Last time I checked I received something like 2,000 comments; but don’t quote me on that, as I’m not certain, and don’t know where to look to find the answer.
And I think that sums up what happened to me with this blog: I didn’t know where to look to find the answers.
Basically, I don’t know how to respond to people who come across as defensive, mean, and pointing blame. I take the comments so seriously that I change my entire self. Case in point, as I mentioned I have received over 2,000 plus comments on this blog, and I have answered almost all of them. In doing so, I have been able to make contact with many beautiful open-minded and loving people. And guess what, besides the teenager that was “trolling” and harassing me at the beginning of my blogging time, an action that really freaked me out, I have only had three what I would call “negative” or “non-supportive” comments.
But that’s all it took: a few comments to cause a rippling effect. I did the math. There were mainly two comments that pierced me—Two out of 2,000—0.1 %. It took 0.1% for me to throw out in my mind all of the positive of my truth and absorb the negative.
I received the comments two days ago, and I ran, and I ran fast.
I then internalized the people’s words. Took it all in, though poison it seemed.
With the internalizing, I altered myself. In a way, I cut myself open for analysis, not a fun feeling, and then, in an attempt to mend my inherent “flaws,” I rearranged me, and attempted to sew myself back together.
All because of two comments. But mainly one. I was told by someone that I was a bully and ego-centered, and that everything was about me. That overall, in summary, I was so self-focused that I didn’t even know how to validate someone else’s hurt or to own my own actions.
This is so far from the truth of who I am that I don’t understand why I would even accept this as even a glimmer of truism. But I know the words against me carried the haunting echos of what I was told as a child.
Regardless, I ran.
A day before this comment, I asked God for a sign. I’d prayed deeply for humility, for release of control, for release of want; and thought that the recent negativity was His way of showing me to stop blogging, to stop exposing myself. I thought He was hinting that I was too sensitive and not cut out for this task at hand. I believed I was indirectly self-punishing and hurting myself.
In retrospect, I know my God. I know those were false conclusions. As I know I am complete and whole in my creator’s eyes, and that in truth that my extreme sensitivity is my attribute, my way of reaching others.
What happened next, was interesting, in my opinion, and entirely gut-wrenchingly painful.
Upon reading what I consider “spiteful” words, I over-analyzed, and submerged myself in a puzzle of truisms and falsehoods, mainly in an attempt to see who I was.
Was I indeed ego-centered? Was I indeed essentially lying for 300 posts and presenting a false self? Maybe… I pondered this.
Was I a fraud, having fooled my deepest self, innately a liar of sorts?
This was the first loop I went through.
Afterall, if this one or two human beings thought so, of course they must be RIGHT!
You see this is the mind of this Aspie woman; this is what it is like to be me. This is why I hate, and I rarely use that word, but hate being in the spotlight, because of course eventually someone will be mean, retaliate, or disclaim who I present myself to be.
And to some, who can’t understand this, they will take this as weakness and silliness, or maybe even an outcry for attention, but it is not. If I wanted attention I would have used my real name; I would have self-promoted… I have the brains and know-how to self-publisize and gain a wider audience. It is not hard. But that was not my intention, and anyone who reads my blog with open-mind and a open-heart will see that.
What amazed me most, and still does, through this processing, as I have clearly and openly stated who I am over and over for months upon months; I have essentially bled myself out to the world; I have been nothing but open and honest and filled with best intention, but like vultures, some people be, just waiting to strike at my slightest interpreted “failing,” “flaw,” or “unappealing action.”
And this has been my ache since childhood: the ache of knowing I am good. Knowing I am filled with good intention and love. Knowing I am sincere and only wanting to make the world better. Yet, continually being viewed by someone as flawed and wrong. or worse fraudulent and false.
And this seemingly seems to be egotistical. At least that is a good argument for those wanting and wishing to point blame. Why not? Here is a woman (girl) pointing out her flaws, sharing her woes and hurts, so of course she is doing this to receive support and love. But that couldn’t be further from the truth. As I have stated before, here and in my support group, I cannot feel compliments; I cannot feel pride. I just cannot. If even a hint of pride enters me, I pray. And maybe that is prideful to admit even that, but how can I share it if not through words?
I get excited by someone connecting with me, when someone see that I can write well, with someone recognizing the real me. But to me that is not ego-centered. To me that is being seen and appreciated. I can absorb that. But only for a fleeting moment. Only for a glimpse. And then I am back to wondering how I can do more to help.
