Lifequake

I am so glad no one got hurt. So am I. I am so much. Truly. We all survived. Physically we are alive. From the outside no one can see my pain. From the outside I seem unhurt. The opposite is the truth. Right now I only exist. I only exist in my pain, from my hurt. Shook to my existence. Inside I am not alive. My all being is vulnerable to the core. Shook so deeply, scratched, hurt, injured to the essence of my existence.

The physical trauma manifesting in my body, so weak, so tired, my legs hurt from the fall down the hill when the heavy tent broke with me in to its foundation, the wood crashing down into the ground with me. It's two days later and I'm still crashing into the ground, the ground of my existence. 

I returned to the city. A toxic place. Loud, full of danger. Cars, houses, people with no awareness, I stumble around the streets, the beach strap to walk my legs. They don't want to. My body wants to rest. All of it. I see the bruises, the scratches on my skin. The physical evidence of my fall. It seems small. Inside everything hurts. Trauma manifesting itself in all of my body. My mind, my soul, my heart, my spirit, my system. Shut down. To an absolute minimum. Bare minimum is what he also HE left me with.

My mirror. The mirror for two years of my existential trauma and hurt. Maybe I have underestimated the power. Not his power but mine. Underestimated what it means to expose myself over and over again voluntarily to the person who has been mirroring my deepest trauma of no belonging from the moment I met him. Not aware of what it means to consciously expose myself to his poisonous energy. Not truly aware. 

In my kindness I wanted to give him space. Give him purpose for his existence like I wish for people to give me that same space. In my core belief I gave him room to prove to me with every moment of our contact that he doesn't want to do the same for me. Not today. Not back then. He never did. Denying the hurtful truth that giving space for others to exist, to live, their true being, embracing them, holding them, giving them my healing capacity I cannot heal myself. As poison will not be the healing medicine no matter how much you want to be the antidote. I overestimated my power and underestimated his. His power of mirroring back to me my deepest pain as he has no other way. Over and under.

Thinking when he uses the trigger it would be my fault. Not understanding that pulling the trigger is not an act of noblesse but evidence of missing empathy. His world so limited when he is still convinced to see the truth. Pushing it on me when the pushing is pushing me away. He doesn't see. His cloudiness as vast as his conviction about his own truth intruding mine in a harmful way. Pushing my boundaries, my limits every time in no time. It's the same game he's been engaging in and no matter how much I wanted it to be different I was in denial. In denial of his being. His being true to himself in his limited world that is a world of survival.

I don't want to participate. Every time I thought it was new, denying the truth. Every time I wanted to change the rules, make it something new, denying the truth. Each time opening up with a fresh view, yet his is rotten and blue. The same. Never changing in no perspection. Only introspection in his old ancient undeniable truth that is nothing new. Away from my world in every sense. I don't want to be part of that ancient old game. Complying with middle age games as the world seems to remain the same and still I go to play a different game.

I wonder the same does the thought of "Why can I not?" ever appear in his mind? Does this thought of ever doing anything different ever occur to him? Does he ever ask himself after engaging in the traditional game why did I not act differently? Or is it the ever lasting conviction that he did what he did again right in each moment. Is this the blockage where it all goes into devastation invisible to him? It must. Or he would be the most cruel human being.

I drifted away in time and space, the sedative finding their way into my veins. Into my head in these fragile vulnerable times, calming my mind, making my body heavy, swaying in the hammock looking across the sky. Line. Of this beach city. The bottle in the panoramic view, my eyelids get heavy and so does my mind. My heartache gets lighter my craving divine. Reconnecting to the humane urges feeling the wine it's becoming time. Chocolate cake in my belly of change, I'm feeling the grace. Returning slowly, my tiredness taking over before dawn.

The care of my loved ones finally reaching me, soothing my pain, attracting my liveliness I thought has not remained. 

