Before penning more about gerbils, I feel need to vent a dark spot of deeply vexed frustration tinged with a somber sense of sadness, today ... so if certain insights are repeated, I beg your indulgence, knowing that repetition is not redundant when the goal of healing, thorough and through, (first from having experiencing a lifetime of fear (in the aftermath of my baby sister's death) concerning my not being worthy of love whenever I fell short of perfection, and then from a second self-conceived misperception that saw me paying penance for a soulless sin that had never been mine as it had been shockingly foisted upon an innocent child, who, somehow, feeling soiled deep inside, grew to adulthood without so much as a conscious clue as to why excessive amounts of repentance for not being perfect had failed to wash her (unidentified) self-demeaning attitude clean of ‘reprehensible’ wrong doing until—
Twenty-five years ago, when my outwardly sunny personality experienced sound reason to spiral into the depths of personal despair so dark as to utterly depress my spirit and confound my psyche, which felt need to seek answers to situations that had so dizzied my thought processor’s connection to logic as to make me question the principles that had guided my decisions throughout every developmental stage of my life until—
I sought out by-monthly sessions of EMDR therapy, each of which inspired me to wrap my growing awareness of fear (which began to erupt viscerally, 24/7, as though the central core of my being had need to weave itself into a self protective cocoon thus ‘creating’ a place of emotional safety where my think tank felt free to reflect ever more deeply over my past in a serene environment where my anxious sense of danger closing in would relax, freeing my power of intuition to guide my think tank to muster the courage to back track ever more objectively through each developmental stage of my childhood as if this imaginary emotional cocoon provided my depressed spirit time to re-energize so as to inspire my intelligence to work determinedly at stripping away each layer of my defensive wall of denial, thus strengthening my newly found ability to revisit terrifying moments, which, riding out of subconscious memory on strings of insight that flashed through my mind, ignited my brain’s a self empowered spotlight to shine so brightly as to reveal one repressed (unidentified) fear after another, each of which had harbored a darkly clouded reason for abandoning my good opinion of myself during my youth, based in my ‘failure’ to have lived up to my misinterpretation of my parents’ unrealistic expectations, which suggested that I’d expected their good little girl to behave impeccably, 24/7 forever—until—
The emergence of each insight-driven intuitive sensation of deeper truth, which emerged from subconscious memory, revealed one inner conflict after another, all of which felt so complex as to have overwhelmed my processor, which is why each one tunneled toward the surface on conscious awareness disguised as spikes of latent anxiety as though to offer my intelligence puzzling hints of my repressed misperception of myself as being either a very good or a very bad girl with no wiggle room in between those opposing polar extremes, and as hints of inner conflict (concerning confounding disparagements that saw my adult self image swing from feeling courageously angelic to terrorizing my psyche with self-demeaning misperceptions and back to shining my halo and spreading my wings in a flash) became ever more frequent, my processor’s disconnection frim clarity flooded over with emotional confusion, which rattled my think tank’s peaceable connection to common sense each time I so much as ventured out of my cocoon, because everything that I’d been taught to believe in, concerning ‘family first’ would explode in my face, suggesting that nothing seemed to make sense, any more, so feeling utterly overwhelmed with an escalating sense of mental confusion that I’d feared would become so combustible as to explode through my well-practiced line of self control I found myself crying, aloud, non-stop, as though my heart had experienced sound reason to break anew, every day, so I stepped up my connection to professional help in hopes of understanding why tears streamed down my cheeks as if my eyes were faucets in need of new washers until—
Intuitive strings of inter-related insights, which had continued to flash through my conscious awareness serving as flashbacks, lit up dark spots that had been haunting my lost sense of safety, beginning in childhood, as though ghosts, arising from the dead, were electrifying my conscious memory by plugging my processor into this classic trio of deeper truths:
*The unexamined life is not worth living
*Know thyself (meaning both sides of oneself, and—here comes a really long one)
*Everyone harbors an ego that relies upon a many layered defensive wall of denial, which serves to block our processors from discerning misperceptions (which prove highly imaginative in nature) from reality—and if you’d like a prime example of a mega-maniacal egocentric defensive wall that’s composed of more layers of denial than my mind can peaceably absorb then let’s spotlight the ego that swells the circumference of Donald Trunp’s head to hot-air-ballooning proportions, suggesting why I’ve never been able to fathom the presidential hat as fitting The Donald’s modus operands for even one second—you see, I honor the office of the highest elected official of the free world with the utmost respect, and while I’d respected the opinions of some who have held that position more than others, never have any before Trump offered me sound reason to loath the occupant of that post before now, which is why no portion of my brain has ever been able to accept Mr. Trump as POTUS. Simply put: My thought processor cannot confer the honor of President of The United States of America upon an individual who proves so despicable on a daily basis as to freely and disrespectfully insult the intelligence of every person who refuses to kow tow to the naked preening of The Emperor whose presumptuous blindness, concerning his misrepresentation of reality, considers no one’s welfare other than his own. Rather than being presidential, I see The Donald as portraying a Pretentious Pretender to a non-existent ‘Throne’ as