Category: Stream of Thought

Time is always on our side, for it is the basis upon which our material reality resides.

Perhaps the only way to avoid repeating them is to no longer have a stake in the game.

How can you refill a well if there are cracks in it?

Some things take me a while to configure – and then I leap exponentially.

Migraine locking down on neck with stomach swelling, she pushed against green haze to overcome her body’s rebellion.

“Why did you leave?” he asked her.

“I had nothing interesting left to contribute” she replied.

She had already made the decision to leave on her own, but glimpsed as she left how they jostled for his throne.

I did not like my inside attitude today. It was frustrated and angry.

The cottonwood trees have been dropping their fluff fronds full of seeds. Because my hound loves to crunch, she had been eating them, which is toxic to her tummy.

Which means I can no longer let her outside in the yard unsupervised. Which means I have to keep her on a leash during potty time.

We are both upset about this. She shows it to me by second-guessing my desires and cowering.

I hate that because it gives me a complex – as if I have been beating her. This arrangement also stirs up memories of when we were homeless.

And the bones I bought from the store to bake for the dogs for their chewing were rotten. It vexes me greatly when my efforts are “for nothing.”

I need supports that I can count on. It sometimes seems that they get blown away by the wind.

The distance between what I have had and what I would like to have in a relationship seems worlds apart.

The fact that it can become a state of being after a longterm series of stability disruptions is a bit disconcerting.

I would like to be in charge of my own neural programming.

Nourished, valued, wanted.

“They just don’t make them like me that often. I am not perfect by any means, but my soul’s will is stronger.”

My heart’s purpose was stronger than the hearts that I partnered with over time.

I thought that greatness resides within each of us.

I was proven wrong.

If I knew that a true partnership could be had, I would include such a one in my present and future.

By our own hands, we will create our fortune.

Mineral shopping, bakery visits, and gathering plant favorites.

I have a tendency to reject my own unique beauty automatically because I see what media caters to and think that you might not want me.

I am sorry that all of this brainwashing has propagated imbalanced preferences within the masses, and that I have not been strong enough to overcome it when thinking on my own about our prospective partnership.

Bu,t perhaps if I knew that you loved me as well, I would have the missing key to vanquish the messaging.

I am beginning to see my anterior rib muscular definition – Woot!

I had wanted to go to a movie last night, but instead returned home after a long, hot day of running errands.

The little jobs of straightening, ordering, and winding down the household from 8 to 10pm began a countdown necessary for unwinding the hindbrain.

It seems I chose the best option because I carry that experience of resettling with me today as this morning ramps up too quickly for the rest of the day’s activities.

It was with great relief yesterday that as I was paused at a stoplight, I looked down and noticed the tensile, healthy-plump tension has returned to my forearms.

I had a decade of my life’s youth taken from me in a day, and twenty that I did not get to live fully.

It is the least I can do for myself to reclaim how I feel I look and act as my true individual identity.

Watching the Destan series, it has finally jogged my memory that as a child I had to act ignorant to no longer be an obvious target to abuse’s hostilities.

As I grew, I kept my awareness hidden even from me so that I could not accidentally give myself away – yet, the growing healer in me would emerge suddenly and temporarily to help someone if I found them in need.

No wonder I shake and quiver at the primal, subconscious level as I continue to reveal me.

To do so was never safe on the paths I had to travel to flee captivity.

Nice, green hanging pots found free aplenty, yet needed medication tied up dragging in the system.

Where am I?

Who am I?

What do I believe?

What do I want to achieve?

(Title play with words)

“The Field Is The Soul Governing Agency Of The Particle.”

And I thought my phrasings were expansionist!

(The sentence got some good laughter out of me.)

https://subconscioushustle.com/angel-number-1055-powerful-meaning/

All seasons have their cycles.

I just wish the more difficult ones would back off every once in a while.

It just wants comfort, love, compassion, and time to play again.

I can no longer afford late night burning-of-the-candle-at-both-ends ventures. I must first focus upon sleep and patches of time off around work to assist in my health’s recovery.

How I used to operate has reached its limits.

It is difficult knowing what to do with the tangle of past wiring and impulses still hard-pinging.

I must close my eyes, calm my senses, and feel for the right directions.

Then, I am startled by how easy the solutions are as presented.

I will be getting help soon to access old hard drive data which contains past musings and script bitlets.

Mayhap this will also lead into upgrading systems for video editing, storyboarding, and music composition.

The leading in to one door, and exiting out from another.

I am supposed to be focusing on work billing, but I just need time for my being to process.

Yesterday, in a “cutting the Gordian Knot” gesture, my ex called for our past family car to be towed away.

The complicated tangle of paperwork, fees, loopholes, and legalities required to get it fixed and running again on the street were just something neither of us had the time nor money to invest toward its recovery.

Instinct calls me to respond to save it. It has been a good vehicle with 5-speed high-response driving and an excellent stereo system.

Our Matriarch had helped set it up for us to where I managed the payments, and it was our family’s main car providing comfort, fun, and safety while we raised our children.

I know that it must be best to let it go because it is time to release “old baggage” and no longer be tied to outdated associations.

But it is like loosing a beloved family member – and not doing anything further to prevent this from happening causes my gut to churn into panic.

When my ex had his accident, his bike met its end in a similar way: impounded, forgotten about, and left for someone else to salvage or to be thrown away.

Tears of anguished sense of injustice well up, stopped and stuck in my throat, at the thought of our family vehicle – like our once family’s legacy – ending up the same way.

My body quivers from suppressed rage at the reminder that love’s once valiant efforts can so easily become rendered to nothing more than a pile of forgotten, rusting dust.

I have been wondering if it has been the compounded head traumas throughout my life that makes me withdraw overall from people after a time of exposure.

We all feel certain levels of anxiety and pressure when in public, and this can cause blood to pump faster through our systems with the addition of adrenaline.

If the cranium is restricted from being able to expand and contract naturally with its own biorhythms, increased blood flow through restricted channels could cause alarm signals.

This would cause the need for a system shut down reset to calm everything back to what “normalcy” usually is to be regulated.

I think this makes it hard for me to be sustainable exposed because once I am out on a limb, my brain is signaling “this is dangerous!”

Encoded within them had been patterns marching down from centuries of broken generations.

Instinctively, her being sought the ways of healing, determined to break the choke hold.

Then one day, she found a beloved who shared her father’s birthday, which was discovered after the partners bonded.

How random is that? Yet so perfect – as if predestined in such a way as to be recognized.

A current version of what her parents began with, though better and more improved.

Are we designed to make the same mistakes as our parents?

Does the gravity of broken lines keep drawing us back into preset grooves of tragedy?

“We come together to heal the past, turn its tide, and strive to win our children a better future,” had been her primary directive.

But when established players in family systems are resisting, their struggles forego emerging from dysfunction.

It is uncanny how patterns repeat, down to details in repeated actions – and further losses and grief incurred when consequence comes calling.

It turned out that both of them were “victims” of physical accidents.

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.