identity

322: The Observer

| Aspergers Girls

I am experiencing a great shift in consciousness as of late, and am stepping back and watching two characters of self emerge. One part of self is clinging to the label of spiritual awakened and one part of self is clinging to the label of Aspergers.

In a direct sense, both selves are neither right or wrong, they are merely playing out a game at an unconscious level inside of me.

What is interesting is to watch this other self I be: the observer.

Thusly, inside of my mind I am able to see 1) the two ego selves at battle for power, 2) the observer watching the ego’s game, and 3) one in lesser form watching the observer.

When I try to step out beyond the third level, the place in which one is watching the observer, there doesn’t seem to be a fourth level, and all I can see is black or even the absence of color.

I am beginning to see, or further seeing, the world and my mind at complex levels, and reacquainting myself with truths that seem more familiar to me than my very own self, or more recently selves.

Coincidence after coincidence is occurring, and dreams are revealing to me events. The walks I partake in through nature are coming too with images of the future. Some of this, actually most of this, is nothing new to me; what is new is the intensity, the frequency, and the verification from others of what I am experiencing.

I do not know what is happening, but I seem to be tapped into a higher –frequency of sorts, almost as if I be an old-fashioned television and someone has lifted and extended a long metal antenna from my very being.

What is new, as well, when compared to my childhood, is the darker side of this is no longer affecting me. There is a new found peace, and with this peace a knowing that brings me a sense of safety and protection, as if a legion of guardians, angels, and ancestors have formed lines and are marching to show their support and unyielding faith in me.

I feel overwhelmed with love for people and animals; and the observer part of self perceives others in a way I never thought possible. This observer does not seem to have any attachment to things, people, or even life. He is one that would willingly sacrifice self, even without calling it sacrifice, for sacrifice itself involves ego. He would simply release and be.

There is a calmness with the observer that very much resembles serenity. I have found an increasing amount of energy flowing through my body, both my hands and feet, but particularly with the whole of my body feeling much aglow.

As of late, I am having difficulty holding onto fear. Though, I recognize the emotion comes; however when fear appears it is liken to a small ripple of water; wherein before the fear was like a tsunami. I am able to stand inside the ripple and watch the effect of fear within and without. I am able to see where this fear is and where it is carried. I am able to feel this fear, understand fear’s source, and then release.

I am understanding that the clinging of labels is unnecessary in the higher sense; that Aspergers itself is only a means to an end, a way to connect like soul to like soul, to bring community together; perhaps to bring more observers to the light.

Through the observer, I can see clearly the complexity of the mind. Through my own complexity, I can understand others like me in their complexity. I can see clearly the reason I am here and how my calling is manifesting healing in self, and healing in others. I understand that this is nothing to do with me, and entirely to do with source.

This is what I saw in vision that I will try to explain, as it came in quick picture without explanation, almost as an injection of thought. I am not used to understandings coming so fast, but it seems that some of my recognitions are coming now without the use of words, and even beyond the use of images; how this is happening, I have no idea, and why this is happening, I have no idea either.

The understanding I have been given is this:

1) I have a complex mind.

2) Because I have a complex mind, I have complex thoughts.

3) Because I have complex thoughts, ego runs rampant with idea after idea, and connection after connection inside my mind (see the previous post for example).

4) Because I have so many thoughts running rampant, I cannot simply let go, silence my mind, or use common means to release.

5) Because I cannot utilize common means, I am forced to find escape; this escape comes in the form of verbally processing through speech and writing, this escape comes through extreme focus, fixations, fantasy, special interest, and creation.

6) Because I escape, I am able to produce phenomenal amounts of work in a short period of time; the downfall being that I am missing out on my own life, because I am spending endless hours in mode of escape, in an attempt to escape my own thoughts, brought on by my complex mind.

7) Because I can produce a lot in a limited amount of time, I can also analyze my mind in limited time at a deep level and study the very happenings inside self, through this emerging observer.

8) With observer as witness I am able to release a lot of self-doubt, fear, and non-beneficial emotion. With observer I am able to watch ego and study my own thought processes.

9) The observer was only able to come when I was willing to look closely at thought and thusly expose ego and self-driven wants and needs, such as: attention, fame, and acknowledgment.

10) I was able to release the self-driven needs through much observation and prayer, and by tapping into a part of self that only wanted to serve and love.

11) By tapping into the part that only wants to serve and love, I was able to not remove ego, but to step outside and watch ego further, acknowledging that whenever an emotion of fear, want, need, defense, or upset of any type emerged that in fact it was ego taking over.

