Though my Grandma's self righteous accusation had infuriated my mommy's devastated spirit, Mommy knew God didn’t take Janet’s life to punish her for being bad but I didn’t.I must have made that subconscious vow after hearing my grandma absolve herself of Janet’s death by telling my mommy that God took her baby back as punishment, because mommy was bad. (Details as to why Grandma’s defense system had shattered her daughter’s broken heart with such a self righteous misjudgment will be revealed in a detailed story, which, having been published several years ago, will be copied and pasted into a new post, quite soon.)
What Mommy didn’t realize is the fact that a huge disparity exists between knowing and feeling, for example:
My intelligence knows not to hold the adult I’ve become responsible for the life or death of my loved ones. However, insight suggests that I’ll continue to feel haunted by guilt upon the emergence of any personal imperfection based in the fact that my subconscious fear of being unworthy of love will continue to flare up, short circuiting my brain’s connection to logic until the pilot light igniting the latent nature of that fear is extinguished, freeing my whole brain to accept the reality of imperfection as being natural to the human condition so as to empower me to sleep peacefully rather than feeling so restless as to wrestle with the repressed state of my inner conflict, night after night, while dreams concerning imperfections that threaten my sense of personal safety to flood with feelings of latent anxiety that spike so high as to reawaken the intensity of yesteryear’s itch to get out of my skin until intuitive trains of thought, filtering strings of insight into my conscious awareness, identified my unrealistic vow to God as being the primary source of my inner conflict, which is based in this classic fact of life: Knowing that perfection does not exist has not released me from feeling personally responsible for my loved ones’ ongoing well being, and here’s why I know that today’s insight-laden train of thought is true, through and through:
‘Knowing’ is based in logic, which is the opposite of emotion (feeling). So, in order to reconcile the wrestling match that has divided my self image to exist at opposite poles since the age of three, I’ll continue to participate in EMDR therapy (which, session by session, encourages my intelligence to rewire the conflicted portion of my thought processor to detour around misfired guilt-laden emotional reactions, which having been aimed directly at my vulnerabilities for seventy-two years), have, just this week, freed my insight-driven power of intuitive thought to reveal the main source of my deeply layered, repressed feelings of undeserved guilt, which, upon reawakening in the still of the night, continued to challenge my smarts to re-engage with and make sound use of the self assertive portion of my voice to calm latent attacks of anxiety from spiking whenever I fail to live up to my impossible vow of perfection, and now I know why my voice shouts aloud while the rest of me is sleeping fitfully until Will is awakened, feeling need to soothe latent uprisings of repressed fears of abandonment or explosive eruptions of anger, repeatedly.
No wonder why my think tank awakens feeling tired after having spent the night feeling split into a pair of well matched wrestlers duking it out until undeserved ‘guilt trips’ are down for the count, freeing my intelligence from feeling intuitive need to play capture the (illusive) flag of insight that quells yesteryear’s anxiety from spiking so high as to scale over my defense system’s subconscious wall of denial in the dark of night—Geez!
In the absence of EMDR THERAPY, I’d had no clue that PTSD, which had remained undiagnosed, caused my brain’s circuitry to short wire by shooting my current connection to personal safety with sparks of yesteryear’s fear of gloom and doom, guilting my imperfections to ‘feel’ so bad as to believe myself unworthy of love if anything I’d said or did or didn’t say or had failed to do had caused my family’s or friends’ sunny sides to frown and turn away from me, even momentarily, igniting my fear of feeling banished to the dark side of the moon, forever and a day, and if acknowledging my vow is not enough to extinguish the pilot light under my fear of ‘feeling’emotionally abandoned so as to suffer the consequence of condemning my imperfect self to solitary confinement, and if my next EMDR appointment is scheduled after the holidays then—
No wonder why my think tank awakens feeling tired after having spent the night feeling split into a pair of well matched wrestlers duking it out until undeserved ‘guilt trips’ are down for the count, freeing my intelligence from feeling intuitive need to play capture the (illusive) flag of insight that quells yesteryear’s anxiety from spiking so high as to scale over my defense system’s subconscious wall of denial in the dark of night—Geez!
In the absence of EMDR THERAPY, I’d had no clue that PTSD, which had remained undiagnosed, caused my brain’s circuitry to short wire by shooting my current connection to personal safety with sparks of yesteryear’s fear of gloom and doom, guilting my imperfections to ‘feel’ so bad as to believe myself unworthy of love if anything I’d said or did or didn’t say or had failed to do had caused my family’s or friends’ sunny sides to frown and turn away from me, even momentarily, igniting my fear of feeling banished to the dark side of the moon, forever and a day, and if acknowledging my vow is not enough to extinguish the pilot light under my fear of ‘feeling’emotionally abandoned so as to suffer the consequence of condemning my imperfect self to solitary confinement, and if my next EMDR appointment is scheduled after the holidays then—
In Jan. Of 2019–
I’ll comply with the astute guidance of my therapist, whose professionally trained expertise continues to gently arouse the readiness of the intuitive portion of my brain to continue to peel the onion all the way back to age three in order to exhume emotion that remains deeply repressed so that I can actually feel the child’s anesthetized pain reverberating viscerally throughout my adult body on its way toward being thoroughly released from subconscious captivity, at long last, and as I know that fear of ‘feeling’ the depths of yesteryear’s pain is also repressed, my intelligence has need to pump up my spirit’s main source of positively focused energy so as to fuel the conscious portion of my processor with the courage it takes to empower the wounded portion of my mind to stare down the eye of this tiger until the new year celebrates the arrival of reinforcements carrying big guns aimed at slaying yesteryear’s peace-scorching dragon so that flames of undeserved guilt, concerning my unattainable vow, will ‘feel’completely extinguished—hopefully, forever and a day.
And now, my writing time is up, because Ravi is due to arrive, momentarily with Steven, as we three are on our way to the local fire station—I kid you not! More about the back story that sparked our annual, positively focused adventure with fire fighters, who offer Ravi’s well balanced, four year old mind sound reason to develop deeply rooted feelings of compassionate kindness and generosity, naturally (without suffering the pain of imagined emotional rejection), when next we meet—unless an unexpected detour swerves my time machine off of my intuitively chosen path between now and then
Hhmmm ...
Hhmmm ...
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