Emperor Greed views planet Earth as his personal Empire. And nothing is politically more reprehensible than the reality of mob mentality made up of lackeys—I mean voters—who have empowered this naked bigot to darken the doorway of The White House by calling it home—until my attention turns toward the body of elected officials, who make up our self-serving legislators whose egocentric role in determining the recent history of our nation’s decline turns a blind eye and deaf ear to the fact that at every level of government the contemptible nature of political corruption has ballooned to bursting through its mask of false respectability so as to have showered our small towns and mega cities with ineffectiveness at every level of politics, beginning with empty promises made by local governments facing bankruptcy after ill conceived attempts to wrap the elephant in the room in red tape proved so impossible that none have been able to whitewash their connection to graft as had once been the rule of thumb, and don’t get me started on their life-long pensions and a health plan, both of which might keep the little guy, who’s drowning in debt, treading water, because, while venting, I must not forget to spotlight dark clouds of political corruption ascending to the heights of The Supreme Court of the land, as today’s Me Too movement resurrects memories of Anita Hill, standing alone in courageous defiance of the old-boys-will-be-boys network, leading the charge against Clarence Thomas, whose unbridled abuse of power proved as matter-of-fact as proves true of Trump’s today, whose own words, broadcast on national TV, exposed his low life opinion of women by voicing an attitude of free handed, sexually abusive, disrespectful, manhandling, inclusive of oogling America’s disrobed, teen-aged daughters, though none of his leering boastful, heavy handed intrusions opened the eyes of the electorate, who'd failed to foil the election of this bully, whose very presence soils the sanctity of the Oval Office on a daily basis without so much as a twitter of shame, and if our nation’s supreme leader is just another shameless abuser of womanhood’s innocence, who (rather than being publicly chastised as was true of President Clinton) finds his lying self flying high in air force one, landing the highest office in the land then, in addition to legislating control over the murderous spread of gunfire, spraying death over innocent lives of all ages, legislation must be passed to create change for the better, insuring that sexual abusers accused by multiple women, many of whom have been silenced by hefty payoffs, are undisputedly declared unqualified to run for public office or be appointed to the highest court in the land!
WHEW!
Talk about my having harbored layers of repressed fury, compromised by layers of repressed fear, each of which has long been in need of identifying and venting, individually, so as to re-establish the lost sense of clarity that restores the good health of every rebalanced processor, which, like mine, has had need to release the venom that rattles the self image of millions of innocent children, who grow up to become deep thinking adults, who while the scales of justice close their eyes freeing power mongers to reign supreme over all without so much as breaking their stride, which is why I just can’t fathom what in heaven God has in mind as their just desserts each time a bully enters a house of worship (or stands outside the pearly gates) praying for the deliverance of a soul that has long since been sold to the devil—just saying.
And now, having had the presence of mind to release at least a small portion of today’s hot spot of fury, concerning corruption unmasked at every level of our governing bodies, inclusive of bishops, CEO’s, teachers, coaches, beloved comedians, actors, producers, grandfathers, uncles, neighbors and boyfriends, rather than suppressing emotion, this bigger picture of moral laxity, which no longer keeps mega-egocentricism in check, burns holes into my current connection to peace of mind each time a current event stimulates my think tank to return to yesteryear in hopes of mending another aspect of my personal sense of safety, which had been shredded along with my innocence by a wolf in sheep’s clothing whose mask of respectability fell to the wayside as his naked lust ravaged my youthful vulnerability so savagely, repeatedly, as to have erected my defense system’s wall of denial to salvage the sanity of a small child, whose subconscious had swallowed the horror of each mind blowing, gut wrenching, muscle tensing experience whole, so that every detail of what proved to be multiple attacks upon my person burrowed ever more deeply into my psyche behind my mental block where life’s most insane experiential moments are condensed and ‘forgotten’ (until I make the mistake of watching or reading the grizzliest news stories after which I go to bed, where yesteryear's howls, which shatter the silence in the still of the night, are set free so as to awaken Will, who, at times, has had to work at gently coaxing me out of a series of nightmares that resurrect detailed portions of repressed experiences which proved so shockingly horrendous as to have been repressed not after but during each brutal attack that struck a child’s undeveloped, utterly overwhelmed, deeply confounded intelligence so bereft of comprehension as to have wiped my conscious memory clean, suggesting why I’d felt assaulted anew, repeatedly, as every second of senselessness that I’d experienced left me feeling as victimized by voicelessness as had originally been true during my lifetime of nightmares, unlike those of today in which the assertive child in my nocturnal dreamscapes screams bloody murder each time MY innocence is about to be assaulted by a dark, hairy beast-like creature, who looks vaguely familiar (hmmm—perhaps I'm nearing intuitive readiness to change repressed anger to suppressed fury now that I’ve mustered the courage to confront the harsh reality of a deeply confounding, highly distressing portion of my developmental past) as terror stricken memories re-emerge in the night though details present themselves in a highly complex state of being in need of astute interpretation, because my defense system continues to be a riddling little critter—sooo—what if the self demeaning demon, buried