12) By being able to recognize ego readily, I was further able to refine my want to serve and love, and to begin to save the excess energy that was used before in ego’s attempt to acquire acceptance and validation.

13) I was able to recognize ego enough to start to remove intention, want or need from my writings; in turn my writings reflected the inner me and honesty, which enabled me to reach out more fully and freely to find other like souls; which in turn gained me the acceptance and validation ego was originally seeking.

14) This acceptance and validation was temporarily pleasing, until I realized that to accept validation also meant to accept insult and injury.

15) With this understanding of the double-nature of others perception of my self, I was able to release the want and need for any type of acknowledgment of “right” or “wrong” based on an outside perception and opinion.

16) With this release I delve deeper into my own self and ego, and gorged out the lies and untruths that surfaced there. One upon the next I wiped out the fears that were mere phantoms. I did this quite unexpectedly and oftentimes unwillingly, as events presented themselves to challenge me and my new found truth.

17) I began to see that everything related to fear was an illusion and that only love existed, once I stepped out of the need to be lifted by others, and once I stepped back into faith.

18) Ultimately it was my faith in something higher than self that I bleed my soul into, through prayer and through walking in high-awareness every minute of the day.

19) In this walking and prayer I was granted a serenity unknown to me before.

20) In this way, I can walk into the world, walk into an environment with other people, and step outside of the ego self and live as observer. In the state of observer all the fears are gone. My only thought is of listening to another and loving another and helping another.

21) In the state of observer I do not worry about conversation. I do not worry about anything. Instead I feel filled with light and peace, and simply exist as a reflection of another. In this state of observer, I can listen to each word with a gentle calmness, thinking nothing about what I want to say or contribute, and only thinking of the other person.

22) There is no fakeness, no effort, no ingeniousness involved as the observer, and seems to be a place of no ego; though in stating there is no ego, ego simply slips back in; so to say so without saying so becomes predicament.

23) I have concluded through this process of my own self that there are key elements I needed in order to find peace of mind. One is connecting to some source greater than self that need not be a religion or specific spiritual practice, but need be a source. A second is humbly submitting to said source repeatedly and walking in awareness of this goal and effort. Thirdly a sacrifice through self-examination and release of fear. Wherein the fear is held up to the light and all frailties of self exposed. Fourth, once exposed, ego must temporarily step in and seek support and connection of some kind while rebuilding and regrounding. Lastly, a disconnection of ego is necessary through trials and challenges brought on through higher-self.

24) This is my experience. I do not think it is the right way or only way, but simply the experience I was brought through.

25) I am not complete in awakening, and know that when I think I am, I am not, an only when I am no longer attached to awakening will I truly be awakened; which is a dynamic paradox I cannot venture to grasp. But I know that I walk in a light and love. I know, too, that now I see a great sadness in many people, and a huge heaviness; the energy I used to feel and collect at a subconscious level is now at a conscious level. As is my own pain. I can now pinpoint my pain and often know from whom or from what thoughts the pain has come through. I can also often release this pain.

26) I am not in a state of awe or grandiose thinking; I am not manic; I am not giddy and joy-filled; but I am very much at peace. There is not a façade of healing surrounding me, in which I want to be a healer so I live and act like a healer. The healing is radiating from within without instruction or want. This is new to me, this being without effort. Yesterday, I did experience my first moments of overwhelming joy in which I saw signs/omens in nature; I was overcome with extreme understanding and love, and literally was laughing hysterically for ten minutes like a mad woman. Interestingly enough at that very moment I had flashes and images of all the ones that have come before me laughing hysterically, and I felt extremely connected and whole in my journey. I have never heard such effortless and joyous sound in my life.

27) My main struggle now is one of humility; a struggle that God is continuing to answer for me. He has shown me that my fear of pride is also ego-based and an attachment to a goal and ownership of accomplishment; that accomplishment being the achievement of humility. He has shown me that because I continually ask for humility and am against pride that these natural thoughts and wishes, in and of themselves, display my heart and want for humility. I cannot go into detail with my humility journey, as to me this seems prideful and self-serving in and of itself; but I say this for those that are also struggling with this part of their journey; because as was scribed in the Wounded Warrior, humility is one of the markers of the healer.

28) I work now towards no longer working towards anything, and just being. I accept I do not know what this transition will look like, but I know that with my trust in my higher power and true wish to heal, serve and love others that I am walking in the light.