Where in it is hard for me to take in kind words, I do feel insult to the hundredth degree. Because innately I want to be perfect, even though I know this isn’t humanly possible, perfect in the sense that I want to walk the path of Holy people. I don’t want to be seen as a Holy person, or have that title, I just want to be that way. I see no reason to live unless I am loving more than hurting, giving more than taking, and reaching out more than receiving. This is how I am wired. This is me. Again, I can’t help if this sounds ego-based. Maybe it is. But it doesn’t feel that way to me.
And so I looped more, thinking well psychologically one would analyze me with daddy-issues and having to prove my worth to feel worthy or replace some broken piece inside of me. But I know that is not it.
I know I am worthy. I really do.
Inside I know so strongly that I am filled with Christ-love, or whatever love one is comfortable calling my love. I see this in the friends I have. They are so lovely. So beautiful. I can’t help but see myself in them.
I know so well I have light inside of me, as I have felt love most, if not all of my life.
I was a sensitive, joy-filled child, endowed with love and a depth of knowledge beyond my years. I was so sweet and essentially happy, until I began to uncover the ways of this world.
And that is when I changed. That is when my eyes became sad and my heart burdened. It wasn’t my father. It isn’t a perfectionistic personality; it is my heart, though so huge it be.
I looped again, further in intensity, thinking I wasn’t meant to be this way; I wasn’t meant to be a giver; I wasn’t meant to help people. I wasn’t built for it. If I was built for it why would I take so much to heart? It must be I am flawed. It must be I am ego-centered.
And round and round I went.
I wanted to explain myself…. but would that be ego-based.
I wanted to let it go…. but would that be denying a part I am that is so typical of a person with Aspergers.
I wanted to get angry, to curse, to yell, to scream… but would that be losing control.
I wanted to copy and paste the unkind comment to this blog for analysis and help with interpretation…but indeed I knew the social customs did not deem that appropriate at all.
I wanted to cry out my horrible pain, as I shed tears for hours… but wouldn’t that just push me further into a light of seemingly wanting attention? Poor me, love me please. Tell me I’m special. Look at me.
But YUCK. I don’t want that. I despise that to some degree. No amount of reassurance or words will build my worth. Yet, for some odd reason, any amount of negative-energy pulls me down. Humbles me further.
And I think, in reflection, that I am still at the exact same level of sensitivity and vulnerability as when I began this blogging journey. I don’t think my skin is any thicker. I don’t think that is spiritually possible for me to grow thicker.
I processed so much about this ONE comment that I became immobile in action; and then I did what I needed to do to make the loops stop!
Like I have done in the past, I adapted who I was to fit the eyes of a stranger I wanted to please. Knowing I didn’t really want to please them, that ultimately I wanted to make sure I’d taken out all that could be deemed “non-beneficial” out of me. I wanted to destroy my humanness. I wanted to purge not my frailties, but anything that might stand in the way of me misrepresenting myself.
I believe I am not longing for acceptance, I am still longing to be seen.
And then I began to think of all the spiritual readings I’ve done. All the rules of right and wrong. All that somewhat point to the same thing: Your enemy is a reflection of you.
And so I self-persectued more.
I told myself well then I am this person; I am this spiteful person.
Though I knew inside she wasn’t spiteful. I knew she was just seeing what she chose to see.
And I saw all of my past learnings. Logically I knew it all. I even knew cognitively what I was supposed to do, but I couldn’t.
I just kept thinking what if she is right? What if I have done all this for no other reason than ego. What a terrible, awful person I be.
And I twisted and turned, and did what I know to do. I took her (their) words and reformed me.
If I was ego-based then I needed to deplete ego more. It wasn’t enough that I prayed all day for humility, wasn’t enough that I exposed myself, wasn’t enough that I spent hours helping others, expecting nothing in return, (even writing this feels so wrong but I will to prove a point), but I had to crush all aspects of self that symbolized I wasn’t representing who I was.
So I deleted almost every single one of my photos on this blog. I took tons of images of myself in an attempt to understand what I looked like. But saw this could be seen as ego-based.
I then deleted the about me page… because “about me” seemed ego-based just in the name.
I deactivated my like page (which I will bring back, maybe) because I’d only started it to reach more people. I never used it to self-promote. Like I said, it would have been so easy to do. Here’s a cute photo and a cute quote from my blog, read it, share it, and bring me the higher numbers— so not who I am at the core! But I erased the like-page, just to be certain.
Then I deactivated Sam Craft, because she somehow seemed to be the ego-centered one, because me, this woman, this spirit, this one with another “legal” name other than my penname, isn’t Sam in completion. Sam is my spokesperson.
