There seems to be a crossroads every once in a while in my life. When I was growing up, it would lead to some massive confrontation and punishment.
Eventually it led to me being disowned and disassociated (excommunicated) from the cult when I was 17.
Then another relationship, many ups and downs and then a firey breakup, leaving of business and nervous breakdown. I started this blog right after that.
I feel like in a lot of ways i am right there again. Except this time it’s different. I have done so much self sabotage this time and feel as though my transgressions are so great, that I feel like there is a part of me that wants the catharsis of the rejection, of being cut off. There is a part of me that wants to be cast out, so that I can restart. That’s the easy way out. That is the way where I can create a new me and move on. Except it’s not a new me, especially not after a while.
Problem is that I am actually happy. I am where I want to be. I love who I am with and that makes my harmful actions so much worse. I am also completely mortified at how far I can go to sabotage myself. When I was a kid and there was pressure and confrontation, I knew that catharsis and forgiveness came at the end of an oak rod or a pvc pipe. That was the easy way. Once the punishment was given there was hugging and crying and praying and i was comforted knowing that the tension was broken and that it was over.
But now, I have to work through it. There is no beating, except for the ones I give myself. I have become my own abuser and I seem to be actively trying to ensure that there is pain and suffering in my life.
I am instead confronted, standing face to face with several issues of my own doing. I have caused harm and broken trust again. To watch the pain that I have caused and have no catharsis is excruciating. To be met with love and mindfulness, is so hard. I wish someone would hit me so that we could move on.
But there’s nobody to hit me anymore. Being safe is scary. I have to make amends and peace and be in a space where my actions have more consequences than just physical pain.
I would accept rejection and being cast out. I am used to that and in some ways, it works for me. But that isn’t my story anymore and I am at a loss at what to do.
Mom asked yesterday if this was part of my mourning process over dad. I wish it was because that would hopefully have an end and would be such a great excuse. Sorry I was an asshole, my dad just died. But, no, this is how I live my life and how I try to fracture it.
Yes this post is self loathing. I considered reframing and prettying it up. But, this is the honest truth of where I am right now.