29) I will continue to strive towards being the best I can be while continually detaching from ego, though even this gives ego spotlight; and so I will fumble like many others, as I try to find the meeting point between submission and honor of self.

30) This concludes my thoughts, and I hope to continue to walk with a clear mind and in a state of peace.

318: The Third Door

| Aspergers Girls

318

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sam

Someone once told me that there are three doors to self:

One door you willingly open and show the world. A second door you open to some. And a third door that usually remains closed, a place where you hold the deepest hurts, secrets that if exposed might make you crumble.

In February of 2012, I opened the third door.

Through a series of events, including the discovering of my Asperger’s Syndrome, my necessary exiting from a university counseling program, and my beloved dog’s death, I spiraled into a place of deep depression.

Having been told by a licensed mental health practitioner that indeed she had no doubts I had Aspergers, a massive vault of inner self was opened. It was as if I’d been carrying around a phantom secret my entire life, teetering on a finite point of self-knowledge, but never quite touching down to the answers.

And now I stood, feet firmly planted in the muck and guck of all the places I’d traveled, both externally and internally, faced with all the years of wondering and searching, from priest to psychiatrist, mountain after mountain climbed, in hopes of figuring out essentially “what was wrong with me.”

I knew from a young age that I viewed the world differently. I am an observer of sorts, always an observer, analyzing and picking apart the pieces that intermingle about me, in the spaces between thought and reason, in the middle point where the black and white merge to form something beyond grey.

I see in pictures, vivid images. As I write now, the words are first filtered, almost simultaneously with first thought, into a stream of expression, each word carrying its own color, rhythm and vibration. And the world, my world, is like this too: everything, everywhere, something moving and carrying its own awareness, as if screaming to be seen.

My world is a constant mystery, a present to be opened time and time again, each new day a new beginning. I cannot help this. This is who I am and whom I have always been.

I don’t understand rules and customs, not because I lack the ability to see what is happening, or to read between the lines, but because I see the infinite possibilities of other choices and options, of other paths, so to speak.

I don’t understand dogma and criticism and rights and wrongs, as it seems there is always another side, another way, and in this way, somewhere a victim struggling to be heard.

A passion so deep, runs through me, a river of sorts, that twists and turns and carries a truth I understand, even if no one else does. In a sense I need no confirmation or validation, it is as it is, and just who I be.

Yet, to live in this world, to walk where I walk, there is this way about me, this way I am supposed to be—some societal-imposed rules of conduct and expected behavior that confuses me; for since a child, I was left to wonder, who are the inventors of these rules, and why do they invent?

I was left to wonder why the others, who weren’t me, but seemed an extension of me, behaved in predictable patterns determined by some unknown structure, endowed with the gifts of evidentally knowing when there is nothing to be known, at least nothing to be feasibly discovered in the infiniteness of variables of truth.

I discovered early on that my only solace was in my faith, that being, by my choosing, and my choosing alone, a universal maker that I call God. In here, inside my faith, and only here, I found answers. I began to see the scope of the world as so narrow, at least when viewed through the eyes of so many lost travelers. I began to see that I too was lost with them, in this collective of nonsense recreating games in an attempt be seen.

I stepped out. I removed myself from the game, and was immediately ostracized and shunned, repeatedly corrected for not being as everyone else; even as I watched and knew that all about me was imaginary, people filling in the holes with their ways, when they weren’t really their ways at all.

For to be inside me, is to be inside complexity. Everything mixed and unmuted, painted and swirled with endless possibilities. But it appeared that to be inside of another, at least most of another, was limiting and restricted, honed in by self-inflicted leashes.

I was isolation.

I was what the experience of isolation encompasses: the observer knowing she is different, not knowing why, and forced without reason or cause to walk outside of the line.

I was a loner; though I stood alongside my peers, I was always alone.

I was alone in my creation of different selves in an attempt to move through a world that made no sense. I was alone in my attempt after attempt to be like that which I did not understand. I was alone in my compassion to want to touch another at a level they were uncomfortable touching. I was a traveler who knew not where she touched down and knew not with whom she was supposed to meet.

I was alone.

I was alone until I reached out, not to another, but into the deepest corridors of self. I was alone until I sat within the inner makings of what rested behind my door number three. Until I purged out all of the demons and hauntings and broken pieces of self, and set about to reform the being I truly was.

And then, as I began to see me, unleashed from the fear that had once buried me, others began to see me too; for it was in my true self that they recognized a part of their own true selves. It was in the opening of my third door that others were freed to open theirs.

