(no subject)
Been at my parents' house again for the weekend. On saturday, an old greatuncle had come over for afternoon cake and dinner, me and my dad played cards with him. It was nice to see the two old men being "in their element" again, haha .. it was easy to see the chiseler in my uncle. Lot's of bluffing occured. I really missed playing cards, Skat is a really good game (it has nothing to do with 'scat', it's just a german name for a card game). I loved to see my dad put up his pokerface again. We should do such card game evenings more often. Maybe in summer. My greatuncle is over 80 already, amazing how he still has such a good grasp on Skat, he even won the evening in points. Skat isn't terribly hard, but still many people don't get it, including most women.
I think I should hang around some more with other guys. Except for cars and soccer/football, I can warm up to most kinds of interests that are normally considered typically male. I know I miss male company, the way men think and speak. Though, what I must say, I normally get along better with older men. But maybe that's just because my dad is very old and because I usually had to do more with other old people. In some twisted way, I see a competitor in every man that's around my age. And I don't like to compete, even when I win. When I loose I feel some sort of rage inside, it can even mutate to a quiet yet inwardly seething hate. But when I win, I feel no real satisfaction either. I feel like ... all this hazzle .. just for that? So mostly I just take care that I don't loose, to avoid the disturbing emotions that accompany such defeats. Maybe it's my schizo, the genius from "A beautiful mind" said it well that competition is one field that disturbs us men with schizophrenia. One thing I know, overcoming myself, beating the inner pig dog, gives much more satisfaction, and usually the satisfaction is accompanied by a self that becomes stronger and yet it also yields more easily to my will.
I talked with my parents about moving back to them. My dad was delighted, as I had anticipated, but my mother has a few worries. She's not against it, but somehow she fears it might not prove as good as me and my dad are thinking. We'll see. I think I'll need a good long talk with my counselor. I trust her oppinion well.
I had gone to my parents with the thought of writing some pink poetry about me and my new friend. But, somehow, it didn't quite flow right. On saturday, in the night, a voice had come to me again, the voice which I usually felt would be IM's voice. It has this rigor and this straightness which always suspected in IM, and it is also a rather deep and rough voice similar to IM's real voice which I know from her art site. I had a lengthy conversation with her in my mind. It was pretty good, something happened, and after a while I suddenly knew the voice was not IM. I have no idea what these voices are in truth, if they are figments of my imagination, separated thoughts, spirits, etc .. I really don't know. But it gives immense relief to 'know' it inwardly again that these voices aren't real people. I hated it when I was weak because of my episodes, and felt like IM would see all my weakness and despise me. I felt so much shame. I guess healthy people have no idea what it means not to be alone anymore in your head. Being sane in the way I remember it was like having a nice room upstairs in the house, furnitured and decorated exactly as I liked it, so that nothing would disturb me. I would go into this room within me whenever I was tired, depressed or otherwise disturbed. Formerly I could go there all the time, wherever I really was, whether I sat in restaurant or in the city railway, it didn't matter. When I wrote something beautiful, I usually wrote it in this room. When I loved someone, I discovered it there that I did. When I was in my episodes it was as if my beloved room was completely desecrated, the flowers withered, the furniture broken, books torn apart, the piano in shambles, excrements on the floor, the walls full of holes, the windows broken. The room isn't nice again yet. But I'm working on it. I am sceptic if I will ever let anyone else inside again. It seems a necessity now to spare the room for myself alone. I must understand that intimacy .. well, I cannot offer it again to everyone, and even if I feel love for someone I should be extremely cautious about offering someone to join me in my room of solitude, in the surroundings that give me a great deal of my peace and strength.
I'm thinking about love. How much love is in fact manipulation, being manipulated and manipulating someone myself? How much totality can love bear? How much radicality? I know that I cannot construct love. It isn't that hard to make a nice house, but even if the house is perfect, sometimes love doesn't want to enter regardless. This is one of the things that remind me to this "God is love" thing. I can't grasp God fully, I can't grasp love fully. But, likely, understanding and knowing isn't the same as grasping. Grasping something means like knowing the ins and outs of something totally, and this is simply impossible to achieve. It seems to fully grasp God in the ultimate sense, would mean to BE God. And this is both impossible, because I am I and God is God, which will remain reality, and a blasphemy, because God wants to remain God, and God wants me to be his child. God is love, God's love "contains" God, God as a being, a person, so to speak, this love isn't just some energy or wave, like gnostics are fond of thinking, it is a God, a person God. I have experienced the love of God coming to me, but I have also learned the hard way that there is someone sitting on this throne of light, that there is someone within this loving presence. I am struggling with the words. I know it's impossible to even just understand God completely for myself. I have to listen to my own advices .. and be happy just because I know God, because He has entered my life and revealed himself in tender love.
