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Life Worth Living- what is it like?

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  • #447651
    anita
    Participant

    Defy the message that I was- am a B.A.D person. (Trigger Warning..)

    I understand my mother’s pathology. Yet, my understanding cannot undo the impact she had on me.

    With all my empathy, I cannot undo what it feels when a mother, your own mother… your very own mother, threatens to “break your bones”, to “MURDER you”, her words.. How can empathy for her make these words okay.

    Night after night.. there she is, sleeping, breathing.. not far away.. a bit snoring..

    Am I am safe?

    Sounds like I am safe.

    Tonight. Sleep.

    When she wakes up.. Here she goes.. again: “I WILL BREAK YOUR BONES! I WILL MURDER YOU!”

    How does a girl (or a boy) live with this?

    Tics, Tourette’s, Anxiety, OCD, Depression… that’s how.

    Oh.. and there was her severe anorexia and/ or bulimia when pregnant with me.. a bridge baby.. brain development dysfunctions, ADD, ADHD, learning disabilities.. memory dysfunctions, the inability to understand figurative language.. and do such more.

    No mother is a perfect mother, but mine- mine.. was a curse in so many ways, so much.. so much in this one threat: “I Will MURDER YOU!” –

    Why did she have to go that far? Why did she have to threaten murder.. why?

    Why mother.. why threaten to MUURDER me.. why use that word.. why???

    I mean, why use “murder”?

    Nothing in you thought it was a bit rough.. to use that word.. Nothing Gentler Just for Me.. ??

    MURDER is what you thought I deserved? I was only a 2-3-4-5-6-year old.. some softening of the “murder”, please?

    I better brush my teeth and go to bed.. mind boggling, is what it is. (totally dark, no sounds of birds)

    Anita

    #447687
    anita
    Participant

    Journaling, Stream of Consciousness:

    It’s totally dark outside, no skies, no light.. no birds calling, chirping, singing… NOTHING but the music I choose to listen to on YouTube.

    Drinking red wine with ice.. because it’s so very hot, perspiring, sweating.. HOT.

    Thinking of my most recent communication with Peter.

    We’re two years apart, 62, 64. Two kids in old people’s .. physical presentation.

    Really, more like (my thought), a 5-year-old Peter, a 7-year-old Anita.

    Two kids.

    I don’t know of anyone here, on tiny buddha, who is and has been less confrontational than Peter. A non-confrontational expert.

    It has to be about that non-duality, non-measurement, separation-is-only-an-illusion spirituality.

    Separation has been the theme and reality (yes, REALITY) of my life.

    It’s hard to perceive it an ILLUSION.

    Maybe looking down at all of this from another, future dimension- a heaven- or a more advanced, fluid substitute concept- it’s an illusion.. but not really, not from here, Earth 2025, Earth 1960s-2020s Earth.

    I see people, in real-life, longing to connect.. but connection, in real-life, is just.. too much. Too much raw emotions, such that can’t be explained away with words.

    To connect.. really, it’s a no-words endeavor. A look in the eye, a sentiment.. and withdrawal.. because THAT was too much.

    Emotions in danger of Exploding .. a wild fire.

    Not sure what I am saying beyond this point..

    But I am not giving up (silly me).. what am I saying..

    Connection is that AHH.. Nothing but that AHH, unsubstantiated, un-verified.. something in the air..

    Anita

    #447711
    Peter
    Participant

    Hi Anita
    I’m hesitant to break into a stream of consciousness exercise but word ‘ILLUSION’ called out.

    The word illusion can feel so heavy, and sometimes used in ways that are maybe misleading. I agree it can sound like it’s saying our experiences, our longing, our grief, our joy aren’t real. But maybe it’s not that they’re unreal, just that the illusion is that such experiences are only part of the whole story and we don’t notice.?

    From where we stand this moment in 2025 (a moment that contains within all imagined moments), in these fragile, feeling bodies separation is deeply real. We ache for connection, and yet often if it comes, as you note, it can be overwhelming. Too much. Too raw. And yet, that ache itself points to something: that we know, somewhere deep down, that everything is connected.

    Maybe what non-duality asks of us isn’t to deny the pain of separation, but to hold it alongside the truth of unity. Life seems to be asking us to live in that tension – to feel the turbulent waves of emotion and still remember the ocean beneath it. To honor the heartbreak and the wholeness. Not to escape the human experience, but to see it as part of something larger, something already whole.