alive deep within the subconscious portion of your brain, is the voice of repressed fear (of failure/abandonment) which, beginning in childhood, has unconsciously prodded you to excel beyond human endurance at everything you take on, and what if subconscious need to resuscitate a detailed account of the most terrifying experiences of your youth proves necessary to ignite hindsight's flashlight of insight, which will illuminate deeper truths that offer your conscious processor sound reason to change your faulty self assessment for the better by shrinking your inner demon down to child-sized proportions rather than offering your lifetime of guilt-ridden self assessment free rein to continue to disrupt your adult connection to inner peace each time your intelligence is sucked into the dark side of your mind where your subconscious misperception concerning the overwhelming depths of your undeserved guilt (born of a tongue lashing, perhaps, that proved much too harsh to match a small child’s misdemeanor) will escape your adult awareness for as long as your many-layered defensive wall of denial serves as a mental block that blinds your mind’s eye from identifying how often your subconscious reflections declare you to be more humanly imperfect than anyone else who has ever existed on planet earth (as was subconsciously true of me)? And if the voice of that demon (which as you grew up morphed into your voice of fearful self degradation) is allowed to blindside your intelligence, repeatedly, then today’s insight into deeper truth turns the spotlight of hindsight upon this riddle: How often did your inner demon compel your self demeaning mindset to strive toward the impossibility of achieving perfection so single-mindedly as to have caused you to injure yourself whenever your lack of self-awareness unknowingly bypassed common sense due to the fact that your concentration remained focused solely upon surpassing—not just the skill set of everyone else but—your own highly skilled accomplishments, which had already been achieved, suggesting that no level of self-improvement will satisfy your over-achiever’s subterranean mission to perfect whatever remains imperfect as long as your deeply competitive nature has not yet gained so much as a glimmer of a clue as to when your greatest foe (the demon within that lives and breathes and ties your intuitive connection to insight into tight, tension-filled knots) commandeers control over every portion of your brain, suggesting that no one can ‘perfect’ the disruption of your inner peace as unnervingly as you prove to do, all by your tenacious single-minded self, and what if your repressed affliction of harboring latent frustration with life’s imperfections continues to create so much inner turmoil as to deny your power of intuitive thought the peaceful mental environment that’s necessary for the magic of your mind to awaken, each morning, with classic insights bubbling forth, which will not pop before they can be strung together so as to reconstruct the most puzzling aspects of the bigger picture of your life, which, upon being absorbed by the inner sanctum of your open-minded, sponge-like thought processor, will fill in the missing piece that had discombobulated your think tank's natural connection to inner peace when you were too young to understand that adult temper tantrums were not your fault. And now that my intuitive powers have peaceably coached me to pen today’s insight-driven train of thought, concerning the fact that a storehouse of negatively focused frustration is submerged within the turbulent rapids of every person’s subconscious, including yours and mine, we can clearly see how defensive mental blocks blind us from spotlighting the primary reason why your paucity of inner peace is run as ragged as had been true of mine—Geez! If life is short then how much longer will the unconscious portion of your brain feed your inner demon banquets of latent frustration that will remain repressed (buried alive) until your brain stops chastising your human imperfections while chasing each next vision of perfection that's nothing more than a mirage. Once your conscious awareness gains the insight to differentiate between re-emergent bouts of latent anxiety vs. a near and present danger that threatens your connection to safety, your thought processor will no longer run itself ragged on a wheel heading nowhere fast, like a gerbil in a cage that’s actually unlocked! I mean, seriously—though many loving hearts may encourage you to relax, no one can feed your gerbil soul-soothing pellets of positively focused, peaceful reflection that inspires you to embrace the reality of your kind-hearted goodness but a remodeled, rebalanced, relaxed version of YOU! Hmmm ...
Though Ive always voted along democratic lines, I wish our nation could have experienced a John McCain presidency (had he’d not made the mind addling mistake of listening to a body of advisors, who’d tainted his candidacy by adding the narrow scope of Sarah Pallin to his ticket), and though I never experienced the personal pleasure of knowing Senator McCain, my heart feels as sad to know that a truly strong hearted, national hero lost his life to a virulent brain tumor, this week, as my brain feels need to release suppressed anger whenever dt comes to mind—Hmmm ... I wonder what will prove to be the human vulnerability that brings dt and the egocentric ineffectiveness of our failing political system) to their knees ...
Hey— now that another layer of deeply repressed fury, expressed clearly and logically, has been released by way of penning today’s post, I’d like to tell you where I’ve been, over these past three weeks, followed by relating the story about my father and a hungry pair of gerbils running on wheels—unless, of course, a current event captures the full attention of my mind—in truth, one never knows when our intuitive powers will tickle our processors sense of intrigue thus altering the direction of our logically planned, straight and narrow, mental paths
Ohhmmm ....
PS
Though I have no reason to question Socrates's statement: 'Know Thyself'
'The unexamined life is not worth living' offers me reason to think twice ...
PSS
Guess what keeps life interesting?
The fact that Hmmm's titivate the state of our minds much more often than Ohmmm's
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