How I know that I’m on the right side? That when I tell someone about how I feel they initially call. How do I know I’m the best place I could be in? Because of the love. Because of the my loved ones ensuring me I could -no- I should call them in the middle of the night to make sure I was ok. Alive with my trauma. To share it. To repeatedly receive messages that I should make a sound if I wasn’t ok, that they’ll be there. Always. 

Today. Next day. I feel out of place, completely lost, lingering around in the universe with nowhere to be nowhere to be found. Alienated.

He’s coming back to my mind. I walk down the boulevard parallel to the beach strip, under the shade of the tropical trees. The air is sticky yet fresh, the sun still too intense for me. My eyelids heavy from the drinks. Two sparkly bottles. Three hours of talks. Healing talks so full of love. So filled with understanding and compassion, so much care for who we are and what we feel. Bringing up our traumas, dissociation, we find all the same struggles, structures, patterns, dynamics in each other, facing them, dissolving them, working through them, connecting through them.

Except for A. A to the K katakana. More and more realizations about what he means for my life, why I have kept him all this time, why I couldn’t fully confidently dismiss him from my life. From day one he has served me as the clearest mirror of my deepest trauma. My hurt of no belonging, of being too much and yet not enough. Of being unwanted and unneeded in this world. Of having no reason to exist in any way because I won’t matter to anyone. 

From the first time we met and every single time that followed after that where he reintroduced himself in different colors each time, playing the same game. Reflecting to me all his shiny brilliant vibrant spectrum of colors, saying all the things I ever wanted to hear, needed to hear to find salvation, heal my pain, cure my heart, he would be the master in creating this illusion of finally getting a safe space. Of finally receiving the recognition, the admiration and appreciation I deserve. Presenting his attentiveness and deeply profound insights about the past and his behavioral structures, displaying the genuine urgency to dissolve his toxic dynamics, break through his patterns thanks to me having seen through him, being the only person who truly understands him on a much more complex and profound level than he can himself.

Everything appearing finally in the right light, putting things into order, restructuring, reframing, unlearning, creating a new bond, a new kind of relationship, a brand new understanding for one another. My ever lasting longing for love and connection, for being the priority for someone, for mattering the most to someone, for being taken care of, for receiving loyalty in love like I provide it for everyone who means something to me. 

Every time he’s knocking on my door, I stand there opening my heart, relieved almost to finally receiving the love and recognition I deserve. Finally. After this endless struggle, this endless pain. Only then…

To be rejected again. Be spat in my face again, punched in my tummy, collapsing from the same pain that I know all too well, every time hurting a little bit more than the time before as along with it slowly the realization arises that I’ve been cheating myself from the moment we met. That I’ve betrayed myself for the price of finally getting what I deserve when there never was a chance to get it from him. Someone who cannot feel. Someone who is incapable of perceiving emotions. Someone who has no sense for human connection at all.

I’ve fooled myself into a project believing there is something I could change with my ever lasting dedication and love for him when I very well know only people can change themselves. When I was shown often enough that this person solely centers around himself with no change no matter what comes out of his mouth as he doesn’t understand his own words. As he has complex understanding of human emotions in any way. 

Triggering me he believed it means that I am wrong or that this is something that I need to get rid of when clearly it is quite the opposite. All we are in this world is hurt. And all we need in this world is the utmost sensitivity and care for each other to heal. While he is doing the opposite by pulling the trigger when he should be the one coming to embrace me, soothe me, hold me in my pain if he had any love for me.

Introspection, isolation and hiding his fully functional protection mechanisms.

I’m tired. Completely drained. Through with all the emotions one could possibly feel. Ready for rest. Just rest. No capacity for any intake. Nothing. Not even listening to music. Plain lethargy. All energy I have left is for staring at the ceiling after taking a swim in the sea. Moving my sore limbs, let the fresh salty water soothe my aching muscles. Refresh my vulnerable soul, let the water clean my cloudy mind, clear my heart. Twisting and turning in the water trying to swim out the trauma in my body. Returning to the beach, hot stone massage, I sink to the ground exhausted. ყველაფერი კარგად იქნება.

Transition change transformation