All this time it was for me

So it seems like all this time, it was all for me.  All the advice, the opinions, the times when I actually wasn't sat on the fence.  All for me, all designed for now, for me to go back and re-read the whole thing, from start to finish.  I haven't gone back to the beginning yet, and that will mean loading up an old document that I'm not even sure I still have that had my old Facebook liveblog blog entries too, which were all lost in the great app deletion of whenever it was that that stopped working and I moved over to Blogger...

Psychologically it has felt very much like I have regressed, I know I've mentioned that, and in fact I've repeated myself far more often lately than ever before, I made a point of never doing that, don't like to have to, although I have gone through several longer loops where I found myself wanting to talk about things I know I've dealt with before a long time ago.  Lately though it's like all I can think about let alone write about it just how strange things have been for what seems like forever.

Time really did pass so much quicker before, in a way I was less conscious of it at all, just went from day to day, hour to hour, moment to moment without thinking much about it.  Now I'm so much more conscious of any and everything...  Thoughts mostly though.  I would characterise them as being more and more of the type that I was used to before.  I found a good smoke of cannabis would often set me off in a really creative spell and that would take on the roll of my evenings entertainment, if I wasn't seeing friends.

The anxiety as I call it, the whatever that came when I quit, left me with no libido, as in very little interest in masturbation.  I'd given up porn as a bad job, basically I think the whole industry is abusive to both the men and the women who take part, also I think the people that use it, are being used too.  Including me of course...  It's like you watch it and your mirror neurons are putting you in the place of the guy (or girl)...  And that only occurred to me when I read that somewhere but it made so much sense, after all this time.

The anxiety as I call it, was making me awaken early, that's still happening, I'm awake before the alarm every morning, and either roll over and try to go back to sleep, which has gotten easier, in the old days I would have a smoke and zonk happily back out, these days, in the last few weeks and possibly months, because I have set myself a routine, of early to bed, if I do wake up it's not a big deal as I've gotten enough rest.  However the thoughts that come to mind can be really quite upsetting, the funny thing is that it's only psychologically so, I don't get emotionally wound up.

Throughout the day that wanes and I relax into it, the things that were getting stuck up there in my head aren't so much at all, the nasty thoughts, the ones that seemed to be so prevalent, seem less so, almost as if occasionally I'll be checking to see if they are there and create them, not that they are waiting to be thought.

The mental imagery not so much of a problem as it was so chronic before, in a way the fact that I'm much more active during the day, I have more to take my mind off my mind as it were hehe, that's helping...

The weekends have become quite a weird thing, time to myself used to be my most treasured possession, now it's the hardest time I spend...  It brings the focus back to me again.  I've gotten to the point of being so much less upset and concerned about the ways in which I am suffering, I know that it is all up there, and am spending far less, if any time asking all the questions that I was beforehand.  Now I'm just surrendered to living like this, the time away from home seemed to be such a good release, such a sweet period, like a holiday, when my mind would often be occupied and the subject often changed for extended lengths, up to days...

In fact I am starting to wonder if it isn't all a mindset, isn't all a way of stretching out the inner muscles of the mind, exploring the darkest regions, the subconscious, the shadow, it's got a disgusting way with words and pictures, it's like asking someone to come up with the most awful thing you can think of, and instantly it's there.  I don't remember ever doing that, ever really, having those thoughts that people deny or don't talk about.  It's like when I was growing up, the fact that I saw around me aspects of others, and myself developing that I didn't like, that I was afraid of to the point of sheer terror and decided, with the power of will to put all of those out of my mind forever, or until now anyway.

I am experiencing what some would say is another adolescence, not another childhood, not a mid life crisis but a psychological psychophysical developmental process, somewhere within there is the person I was, and that person is key, is mostly here all the time,mostly the person I am.  Then there's the more humble parts that I thought meant I was ridden roughshot over, that thought I was getting left behind by others,treated badly by others, the part that is clear how I want to proceed, I'm writing this without thinking just putting down what my mind is coming up with, the parts of me that were denied, shunned, the lead that the alchemists turned to gold, wasn't metal it was psychic potential with the same energetic polarity and essence...


Now I'm hurting still, have uncovered things I'd rather forget but they're keeping me honest, I know why others are so drawn to me and capable of revealing things to me as a stranger to them,that they wouldn't tell their best friend.  As a healer that's why they keep coming, I'm open to that, I sit down without knowing it at the time next to someone who is hurting and they tell me why and I help them if I can.

Socially I'm out of practise a bit although I've been out and about a little more lately, so I'll get there.

I am finally starting to finish the process of hating myself and wishing I was dead, end the journey I was on where the places that were slowly going past on either side were familiar and memories of past mistakes all the time, constantly doing my best to go over and over my fuckups, over and over why I can't shan't make them again, realising just how much I've taken for granted but also know how much I would like to get out and start afresh, get healed myself, really take this healing out there, find a place to live in a different way, get out of this fucking rat hole rat race as daily it makes me sad, makes me mad, makes me bad, makes me desperate, makes me wonder why we bother, makes me feel like getting annoyed when everyone else treats time like money and money like time.  Spending both in quantities that seem like they're going out of fashion.

 Money is paper and gets you things, Time is your life ebbing away on stuff.

Living is about connection, creation.  Dying is about confection, destruction.

Keep on deploying new way to kill time.

Keep on letting industry drive the train.

On a collision course with entropy.

These days of our lives are few.

When will we see that and live.

Not for ourselves, or others.

For each other, one day.

We'll live again,I know.

This pantomime is over.

The cast is tired and old.

We've had all our curtain calls.

Finally we need to get off stage.

Take a bow, take our leave, retire.

All I can do is make this worthwhile.

Somehow find a way to earn a pardon.

From the King and Queen of time and tide.

Before this whole place is washed away and,

we are left high and dry on a mountain top inland...



That's all nonsense I wonder if it means anything.

Not to me I just let it come out and hope sometimes.

So much calmer these days, still testing, still hoping this shadow will become enlightened and disappear.
Love
Jon
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