How to love without letting your ego get in the way?

  1. Say sorry when you least want to (even if it feels like as impossible as the most unsurmountable thing you can think of.)
  2. Make the first move when you’re convinced (s)he has to.
  3. Stop being butthurt about not being enough ___ or being too ___ by the person. [Realize that once you remove the butthurt one out of the picture, there is no problem. (if it’s an ego-problem) ]
  4. Remember it’s peace and happiness you want, and these won’t come to you unless you let go of the grudges and generate positive vibes towards him/her (which will be reflected back to you, btw)
  5. Don’t listen to the whining of yourself saying how you deserve better.
  6. Say what you really think and feel, no matter how stupid, desperate, or rude you think it is. (It’s generally ok, if you’re truly feeling it, and saying it clears misunderstandings on both sides)
  7. Make a move! An act of kindness and love. No matter how small. An honest one. Anything. A message, a little ❤ , a call, a post on his wall, a gesture, a song, a smile.
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Sexually Damaged

I did not want to come out on my sexual assault experience. During the few days (or more, I cannot quite remember) following it, I was in utter shock, frozen, felt a loss of dreams and romantic fantasies (I had been a very romantic little girl, dreaming of the ideal prince charming, of the ideal first time, the ideal love story, etc). At that time, I wanted to keep my virginity for the ‘one’. Suddenly, all these dreams were taken away from me. I could not eat or think well, I could not even feel much. Like a part of me was numb or dead. It wasn’t a horribly painful feeling: it was more like the absence of the ability to feel for some time. Traumatized? I didn’t speak about it.

Now that I think of it, I handled it really ‘well’. No one around me noticed or would ever imagine what I had gone through. And I was 14? Yes in the year I turned 15. It was as if I had absorbed everything in and had buried it there. Talking about it or denouncing the guy was out of question. Somehow, I felt that I was guilty too, because I did not try harder to stop him and I should have. But it was not my fault. I did not know exactly how people had sex. I knew in theory that the dick has to go into the vagina somehow, but I hadn’t gone into the details or watched porn or anything like that, and in practice I had no idea how it happened. So I said, please don’t do it. And he promised he would not do it until it was too late. I pushed him, I tried to stop him, I said please stop, then I gave up.

Following that, I could not blame him because I knew if that was out, the punishment would have been horrible for him. My parents would have gone to great lengths to make him suffer as much as they would have suffered had they known the truth. And I knew him, and I still did not see him like the typical child abuser. He was a normal guy, popular with girls and ‘nice’. I also felt the stigma, and didn’t want my parents to feel like the parents of ‘a sexually abused girl,’ which is nothing to be ashamed of, now I realize. IT’S NOT HER FAULT. I obviously did not want people to know what had happened to me. Being sexually abused, or raped, feels like being deeply, irreversibly stained for life. It’s like a mark you can never wash off. It kind of makes you feel inferior to other people.

Also, talking about it meant the whole story would come up again. And it was just too painful to relive this experience and face the fact that it really happened. I’d rather keep it in the dark, by not thinking, not talking about it, somewhere it would not touch me again. But the truth is that it did continue to touch me, deep inside. I didn’t realize it until I was in relationships with people, until I went through feelings of feigned ‘openness’ towards sex, confusion, then developed fear, uneasiness and shame or guilt towards the whole sexual experience. It happened at a very influential moment during my sexual and psychological growth. It was during that special moment of transition from childhood to adulthood and mine was robbed of its innocence and purity.

At one point, recently, and several times, recurrently, I wanted to get rid of the whole ‘sex’ thing from my life, because it was so synonymous with ‘wrong’. Continue reading

Horror-movie distortion of reality

And I shuffled through clothes in my closet, not one felt right. “What is this thing with ‘feeling right’ anyway? Why do I think about lucky clothes and stuff every time I pick something to wear?” I thought. I was so angry at myself and picked the most bad-luck jeans I had and said “fuck that shit, my future doesn’t depend on that kind of tricks”. Then I passed in front of the mirror, and “fuck I am ugly,” I told myself. I hated what I saw in the mirror. Whom do I try to con all the time ? Trying to look pretty or to be something else? In that moment, everything else just felt apart, all the superfluous, all the things I half-believed in and I half-loved. And my hair, all falling out, I could not understand why my hair was thinning and falling so excessively, and there was nothing I could do to stop it, nor to understand the cause. It was so sudden and without any possible explanation. I talked to myself. Loud. I wanted to bang my head and crack it open. I wanted to tear my remaining hair out. I wanted to scratch open my skin.
I just wanted to die.