Together, myself intertwined with others who knew of me and who understood the axe of isolation and disconnection, we began to emerge—one door upon the next, opening and reopening.

And with this opening, we began to see we were no longer alone.

We began to see beauty.

We began to heal.

For finally someone could see us.

Finally we were no longer invisible.

Finally we were understood.

And this is my door number three, these words I have shared, above and below, and out there, in the circling space of energy; not because I needed to find another, but because I needed to be free.

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307: Prophet for Jesus, Fence-Sitter, and The Flame

| Aspergers Girls

Alternative Title: How Deep Is Your Brain ^^^Thusly, this song I cannot get out of my head.

This writing is an example of how my brain processes, not an example of clarity, linear thought, or even anything understandable to most. It goes in circles while trying to pull out conclusions. In the end it makes lots of sense to me… and probably only me.

One time I got all gung-ho about Jesus with an atheist girlfriend; and I ended up giving her an impromptu mini-dissertation about how church would save her marriage. I can kind of blame my untamed and inappropriate outcries of abashment on the bad reaction I was experiencing from an anti-depressant at that time: and since I can, I will. But what sparked the monolithic proportions of my monologue eludes me. Sadly, I must say that that then and there moment, as I spewed Jesus jargon judiciously, would mark the end of what had been a fruitful relationship.

For the most part, I am a fence sitter, it seems, stuck between one version of me and another. If I cling onto some thought too tightly, I crash. I get carried away like a young fledgling on first flight, spreading my wings and getting caught in the experience more than the cause.

In most cases, I don’t like to leap off my fence, as I crash and burn. Case and point being my mini-prophet-for-Jesus excursion.

I like to sit in the middle, in the neutral territory. At least I thought I did.

But I got to thinking last night, as I tossed and turned, still sick from some virus combined with the combination of pre-menopausal hormones that make me shift from a feeling of icy-pond to a bug-singing-lightbulb-crisp rollercoaster ride every few minutes. I pondered on the capacity and audacity of my fence-squatting, and was hit by a big ah!ha!

Like retrospection on high-speed, I was shown the intimate details of the fear-factor that makes me so hesitant to leap from the place in which I perch.

It’s not so much that there is an embryotic fluid that I am trying to maintain balance within, it’s not that I don’t want to cause waves, it’s not that I’ve latched on to some Eastern Tradition of unconditional acceptance and the knowing of not and absence, it’s that I’m fricken freaked out and afraid to claim who I am.

Ohhhhhh, she said to herself, she being me, as she tossed about night-sweaty, feverish, and nose-drippingly on the creased and feather-beddy couch.

Ohhhhh, she said again.

Bewildered once again by the self enlightening of self.

And then the mind dove as often does, into a place that still astounds me.

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I have clung onto all these beliefs of why I am the way I am.

In truth, at least today’s limited truth, or in thought, or in some speck of bubble of time that I happened to breathe in at this moment, the fast growing cohesive fact is that I am AFRAID.

Quest-filled as I be, I am AFRAID to be anything outside the scope of that which I’ve studied and claimed to be a supposed ideal.

I blame zealousy entirely.

I am the potent human combination of INFJ, Idealist, and Cancerian, and over-dominantly right-brained. I am basically screwed on all accounts to be a functioning logical human being without being overthrown by extreme passion, emotion, and evaluation for doing what is right and just.

And in so being this way, that is seemingly beyond my own control, I have latched on to the right and just path: That of doing nothing, because essentially nothing is real to begin with.

The only one big oversight being that in essence in the rigid act of doing nothing, I am in fact doing something.

I am indeed afraid to be anything other than that which I have so deemed to be ideal.

I have moved beyond much self-serving wishes and behavior, but here I still remain stuck on the fence.

And why?

(And with this question I dive deeper in image and thought. Still making sense, but communicating what I am thinking becomes more difficult, as I am experiencing most of these concepts all in picture form and trying to find words that feel right. Some words feel good while others feel like a bump in the road of what I am trying to communicate.)

Well I used to think it was because I was being good, not claiming a right way or right cause, but in so doing, in so sitting on this proverbial fence, wall, or what have you, I am in fact claiming a way. I am claiming the way of the fence-sitter!

So all this time I think I am doing nothing but observing and being, I am actually doing and demonstrating, and that’s what befuddles me: the extremeness of being, wherein I cannot theoretically choose anything without spawning a choice and then exposing the choice to the world. I cannot even sit on the fence without being that which others would claim as a fence-sitter.

