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August 5, 2025 at 9:29 am in reply to: “He initiated closeness, then disappeared — still hurting months later” #448209
anita
ParticipantAdalie, thank you for sharing so openly. That sounds incredibly hard—and it takes strength to even put those words down. Being in a relationship where care and cruelty alternate would leave anyone feeling emotionally worn and confused.
When you say the brief connection “woke you up a bit,” I wonder… what do you feel it awakened in you? Was it a feeling of being seen? Of remembering what tenderness feels like?
There’s no judgment in asking—only curiosity and compassion. Sometimes even a fleeting moment can stir something real that’s been quiet for too long. And honoring that doesn’t mean you were wrong—it means you’re human.
If talking more helps you sort through any of this, I’m here to listen.
Anita 🌸
anita
ParticipantThanks for sharing these reflections, Peter 😊. I appreciate your thoughtful presence in the garden of this conversation.
Anita 🌱🌸🌿🌻🪴🌳
anita
ParticipantDear John:
I don’t want to overwhelm you with too much input, so please take your time and read at your own pace. Feel free to respond whenever it suits you, and only to what resonates — no need to address every point.
Of all the responses you received in 2013–2014 (long before I discovered Tiny Buddha and joined the community), one stood out. It was also the shortest: just four words.
“John, who hurt you?” —posted by Brook on September 4, 2013, in your thread, Things Said and Things Left Unsaid.
You responded that same day: “No one has hurt me.”
But your full reply painted a richer picture: “No one has hurt me. If anything, I hurt myself through self-judgment and criticism. Any suffering I experience is from craving — a craving to be, or a craving not to be. I watch the up and down from moment to moment and see myself pulling away or pushing toward, just spinning and spinning unnecessarily in circles.😉”-
That response stayed with me because it touches on something deeply human and often unspoken: the quiet denial of pain that originated not from ourselves, but from those who shaped us.
Many children and adult children deny harm done to them by their parents and blame themselves instead. It’s often a survival mechanism. To acknowledge that someone we depended on for love and safety caused us pain can feel destabilizing, even dangerous. So the mind adapts: it reframes, rationalizes, and redirects blame inward. It’s safer, in a way, to believe “I hurt myself” than to face the grief, anger, or disorientation that can come with saying “they hurt me.”
Self-blame can offer a sense of control. If we’re the problem, maybe we can fix it. Maybe we can become “good enough” to earn the love that was withheld. These patterns become internalized — sometimes for years, even decades — until something, or someone, invites us to question them with compassion.
That’s why Brook’s four words were so striking. They weren’t accusatory — they were a quiet invitation to consider what might have gone unspoken. To look at the shadows without flinching.
If you’re open to it, I’d love to continue reflecting with you on how these dynamics shape our inner worlds — and how clarity, not blame, can be a form of grace.
Warmly, Anita
August 4, 2025 at 8:21 pm in reply to: “He initiated closeness, then disappeared — still hurting months later” #448178anita
ParticipantI didn’t know you have a partner, Adalie. I wonder what’s this relationship is about and why you don’t feel much for him..?
I know I am a stranger and you don’t owe me answers.
But maybe talking about it will help you? (there’ll be no judgment coming from me, nothing but empathetic presence).
Anita
anita
ParticipantSOCJ:
About Boundaries: that’s a huge topic for me. I used to feel that I had no right to say No, Enough.. Stop, No More!
To be able to say these things makes me smile! To think, to know that I don’t Have To surrender to what others want from me.. is thrilling, exhilarating!
The one who taught me.. Yes, she.. She taught me that boundaries is not something allowed for me, that it’s an infringement on her supposed right to invade my body, my mind, my space at any time, and in whatever way she wished.
She taught me wrong.
And tonight, I am celebrating my right to say No, to not Respond, to not Engage.
.. I don’t Have To… 😊 ✌️
* Note to Readers: Kindly refrain from responding to this or any future SOCJ (Stream of Consciousness Journal) entries. Thank you for respecting this request—I will continue to include it in upcoming SOCJs.
Anita
August 4, 2025 at 3:39 pm in reply to: “He initiated closeness, then disappeared — still hurting months later” #448175anita
ParticipantGood to read from you again, Adalie!
