Messy Guru

Rage In the Cage

I had an eye examination done today on my eyes.  My last exam was about two years ago and they prescribed me glasses for my poor eyesight.  I have near sightedness in one eye and far sightedness in the other.  The right eye has cataracts.  The Doctor said today they have doubled in size of two years.  When he told me I could feel intense Rage coming up from inside of me.  He recommends surgery. 

I have no concept of cataracts or even what that means to me or my eyes. 

Except.

Inside was Rage.  In fact I would have accepted anything other than the fact that what I have been seeing and what he was telling me was not matching.  In other words, my version of Reality was not matching what he was telling me.

I tried to reason with him.  Over something I knew nothing about.  He is a Board Certified Eye Surgeon and has 40 years of experience.  That did not matter.  I had good eyes damn it.  I can see everything clearly. 

No he said, "It is what it is".

More Rage.

I think I shut down from that point on.  I could feel intense panic coming up.  I knew enough to know that my Rage had nothing to do with cataracts or my vision.  Or anything about my eyes. 

It was about my Mind.

The Mind is one that tells the story of what the eyes see.  It labels for me what I am looking at.  How could I be seeing the world clearly when my Mind was so backwards and upside down. 

All he was doing was confirming what I believed in. 

My Mind.

and its "story" of everything. 

My eyes are innocent.  They are pretty even.  Light blue with a green spot on the right side.  People who really look at me will sometimes spot it with surprise.  My eyes don't seem to care what the good Doctor is saying.  They just blink.

My Mind blinks too.

It weaves my story of Reality to me over and over.  I am not sure now what is Real or Not. I thought my eyes could protect me from my Mind. 

It cannot. 

This Realization is stunning to me. 

Nisaragadatta Maharaj is right when he says:

"The world is like a sheet of paper on which something is typed. The
reading and the meaning will vary with the reader, but the paper is
the common factor, always present, rarely perceived. When the ribbon is removed, typing leaves no trace on the paper. So is my mind - the
impressions keep on coming, but no trace is left." 

I feel awkwardly free and bewildered by all of it. 

He also says, "The mind covers up reality, without knowing it. To know the nature of the mind, you need intelligence, the capacity to look at the mind in silent and dispassionate awareness."

I found my "proof" today. 

 

Allow It To Be

I spent the better part of my afternoon feeling intense Rage.  It would come and go in waves. Thoughts, feelings, emotions swirling around in my body.  Sometimes I could catch it.

Sometimes.

I would be it.

The Rage.

And other times.  I could allow it to Be.  Just Be.  

I could watch a man in Rage.  The Me that I am suppose to Be.

Except.

It is Not Me.

It's my Mind.  Wanting not be in Rage.

It does what it does. 

It is Rage.

Not me.

I found myself walking around my house saying out loud, "Allow it to be." over and over.

And then silently a voice said, "Its not yours"..............

None of this world is.  None of these thoughts are.  None of the abuse is.  I do not own anything in this dream we call Life.  It just Is.

I will Allow it to Be.

Over.

 

 

Tis The Morning of My Life

I am finally sleeping at night.  For long periods of uninterrupted sleep.  I awake feeling rested.  For once.  The night terrors have stopped.   I still dream but they seem more like "what if" dreams had not turned out the way they did.  Pleasant almost.

The abused Mind has finally stopped tormenting me.  The wounded child.   It took everything to stop this train wreck.  Everything.  I was also provided with the tools to assist in the process.  It still took everything I had to stay in it. 

I was searching for my Innocence.  I was looking for a safe place to be in my Mind.  I am going to be ok Now.  No matter what.  I can no longer believe that a "rope is a snake" as my Mind had me believe.

The Bee Gees have a wonderful song called, "Tis the Morning of My Life".  It's words hit home for me:

In the morning when the moon is at its rest,
you will see me at the time I love the best,
watching rainbows, play on sunlight,
pools of water iced from cold night,in the morning.
'Tis the morning of my life.

In the daytime I will meet you as before.
You will find me waiting by the ocean floor,
building castles in the shifting sands
in a world that no one understands,
in the morning.
'Tis the morning of my life.

In the morning of my life
the minutes take so long to drift away.
Please be patient with your life,
it's only morning and you're still to live your day.