Every action I do is perceived as an action. Even inertia. I cannot be motionless without being perceived as motionless. And it is in this perception, in the others’ viewing of me, in which I feel trapped and over exposed.

Before last night and the review of my actions thus far, I hadn’t thought that a fence-sitter could be judged. I thought I was safe on the fence. But in actuality in today’s reckoning, indeed I am judged.
Outsiders judge me with wonderment, regardless.

As the depths of me unfold and I sit upon my fence, I am a fireball of inferno waiting to rupture, waiting to expand and scream I AM ME! Only I know not who I be.

So here, I set about to claim myself, if not to free my own entrapment, than to re-stir that which has been deemed stagnant energy.

I reclaim myself in the doing world, in the being world.

The fact that I have molded myself into so many identities in attempts to fit into a place where I never quite fit in has led me to flee to the sideline, to the fence-sitting. But as I started to write and share my strangeness and perception of life with other earthlings, I soon gathered that I was not as isolated and alone as I had previously imagined. What this means is the fear of rejection was slowly purged and eradicated out of my soul in a two-fold way.

(Here is where I dive deeper and I add words that might not make sense to anyone but me)

First, I was forced, though self-enforcement, to face hundreds of strangers’ reading my words. After months upon months of panic and fear of how said strangers would perceive me, and how my innards would be torn out by disarray and conflict and people pleasing, I became utterly exhausted by the entire process; depleted of mirth and effort I had no choice but to retreat and to let go. And then, and only, with the release of fear, I was finally freed from that which had been the doings of my own self-imposed tyrant.

Secondly, with the people-pleasing aspect of myself released, processed, and forgiven, I was free to speak more from a place of me than from a place of potential danger. Doomville in the strings of feasible futures was eradicated from my thoughts, freeing up a creative aspect I hadn’t delved into as this self before. Having solely dived in such a manner, as in freeing self and freeing mind, I then began to subconsciously analyze my own behavior further, whilst the original me remained dutifully ignorant that the underlayering of me was shedding and rebuilding.

I emerged, some time and somewhere in between as this other me: someone not afraid of what people would say or how people would react to my words, but someone still afraid to make a claim and remove self from the fence.

(Now I go into philosophy mode. I type what I feel, see, and hear from an inner voice. It doesn’t all make sense until I go back and reread it. I remember all the images I viewed while writing and learn a lot about myself. Some words “hurt” and I can’t use them. I pause until the right word comes..)

I was like an in-betweener. Somewhat of a gorgeously endowed knight with shiny armor, sword, and crested shield, yet unyielding in desire to move. To budge me off the fence would be my doom. To make me be a someone, an individual, a man of opinion, or woman no matter, would be my potential downfall.

And so I sat, fence-sitter me as observer dressed for pillaging and forging through the mysteries of world, with only my mind for company.

In so being, I dove further into thought, and vision, and the expansiveness of non-reality, emerging further bathed in what I could decipher as knowledge and know-how but with nowhere to stake my said claim of what would not be called accomplishment but experience.

And as a fence-sitter I grew, and grew weary, wanting more to reach out to the essential self of who I am and was and could be than to the passerby who judged me solely from that place in which I sat.

The judgment be gone and I could jump off. Or so I thought. I dissected, this part of me beneath my other traveling skin-covered self, and recovered the pullings of that which brought rapture upon the dying pieces; I brought out the truth of my fears, beyond the truth of the judgers and the perceivers and the passerbys with weapons and wounds their own.

I came to see that what really kept me steadfast and immobile and riddled with a fear of movement was not that fence in which I built to sit, but that of what could be, if I merged all sections of self and forgo the constant self-injury.

What I saw, as a holy terror, was that the emerging of my divine self was in actuality that which I claimed monster from the start; for in this divine energy coming forth were the mysteries I could not analyze or solve, or even factor as a multiple of life. And as numbers abounded me, drowning me in complexity, the thought of breaking and molding into something new astounded me true, but terrified me more than less.

And so I set bewildered at the self and the propensity of amazement, that indeed the act of self-implosion and procreation of the millions upon millions of tri-folded awakenings beneath me was justly my foe.

And then the light shone, and I disintegrated thought and mind, and released and proclaimed my stand as man and man alone, in spirit and in flesh; one divinely gifted with light and love and passion to be.
And in this reclaiming that had been said so long ago in ancient land, I set forth the fortress of who I was—the castle strong, the enemy weakened, the turrets rising and declaring my beauty.