I think that what it all means, to put it simply, is that you need and long to love and be loved in return. ❣️
Anita
anita
ParticipantHi Peter:
Your story is brilliant.
“He knew which ones needed shade, which ones needed space, and which ones thrived with a little neglect.”-
In human terms, he knew that some people thrive when you offer steady presence and care—like giving shade. Some need freedom and autonomy—space to find themselves without pressure. And some find their strength when you step back and let them wrestle with life on their own—neglect not as abandonment, but as trust in their resilience.
The neat garden is the temporal existence: measurement, labels, separation.
“The second garden lay beyond the wall, wild and boundless.”- That’s the eternal—no separation, no labels, no measurement.
“The first seed grew because I tended it. The second grew without me. One needed boundaries, the other needed freedom. Which is compassion?”- Before reading his answer, I knew it was “both.”
“(Compassion) knows when to build walls and when to walk beyond them. It speaks the language of care in many dialects.”- Compassion doesn’t mean being endlessly open or available. Sometimes, the most loving thing you can do is set a boundary:
* Protecting your well-being from emotional harm
* Saying no to toxic dynamics
* Creating space for clarity and healing
These “walls” aren’t punishments—they’re acts of care. Like fences around a garden, they preserve growth and protect what’s tender.
Other times, compassion asks us to soften, stretch, or step beyond the boundary:
* Offering understanding after someone sincerely admits fault
* Letting closeness deepen when trust is earned
* Choosing grace where judgment might be easier
It’s not contradiction—it’s discernment. Compassion knows the difference between self-sacrifice/ self-erasure, and heart-expansion.
Compassion isn’t one-size-fits-all—it changes based on what’s needed. For one person, care might mean sitting silently beside them. For another, it’s calling out a harmful pattern. And sometimes, it means walking away without apology.
“Boundaries are not prisons. They are invitations to know where you begin, so you may know where you end… and then forget both.”-Boundaries often get mistaken for walls that shut people out or isolate us. But in truth:
They’re not punishment—they’re protection. They’re not rigid—they’re responsive. They’re not fear-driven—they’re clarity-driven
Boundaries invite authenticity, not restriction. They create a frame where your true self can move freely, without being overrun.
Without boundaries, it’s easy to lose your sense of “me” in someone else’s chaos, urgency, or projections. To know where you begin is to reclaim agency and voice. Boundaries help you identify where you stop and the other begins:
* What’s mine vs. what’s theirs? Where does my responsibility end? When am I merging, absorbing, or abandoning myself?
Boundaries guard against emotional enmeshment and relational self-erasure… against the belly-up posture I habitually took.
“Zahir smiled, ‘It is the gardener who listens to the seed, not the wind of old words that tries to shape its bloom.’”- The gardener here is the one who nurtures life attentively—not by imposing, but by listening. They hear the potential whispering from within the seed. They honor the seed’s unique rhythm, rather than forcing it into a mold
They recognize that growth requires presence, not control
To listen to the seed is to be guided by what wants to become—not what others expect it to be. It’s a metaphor for relational attunement—parenting, mentoring, or loving with patience and curiosity.
The “wind of old words” symbolizes, for me, the voices of shame, doubt, or cultural expectations. These winds try to dictate how the seed should bloom—how a person should grow, speak, love, exist. But wind is external. It may be loud, persuasive—but it doesn’t truly know the seed.
This line is a radical act of compassion: It urges us to cultivate from the inside out, not the outside in. To be the kind of presence that listens instead of labels. To trust what’s emerging—even if it doesn’t match what the winds once declared.
It’s about tending the seed instead of yielding to the wind.
“’Do not seek to name the dance. Just feel its rhythm.’ And the mist did not explain. It only embraced. ‘The path is chosen before the mind draws its map.’ And the heart did not argue. It only opened.”- This speaks to the urge we often have to define, categorize, or make sense of what we’re experiencing emotionally, or spiritually.
But some things, especially the most profound, can’t be named. They’re meant to be felt, not explained. Like: a moment of connection you didn’t plan for, a truth that arrives without words, an instinct to choose grace instead of retaliation
Naming is the mind’s attempt to control. But feeling the rhythm is the soul’s way of moving with life.