In the evening I will fly you to the moon,
to the top right hand corner of the ceiling in my room,
where we'll stay until the sun shines,
another day to swing on clothe's lines,
may I be yawning.
It is the morning of my life.
It is the morning of my life.

In the morning, In the morning, In the morning.

Calling All Angels

What I needed the most in my life has happened over the past few days.  A person that could see me as a wounded child with an abused Mind.  It came out of the darkness of my Mind and rushed me into a Brilliant Light. It happened through a series of events and then with extended conversations between my sister and I.

It sounds so simple you could almost dismiss it.  It sounds like healing words.  Well intentioned words. 

Except.

It is the experience of them that makes this such a miracle.

It was an accumulation of years of talking, blogging, crying, and pulling apart the threads of our childhood of sexual abuse and neglect.  It seemed impossible at times.  Frustrating and unfair. 

The sequence of events that led to this sudden release was horrifying, exhilarating, and freeing all in matter days.  She summed it up brilliantly in an email to me today with these words:

"The abused mind needs a clear mind to challenge it.
The wounded child needs someone to hear them without judgment or fear."

Neither one of us had both of these characteristics when we started out to heal ourselves.  We knew there had to be a way out of the darkness.  A way to deal with our abused Minds and wounded bodies. 
 
You had to be there.  With me.  Where I was.  

You had to be where she was.  A woman with Loving Kindness.

You had to be able to see me as innocent.

Even if I was sexually abusing myself.

It pulled me out of the darkness and into the Light. 

Brilliant Light.

Joyful Light.

Innocent Light.

Train has a song called, "Calling All Angels" with these words:

"I need a sign to let me know you're here
All of these lines are being crossed over the atmosphere
I need to know that things are gonna look up
Cause I feel us drowning in a sea spilled from a cup

When there is no place safe and no safe place to put my head
When you feel the world shake from the words that are said

[Chorus:]
And I'm calling all angels
I'm calling all you angels

I won't give up if you don't give up [Repeat x4]

I need a sign to let me know you're here
Cause my TV set just keeps it all from being clear
I want a reason for the way things have to be
I need a hand to help build up some kind of hope inside of me

[Chorus]

When children have to play inside so they don't disappear
While private eyes solve marriage lies cause we don't talk for years
And football teams are kissing Queens
and losing sight of having dreams
In a world that what we want is only what we want until it's ours.

Calling All Angels."

My Sister is an Angel.

 

It Takes A Child

I saw myself through the eyes of my own sexually abused childhood yesterday.  With no filters or "stories" of abuse equals love.  A four year old.  Exactly as it was and the way it felt.  My Mind could not "pretend to pretend" that it was love or even anything remotely close to it.  Except that I was a 47 year old and he was a 52 year old man having consensual sex.  A life review of all my past behaviors I called either sex or love between "consenting" adults was actually me abusing myself.  Exactly as my Uncle did to me.  And I called it Love.

It brought me back to a four year old boy being abused.  The event itself.  This time I was no longer seeing it through a confused Mind.  The Mind had no "other" story to tell but what it was.

My Mind told myself at four that sexual abuse is love, attention and a feeling of specialness.  I had a file in my Mind marked "Love" and when I went looking for this type of "love" in my relationships it had to include this definition before I could recognize it.

I went to look up more information of sexual abuse because this morning I did not know what it meant. I had been so confused on the difference between Love and Abuse:

What Is Child Sexual Abuse?

"At the extreme end of the spectrum, sexual abuse includes sexual intercourse or its deviations. Yet all offences that involve sexually touching a child, as well as non-touching offenses and sexual exploitation, are just as harmful and devastating to a child’s well-being.

Touching sexual offenses include:

• Fondling;
• Making a child touch an adult’s sexual organs; and
• Penetrating a child’s vagina or anus no matter how slight with a penis or any object that doesn’t have a valid medical purpose.

Non-touching sexual offenses include:

• Engaging in indecent exposure or exhibitionism;
• Exposing children to pornographic material;
• Deliberately exposing a child to the act of sexual intercourse; and
• Masturbating in front of a child.

Sexual exploitation can include:

• Engaging a child or soliciting a child for the purposes of prostitution; and
• Using a child to film, photograph or model pornography.

These definitions are broad. In most states, the legal definition of child molestation is an act of a person—adult or child—who forces, coerces or threatens a child to have any form of sexual contact or to engage in any type of sexual activity at the perpetrator’s direction.

