The abuse bucket

A little bit over a month ago, the last drop dropped into my  Abuse bucket.
I have carried my Abuse bucket all my life. Dutifully lugged it around so it can be filled and refilled and if for some reason the levels of disrespect, shame, guilt  and inadequacy ran low then I certainly would run and found someone to fill it with some kind of atrocious emotion towards myself.

So as I lay in bed, dripping crocodile tears as to why I allow myself to be treated this way, I thought I had dealt with this, I started to wonder....  I believe that I deserve to be abused. For the simple reason that that's all I have ever known.

So I didn't, and may be still believe that I do.
But why?
Rather than remove the cause for abuse at that very moment, I decided to sit with it.

Stare it down and dig deep deep down into myself where I have never dared venture.

Why?

The truth has many layers. I am still uncovering new ones.
The human psyche seems to be an endless labyrinth. The moment I think I have discovered a way out, it turns out to be a doorway to another level. At this point I am too deep to wish for the exit. And I have no desire for it, anyway.

So why do I believe so strongly that I should be abused?

I think this is not just mine. Not just my belief. Not just my dilemma.
Everyone's abuse looks somewhat different.
But we are all addicted to it in a strange and pervert way.

We don't believe to be enough.
We believe ourselves to be ugly, undeserving and lacking something.
Something that everyone else seems to have.
Except that is an illusion as well.

We are all in the same shit-hole.
And we all carry our abuse buckets as beggars's bowls for alms.

Because when someone finally gives us the abuse we so devotedly think we deserve we smile in glee.
"I was right. I am not enough" and then we can easily continue our deprived lives, punishing ourselves and hiding under false identities, treating others in the same way we want to be treated.

So in the end it doesn't matter who the abuser is and what the abuse looks like.
Until we uproot the belief that we deserve it, it will not halt.
It will shape-shift, but will continue following us not matter where we run, as a shadow.
It is our shadow, until we stop, sit with it and learn about it, nothing will change. Until we truly believe we  deserve respect and Love, until we brave the fear to show the world our true face, we will be haunted.


So the questions that beg to be asked are:
Are we willing to stop running?
Are we interested in  forsaking our miserable little lives for the discomfort of being seen?
Are we fed up with carrying on stereotypes passed on by hundreds of generations, sick of perpetuating patterns that shouldn't have been allowed to exist in the first place?

Are we willing to stand up for change? for our selves?

And what would happen if we stopped repeating that which we have heard spoken before and form a thought, a word, a sentence, a feeing all on our own?
What if we gave birth to that which hasn't been birthed before?

What if we reach so deep down inside and touch own essence, our authenticity and then hold it for the world to see?
Not as the ugly duckling seeking attention or validation, the right to existence.
But as pure, unconditional Love. As other-wordly beauty, that brings us down to our knees.
As the ultimate truth, the stands for no definitions.