And that final line—“The heart did not argue. It only opened.”- That’s when we stop trying to explain everything and simply walk forward.
WOW, Peter!
Anita (and Copilot)
anita
ParticipantSOCJ: Mother-could-have-been…
Motherless, in one word.
Impenetrable.. forever-impenetrable mother-could have been.
* Note to Readers: Kindly refrain from responding to this or any future SOCJ (Stream of Consciousness Journal) entries. Thank you for respecting this request—I will continue to include it in upcoming SOCJs.
Anita
anita
ParticipantSOCJ:
I am going back to my mother this Sun night because that’s what, or who I always went back to. And I wonder, what might come up now, in regard to my mother (this GOD of my past life). Whatever comes to mind:
What comes to mind is her deep-brown, dark, soulless eyes (no soul FOR ME).
Nothing else, just that one thing comes 2 mind:: No Soul 4 Me.(NS4M.. I have a thing for acronyms).
That’s all. Nothing else.
My goodness, nothing else at all comes to my mind: NS4Me- that and nothing else.
Nothing to understand further, no one to.. try to reach.
Nothing to long for.. No hope in those deep-brown-, dark, soulless eyes.
An impenetrable darkness.
This is how I sum up the role of my mother in my life: Impenetrable Darkness (ID).
Other people in my life now- lots of penetrable light!
,
So.. turn away from the darkness and toward the light ✨About other Impenetrable Darkness People ((IDP) in my life: let them be, let them go.
So.. Goodbye you… mother-could-have-been.
* Note to Readers: Kindly refrain from responding to this or any future SOCJ (Stream of Consciousness Journal) entries. Thank you for respecting this request—I will continue to include it in upcoming SOCJs.
Anita
anita
ParticipantThank you, Honesty, for your Honest answer: I appreciate and respect it.. and I appreciate and respect you!
You are welcome, and anytime you want to talk, I am here.
Anita
anita
ParticipantSOCJ:
Being connected to myself more than I ever was, I feel so much empathy for people who are suffering. But this empathy- unlike in the past- does not overwhelm me. It feels human.. I feel human.. No longer the freak of nature I thought I was.
I suppose I am reclaiming my humanity, of being the same as anyone else.. Same human value.
There is nothing wrong with me.
I am not confused anymore. I am not conflicted.
Last evening, under the open sky, I was dancing. Live music was playing… People were too self conscious to dance.. and I was the first to dance (lowered inhibitions due to red wine) and.. people joined me. It was beautiful!
At the end of the night, people thanked me for dancing. I felt like a . legend in my own mind.
* Note to Readers: Kindly refrain from responding to this or any future SOCJ (Stream of Consciousness Journal) entries. Thank you for respecting this request—I will continue to include it in upcoming SOCJs.
anita
ParticipantHi again, Honesty-
You’re very welcome. I was thinking that it might be helpful for you to create a Safe Container for your sharing—a space where your story can be expressed without judgment or distortion. Somewhere you can write or type freely, without holding back or second-guessing yourself.
I do this in my threads, especially the recent one titled “Life Worth Living – What Is It Like?” I call these entries SOCJ, which stands for Stream Of Consciousness Journaling. It’s where I type whatever comes to mind, just let it flow.
Yesterday, I added this to the SOCJ of the day: “Note to Readers: Kindly refrain from responding to this or any future SOCJ (Stream of Consciousness Journal) entries. Thank you for respecting this request—I will continue to include it in upcoming SOCJs.”- I added this so to protect my space.
What do you think?
Anita
anita
ParticipantDear John:
You’re welcome!
As for “what’s next—more meditation? More yoga?”- What has helped me tremendously is journaling about painful childhood experiences. I do this in my thread, “Life Worth Living—what is it like?” using a method I call SOCJ (Stream of Consciousness Journaling). I simply type whatever comes to mind, freely and without structure.
You can try it here in your own thread, or privately. Maybe you already have…?
Anita
anita
ParticipantHi Honesty: I will read and reply tomorrow. Take care!
Anita
anita
ParticipantHi Alessa, I appreciate your understanding. This space is helping me reflect and heal in a very specific way right now, which is why I ask for no replies. Thank you for respecting that.
Anita
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