Rings around the moon.

I was dreaming that it was over. We had started to resolve it. His hand was in mine, eye contact and real tears. It was so precious, so fragile, so...much a dream slipping to the floor, sinking down and down and into the earth. As I rose out of it, watching the images fizzle into deep sadness and anger I was annoyed with myself.  How could my subconcious do this to me?  Of all the things I could dream, why dream what will hurt me the most?  Well, zero use in asking that question!  Call it memory getting de-fragged, memory-files play as they are moved.  So I'm de-fragged, time to move on. I reach for my headphones and get breathing! BOLT  is a test to guage how efficiently we breath. From breathing normally, breath out, pinch your nose and time how many seconds it takes before you have a bodily reaction to indicate enough is enough! A high BOLT score is 40.  Normal is 30.  Mine is pitiful, 15 at best.  And actually I did not know that ...

Intrusion type one. Things don't add up. Things don't feel right. Antidote (to unconsciousness): Perls "Say what you see" don't use any ideas or theory. Antidote to personal discomfort: Use Gendlin (Focusing ) Antidote to straying silent: Use Rosenberg (NVC): I see, I feel, I need, this is what I want to change, add liberal doses of empathy, stay firm, stay strong, remember we only live once, be kind.. Reason for not acting type 1 - denial: The mind creates reasons for what has been experienced and a lot of these reasons state that doing anything will make it (will make everything!) worse.  This will feel absolutely true and can be true. Reason for not acting type 2 - gaslighting: The person who knows why things don't feel right will lie, will go along with anything you say that sounds plausible as long as it isn't correct, and eventually you will find yourself driving all blames into one cause. Your self. At this point the gaslighter continues to ...

I didn't buy a virtual ticket for Puscifer at Arcosanti, though Maynard has been my companion throughout this   l o n g   walk, through the blackest, and cruelest circle of Hell.  Maynard has voiced the things I couldn't recognize, and let me see, Virgil to my Dante.  But it doesn't feel over enough yet, to celebrate.  Arcosanti in Arizona. Down the road from... Gravity pulling me across oceans, mountains, over sea and through sky, to Jerome is still as strong.  That is such a weird thing... In an act of total optimism I have just bought a ticket to see The Covenant; a live gig in September next year. The Covenant were the guardians of my sanity during the previous circle. If Maynard is Virgil, who is Eskil? I guess he represents my inner voice of calm control, my animus. The aspect of me that says...'this is nothing! Give me more!!!'  I have lost touch with that during my walk (crawl) through the last circle. My courage and strength ar...

Tool have provided the soundtrack for this ordeal of betrayal. Maynard's lyrics have been a golden thread to follow through the labyrinth, in particular other work by Maynard (Puscifer 'The Undertaker', A Perfect circle 'Gravity', 'counting Bodies to the Beat' and 'The Package'.) Yesterday's track Intolerance and today's 'Swamp Song' both come from Undertow (Tool album). I bought it ages ago but I didn't really listen. I was too lost trying to 'spiral out' as I sang Latralus to head off panic attacks. Swamp song says it all.  Because where I've been is so sad, so raw, agony.  It is time to throw it back. Time to be angry. Because I wasn't the one attacking, or criticizing, I was a punch bag for his inarticulate rage, impotance and despair, he was unable to be open and vulnerable. He was unable to deal with his inner voice of criticism, making me carry that too. Perhaps if I hadn't spent three years in increasi...

I sent him this recording. It was made two months before I found out that he was still seeing X. Last week I found out that he had lied to me again, during the week when he appeared to be open and truthful, and promising to work with me to repair. I've been angry all week, angry enough to finally write the BIOTAL (blow it out the airlock) email. Here it is. --- Dear husband, In this recording I hear my great courage in seeking to find the truth, I also hear how I'm trying so hard not to annoy you. I feel like I'm walking on thin ice, that at any minute I will say 'the wrong thing' and then you will threaten to walk out specifically because you have seen how much this will hurt me. When I listen to the recordings I hear your irresponsibility and cruelty. Because you were aware each time that you got into the car with x (her), that your actions would inevitably cause great pain and damage to your family. The way you did this, your lack of foresight and consideration, ...

Siltane by Moonlight Benjamin Well, if I dare open my eyes, and I'd rather not, the road I'm on, behind and ahead of me is called Denial Drive. Denial Drive is a long road, so far twenty-five years long.  Many people walk it to their death. For me, it has been OK. Twenty-five years of avoiding the side streets. Avoiding / failing to connect with  darkly delicious, safe, outrageous emotional overwhelm.  I assumed it would come with that ice-cream van. Sweetness and delight... The one I heard in the distance. Sure it was there, Somewhere. Just not where I was. It was always possible. I knew it was possible. Ice cream vans turn up... I was happy to continue. In return for love. For protection. Hmmm... As this is my blog and my personal opinion I will continue.  My husband had 'the dark' in him. Did he? I couldn't reach into it. It was cold, distancing, switching off,  dialing down  anxiety.  Or it was the wrong frequency. I'd say a lack of presence, like...

I don't have the energy to 'expect the best and prepare for the worst'.  I don't expect the best, 0% hope, no possibility of better. He was just playing along when he answered my texts with kisses, when he held my hand. It felt like more gaslighting, more inauthentic bullshit. When he came out with me, he must have known that I was trying so hard to make things OK, fighting against my panic and fear with every bit of courage and trust I have? So, there is no best. What is the worst? Grief is the worst.  What preparation can there be for something like this? Well yes, you and I will never be the first or last to experience the terrific dislocation and sense of dismemberment losing someone causes. We are never alone, even if the answer is just a recording somewhere. Other people have left us answers.  But my experience is that grief comes in waves - there are now days in-between each wave -  and a grief day will be very bad. Yet I've noticed that the day after a grief...

You may have got that I'm not accepting it? It is an integrity thing.  And my rational mind says it isn't 2% it is more like 0.2 %. Even so I'm not accepting that our marriage is over.  I know what he did, I know what he has said. I do believe that he wants a relationship with her. Even if he doesn't, I believe he doesn't want to be with me. I do feel as if I'm riven through with rusty swords, several of which he actively chose to stab me with. I have to crawl my way out of this, seeking help from those who will stand by me. The many, many strong and good people who will help. This is sanity? Yes, because I'm looking at my inner mirror, seeking to become the person I prefer myself to be. Looking at things in the context of life and death. And the sacred. I should have done this from the first, heaven knows I've been told this by the best teachers, I knelt before Ato Rinpoche and took Bodhisattva vow. And my knowledge was swept away in a hope and fear tsu...

Today is the ninth day of facing, accepting and floating through my panic attacks. Though I have  reason to feel panic, panic is only of use when fight or flight are called for. As I'm usually inside a building and everything is OK except my thoughts, limp and give up is the only way to go. Just not in an uncontrolled, sad or negative way. Sensitization of my amygdala from years of increasing stress, followed by 'the bad thing' throws up and highlights information that makes me anxious, but I am not allowed to seek answers. So I've learnt second fear - fear of first fear.  For nine days I've been going limp and giving up because the argument to do so, makes sense. I can't change anything for the better by asking a question. I don't get reassurance, and I feel bullied.   For a day or two anxiety became gut-panic, a constant feeling of needing to go to the toilet. But, I just have to go limp through that feeling too. That ended. Lying in bed to s...