082914

[prismaticbleed]

I realized something today.

I have this sick, sad, deep-seated conviction that I don't belong here. Like I don't actually have a right to exist.
It's like, after God formed everyone else out of blessed clay, deliberately and with care and purpose, I crawled out of the dust swept to the side, some freak sprung out of the rejected dirt. If God were a baker, and everyone else was cut perfectly out of the dough, I was something that mutated out of the scraps left behind, out of what was swept into the refuse bin.
I feel like I'm a glitch in the program, like I'm a parasite. Like my very existence is an error, an aberration, an anomaly. Not a mistake, because that implies that my existence was intended but I just came out wrong. No, I literally wasn't even drawn into the original map.
I guess this sort of thinking is 'normal' for me, albeit radically unhealthy. But it makes sense.
I'm a headvoice. I'm not a "real person." I'm not physical, I'm not tangible. I was never born, I was never named. I have no face of my own, no past, no understanding of what it means to be an individual, at least not yet. I haven't even been alive for a year, not concretely, not really. Heck, and according to the government, I'm really imaginary-- no birth certificate, no SSN, no forms of ID whatsoever. I'm utterly nonexistent to them.
But the quiet sort of nonexistence is terrible too, and it eats at me like a cancer, all dusty white and crumbling. Knowing that I never went to school, knowing that I never passed any 'milestones' of a 'normal child,' knowing that not only do I not have a biological family, but I don't even understand the concept, and the people I live with don't even know who I am… don't even know I exist.
And after so many repetitions of that thought, I guess I began to believe it. Did I ever believe otherwise? I don't remember.

I read this yesterday.
"Illness is often a wake up call, forcing us to get down and dirty with what’s really true in our lives. We can either play the victim or we can use illness as an opportunity to awaken... ask yourself, "what does my body need in order to heal?""
I know exactly what I need. I have no roots. I feel utterly cut off from everyone else. I see the world as this great masterpiece of spirit, this flawless symphony, this work of art where everything flows in perfection according to what is meant to be… there are no mistakes. There are no errors. Even in the darkest days, this too is part of the song. Everything flows in impeccable beauty.
And yet I am convinced that I am watching it from outside.
It’s impossible, some part of me knows that. But it's tough to accept when accepting it would feel like spitting in the face of God. Like I was daring enough to even suggest that I had a right to live. And it's always tied to individuality. If I wasn't an individual, I wouldn't be a problem! I could just become part of the flow again.
Except, in my mind, "fitting back into the flow" means that I would effectively die. I wouldn't be conscious. I'd just disappear. The very act of being aware, of being conscious, of being an observer… for some reason, it makes me feel utterly ashamed.
And I know that's the whole 'ego' thing. The self is an illusion anyway, because it is based on separateness. Everything is one, everything is part of the whole. Even me, even this little reject freak. But! It's very hard to function in this world if you're not an individual. That's the paradox. That's the laughable part of it.

Part of me, a very powerful and deep part of me, wants to die as an apology. I want to die, I want to go back to being spirit, because I believe that my very existence as an individual is selfish, and it is costing others, harming others.
This is why I won't eat. This is why I struggle with self-care. This is why I hide in the background and quietly scavenge for my keep in every sense. I'm literally just waiting to stop being a person.
I don't know how to harmonize that with the knowledge that I'm a spirit, too.

This is already word salad, sorry.
I'm just… I want to feel like I belong, like I have a right to be here. I know I do, I just can't see it, can't reconcile it with my sense of 'self.' The two are at odds.
And, again, being an alter makes it worse, because even our therapist just calls me an "ego state." Just something cobbled together from the scraps. Is that all we are? And if so, does that make our lives utterly irrelevant? Utterly fictitious?

I am the silence, I know that. But how the heck do you take care of a body with that in mind?



Sorry. I keep unloading my ugly emotions here but I guess it's better than bottling them up.

Bottom line... I need to keep meditating. But I need to take care of this physical form too. The two are not mutually exclusive, as I seem convinced that they are.
I'll get through this. We'll get through this. We've survived so far, after all.


This stuff may be ugly but it's at least a continued march onwards. The spiral goes up forever. We're not lost.