490: The Power of One

meeeee

I have undergone tremendous growth. The type of transitions wherein some unknown force pulls the fighting body whilst self is kicking and screaming and begging for retreat. In recent days, I have endured countless bombardments of self-esteem. Acts, which are best described as, infused with angst, confusion, and distaste. Each repeated occurrence brought on by events in which I, as self, directly submitted. As if I was, in a place of some higher part of being, orchestrating the mayhem to illustrate a lesson that a part of me had avoided, but in retrospect surely required.

In the previous days, I have been quite the proverbial doormat, I confess. Vacant, in respect to the manner in which I allowed and, I dare admit, sought out people to be a mirror to my attributes of self-doubt and self-loathing. As it was, I chose to partake in uncomfortable exchanges. I allowed my esteem to be penetrated by forces that weren’t for my benefit; at least, not beneficial in the short-term. (For in the scheme of life I am one who upholds that the self can render all happenings to blossom into some sort of benefit, even if minute in size. Just as the scale of emotional evaluation leans towards the element of intense agony, there on the other side is room for benefit always, or at least the feasible creation of benefit.)

As aforementioned, I was a doormat. I don’t know if I have always been such a symbolic representation of an open invitation to trample all over said self, or if this way of existing is something I adopted based on prior occurrences of heartache. I assume, and could likely prove, I was definitely a doormat of sorts, decades before this moment; yet, I believe, based on a collective history, in the past I had established a set of standards and ideal ways of treating myself beyond that era.

Regardless, in the last days I reverted back to a time that is best described as reclusively in a state of self-admonishment, isolation, degradation, and grasping. Think desperate.

I reminded myself, whilst observing my actions and behaviors during the last month, of the person I was that lived during a time period where I lacked all grains of self-esteem and self-worth. A time when I pleaded for my cause of worthiness, while simultaneously drowning in a self-inflicted pool of disbelief of my delegated case. My self was lost. I was lost. And I forgot who and what I was.

Most recently, I found myself here, in the laps of proving and searching for validation of who I was for weeks, one after the other, fixating on a person to provide a valid representation of my worth. It was ridiculous to view my actions from afar, as observer twice removed with her palm smacking into her forehead. Undoubtedly, through it all, the houndings of surrendered esteem boggled and brazened my mind.

During these ordeals, I kept myself honest, explaining to my significant other what was happening, and exploring the shadow aspects of myself that were surfacing. My journey was a reliving of sorts, the trespassing into that of the last of the baggage of my past. A torrential place where I’d had hovelled up close to anyone for any cause, in order to attempt to feel alive and loved, a time period where if I were to be beast my tail would have been quivering between my legs and my voice quaking for attention. In these days of long ago and now more recent, I sought to be lifted by another person, to be recognized and celebrated, to be adored, and to furthermore be adorned.

The repercussions of my recent travelings cannot be explained in-depth, as the process entailed an exterior and interior part of this self, so greatly complex and unsubstantiated, that any evidence excavated and presented formidably here would fall short. That is to say that in an attempt, even in the greatest attempt, to explain what has transpired, I would be omitting far more than I was telling, not out of purposeful intention, but out of the incapacity to scribe what has no words: an experience beyond me.

I was submitted, by my purposeful actions, though much torture; again, not by any one source, or even by many, but by a collaboration of events transpired as a result of my higher-self renderings and doings.

In the end, if there be end, as I stand here now, I am much shattered and broken out of the shell of the past, reborn anew into a distinct stronger self. I have been granted ample means in which to review my behavior and ample paths in which to take said happenings and graduate myself from a degree of shame and regret to a higher plane of reasoning and vast understanding.

I am donned in gratefulness for the renderings by said higher power. Yet, in all truthfulness, I cannot and will not omit the aspect of feeling tremendous relief over the passings of such days. I am glad to be back home, if home be the word. For though I am much more grounded and made aware of my circumstances and previous choices, the place in which I landed, where I rest in this moment, feels unfamiliar and unexplored. As if I had been transported from a state of much confusion to a state of much clarity, only during the process of the journeying, the earth in which I previously stood had been altered and replanted with indigenous bearings, yet unknown to self.

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2 thoughts on “490: The Power of One

  1. Sam, Again thank you for sharing your honesty, vulnerability and insights. It is so incredibly reassuring to find others who struggle with similar experiences. I think that as aspies we are hypersensitive to our surroundings, picking up on “resonances” with our surroundings that most people don’t know are there. I feel bombarded sometimes, and like a deer in the headlights, I feel paralyzed to respond in a way that reflects insight or resonance with the experience or experiences I am having. Perhaps that’s why people think I am not empathetic – because I am immobilized by the flood of stimulus combined with not being able to make sense of how it fits within my own understanding of the world. But I feel increasingly stronger and more capable, as I understand that I need time to make sense of what is coming at me. I now know that it is a strength, not a weakness. I try to remember to give myself permission to hang back until I have enough of a grasp of the problem, before wading in.

    I recently came across a “newish” field of study known as Complex theory. For the first time ever I felt that I was connecting with other thinkers who really “get” the big picture. It has felt so lonely, trying to describe concepts that have emerged out of my having to make sense of those lonely places that you describe so eloquently above. The world makes us feel inept, out of synch – and they write us off because we aren’t relating in a way that makes sense to them (and as you describe, we often feel utterly confused, vulnerable, a sense of self-loathing, inept, shame when we are in that “deer in the headlights” phase). But you also talk about being more willing to embrace those times, knowing that you will emerge with greater clarity – and groundedness. I recognize what you describe.

    I have heard more and more people talking about chaos theory, fractals and quantum theory as it relates to creativity (the freedom to explore with absolute honesty the undiscovered). When I first started reading Einstein’s work, along with many other creative thinkers, I started to recognize that they were experiencing similar patterns of thinking. What is clear to me is that to be open to creativity, fear needs to move aside. Fear is the thing that impedes creativity. Margaret Wheatley describes the need to “look reality right in the face, (in order to) have the potential to know how to serve,”. In a lecture at the Dalai Lama Centre at Simon Fraser University she quoted a prophecy of a Hopi Nation elder, addressed “To my fellow swimmers,” in which it says:

    Here is a river flowing now very fast.
    It is so great and swift,
    that there are those who will be afraid,
    who will try to hold on to the shore,
    they are being torn apart and will suffer greatly.

    Know that the river has its destination.
    The elders say we must let go of the shore,
    push off into the middle of the river,
    and keep our heads above water.

    For Margaret, this is where we stand today. We are in times of uncertainty, but we have to embrace it and swim amid this uncertainty. I believe that as aspies, and within this great community of exploration, affirmation and support that you are helping to foster, we are an important part of those willing and capable of embracing the chaos of the unknown. By our very nature, as aspies, we are creative beings that are having to become strong, because it is our way of being and seeing in the world that is well suited to help lead the way forward.

Thank you for your comments :)

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