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As I continue to trudge my ‘no-addictions’ journey, I came to this…

On Saturday I was roped into going to a party. My ‘friend’ roped me in by asking me if I could help her out with plates, utensils, etc. She was so insistent that I eventually caved. So I went.

I hate parties and here’s the reason why. They cement the knowledge I carry inside, that no body likes me. No body. One more time, I wound up sitting all by myself. Everyone was grouped up and I was sitting alone.

Right now you may be saying to yourself; “Why didn’t she go up to someone and say hello? Ask them how they’re doing?”. Well I’m sick of doing that. That’s the way it’s been for me my whole life. If I want someone to talk to, I always have to be the one to intrude. No one ever comes up to me to ask me how I’m doing. No one ever does that… ever.

I stayed at the party for an hour – until I was about ready to crawl out of my skin. Convinced that everyone was sizing up my ‘weirdness’. I snuck out when no one was looking.

This morning I woke up with dread in my heart. “This life I live sucks and I can’t wait for it to be over.” I was down in the muck of old tapes again. I had completely lost sight of my Spark (for more on the Spark, see this post :  HERE ). I could sense the curtain of intense paranoia beginning to close in and suffocate me again.

No one on God’s Green Earth wants me. No One!

My mother – a cold fish of a woman – once said to me something I never will forget…

Well I was only following
Dr. Spock’s advice.

This meaning that she would let me cry in my crib until I gave up crying. Think of what something like that can do to an infant? You’re in desperate need of connection but are left entirely alone and forgotten. No one comes. No one is there to help you. You’re life depends on them but they seem to have forgotten you exist at all. Soon it dawns that death could be a real reality for you as you slowly realize that nobody cares if you live or die. You’re on your own but you’re helpless to help yourself. There’s terror and helplessness churning inside until you are fully engulfed by it. A brewing and boiling cauldron of intense paranoia closes in.

I’ve had these sort of ‘sensations’ a lot in my life but I chalked them up to a vivid imagination. After all, how can anyone actually ‘remember’ stuff as a tiny infant before there is language to put words to experiences. But now, without any addictions to cover up these sensations, they have become so strong I can deny their reality no longer. I have put down my disbelief. My infant self has been trying desperately to get my attention. She’s experienced great trauma and has been begging me for help to heal her from it. Now she has my attention at last. I finally believe that her pleas for help are real.

I feel this down in the depths as I write. Without any addictions to block it, I have an ultra-strong sensation of having gone through this trauma. Absolute fear, helplessness, followed by a sense of resignation – like a cold shroud – settling in. “There’s got to be someone out there!” … but no one comes.

I was only following
Dr. Spock’s advice.

I’m crying as I write this. Crying for the infant I once was, who went through that trauma of terror. Crawling inside yourself to get away from the fear of what you are experiencing as you await death. Crawling inside because you are helpless to do anything else to cope with the terror of what you know awaits you. A hopeless helplessness slowly engulfs. I know I was there. Deep, deep, deep down to my soul… I sense this experience. “I’m not going to survive this. I’m going to die. No one is coming.” A sense of slow hardening begins to steel inside. This is where the intense paranoia began.

Continue to this post: Here

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