I rose then, not this man confused by the dark but man confused by the light. For seeing such a grand mass of individualism ghastly reformed into truth blinded me to the causation of form, blinded me to the fact that yes: within I had blossomed so grandly that in need I blinded self.

I understood then, with an unbridled passion of symbolic thought and image, that what be futile broken and unclaimed holiness, was in the same instance trickery mirrors, set upon by no other but me, to deflect from the beauty emerging within.

For in the end, as I rise phoenix from the flame of eternal everlasting self, there was never an enemy beyond the fury of reflection inflamed before my eyes. For where I saw fire was no other than self, and not that the flame bleed false, or wrongly, or pain, but the flame bled beauty beyond reason.

And in this is where I sat, astounded by my own beauty, forever singed in the smoke and soot of what I thought to be demon enemy.

How merrily disguised this beast of naught, how trickery is woven by self and self alone, as one sets upon the land of feet and walks in no direction but away from self, when self is where the ocean waits.

I see now, clearly that I am no less black and no less white than that in which the flame dictates. For when the light reflects I am the shadow, I project and I foresee. I am nothing and everything I wish, if the wisher be awake.

Yet still I sit, this fence-sitter still wondering if all I see is not some grand mystery trapped with a droplet on the ebb and flow of some forgotten time. I sit and wait for the flame thrower to cast his way, for the one I call me to find the girth and scope of chivalry, to find this thing called brave, and jump into the abyss beyond. I see now whilst contemplating the rhythm of thought and nature, I am but me and nothing more, but this me be everything.

And these are the visions that come before me as I still sit twisted in the knowing that though the flame be no other than me that the flame still be.

^^^ and I dedicate this to my hormones ^^^ Night Fever :)))

And that’s all she wrote… as her brain was emptied…. at least for the next hour.

260: Owning my Beauty

| Aspergers Girls

eigth grade

I never ever thought I was pretty.

There is something beautiful about a person who  cannot see her beauty on the outside. A sad humbleness that pulls the person into the eyes and soul—a vulnerability that others pick up on innately but generally cannot recognize or pinpoint.

When anyone complimented my looks, I thought one of many thoughts:

1)   You can’t really see me

2)   This isn’t how I normally look

3)   You must have poor eyesight

4)   You are lying

5)   You want to hurt me

6)   You want my body

7)   You are just saying that to be nice

8)   I hate me

9)   You say that to everyone

10) You must feel sorry for me

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I could never own my beauty.

This view of myself, as being not adequate on the outside, is something I’ve held onto since I was eleven. I can theorize until I’m blue in the face, and come up with a plethora of reasons why I doubted my beauty, starting with my overbite and chipped front tooth and ending with being victimized by men.

But the truth is, I think I was made to be that way….this way. I think I was chiseled and molded into this me that I am.

There are beliefs I carry that say: To love yourself in completion is to be vain and conceded.

There are thoughts that scream how can you think you are pretty, look at your flaws?

There is the dark voice that says, you will age and no one will love you.

I’m starting to have flashbacks of all the times strangers came up to me when I was younger, and the messages they said:

You have such beautiful eyes. So intelligent and wise.

Your face has so many angles and emotions; you should be a model.

Oh, I can tell by looking at you that you are one of them—a deep soul.

Do not worry, you are prettier than her, inside and out.

Wow, they didn’t make teenagers like you when I was in school.

Has anyone ever said how beautiful you are?

Those were strangers. Off the street, they would approach me.

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And I never could take in what they said. Never believe it. Never for a moment feel their words or truth. I always had doubt and disbelief. Actually it was beyond doubt. The compliments I quickly shifted into sadness and fear. For what if they were to see the real me? What if they realized how very wrong they were?

Something did happen, though. I began to see how my exterior gained attention.

In some ways I was fortunate. In my youth, with this “beauty,” people were typically accommodating, overly-friendly, and eager to date me. However the experience was more over misfortune because I felt I was not seen for the real me and thought furthermore that because I was truly ugly that I was playing some game of trickery. I believed one day people would awaken and the truth of my ugliness would be seen.

When I went to college, ripped away from my best friend of six years, and not having my boyfriend at my side, I felt extremely self-conscious, vulnerable, frightened, and paranoid. I was beyond shy. I walked with my head down and never ever peered up. I gave off the vibration of Keep AWAY at all costs. I was lovely, but untouchable. I thought I was ugly and unwanted. No one said hello to me. Only one boy in five years at college. I thought for certain that validated my beliefs; that in truth I was born ugly, unwanted, unneeded, and desperately flawed.