I did all these actions to stop the loops, to stop the replaying of the negative message in my head.
And then, I thought I HAD to stop blogging. How could I share about myself and not be ego-based? It was an impossible riddle to solve.
Then I convinced myself this was for the best: More time with family. More time to focus on me. More time to just enjoy life and live.
But really, who was I fooling?
I have to write. I have to. There just is no way around it. Spirit has opened something in me and I am filled with thoughts and images all day long. Whole posts recited to me as I awake.
There is nothing I want to do more than helping others: that is my joy that is my happiness that is how I live. And if admitting that seems ego-based, I cannot help this. I cannot help if I am human, and part of me is still with ego.
Yes, in blogging there is huge fear of exposure. Yes, there are enemies out there, but what better way of defeating fear and enemy than announcing to the world: Here is my enemy.
And then realizing I am the only enemy to my own self.
Yes, I ran from the bully. I ran and ran and ran with my tail between my legs. But more so I ran from my self.
Because I don’t know who I be in flesh. I don’t know my role, my place; I only know who I be inside my heart.
I am fragile in spirit. But I am a tower of strength within my truth and light.
So why am I posting again? The thoughts come… as I risk comments such as: The only reason you said you were stopping was for attention.
I am posting because I am not done risking. That is why. I am not done risking, because I know in risk I can at last face the demons in my mind that speak that I am not enough.
I am posting because I can at last face the enemy that has persecuted me throughout my life telling me I was wrong or false.
I am posting because I am choosing not to run anymore.
This is where I stand.
I write for those that see me for me. Who see beyond judgment and labeling. Who know the pain of rejection. Who have been afflicted time and time again. I write to give them strength too. I write to say I am still here. I am still loving you and seeing you and your inherent good and worth.
I will not judge you. And if I do, my judgment shall not last.
I write for those that see their self in me. Who see that we are one in our struggle, that we are not alone. I write because the fire to know you within my own self burns so high that I cannot lessen the flame unless I reach out to find you.
I don’t know why all of this happened like this. I don’t know why I have to feel so much pain. But I know something, I will continue to be humbled. I will continue to be exposed and hurt. But there will come a time when I love you so much that I cannot help to see my own beauty. There will come a time when I can finally stand my ground and stick my tongue out at the bully and know that is okay. That the bully doesn’t exist. And that standing my own ground is okay.
To just stand there and shout: You are wrong! I am filled with light, and if you cannot see that then that is the darkness in you.
To the person out there: Your opinion is not a reflection of me. Your opinion is in constant motion, ever-changing based on some composition of rights and wrongs instilled inside your head. And though I may have felt wronged, I release this energy, and I embrace you for all that you have taught me, whether it be through the illusion of spite or not, because you are my teacher; I have called upon you as you have called upon me. And whatever I choose to do with the lesson is my choice. Just as whatever you choose to do with your perception of me be your choice. I give you that freedom, not that you need the granting, only because I need the granting. I need the freedom to release you. For you are not my maker and equally not my breaker. I choose all to be my teacher. I choose however you choose to respond to be another lesson learned. Your words will no longer create me, transform me, or make me into someone I am not. They will only serve as fuel for my passion to love others. So feed me all that you want. But know I shall not run. I shall stand here and shout, if not for me, than for all the others who have been hurt by you.
I dream of getting to the point where I can say: Your opinion of me is none of my business.
At least I used to dream of that day. But I don’t think I’m built that way. I think I am meant to be continually chiseled and brought back to my knees. I think that is my deepest wish. I see no other way to be. I think I am meant to be hurt, until I am tired of being hurt. Until I can look at someone and know, with every inch of me, and with total acceptance, that their pain and fear is not a reflection of me, because I have released my pain and fear. I think that is my journey, to hurt and hurt, until I am beyond hurt. Until I see how beautiful this world really is beyond the limited scope of my perception.
And so I release myself today. And I embrace my son’s words, my son with Aspergers: “Why did you stop blogging, Mom? You are so close to completion? If you give up you are letting the bully win. There are a lot of people who want you to keep coming back here. The only reason the bullies talk is because they are the ones that have spite. The other people are completely content.”
And so I write. For you. For me. To calm the burning passion. And to be able to look at my glorious son, and say, you are right. You are so very right.
Blessings and Light and Love. And here is to a life filled with so many unexpected turns that I might as well just let go.
In much love,
P.S. I guess I found some answers
Always and forever a learner.