to be addressed and what better way but the wonderful world of social media; the glossy happy helper that asks me every day “what’s on my mind”? Then we end up writing a status, because guess what, we want it to be out there. We make a post knowingly and willfully. It’s a choice we all make. And we make a choice when we want it and when we know it is going to benefit us somehow like a comment, a like or even silence.

No one is completely selfless. No one is completely all-giving. No one expects nothing. No one.

 

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