Preserve the SELF At All Costs

 

 

Smash365: Self-Protection

Jul 21, 2011 by rus vanwestervelt

Self-protection is our strongest reaction pattern — it seems to be programmed into every cell of a living being in order to maintain, defend, and perpetuate itself. It is the essence of the life program and is also functioning within our elaborate me-structure. The entire me-structure demands to be protected and perpetuated as though it were a living being. The moment somebody says something critical about me, the instant reflex of preservation, defense, and aggression springs into action. ~Toni Packer, The Wonder of Presence

When we are aware of this instant reflex, we are better able to slow down or halt the defensive measures we take for self-protection. Spend some time being aware of your feelings and your reactions to certain situations, personal or otherwise. When you are aware of your inner reactions, how does your “public” response change? What if you prepared yourself before probable confrontational situations. What would those preparations look like, and how might that bring about a different outcome?

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I learned at a very young age that either I took care of me or I would be food for the carnivores. My fight or flight response is super sensitive and kicks in without me even being aware of it at times. While I am accutely aware of preserving my self, I am extremely unselfish. I do not take more than is my fair share and in most cases, I actually take a lot less. However, I give multitudes more than I take. Having said that though, I am always aware that if I do not look out for my self then no one will. I must always be on guard. Always in protective mode. Always on the look out for dangers to the self. The self must be protected, guarded at all costs.

This feeling of self preservation keeps me at arm's length from people. I cannot fully trust anyone because of the fear they may harm the self. I cannot allow anyone to get close because if I do then they may hurt the self. They may take from the self leaving it with nothing and alone. Scared. Frightened. Protect the self at all costs.

This is my mantra. My manifesto. My singular purpose in life. Simply to survive. Not live. Not even exist. Just survive. At times I feel like I am in a war zone. Constantly fighting an unseen, unknown enemy. Anyone and everyone could potentially be a danger. Even those I do allow close to me, there are times where I see their words and I wonder "is there some hidden threat behind what they are saying"? I will distance myself from them until I am certain that the threat  to the self has passed.

This type of survival is exhausting. It is why I prefer being alone. When I am alone I don't have to worry about hidden dangers. I don't have to worry about people taking from me. Leaving me with nothing. Abandoning me. I don't have to fight for basic necessities.

I do this. I hide food. I gather things and save them. Just in case. In case I have no food. In case I have no shelter. Just in case. I have done this for as long as I can remember because since I was little my life has always been uncertain. I never knew where I would be living the next day. If I would have a place to live. From as far back as I can remember these fears have been with me and the more my illness grows, the more they grow. There are times where I am not hungry but if I am served food I will eat it. Every last bite. Until I am about to vomit. Until I can feel it sitting in my throat simply because it may be the last time I eat. I don't know when or if I will eat again.

Now these fears, in my current situation, are groundless. I have a home, food. I don't need to worry about these things. We don't have much, but we have. We always manage. There is always something. Even if it's a little, but I cannot let go of this preservation of self. Sometimes when I am eating even though I am not hungry and these thoughts are rolling through my mind, I realize how ridiculous and irrational it is, but even though I recognize the irrationality of it. I cannot stop myself. Just in case.

Preservation of self at all costs. Even from the imaginary ones.

One Roof Different Worlds

The events of the last 72 hrs have been turbulent to say the least. Not on the outside but on my inside. On my outside, I have smiled, laughed, joked, and nearly bitten my tongue in half. On my inside,  a volcano has been erupting, lava spewing in all directions, a crazed missing link deseparately searching for a way out of its cage. It's been a very long 72 hrs.

But one of the things that I came to realize once I stopped for a few moments and simply breathed is that while we all may share the same roof over our heads we are from very different planets. I have watched with disgust as the people around me complained about things which they had no right to complain about and silently I seethed at them. In my mind, I plotted their deaths. Threw unseen daggers and filled their glasses with poisonous venom.

I came to realize one very important thing. Non crazy people disgust me. They are vindictive, unappreciative, greedy, selfish, and jealous. At least the ones I know are. While I am certain there are some crazies out there who are just like them probably even worse, I have not come across them. I don't know if it's the fact that we live inside of the chaos and therefore are more willing to lend a helping hand, a comforting word to someone who is hurting or in need. Or maybe it's because our worlds are so turbulent that whenever someone took a moment to offer a word of kindness to us it was worth more than gold and we want to give that to someone else.

I truly don't know, but what I do know is that I have been disgusted by these people. A resentment is building inside of me. I fear that there will come a day when I can no longer contain it and it will erupt. When it does, there will be casualties. I fear that I will be amongst them.

