Hi Peter

Thank you for sharing your thoughts and the quote! You certainly read a lot of interesting books. Journals are fascinating, like a time capsule.

It is so true, sometimes you have to go through the pain to get to the other side.

I’m not sure what kind of feedback you are looking for, since it seems like you have an idea of types of feedback you don’t want? I don’t want to say the wrong thing.

I keep journals too, just the notes app on my phone really. But I tend to delete them after a time. The earliest entry I can find is 2019. Looking back is a reflection of what I was going through at the time.

In some ways I’m the same, in other ways I’m different. Similar pains but a different intensity. I was trying to prove myself. I’m at a different stage in life now. In some ways, I was kinder to myself back then.

As a parent, everything is a rush with very little time for myself. Very little time to feel or think even. Everything is for my son now.

Also, I found an entry where I was telling the stories of all of the amazing people I’ve met that have helped me over the years. I do believe that who we spend time with becomes a part of us. I think it was my way of showing gratitude for everything they’d taught me.

Love, peace and forgiveness! ❤️🙏

Dear Peter:

“So, this topic thread isn’t about looking for help or trying to fix something, but about journals. Wondering if anyone else has old journals and were surprised but what they wrote back when. Feel free to add thoughts or your own meanderings from any old journal entries you might have”-

– Inspired by your invitation I just accessed one of a few very, very thick folders I have, full of printed pages that I typed or copied and pasted. I’ll start with a poem that was presented to me in 2011 by the therapist (a CBT + Mindfulness therapist) I was seeing at the time, my first quality psychotherapy, as I refer to it. This poem started me on my healing path which continues to this day, mostly in the context of these tiny buddha forums, on a daily basis, ever since May 2015. When I deleted my account on Feb 2023 and did not post through Aug 2023, I still read and studied posts on the forums.

* The separation of the poem into paragraphs as follows (the format) is my doing. The words are Roger Start Keyes’s words, an art historian and a York Zen (a Zen Buddhist meditation group based in York, Northern England) who studied Katsushika Hokusai (1760-1849), a Japanese artist. Here is the poem that started me on the healing part close to 14 years ago:

“Hokusai says look carefully. He says pay attention, notice. He says keep looking, stay curious. He says there is no end to seeing. He says look forward to getting old. He says keep changing, you just get more who you really are. He says get stuck, accept it, repeat yourself as long as it is interesting. He says keep doing what you love. He says keep praying. He says every one of us is a child, every one of us is ancient, every one of us has a body.

“He says every one of us is frightened. He says every one of us has to find a way to live with fear.

“He says everything is alive– shells, buildings, people, fish, mountains, trees, wood is alive. Water is alive. Everything has its own life. Everything lives inside us. He says live with the world inside you.

“He says it doesn’t matter if you draw or write books. It doesn’t matter if you saw wood or catch fish. It doesn’t matter if you sit at home and stare at the ants on your veranda or the shadows of the trees and grasses in your garden. It matters that you care. It matters that you feel. It matters that you notice. It matters that life lives through you.

“Contentment is life living through you. Joy is life living through you. Satisfaction and strength is life living through you. Peace is life living through you.

“He says don’t be afraid. Don’t be afraid. Look, feel, let life take you by the hand. Let life live through you.”

As I was rereading the above poem today, I was thinking about you, Peter. In my mind, it’s as if it was written just for you. But then, it’s as if it was written just for me, and it’s very relevant to every moment, every day of my life still.

I am now looking for something to share from my massive journal entries in one of the folders (difficult because it’s in small print… looking for some old reading glasses) … To my surprise I see a page I typed sometime in the summer of 2008. There, I summarized information I read in a self-help book. Here’s part of it: “Harsh self-criticism lowers one’s motivation, increases anger, guilt and limitation”. What amazes me about these words is that at the time, more than 16 years ago, I wasn’t even close to a significant measure of understanding these words. Now I see that it was a strictly intellectual understanding, nothing that penetrated any deeper than the surface. It is only recently that I understand and practice self- compassion in the place of harsh self- criticism. This shift is a new practice for me.

Turning the pages, I fast forward to Jan 2013. I can see that I was deep into an eating disorder (binge eating) at the time, tortured, obsessed… Here’s something from Jan 2, 2013: “(My therapist’s name) said it has been THE FIGHT OF MY LIFE to BE SEEN”. Here is a part of what I wrote on Jan 28, 2013 (in hand- writing, a sort of a poem in the language I grew up with, translated here): “I waited for a long, long time- I waited and waited for her (my mother) to hear me… Why don’t you hear me?… You (my mother) placed me in a prison of anger- a prison of fear- and I can’t get out…”.

My notes today: going over the (many, so many) pages was sometimes stressful to read, feeling that same-old, same old deep emotional pain that I don’t want to feel again.