    Put another way: The illusion isn’t that the painting isn’t real but that it forgets its on the canvas. Life asks us to hold the tension between the vivid brushstrokes of our experience and the quiet presence of the canvas beneath. If only so we remember, and in remembering just maybe our stories begin to soften.

    #447716
    Peter
    Participant

    A comment on non-duality and its relationship to illusion.

    Non-duality resists language because language itself is dualistic, built on distinctions, categories, and measurements. In the experience of non-duality, these dissolve and there is no subject and object, no observer and observed just being.

    But the moment we try to describe it, we reintroduce separation. The words become a map, not the territory. And in that shift, the experience can feel like it vanishes as if it was never real, just an illusion. Not because it wasn’t true, but because truth in that state doesn’t leave residue. It doesn’t cling. It doesn’t explain itself.

    So we’re left with the paradox: the impulse to speak of the non-dual ends the non-dual experience and yet, we speak anyway because something in us remembers.

    #447739
    Alessa
    Participant

    Hi Anita

    Thanks for the warm welcome and kind wishes! ❤️

    Covid sucks! But I’m able to pull my thoughts together and am coming out of the tail end of it finally.

    Like your mother? I think not. I sincerely doubt you threatened to murder a child? Or kicked one in the street? Or slapped someone in the face repeatedly whilst smiling?

    What you are left with is the scars of the severe childhood abuse. The distrust, the fear of others.

    Everyone makes mistakes, it is part of being human. Anger is understandable.

    You have remorse, something that she didn’t. Not the same thing at all. You are undoing all that was taught to you. You are aware of your trauma and are working on it. Doing your best to make amends for your mistakes and accepting responsibility. As painful as it is, it was something that your mother could never do. I think you did a really good job of figuring everything out! ❤️

    #447743
    anita
    Participant

    Thank you so much, Alessa- you are so good at giving emotional support!!!

    Sory you had Covid..

    I’ll write more tonight or in the morning (Thurs afternoon here, dreadfully hot, no A.C.

    Anita

    #447747
    anita
    Participant

    Hi Alessa:

    Thank you so much for your kind and thoughtful message. It really helped me feel seen.

    You’re right—I’m not my mother. I carry the pain, but I’m working hard to heal and take responsibility. Your words reminded me that remorse matters, and that change is possible.

    I’m really glad you’re feeling better after Covid. Sending love and gratitude your way. ❤️❤️❤️

    Warmly, Anita

    #447750
    anita
    Participant

    Journaling this Thurs night- not dark yet, close to 9 pm- not even close to being dark. Birds Loud, Living, Singing-

    Today, I thought I looked good, young-enough, very tanned, slender, muscular (107-8 lbs. at 5’5”, physically working every day).. wrinkles less showing on very tanned skin.. Lighting was just right.. (was at the local taproom).

    S.O.C.I.A.L.I.Z.I.N.G.. oh, how much I love to socializing!!!!!!!

    Didn’t feel OLD. Felt Y.O.U.N.G.

    A precious feeling.. Feeling Young when.. officially, not young anymore.

    A couple of people, men.. noticed me, noticed me. Not Old.

    Listening to an Israeli song on YouTube: “Ani Ve’Ata Neshane et Ha”olam”- meaning,: you and I will change the world.

    If you are reading this.. can you and I.. change the world?

    Ani Ve’ Ata, can we make the world a little bit better.. Peter?

    I wish I knew you better, Peter, in a personal way.. like how do you look like.. How tall are you, what color is your hair.. grey? The color of your eyes.. what is it?

    Mine is brown with green in it.. and my hair, haven’t dyed it in.. what.. ten years.. It’s black with lots of White..

    I got to be Old before I got to be Young..

    And then, here I am Young-Old..

    Anita

    #447781
    anita
    Participant

    Journaling, stream of consciousness this Friday night, just after 9 pm- light outside, not bright though.

    As I am closing this chapter of my life as Anita, this one girl born so long ago-

    This little girl, now in the form of older woman.. she is still the same little girl

    She still wants to be saved, to be rescued by someone super-special who will pick her up and hold her up-

    Yet, the people I wanted to pick me up are little boys and girls, just like me.

    Nothing to Fix, says Peter

    (Peter is one of my favorite people)

    So, what do I say- if tonight, or tomorrow is my personal.. last day?

    I hear the birds, 9:19 pm. I hear the wind, see the trees moving.. the birds, they give me hope. They’re still going strong, communicating with each other.. their lives worth living, no doubt.

    About being Saved.. it’s the girl’s (or boy’s) only hope- that someone out there, stronger, more capable will make all the difference.. be it God, or an older person who seems wise and strong.