For all of the hardships, difficulties, and loss I have faced, in some ways I am glad I am bipolar. If being bipolar is what makes me offer kindness to a stranger, even if the only thing I have to give is my ear to listen, then I would gladly be bipolar instead of being the selfish vindictive non crazy that I seem to be surrounded by.

What My Innards Look Like

“I hate quotations. Tell me what you know.” - Ralph Waldo Emerson

What message is yearning inside you?  What is something you know deep in your soul?  Don’t look for someone else to describe it.  You do it.  Write it down.  Write it as a poem, a sentence or even just a string of words.  Just make sure you get it to paper.

Through silent waters
Knee deep in mud
Struggling and straining


On and on
Never ending maze
Circle unbroken
Eternal flame

Into the vortex
Slip and slide
Forgetting tomorrow
Lost in time

Broken petals
Pierce the sky
Darkness evading
Passing by

Unleashing the Apocalypse

“Self-censorship is not just self-betrayal and self-abandonment (which would be bad enough), but soul-betrayal and betrayal of our Muse, out inner voice, our highest self.”

Too often we censor ourselves, our actions, and our work in hope or fear of what might happen if we otherwise don’t. What words would you write today, and what actions would you take, if you had nothing to fear, nothing to lose?

(Author: Tanner Christensen)

This is today's prompt in the #Trust 30 challenge that I recently found. This actually started in May I think so it's not actively going on or it might be and I just don't know which is totally possible. Anyways I just found it and as a few of these prompts speak to me I thought I would write about them. I really need some focus right now because I am just lost in the darkness at the moment. 

Self-censorship. I do this A LOT. I know if you read my blog for more than 5 secs you would not really think that I censor myself, but I do. Especially in real life. I hate confrontations. I hate rejection. I FEAR abandonment. I worry about displeasing. I very rarely say what I truly feel. I do this mostly because I think what I feel is wrong. I am wrong. I feel this deep within me that I am always wrong. My thoughts, feelings, actions, all wrong. So I don't say what I truly feel or want. I edit my thoughts and shape them around what I think is appropriate. What I think the other person wants to hear in hopes that they won't reject me. Abandon me. In hopes they won't become displeased by me. Stop liking me. 

Leave me. 

What is the strangest thing about this is that in many ways I truly don't give a flying fuck about what people think about me. But yet I do this and I don't know why sometimes. The fear that grips me at times is so overpowering that I just become a slave to it and I am forced by demons from within to alter my true thoughts, feelings, emotions, words. A vicious cycle  begins and I get so lost in trying to be this "person" I have created that I lose myself and become unhappy. This makes those around me unhappy. I appear "fake". Stop pretending is something I get told a lot. Yet in many ways I am not pretending, but I am. I convince myself that I want and feel what my mouth is uttering even though I truly don't.

I get so lost in trying to "be" that I forget who I "am".

Jigger was the first person to truly see through my bullshit. To see that there was something under it. Something more than just a game. He pushed me in front of the mirror. Forced me to say the things I didn't want to admit. Not even to myself. Forced me to open my eyes and I have become much better at not censoring myself. 

Except in my writing. I don't often truly say what I am feeling. I write in riddles and metaphors that I am certain people would never understand because I don't want to deal with the shit that comes with having to explain where I live and how. I don't want to have to answer the inevitable questions that come. I have answered them so many times in my life and for now I am done. I just want to be alone but not really. 

I don't really want to be alone. I just want to be allowed to be the me that I am instead of the me that I should be. The me that lives deep inside of me. The me that has never seen the sun or felt the rain in its face. I just want to be that me without having to explain why or how or because. I want people around me who accept that flawed broken me. Only there are very few people who are like that. 

What words would you write today, and what actions would you take, if you had nothing to fear, nothing to lose?

 I would tell my children the truth. The real truth. Not the PC truth. Not the truth that is padded or bent to keep them from feeling pain or hurt, but the complete truth. Except I would never do this because I could never hurt my children. I would rather they hate me. I never want to be the reason they hurt except I am and I don't know how not to be. 

I would tell you how the delusions of bipolar have removed my foundation. They have made me doubt myself so much that I don't say what I truly feel, want, desire because I am not certain if it is real. I lived for so long inside of a delusion that now I never trust myself. I never believe that what I am feeling is real. Being fake. Saying what the other person wants to hear is real. I have lost the ability to trust myself. Trust my feelings. I have lost the ability to believe that what my eyes are seeing is real. That what my ears are hearing is actually there.

The delusions have broken me in ways that I cannot explain and now I feel very lost. I don't know which way to go. I don't know what is real and what isn't. Bipolar has broken me in ways that rape and abuse never did. It has taken from me my ability to believe in myself. To believe that what I am feeling is real. 

It has taken away "me".