I mentioned above having been imprisoned in fear and anger. I didn’t mention, in that poem, having been imprisoned in Guilt. I felt too guilty to become an autonomous entity, too guilty to exist outside of my mother. Under her disturbing dominance, I was psychologically dead, or very much dying on a regular basis (outside moments of forgetting, daydreaming). Now, I can call it emotional enmeshment, a psychological entrapment. I craved freedom from her for more than half a century.

She was my jailer, no doubt. Through her histrionics, protracted self-pity episodes, expressing her suicidal ideation to me, at length, blaming me, at length, many, many times, while there was no seeing ME, no hearing ME, I was unfree to be. Me. There in the home I grew up in, there was no ME. There was ONLY her. No autonomy for me, no self-agency; no empowered, self-directed existence for me. Enmeshment was indeed suffocating to the extreme. I was suffocated but still physically alive.

Feeling disconnected from myself and from others was my brand of living- dying. It was an incredibly isolating and disorienting experience: I didn’t really know what I wanted, what I believed, couldn’t therefore make decisions or set goals because of this not-knowing. Had a sense of aimlessness, as if I was drifting through life without direction or meaning. Growing up, joy and excitement were muted, absent except for when daydreaming while listening to music when I was alone, without her being there in-person. I felt like an observer, detached from my actions or inactions, disconnected from my body and experiences. I felt profoundly lonely, emotionally cut off from the inside and from the outside, not fitting in or belonging anywhere.

This persistent sense of disconnection led to my experience of chronic anxiety, hopelessness, helplessness, physical fatigue and exhaustion on a regular basis.

Thank you, Peter, for the opportunity to find a pair of reading glasses that makes it possible for me to read these old pages. I hope you are doing well and would like to read more about your experiences without trying to fix anything you share, as you requested.

* Trying to fix others by excessive intellectual analysis has been an ineffective habit of mine for the longest time. People need to be given space for their emotions to breathe, so to speak, a quiet space that’s not afforded when being the recipients of … noisy analyses.

anita

Dear Peter:

Thank you for creating this space for people to just express their thoughts. I want to thoroughly read your recent post and reply without analyzing and trying to fix anything or anyone (not easy for me to do, lol) Tues morning. One of my thick folders of mostly typed journal entries and reading glasses are on the carpet to my right, to dig into tomorrow.

I hope that anyone and everyone reading this is encouraged to dig into old journals as well, and share about… things that pierce the human heart.

anita

Dear Peter:

First, I want to rewrite what you presented in your recent post and expand on parts I didn’t adequately understand. Not because you didn’t write it well, but because of my significant to severe lifetime ADD: I can’t absorb much information unless I rewrite what I read. (I’ve done this since I was able to write, rewriting everything when studying for test in elementary school and onward).

In your recent post, you reflected on your habit of labeling your experiences as “bad” or “good.” You acknowledged that these labels impose judgments, which may not accurately reflect the reality of those moments, realizing that your ability to label experiences wasn’t inherently good or bad; it just was.

The lack of labeling and judgment in the storytelling of Sarah Polley’s documentary stood out to you, and you appreciate how the documentary presented Sarah’s mother as a complex and multi-dimensional individual. Instead of being seen through a single lens or defined by one aspect of her life, she is shown as having various sides to her personality and character. This includes her dreams, aspirations, personal struggles, strengths, and weaknesses. The documentary doesn’t shy away from showing her human flaws, acknowledging that she, like everyone else, had her shortcomings. The documentary does not define Sarah’s mother solely by her affair and not reducing her to a single act or mistake.

It’s easy to allow the stories, opinions, and judgments of others to shape how we see ourselves and our own lives. People internalize these external narratives and let them define our self-worth or life path. The key point here is that, despite the influence of others, we have the power to choose whether or not to let these external stories define us. Recognizing that it’s a choice means taking responsibility for how we perceive and define ourselves, rather than passively accepting external definitions. Understanding that we have a choice in how we let others’ stories affect us is empowering.

This means that we can reframe our experiences, redefine our self-worth, and construct a personal narrative that aligns with our authentic selves. It allows us to create a story that is true to who we are. In essence, while others’ stories can influence us, we have the power to choose how much we let them define us.

The documentary’s imagery and approach to capturing raw, unfiltered moments resonates deeply with you. You found beauty in the discomfort and messiness of the individuals sharing their stories. There is a unique beauty in the honest, unfiltered, and sometimes messy sharing of personal stories. You wonder if labeling our experiences prevents us from appreciating their raw beauty. By not labeling, we might be able to see the true essence of our stories.

As you revisited old journal entries, you contemplate whether you can view them without the need to “fix” them. Instead, you consider seeing them with fresh eyes, allowing them to be as they were/are/will be.

You question whether you can accept the messiness of your life as beautiful. This acceptance represents a significant shift in how you perceive and relates to your past.