If a boy tried to make contact with me in class, I brushed him off with my insecurities or was clueless that he was trying to connect. I took “come on” lines at face value. If a boy asked about last night’s homework, that’s what he was interested in. Not me, only the homework. If he said I looked young for my age, that was the truth of his statement, nothing beyond, no agenda, just an observation. I couldn’t feel or see people reaching out to me. I was lost in my own world of ugliness and isolation.

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When I gained weight in my early twenties, and then later gained sixty pounds from my pregnancy, I saw how others treated me differently based on my weight. I began to see how fickle and surface-level people could be. At that point I had nothing to turn to. I hated myself on the inside and outside, but at least for a long time I could get by on these supposed “looks.”

At this time, I began to really hook onto and believe all the negative messages I told myself. In fact, I had been right all along: I was horribly ugly.

It has taken me the last few months, since late April, to reclaim the beauty I misplaced when I was eleven years of age: thirty-three long years. For the first time in my adult years, I can look at my face and not cry, cringe, or loop over my image. For the first time I am embracing this wonderful woman I am, and morning for the lost years, when the word beautiful was masked behind a curtain of fear.

What I find odd, is I didn’t judge my friends or strangers in the same way I judged myself. I saw their beauty. Their souls shined through. And all I saw was gorgeousness. Now, when I look at myself, my soul shines through, and I too am the same, one with all, pure loveliness.

Some will call me self-centered, vain, obsessed with my looks, or shallow, but I know the truth. I am home. I am reconnected. I am in love again with me. A child reborn.

I still have doubts. I still have those thoughts…and that familiar dark voice. But there is a light, no doubt, that outshines the rest. A light I am learning to embrace more each day.

Photo on 11-20-12 at 10.24 AM #3

258: Choose Beauty

| Aspergers Girls

I process in many ways. One of the ways is through playing songs over and over, and feeling a full bowl of emotions. Sometimes a toilet bowl full of emotions. This morning I played this song over and over and had a good cry.

I am realizing I don’t know what it is to feel love from someone. I cannot feel a compliment. I cannot feel positive words. I have realized this recently because of all the beautiful words people have written about me. I have tried to go back to this link of a lovely lady’s blog and reread what she wrote about me in order to feel her words. I cannot feel her words for me.  Though I believe she speaks from spirit and truth, I cannot feel her words.

However, I can feel when others have non-beneficial thoughts about me. For some reason, those type of thoughts stick to me like Velcro, and I carry the echo for years. But when it comes to love, I cannot feel it from most people. I cannot feel it from my children, from my husband, from most of my dear, dear friends that I adore.

A commenter can write I am the light, and I do not feel it. I’ve tried to process this logically. Perhaps it was from some of the abuse/neglect of my earlier years, but that doesn’t seem to be it. I am grown now, inside and out. I do love and adore myself; I am even starting to see how kind and lovely I am on the outside. I’m actually quite smitten with my beauty and how I project goodness.

So maybe I am taking in the words, only at a deep, deep level, like at the center of an onion or of a miniature earth. And then the words of love are pushing outward from the deep insides towards the outer layers. That makes sense. Like I energetically store the love at the core of me and then the power of love is projected outward; only the emotion of love when entering bypasses my mind and my conscious awareness.

I am liken to a vessel, a collector of love. Only the “negative” thoughts somehow get stuck in my filtering system and sit there in stagnant water for years until I push them out. I don’t know why the beneficial thoughts don’t stick there. It is as if I lack pride. It is as if I lack the ability genetically or at a soul-level to take in what others’ perceive me as, unless the perception is perceived to be hurtful.

I am realizing that I change in appearance based on my mood. I can see this in my photos. As if the inside of me changes the outside of me. I am realizing that certain people bring out the angelic part of me—the part of me I consider pure, untouched, and flowing with unconditional love. I feel I change internally and externally based on whom I am with. When a person brings out the parts of me that are more of my shadow side, such as anger, frustration, and apathy, I don’t want to be around them. But I now understand these people are here to show me my shadow side and work through this. And in actuality, it is my perception about them that makes me choose to feel the way I do.

I am realizing that there are certain people who bring out what might be considered the very best of me. I can see myself in them, and them in me. With them I shine so brightly I feel I am drunk with happiness.

I would like to find balance. I would like to feel the same joyous light within my heart with everyone, and realize at a spirit level that they do not control or modify my inner light; I do.

