Month: June 2023

I’m just trying to dig in deep through a haze of reconnoitering while rebuilding a baseline for a new paradigm.

I have never agreed with how so many people have applied it.

But for me, I think it’s about letting the heart breathe and beat again.

It had been coming since before the accident.

But the smack-down of the blow to my head with a force like God itself smiting me –

And the once-hidden fear that had been buried brought blaringly to the surface that he would never love me,

All of it had been building to create a perfect storm for years so that when we ended suddenly,

There was a snap-back effect which left me stuck upside down and in reverse, unable to right myself up again.

I was loved.

All this time, I could not overcome the trauma because my spine was pinched.

How I have worked, toiled, and endured – when all I needed was to literally be released from the pressure!

As the trauma begins to finally ease from occipital base release, alarmed nerves begin to calm and I remember times that things were still good between us.

He used to help me stretch-pop my back in a bear hug, for example.

And he would playfully tease me for and tolerate my affectionate pounce-snuggling.

Let the rain come down and wash my senses clean, replacing the bad with the much-needed good memories.

O blessed relief!

As my hindbrain begins to decompress after treatment, at last interpretations about the past begin to perceptably shift in the core of it.

For a moment, I could feel that what happened was never really about me.

I was just the golem in the scenery.

(Reference to the book, The Blue Adept.)

Gaslighting and subversive maneuvering could drive any reasonable person into reactivity.

She could feel the patterns of subversion and avoidance but could not stop what he was doing.

He was running away from trauma nightmares illuminated by THC which projected onto her.

I usually do not speak of the things that I write here in person.

They are on deeper processing levels than the average superficial politeness engaged between people allows room for.

To love me is to truly know and see me – to want that which is broken just as much as that which still retains its radiance.

But I have no idea how to break the silence to reach out, find, and bridge to someone prospectively designed for me.

On the surface, who I am presents a facade of intent direction and confused perplexion that hides behind an inclusive smile.

Not much of an ice breaker, and if pressured, I revert to autopilot.

My love, once spiraling outward, turns inward to explore and expand hidden dimensions.

As I pace throughout chambers attending to this or that at pressure’s or diversion’s whims, what slim silence and time on my own gathered here becomes a prized and guarded possession.

At last my lymphatic system begins to release fluid retention.

It has been both cranial and organ/abdominals that needed addressing.

The first to decompress hypervigilance; the second to restore drainage connections.

It seems better to be alone and crave love, than to be with a partner who refuses to give it.

It has been said that when your ideals shatter, so does the hold that the ego has over us.

Well, that’s all fine and dandy for those who are just beginning their learning.

But for a seasoned investor, it’s just discouragimg.

Is it reached when we give up hopes and dreams? Or when we cast aside outdated preconceptions?

Because I am swimming in the mire of internal emotional particals slurried together in a slew of stress-reactive chemicals, I am not sure that my life will ever get better in as far as I can extricate myself from viewing trauma retriggering negatively.

My sign if I ever got forced into an anti-war rally.

Warmed up, pre-cooked chicken and some canned, sodium-free peas from the store are nibbled upon and scooped into a delicate yet determined mouth, whereupon remnant bones are pushed through the straw-sized hole of an empty Starbucks cup – to be thown away later as a solution better than just being tossed straight onto the floor.

When the song “Sweet Dreams” first came out, it was breaking societal barriers where we had still been struggling under social conceptual repression.

80’s and 90’s, baby.

Now such liberating concepts are more mainstream accepted, but I remember how it felt to be one of the suppressed – unshackled.

Some say that it is better to be single – and lately, I am beginning to experience some advantages.

But, I have always desired the sense of being in a whole unit family.

Without it, pieces just seem to be missing.

This evening was my first bike ride out to the park and along the river, stopping along the way back home at a little neighborhood garden stand where I obtained a sunburst squash and sunflower seedlings, as well as some calendula packeted seeds.

Once I had met my fiance, I set out to find us a new place where we could have our family.

The journey uprooted me, and I traveled along different paths than I had ever gone on before, encountering many road blocks and difficulties.

I asked him for his patience and to believe in me. I promised I would succeed again and that he could count on me.

And though he left when it got very hard and is no longer with me, I am beginning to feel trickles of a great satisfaction coming because I am finding my groove again – and manifesting.

The long mirror on her bedroom had been there for who knew how long. It was rippled and disorted the figure, making difficult issues seem even more unapproachable.

She decided one day to completely cover it by a long, dark-woven blue and green hued symbol and floral patterns. Once it could no longer be seen, she soon felt her health recovering.

Right now, I’m not perfect.

In fact, I’m all-over-the-place messy.

But, my shoulder yielded this evening.

And another once-frozen muscle reactivated.

If I keep making things more and more simple, eventually I will get to the root of it all.

And from there, I can branch out and excel again.

I finally could hold back no longer and had to state my concern to the marijuana shop over their advertisement. It was funny as heck, and I appreciated the humor, but the message could steer people in a not-so-healthy direction. Surprisingly, the gent behind the counter was receptive – and we came up with a solution!

You have made your choices.

I can no longer afford to care.

When the tension flares up and I am blamed for another’s personal sense of helplessness, it feels like I cannot break free of our past tragedies – and that I am marked as social pariah, forever to be only seen as a survivor

I have the edgings of jowels, now – WTF!

It could be funny – in fact, hilarious – but that’s my skin misbehaving!