What Are the Effects of Child Sexual Abuse?

"The effects of sexual abuse extend far beyond childhood. Sexual abuse robs children of their childhood and creates a loss of trust, feelings of guilt and self-abusive behavior. It can lead to antisocial behavior, depression, identity confusion, loss of self esteem and other serious emotional problems. It can also lead to difficulty with intimate relationships later in life. The sexual victimization of children is ethically and morally wrong."

This morning my sister corrected my definition of "consensual sex" the way my Mind had it.  She said,"It's not consensual sex when you are a four year old."

My Mind had me believing for 44 years that I had been a equal participant in the initial abuse with my Uncle at 4.  I had nobody there to correct this nor the support to deal with the abuse.  In my Mind I was having consensual sex with my Uncle.  Love.

So, I grew from this innocent boy to a "dirty old man" and did not have a clue why I was so fucked up mentally.  Acting out sexually over and over with multiple partners (all of them adults) trying to find Love. 

I spent this morning apologizing to my four year old child self (I have no children) who withstood the self abuse I was inflicting on him and my body.  We could not have done any better given my childhood environment, and the parents that were guiding and "loving" us.  It's like being always wrong and guilty with no doors to lead you out.

Being responsible but not in control is the best way I can describe how I spent my childhood dealing with my sexual abuse.  Filled with shame and anxiety.  Wanting to disappear into another world where a kind adult could see a kid out of control and in desperate need of love and guidance. 

This four year boy inside of me (I call him the boy in the red sweater as I have a picture of me before the abuse) is a strong little fucker.  He can take on a dirty old man (My abused Mind untreated and out of control) and bring him to the light and show him for what he is and what he has been doing to my innocent Self.  

Imagine that.  

I can see it all clearly now.  All of it.  How it started.  How it continued.  And now how the "dirty old man" died.  He died yesterday in the Light of Grace and Truth.  Surrounded by an innocent boy and a man with compassion for his long, arduous journey inward.

I "got" the lesson. I am Innocent. I truly got it.  The "dirty old man in my head was my Uncle! He is solely responsible for my sexual abuse.  He alone molested an innocent boy.

Me.

I don't blame you or hate you anymore Uncle Smelly.  I will celebrate your death today (where you have lived in my Mind believing I was you and like you) which ironically (or not) is my birthday.

He is/was like my own Father.  Confused and emotionally retarded.  An abused boy himself.  My father's journey is tougher than mine.  He molested and abused over a hundred girls.  His girls.  His granddaughters and anybody he could get close to.  The damage he did is beyond my comprehension.  He called it Love.  He is mentally ill and my siblings still call him, "Dad".  Who is more confused?

Their little boys were not tough enough to take on the dark side or even admit there is a "dark side".  He believes the girls "wanted" it.  His little boy died a long time ago.  All that is left is a shell of "darkness".

Celine Dion has a beautiful song called, "A New Day" and it fits beautifully here for my journey over the past few days:

"A new day, oh oh
A new day, oh oh

I was waiting for so long
For a miracle to come
Everyone told me to be strong
Hold on and don't shed a tear

Through the darkness and good times
I knew I'd make it through
And the world thought I had it all
But I was waiting for you

Hush, now
I see a light in the sky
Oh, it's almost blinding me
I can't believe
If I've been touched by an angel with love

Let the rain come down and wash away my tears
Let it fill my soul and drown my fears
Let it shatter the walls for a new sun
A new day has come, oh

Where it was dark now there's light
Where there was pain now theres joy
Where there was weakness, I found my strength
All in the eyes of a boy

Hush, now
I see a light in the sky
Oh, its almost blinding me
I cant believe
If I've been touched by an angel with love

Let the rain come down and wash away my tears
Let it fill my soul and drown my fears
Let it shatter the walls for a new sun

A new day has come.

Let the rain come down and wash away my tears
Let it fill my soul and drown my fears
Let it shatter the walls for a new sun
A new day has come, oh

Hush, now
Well I see a light in your eyes
All in the eyes of the boy
I can't believe
If I've been touched by an angel with love
I can't believe
If I've been touched by an angel with love

Hush, now
(Ahh, ahh)
A new day
(Ahh, ahh)
Hush, now
(Ahh, ahh)
A new day."

The line, "All in the eyes of a boy" had me weeping with Joy.