And up we go to step two, where a more expansive view of my need to identify another personal vulnerability opens my eyes to how often unhealed wounds to my self image prove responsible for pulling the rug out from under my sense of self worth whenever I forget to remind myself how often subconscious fear of displeasing my loved ones charges me guilty of committing such serious crimes as to pronounce myself unworthy of love until an intuitive train of thought, conveying insight into deeper truth to the conscious portion of my mind, has tunneled through my memory in search of highlightung a defining moment from my childhood, which shows me being too severely chastised so as to offer my growing sense of conscious awareness the clarity to see how often the hypnotic persistence of parental tapes act like the smoking gun that shoots me in the head, triggering subconscious episodes of PTSD in which I judge my human vulnerabilities guilty of committing crimes against my family so terrible as to sentence myself to life in purgatory as if, committing a series of misdemeanors is synonymous with deeming myself a serial killer, and having coaxed my intelligence to ascend to rung two of this virtual step stool, my brain, operating as an objective whole, can clearly grasp this next insight, which rising above the din of my subconscious fears, can be seen shining its spotlight on the primary reason why a previous train of thought had pronounced my brain capable of shrinking sink holes of mega proportions into potholes after time spent in solitary confinement offered my central nervous system a quiet place in which to relax inner tension, freeing my intuitive powers to reflect over a detailed account of my most recent thoughts, words, intentions and reactions, thus releasing objectivity to take the witness stand in hopes of offering my internal judge and jury sound reason to revoke my subconscious errors of self-judgment so as to declare a mistrial, based in new evidence, which proves my conscience innocent of having committed a series of crimes so heinous as to have severed my subconscious connection to self love, repeatedly, until today when my belief in my intuitive powers tossed my guilty conscience a rope with which to pull both sides of my mind (past and present), out of purgatory's sink hole, which I now know will never shrink into a pothole.
On the other hand, time spent in solitude provides my intelligence with a safe place where I can examine the overwhelming presence of subconscious fears, which (stalking my peace of mind like a pride of hungry lions pacing back and forth inside their cages) are in need of naming and taming in hopes of coaxing negatively focused attitudes to reform, freeing my intuitive intelligence to create positively focused, lasting changes for the better, which always prove to be my think tank's main goal, and suddenly, today's train of thought has provided me with the insight to see that my main goal for penning my life story has switched tracks from inspiring readers to seek to know themselves in depth toward securing my sense of objectivity before subconscious fear causes clarity to grow too hazy to identify when to throw my intuitive intelligence a rope in readiness to pull my self-respecting self image to shore moments before a pothole feels reason to grow into a mega-sized sink hole of my own making, inside my head. And thus has a plan shaped up inside my mind: As soon as my spirit feels itself slipping into a pothole that feels like a foxhole in which I feel need to protect my vulnerabilities from enemy fire, I'll toss my think tank one end of a rope (whose other end has been firmly tied to my trusty, three tiered step stool). Then, having enlisted my sense of courage to take hold of the loose end of the rope, I'll pull the wounded portions of my self respect out of harm's way and proceed to ascend my step stool in order to see over and beyond my wall of denial. And lo and behold, while standing on step three, I'll spy my lifelong need to turn down the volume on a series of negatively focused parental tapes that trigger an army of subconscious fears (concerning my unworthiness) to reawaken, shoot down my sense of objective reflection and imprison my sense of clarity in a tower, surrounded by fog. And not until the over-reactive nature of these parent tapes have been disarmed by my adult connection to common sense will my wounded sense of self respect stop flailing around, feeling lost in a flash flood of adrenaline, which serves to cast my thought processor's connection to logic adrift, struggling to lift my smarts above the mega swirl of mental confusion that pierces my heart as soon as any personal encounter stimulates a parent tape to switch itself on, triggering an episode of PTSD to filter so stealthily into my conscious awareness as to capture my thought processor within a subconscious trance as quickly as the wave of a wizard's wand can cast a hypnotic spell ...
Fortunately, this imaginative wizard, who calls my think tank, home, is also capable of creating positively focused spells, which rather than being hypnotic, prove transformative in the best of ways
Unfortunately, reversing hypnotic spells, based in the subconscious arousal of negatively focused parental tapes, takes time, energy and work, because subconscious attitudes, like habits, are highly unlikely to change for the better with the wave of a wand ...
As to my ending today's post on a negative note, that's not really the case
In fact, what I've done is to consciously call forth objectivity to shine its bright spotlight of insight upon my intuitive need to balance positive focus with clear shots of reality in hopes of injecting today's connection between self respect and self worth with common sense
Oh! One more thing:
Did I think to mention that 'parent tapes' serve as an umbrella, covering a wide assortment of self deprecating memories of insults, which had spewed so freely from the mouths of boys and girls, whose bullying tendencies had caused my self worth to shrink back behind my many layered wall of denial before school, after school and on the playground, as well?
Oh! One last thing:
Did I remember to highlight that each insulting slur, woven into a child's memory, is seven times more weighty when determining sliding scales of self esteem than is true of compliments?
PS
If there's one thing that I know for certain it's this:
The positively focused wizard, who calls my think tank home, has her work cut out for her ... good thing her primary mantra reminds her to never give up on making sound use of self-transformative creativity, which, culminating in change for the better, lifts my mind and spirit above yesteryear's subconscious fog, one step stool at a time ...
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