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.

So, Anger

So, anger, yes, Anger.
There is a lot to be said about anger.
Where  do I even begin?
We have been taught, that Anger is no good. That it should be controlled, repressed and curtailed as to not hurt anyone. That we should be afraid of it.
But then where do we put it? What do we do with it if we are not to express it?
How are we to control it when it threatens to annihilate our own existence.

So many emotions are swirling in the air right now. Sadness, grief, shock at the despicable. I feel them all.
But most of all I feel the Anger.
The Anger is boiling in my veins.
And I want to do nothing to curtail it or make it small.
I want to feed it. Hold it.  And sustain it.

I want to see it give birth to something. Something new. A change. A radical change.

Sometimes I feel like a revolutionary without a cause.
Sometimes I feel so small.

Sometimes I am crushed under the enormity of everything that is wrong in this world.
And my inability to change it. Yes, change the World...so silly of me.

Sometimes, I am just brought to my knees  by the beauty of humanness.

But Back to Anger.

I have started to notice that there is beauty in anger too.
Lots of it.

Pure, white seething, destruction seeking Rage.  Rage that seeks to uncover and protect the Truth.
Because it has been too long since we have stared Truth in the eye.

The Truth is the System is broken. And we are doing nothing to change it.

So Yes, I am angry about what happened in Orlando.
But I am also angry that that's what it takes for us to say something is not right.
Nothing is right! Yet may be I am a little too radical.

I am Angry that people have labels, that there are these defining lines that say I belong here and you belong there and may be I like you but you are still over there. The only definition we can try to squeeze in is HUMAN. And at this point even this is questionable.

When I love you, I don't love you because of your nationality, color, gender identity or sexual preference. I don't Love you because you went so a fancy school or have a cool job, I don't Love you because of where you buy your shoes or the brand of beer you drink. I love you because you are you. Because you make my heart sing. And YOU, your essence, cannot be fit into a word. YOU cannot be defined. ME cannot be defined.
How do you define where I end and You begin.

And this is why I am Angry. We Have exchanged our authenticity for labels and definitions.
We have lost ourselves.

We allow this broken system to run our lives and we do nothing.
We post rants and moving pictures on social media, we speak angry words, and sign petitions... and we continue our little lives just as they are. Nothing has really changed.
In a few weeks this too will subside, until the next time and the next time and the next time.... for how long?

I don't wish for Bandaids, for littles fixes here and there that cover the bigger leaks.

I want change. I want radical change.
What does that look like? I have no clue.

This is where I get lost. And I become even more Angry, because I see the problem and don't know how to fix it.
So here I am seething in Anger and at a loss for action.

But may be Anger is not all about doing and fixing. Sometimes may be Anger just wants to be witnessed and acknowledged. May be any action right now will be premature.... I don't have answers.

Only questions. And, yes that is infuriating too.

I imagine that Anger is a wild stallion. And it will run me down and trample me, unless...
Unless I grab the reins and ride it like the wind.

I don't claim I am in control but I am also not willing to shrink in fear of the anger any more.
I let the wildness, the rage, the storm carry me and show me that which needs to be witnessed.
Take me where I have not dared go before.

Because this Anger is not from yesterday. It is ancient, it old and it is embedded in our psyche.
So how long  can we pretend it is not there?

The Change  I want is not out there.
The change is in us.
That feeling of me versus the other, the separation, the defining lines, that is the wall that needs to be broken down and deconstructed. So we can all be Human together.
And may be then I will find those who have the answers to my questions. May be they were looking for the questions all along.
May be then I will know what to do with my Anger.
May be then we will know how to hold each other in authenticity.

May be when I sit and witness my Anger without Fear, then I can do the the same with yours.

Or may be I am just a incurable idealist, lost in a dream.