(no subject)
I don't know why, but I have an extremely vivid memory. I remember an endless amount of moments, emotions and to near absolute detail, ever since I was 3. Some a good, some are bad, on different parts in the spectrum. It makes absolutely no difference if it's a good or bad memory, I do not focus on the bad things that have happened in my past, but because there was a lot of it, and it affected me very strongly emotionally (either it was an explosion of emotions, or there were none at all since I was in those trance-like states of anxiety). Basically because my dad distributed me with a condition of battered and miswired neurology which introduced an emotional handicap to my gene-pool, AND that his behavior only worsened the effects of it in me as there was no way for me to learn to deal with the emotions in a healthy way until at a later age. This has left me being very selectively emotional. Either I have a lot of feelings or, none at all, depending on the day, situation, state of fatigue etc. Sometimes I still just can't handle them because they become overwhelming for me so I just, you know, go terminator on them.
So. Tons of vivid memories. Some people (or read: one. An ex) have been very negative and condescending whenever I've just "zoned out" and suddenly had a very strong flash of emotion-filled bad memories pop into my head. I'm not a bitter person who dwells on this shit and holds grudges against the people who have done bad things to me. I have forgiven them. And most of them, probably have changed, so no I have no reason to carry around a black postal-attitude towards people who stepped on my toes in my past. But observe that I cannot control these memories fully, block them out (and neither do I think I should) and because I think being bullied and kicked around from both my father and my fellow students my whole life up until I moved out at 15 to be together with a mentally and physically abusive ex who followed the legacy for a whole 3 additional years is, quite a fucking intense experience, I think it is no wonder that I remember a buttload of crap. And, as I said, I "zone out" when this happens (and it happens at rarer and rarer occasions as time passes by), I am completely sucked into the moment. I feel all the fear, neglect, hate, sadness, hollowness (or contra, joy, relief, relaxation) that went by in these moments.
So yes, I get sad when I remember events like the previous post. Yes, I get mad when I remember how my principal stated in a cocky tone that I'm an outsider in the class because I have an attitude problem. Yes, I get furious when I remember being attacked by a clique of drunken bitches because one of them had seen me at school - and upon me recognizing her at the bar and thinking I may try to get to know her since she was the only "familiar" face I saw that evening, refusing to shake my hand because she had for some reason concluded that I was an overly arrogant ("nose-up-in-the-air" as she said) biatch - and that I deserved a beating. Yet, these emotions are only expressed by mild irritation when, if, I share the memory with someone. I don't get exaggerated reactions, I merely feel it inside when I'm locked up "in my head" with the memory, which is then translated in a milder shade into the possible "rant" that may follow.
I have come to realize that most of what I've learned concerning recognizing and being able to name my emotions, separate them, put them in words, happened only in my late teens. When I was free from most of the negative influence I had experienced and only then had time to handle it, process it, and learn it. Like I should've begun when I was a child. So, these memories. Perhaps they are so multiple and vivid partially because I need them in order to jump back into these various moments and emotions, so that now afterward, I can try to be able to name them, recognize them, and let go.
I mean it's simple that with such an intense childhood, little time to breathe, the emotional maturing that would result from that kind of experiences had been put on hold until there was space for them. It's like with weight training - your body doesn't increase the mass of your muscular cells WHEN you work out, but AFTER. That's why you need days when you rest and don't train. I was in constant bombardment, I was literally falling apart. But I am tough. I bit my teeth together and finally managed to make space for peace of mind, on my own. Time to sort things out, suffer the growing pains, minimize negative influence, rest. And when I was finally free from the shit, when my mind realized it no longer needed to push through at all costs burning the candle at both ends so that I would survive, it shut down. I thought that I would feel good, but no, it shut down because it needed to recuperate. In other words, I had my meltdown when it got better. I started being less and less able to get up at mornings to get to school. I started being an hour late every morning...then it became two...four...whole days that I'd be absent, weeks, months....
I've been now some 4-5 years on a sick leave and rather secluded and isolated most of the time in my own apartment, gradually beginning to have an easier time waking up couple days a week early enough to run a few errands, get groceries, see friends or just go to a karaoke and sing so that the whole block shakes and the department of seismology comes to look for the epicenter.
I'm waking up out of my hibernation. I'm feeling gradually better. Feeling lighter. No more depressed. I'm in love, too.
I'm..wait noo...that can't be possible? What's that...happy? Happy.
There's a huge mess. A lot of clutter has gathered in my apartment. I need 50% of it OUT. But that's still simmering on the stove, needs to go through that process.