When I think: “I do not want to be with him or her because he/she brings out the worst in me,” I want to replace that with: “I am allowing this person to bring out the worst part of me. For now I choose the light of me. I reflect only goodness. I am a mirror to their beautiful soul. All that I judge unjust or wrong about them is merely an illusion. I am no longer a victim to illusion. I am light. They are light. And we are one.”

This is what I want to say. This is what I choose to believe.

I want to be a person who can sit with anyone and be at peace. I want to use the gift God has given me of feeling others’ energy, and instead of evaluating and judging that energy, I would like to recognize the energy and continue to vibrate at a high-level of love.

Instead of wanting to fix or change said person, or run away, I want to be untouched, unchanged.

In truth all people who bring energy to me in form of thoughts, words, and actions are only a mirror to me.

I am recognizing that it is not me looking at them and evaluating what they need to change in order to heal and be a beneficial light. It is them, coming to me, to reflect back what is still in need of change and growth within me. Not that I am flawed or unworthy, only that I have sections of my soul that are in need of reflection and further healing.

When a person writes words that make me feel something at a physical level that is unpleasant, perhaps a slight punch to the stomach or a rerun of a negative vibration knocking on my mind’s door, I can choose to stand back as an observer and feel that feeling in the whole of me. I can question without questioning, and listen without listening, and establish a knowing of what this person is teaching me.

If I label one “narcissistic” or “self-centered” based on the energy he or she is projecting, I can release this judgment without judging myself, and recognize if one is this way, then thusly am I.

I can then recognize what is inside myself that I believe to be narcissistic or self-centered; I can recognize that as my perception of self is incorrect, thusly is my perception of the outer reflection in form of human facing me.

In truth, I can hold us both in light, and understand that as I see another, is actually how I still see myself.

Once I recognize I am total beauty, then I shall recognize the other is total beauty, as well. And the reverse is true, and endless cycle, like a ripple made upon a lake, we dance. Thusly, what I still see in another is what I still choose to see within myself.

Therefore, if a person says to me words that cause me to feel that she is self-centered, I can immediately and with freedom, without self-punishment, say onto myself: “What is inside of me that I still choose to believe is self-centered?” I can then replace the judgment with a few words, such as: “I am beauty. I am light.” And thusly make it so.

I can choose not to collect the energy-pieces of judgment placed upon me.

In choosing to accept this illusion of judgment as part of my reality, when someone judges me, I can bring up the same high vibration of love and recognize that that person chooses to see in me what still needs to be healed within his or her own being, be this physical, emotional, logical, or spiritual.

Therefore, when I recognize someone is placing the label of prideful upon my soul’s energy field, I may pull up the same few words: I am beauty. I am light. And thusly make it so.

One does not work without the other. I cannot choose to think that because someone is judging me then that someone has a fractured part he or she needs to recognize and heal, unless I do the exact same to my own being, when I choose to judge another.

This is where some souls go off-balance, where the energy is not evenly exchanged.

Where there is not yin and yang, equal giving and taking, then the energy level remains off balanced.

I have before said to myself that I do not accept someone’s judgment of me as truth, but then I went on to criticize them, or reason why they were wrong and how I was right. This method is logical and from a low-vibrational place and shall never work.

What needs to be done, if one is to reach a state of peace, something in which each human aspires, whether he or she recognizes this or not, is to maintain a balance in release. Thusly, recognize what is in one is in another. In so doing, in so reflecting the truth upon one another, the earth is healed.

This came to me quickly, as I was concluding this post:

“It is the misers who keep the truth of the world into themselves, believing they are the righteous and all else need to be as them to be in light who are the falsest ones of the light. It is the righteous that need to fall down on bended knee and forgive themselves, and take heed in the word of the light. It is the righteous who shall fall and tumble and scrape the knee of inner spirit time and time again in an endless cycle of turmoil, ricocheting back and forth between two walls of good enough, perhaps superior, and wretchedly ugly. The meek shall inherit the earth with their self-proclaimed goodness, as they shall recognize the beauty within, the beauty without and shine this light bright upon the world. It is no sin, if sin is the word used to describe misery, to proclaim you are beauty as you see the beauty of you reflected in another. It is sin to withhold this thought and beat upon the wall of your spirit with hammer and nail of spite and not enough. To be truly joyous announce to the world your beauty, your love, your joy, and stop choosing to hide behind falsehoods of gratitude. When all about you there are answers; seek now what you believe to be true; seek what you know to be true. That you are everlasting grace, truth, and beauty.”