2nd part of this post is quoting you and commenting: “you could see…. them… all of it in their faces, the shots pierced the heart… the bitter the sweet, and it was beautiful in all its messiness, they were beautiful in their discomfort of sharing”- this sentence, your sentence starts messy, authentic (not tidy) and it is indeed beautiful.

“Can I tell the stories today without the labels and let them be as they were/are/will be? Can I allow the messiness of myself to be beautiful? LOL Why do I feel a need to label is so?”-

-Yesterday, in my short reply, based on these three questions, I labeled/ referred to you as “cute”. The word “cute” is often associated with innocence and a sense of purity, and it’s often used to describe what or who evokes positive and affectionate feelings. Indeed, my use of “cute” was motivated by a feeling of affection and positive appreciation of you. I see innocence and purity in your questions.

But after submitting that post yesterday, I was worried that “cute” may not come across positively to you, that it may offend you. In other words, referring to you as “cute” may have been messy. Although very well intended: I thought it’d make you feel good to know how your questions came across to me.

“Can I tell the stories today without the labels and let them be as they were/are/will be?”- I am now asking myself this question with the intent to answer it in regard to my story or stories involving the person who impacted my life so very much: she (my mother) did what she needed to do, similar in principle to a hungry mountain lion attacking and eating a fawn (a young deer). People generally wouldn’t label the mountain lion “bad” because it is driven by instinct, and it didn’t choose to be born a carnivore (or to be born at all), and everyone needs to eat.

The above was pretty neat. I’ll try to be messy: my mother was so sad, so depressed, I feel sorry for her. Oh, how I wish she was happy, so very, very much, wanting her to be happy with every fiber of my being.

“Without the labels and let them be as they were/are/will be?”- without labels, underneath or beyond labels, there is love (based on what I typed right above, from my heart).

“Can I allow the messiness of myself to be beautiful?”- my messiness is Love, after all, I realize now, as I am typing this. Ha. And love is beautiful, nothing more beautiful.

“LOL Why do I feel a need to label is so?”- (1) my neat answer: labeling is a natural cognitive function that helps us categorize and make sense of the world. It simplifies complex information, making it easier to process and communicate. Historically, labeling has been crucial for survival, helping us quickly identify threats, resources, and social dynamics.

Accurately labeling emotions is necessary for mental health and healthy social function. By accurately naming/ labeling our emotions, we can * Identify what triggers them, which is essential for addressing underlying issues. * Reduce their intensity. For example, identifying a feeling as “anxiety” rather than just experiencing an overwhelming sense of discomfort can make it more manageable. * Apply appropriate coping strategies. Knowing we are sad, for instance, may motivate us to seek comfort, while recognizing anger may lead us to find ways to calm down. * Communicate our feelings more clearly to others, enhancing understanding and empathy in relationships, and resolving conflicts more effectively. * Prevent rumination, where we endlessly cycle through negative thoughts. * Make more informed and balanced choices that consider both emotional and rational aspects. * Avoid making impulsive decisions based on unchecked emotions.

My messy (non-analytical, non-clinical) answer (about you): it’s okay for Peter to be Peter. Peter is beautiful inside and out. Everything about Peter is okay with me. I like you.

anita

Hi Peter

Thank you for clarifying! I will be sure to engage with things that resonate. 😊

I really don’t think it is possible to fix others. To attempt to do so would be an exercise in futility. They have to do it for themselves. But I do think that belief is important and very necessary for fixing oneself. Otherwise, the most you can do is hang around, hope some of your own qualities inspire and rub off on the people around you.

You can attend therapy and never get anywhere expecting the therapist to do the work for you. No one can even change a belief of another person, they have to address and change their own beliefs.

I don’t mind labels, but I am an ex-language teacher and fond of vocabulary. Funnily enough, I think we started talking about similar things on different threads. 😂 I understand what you mean about how labels can change perspective. I cannot imagine writing without labels. I’d be curious to see an example of that if possible? I’d be interested in try myself and reporting back.

Wow! Congratulations on managing to journal for 30 years.

You are always welcome to comment in my threads and share whatever you wish!

Thank you for sharing your experience recovering from surgery, it was fascinating. I haven’t had any experiences like that myself. I had surgery when I was awake, and once when I was a child when I was convinced that the surgery hadn’t even happened. I carried on counting from before the surgery when they were anaesthetising me when I woke up. 😂

I had an experience when I was a teenager. Slightly different. I had left my biological mother at the age of 15. I had this world view that my mother was the only bad person in the world, the only thing I had to be afraid of. I was brave and unafraid exploring the world. Everything was child’s play compared to the difficulties I had experienced in the past. Until I was hurt by someone who was also a bad person. My world view crumbled and I became afraid once more, the world became a place where I couldn’t trust anyone anymore (it was someone I trusted that hurt me).

I like the Matrix too by the way! Mouse was my favourite character.

Love, peace and forgiveness! ❤️🙏