    Is this what traditional religion about? Being saved by someone older, stronger, wiser?

    The decades I lived (or died) in desperation, looking for, dreaming of being rescued.

    What was so bad, you might ask.

    -There’s a plane in the sky right now.. almost dark, 9:31 pm.

    No birds.

    What was so BAD? What is so bad..?

    The loneliness. The alone-ness. The acute alone-ness.

    Perhaps worse than death..?

    Social isolation = the death of the soul… – ask the birds, they’ll tell you so.

    You crave connection.. no stronger craving..

    But then.. oh, no, it bites! It hurts

    I just can’t get over my own mother threatening to MURDER me (her words), to BREAK MY BONES (her words).. and then telling me she won’t break my bones so that she won’t get in trouble (being jailed or such thing).

    This was my reality.. threatened to be murdered.. and counting on her wisdom.. to not get into legal trouble…?

    I expressed this before.. how to move on from this?

    Don’t know.

    9:54 pm.. Completely dark outside, no sound of birds.. Alone here tonight, strange sounds inside.. is it mice?

    Quiet right now.. no, there’s something close.. could be a mouse. Something is moving close to me..

    Well, if it’s a mouse, I will easily survive it.

    After all, I survived a big-bad mother-creature who.. still can’t get over it.. her heavy-duty sounding threats to MURDER ME.. Can’t get over it… Just can’t.

    Can’t.

    Totally dark here, I mean, 100 percent dark. 10:04 pm.

    I’m still trying to figure out the MURDER threats…

    REDRUM

    That threat.. tell me how to move on from that?

    In that circumstance, you want to be SAVED, to be RESCUED

    Which is a recipe, as a young woman, for being used and abused further.

    Was she, my mother, justified? Was I the problem? Should I have been something, someone else?

    I wasn’t what you needed, mother.. not what you wanted?

    I was a terrible disappointment for you..?

    I was. I know. You told me so, many, many.. many, many times.

    Truth is, I WAS a disappointment to her. She told me so in so many ways, so many times.

    I know, I know she was wrong.. but it doesn’t change the fact that to her, I was a big, big disappointment.

    To her, I was something deserving of murder.

    I don’t want her HATE of me to live within me anymore. I don’t want to be faithful, loyal to her hate of me.

    I want to separate myself from her hate of me.

    I don’t deserve her hate.

    I never did.

    I was her victim, the victim of an injured-turned.. Evil perpetrator,

    Yes, I am calling my own, beloved mother.. Evil.

    My own mother.. Evil.

    Anita

    #447782
    anita
    Participant

    Wait, did I write right above that my own mother is/ was Evil.?

    She suffered terrible abuse and.. she turned Evil: unendingly shaming me, guilt-ing me, no-mercy-campaigns against me

    As she was hitting me with her hands across my face, she said: “Look what YOU are doing to me, you are making my hands hurt.”

    Anita

    #447784
    Alessa
    Participant

    Hi Anita

    I was having a PTSD episode, so I avoided writing about this before. I’m feeling okay now though.

    My mother said these same things to me as well. She also starved us and gave us vitamins so she wouldn’t get into trouble by making me too sick. I was already sick you see, vomiting every day from the stress, migraines, feeling pain in my bones, fainting, wetting myself into my teens. I was like one of those abused dogs at the shelter – terrified. Now, you wouldn’t know it.

    Personally, I don’t see anything wrong with the desire to seek help, connection or understanding from another person. It is natural.

    Our mothers went in a different direction – think the shelter dogs who become hyper aggressive.

    After going through the process of connecting to that pain deeply and processing the memory.

    Nowadays, it helps me to think of these things as a memory. Just a memory. Breathe. Hold the feeling and gently let it pass. There is no need to stay with it. Just an old memory. Breathe.

    It helps me to take care of my needs and reduce my stress. It helps it to pass. Talking about it, getting a hug. Helps it to pass.

    You are not alone. 🫂 ❤️

    Our mothers were SCUM harming children. You weren’t a disappointment. She was. How disappointing, the unspeakable grief of unmet needs and being actively harmed by a trusted caregiver an innocent child – YOU – experienced at her hands. She was not capable of raising children and you suffered under her charge. It wasn’t your fault. Hers alone.

    Perhaps she felt that she was the lesser of evils? Compared to what else was out there? She had experience orphanages. It is still no excuse for the things she did.

    I’m glad that you survived her and despite your immense suffering turned out to an amazing person.

Viewing 11 posts - 166 through 176 (of 176 total)

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