From you to my dreams to Reality

I was all yours. I wanted nothing but you and I gave myself totally to you. I was this useless bundle of love that was just hanging on to you. So strong, pushed here and there, but I kept holding on because you were all that mattered. All that I wanted was you and more of you. All I wanted was to be with you. Wasn’t very satisfactory. It was very temporary though, always had to hold on more tightly because it would go anytime, or change. And it did change. And it was horrible. The more strongly I held, the further away from me, it went. Overall was more tears than laughter, more hate than love; more ugliness than beauty; more illusions than reality. Wasn’t very satisfactory. So the time when all I wanted was you is over. Although it wasn’t and isn’t in my hands to decide this.

Now all I want is to be with myself. With my dreams, with truth and reality. My dreams and reality aren’t contradictory although these two words usually are. Because I dream of reality. I dream of truth and reality. Not the reality around me, faked by everyone and every system, imposed and constructed by ideas and culture, by greed and contempt, by fear and injustice, by desire and man’s ego. Not the reality of money, status, social rules and politics. Not the reality of organized religions, not even the reality of a flawed science manipulated by power. Not the reality of time and space as clocks and measurements describe.

The reality I dream to be living is the reality, not found by Buddha or Christ, but felt in the core. It’s the indescribable that manifests all around and pervades every atom. It’s the reality of our DNA and of the construction of time and space. It’s how atoms assemble and disassemble. It’s how my emotions arise and pass. It’s how the world revolves, if it is revolving. It’s the reality of motion, movement, sound and frequency. The reality of death and life and sickness and health and beauty and the body and the mind, and what more is there inside of us, if there is more. And outside of us? Or is the delineating mark between inside and outside the one that will dissolve at the touch of Reality?

Maybe, or maybe not. You see, I have this strong feeling that this is it. That the separation between the I and the rest, inside and outside, me and others; is the illusion. That’s the reality that solves every other problem that exists in the whole world and inside of ‘me’ instantaneously. Once this reality is understood and faced with bare eyes, the rest crumbles like a mirage. I am almost sure this is the truth, but I need to convince myself this is  it.

And for this, I’m going to use the reality of this world-mirage imposed on me. I will use the education system and money and status and recognition to reach the proofs to consolidate my theory, or to prove it wrong. I’m going to America for my studies and Anthropology is taking me there. Anthropology among us, ‘civilised people’, anthropology in the depths of the Amazonian shamanic science, anthropology sitting next to Tibetan yogis and questioning them, every rich civilisation and poor. What do they know about time and space, life and death, body and mind, that we do not know? How to they bend ‘laws’ of nature and science? And according to which laws do they operate?
Our reality negates theirs. Our reality negates bending time and space and our body functions. But they have done it several times under scientific observation. Still we negate the possibility of such a reality. I want to deconstruct all this capitalist, industrialist, unsustainable, artificial reality we have consolidated over the years. At least help in deconstructing this. While I wish for truth and harmony to shine through, I appreciate the balance between positive and negative. However, the balance is bending way too much on the negative side.

Maybe it’s just how I’m seeing it. Maybe I’m ignoring all the beauty and awesome that we developed as the human culture and I’m focusing on the bad, that’s why I see an imbalance, heavier on the negative side. Even then, truth and reality if I find them, will get rid of this seeming imbalance created by my eyes and my mind.

No matter what, truth and reality is where I’m heading to. After drugs and religion, now let’s try anthropology. From my tiny island in the Indian Ocean, off the East coast of Africa, I’m making my way to America after years of dreaming. I can’t remember when I started to dream of going to America, it’s been so long. Now my dreams, truth and reality are all I want to be with.

Egoistical? In my dreams, this has got nothing to do with ego, just going with the flow and making the most of the life and dreams I’ve been given.