I've been thinking of starting with a small course on something. Martial arts sounds like a plan. Kick-boxing. A little adults' beginners course on ballet? Start small. Baby steps (to the door, baby steps to the elevator...like Bob ;D)
And maybe *gasp* maybe someday I'll get back to school to finish those effing AV-media studies and get ahead to what I've been dreaming beyond that, actually having a life and living it.
I just wonder when I'll be able to do it. I feel weak.
So. Tons of vivid memories. Some people (or read: one. An ex) have been very negative and condescending whenever I've just "zoned out" and suddenly had a very strong flash of emotion-filled bad memories pop into my head. I'm not a bitter person who dwells on this shit and holds grudges against the people who have done bad things to me. I have forgiven them. And most of them, probably have changed, so no I have no reason to carry around a black postal-attitude towards people who stepped on my toes in my past. But observe that I cannot control these memories fully, block them out (and neither do I think I should) and because I think being bullied and kicked around from both my father and my fellow students my whole life up until I moved out at 15 to be together with a mentally and physically abusive ex who followed the legacy for a whole 3 additional years is, quite a fucking intense experience, I think it is no wonder that I remember a buttload of crap. And, as I said, I "zone out" when this happens (and it happens at rarer and rarer occasions as time passes by), I am completely sucked into the moment. I feel all the fear, neglect, hate, sadness, hollowness (or contra, joy, relief, relaxation) that went by in these moments.
So yes, I get sad when I remember events like the previous post. Yes, I get mad when I remember how my principal stated in a cocky tone that I'm an outsider in the class because I have an attitude problem. Yes, I get furious when I remember being attacked by a clique of drunken bitches because one of them had seen me at school - and upon me recognizing her at the bar and thinking I may try to get to know her since she was the only "familiar" face I saw that evening, refusing to shake my hand because she had for some reason concluded that I was an overly arrogant ("nose-up-in-the-air" as she said) biatch - and that I deserved a beating. Yet, these emotions are only expressed by mild irritation when, if, I share the memory with someone. I don't get exaggerated reactions, I merely feel it inside when I'm locked up "in my head" with the memory, which is then translated in a milder shade into the possible "rant" that may follow.
I have come to realize that most of what I've learned concerning recognizing and being able to name my emotions, separate them, put them in words, happened only in my late teens. When I was free from most of the negative influence I had experienced and only then had time to handle it, process it, and learn it. Like I should've begun when I was a child. So, these memories. Perhaps they are so multiple and vivid partially because I need them in order to jump back into these various moments and emotions, so that now afterward, I can try to be able to name them, recognize them, and let go.
I mean it's simple that with such an intense childhood, little time to breathe, the emotional maturing that would result from that kind of experiences had been put on hold until there was space for them. It's like with weight training - your body doesn't increase the mass of your muscular cells WHEN you work out, but AFTER. That's why you need days when you rest and don't train. I was in constant bombardment, I was literally falling apart. But I am tough. I bit my teeth together and finally managed to make space for peace of mind, on my own. Time to sort things out, suffer the growing pains, minimize negative influence, rest. And when I was finally free from the shit, when my mind realized it no longer needed to push through at all costs burning the candle at both ends so that I would survive, it shut down. I thought that I would feel good, but no, it shut down because it needed to recuperate. In other words, I had my meltdown when it got better. I started being less and less able to get up at mornings to get to school. I started being an hour late every morning...then it became two...four...whole days that I'd be absent, weeks, months....
I've been now some 4-5 years on a sick leave and rather secluded and isolated most of the time in my own apartment, gradually beginning to have an easier time waking up couple days a week early enough to run a few errands, get groceries, see friends or just go to a karaoke and sing so that the whole block shakes and the department of seismology comes to look for the epicenter.
I'm waking up out of my hibernation. I'm feeling gradually better. Feeling lighter. No more depressed. I'm in love, too.
I'm..wait noo...that can't be possible? What's that...happy? Happy.
There's a huge mess. A lot of clutter has gathered in my apartment. I need 50% of it OUT. But that's still simmering on the stove, needs to go through that process.
I've been thinking of starting with a small course on something. Martial arts sounds like a plan. Kick-boxing. A little adults' beginners course on ballet? Start small. Baby steps (to the door, baby steps to the elevator...like Bob ;D)
And maybe *gasp* maybe someday I'll get back to school to finish those effing AV-media studies and get ahead to what I've been dreaming beyond that, actually having a life and living it.
I just wonder when I'll be able to do it. I feel weak.