I think I should hang around some more with other guys. Except for cars and soccer/football, I can warm up to most kinds of interests that are normally considered typically male. I know I miss male company, the way men think and speak. Though, what I must say, I normally get along better with older men. But maybe that's just because my dad is very old and because I usually had to do more with other old people. In some twisted way, I see a competitor in every man that's around my age. And I don't like to compete, even when I win. When I loose I feel some sort of rage inside, it can even mutate to a quiet yet inwardly seething hate. But when I win, I feel no real satisfaction either. I feel like ... all this hazzle .. just for that? So mostly I just take care that I don't loose, to avoid the disturbing emotions that accompany such defeats. Maybe it's my schizo, the genius from "A beautiful mind" said it well that competition is one field that disturbs us men with schizophrenia. One thing I know, overcoming myself, beating the inner pig dog, gives much more satisfaction, and usually the satisfaction is accompanied by a self that becomes stronger and yet it also yields more easily to my will.
I talked with my parents about moving back to them. My dad was delighted, as I had anticipated, but my mother has a few worries. She's not against it, but somehow she fears it might not prove as good as me and my dad are thinking. We'll see. I think I'll need a good long talk with my counselor. I trust her oppinion well.
I had gone to my parents with the thought of writing some pink poetry about me and my new friend. But, somehow, it didn't quite flow right. On saturday, in the night, a voice had come to me again, the voice which I usually felt would be IM's voice. It has this rigor and this straightness which always suspected in IM, and it is also a rather deep and rough voice similar to IM's real voice which I know from her art site. I had a lengthy conversation with her in my mind. It was pretty good, something happened, and after a while I suddenly knew the voice was not IM. I have no idea what these voices are in truth, if they are figments of my imagination, separated thoughts, spirits, etc .. I really don't know. But it gives immense relief to 'know' it inwardly again that these voices aren't real people. I hated it when I was weak because of my episodes, and felt like IM would see all my weakness and despise me. I felt so much shame. I guess healthy people have no idea what it means not to be alone anymore in your head. Being sane in the way I remember it was like having a nice room upstairs in the house, furnitured and decorated exactly as I liked it, so that nothing would disturb me. I would go into this room within me whenever I was tired, depressed or otherwise disturbed. Formerly I could go there all the time, wherever I really was, whether I sat in restaurant or in the city railway, it didn't matter. When I wrote something beautiful, I usually wrote it in this room. When I loved someone, I discovered it there that I did. When I was in my episodes it was as if my beloved room was completely desecrated, the flowers withered, the furniture broken, books torn apart, the piano in shambles, excrements on the floor, the walls full of holes, the windows broken. The room isn't nice again yet. But I'm working on it. I am sceptic if I will ever let anyone else inside again. It seems a necessity now to spare the room for myself alone. I must understand that intimacy .. well, I cannot offer it again to everyone, and even if I feel love for someone I should be extremely cautious about offering someone to join me in my room of solitude, in the surroundings that give me a great deal of my peace and strength.
I'm thinking about love. How much love is in fact manipulation, being manipulated and manipulating someone myself? How much totality can love bear? How much radicality? I know that I cannot construct love. It isn't that hard to make a nice house, but even if the house is perfect, sometimes love doesn't want to enter regardless. This is one of the things that remind me to this "God is love" thing. I can't grasp God fully, I can't grasp love fully. But, likely, understanding and knowing isn't the same as grasping. Grasping something means like knowing the ins and outs of something totally, and this is simply impossible to achieve. It seems to fully grasp God in the ultimate sense, would mean to BE God. And this is both impossible, because I am I and God is God, which will remain reality, and a blasphemy, because God wants to remain God, and God wants me to be his child. God is love, God's love "contains" God, God as a being, a person, so to speak, this love isn't just some energy or wave, like gnostics are fond of thinking, it is a God, a person God. I have experienced the love of God coming to me, but I have also learned the hard way that there is someone sitting on this throne of light, that there is someone within this loving presence. I am struggling with the words. I know it's impossible to even just understand God completely for myself. I have to listen to my own advices .. and be happy just because I know God, because He has entered my life and revealed himself in tender love.