I was in the bus on my way home and I took out this notebook I found that I had actually bought in one of those group meditations I ever attended to (went twice with same people) and they supposedly brought stuff from India to support some villages of people there and so I was quite ‘into India’ at that time (2007) and I bought this notebook to write. I realize that ever since I was a little girl I’ve been fond of writing.
The other day I discovered this ‘diary’ from when i was less than 6 years old and I would ask my mother to write ‘my day’ for me in that diary, there’s even one entry written by my father (!) which is strange because we’ve been never ‘that close’ – There are only specific stuff I remember very well from my childhood years in relationship with my father, for example him kneeling down to straighten up my socks and tie my shoelaces strong enough with more than one knot, cutting my nails real short and teaching me how to ride a bike. Those are the most ‘prominent’ ones – but I can’t remember when he actually wrote down this entry for me which I find cool. Since then I ‘collected’ many little notebooks in which I would write every now and then the date and say: ‘Hi, I’m now 9 years old, I’m in 5th grade and my friends are… I like doing… and I have… And I’ve traveled to….’ and that’s how I kept ‘track’ of myself in the early years
It was during my teenage years that i actually began writing the experience of myself, possibly triggered by reading books where I recognized myself with some of the characters in them… and that’s how writing became a way to express myself for myself. I actually have always enjoyed taking pen and one of the several notebooks I’ve had throughout my life and write the experience of myself. I used to write that it was the only way I could communicate with ‘someone’ as myself for real because any other communication with people was completely shallow for me, so I communicated with myself as some sort of diary. Of course I read back and see much teenage angst and all that stuff you get in that age, though there are cool points that have remained up until this day like knowing that there is and had to be something better than my mind going in circles over the same stuff all the time, knowing that my life was going to change at some point. And it did just a year ago, lol.
So as I was reading this ‘Indian’ notebook with quite few entries that I had forgotten about as well (yes use of weed once again) I read my writings hours after I had taken mushrooms for the first time and then how I ate the rest of them once I got to the apartment in mexico city and how I had not such a good time – I had forgotten about it! I read that I knew I had to face myself alone, that’s why I had eaten them there because I have had such a ‘beautiful trip’ while being with my friend that I decided to test for myself. It wasn’t cool, I got quite scared at times of the mere fact of me being alone, felt completely trapped. I wrote this as I was under the effect and I gave myself strength to face myself which I found cool. Yet travelling around the city while being under the effect of mushrooms wasn’t a cool idea at all. In the train on my way to the station to go back home I had to go in and out almost every two stations because I felt like fainting and very dizzy, losing equilibrium and I couldn’t hear well either, even my sight became blurry, that wasn’t cool at all. So basically I experienced both sides of trip though I had suppressed the ‘bad memory’ so I don’t have to face what I faced while being ‘there’ which was merely being alone and facing myself within that. I think I cried that time yet I can’t remember why, could’ve been the feeling of loneliness but this was certainly ‘more true’ than the majestic beautiful trip I had the day before. This was on july -august 2007 when all I would write was: I’m sure things are going to change big time for me.
In these few entries I wrote about my relationships, I really went into circles, looping myself over and over and over again over the same stuff never realizing because I wouldn’t actually read myself again, merely write and let it all there. So now that I am actually reading what I wrote I dis-cover what I suppressed, what I have been facing and all those clues I used to get knowing that things had to change for me to face myself. And one of the feelings I got from reading this particular time of my life is the link to past relationships that I ever thought were based on ‘real love’ and that were ‘special’ and meant ‘a lot’ in my life never, never! seeing what I was doing to myself so I went into self judgment for being so blind to not see what i was doing. All ideas of me having actually experienced ‘love’ within a ‘real relationship’ have been chopped down to pieces and flushed in the toilet because it never was real. Today as I read this I saw what it was all based and I got to the conclusion of it all being about how I -me-myself felt within myself while being aroudn these beings, what I -me-myself GOT from them and sometimes it would reduce to sex and drugs and rock and roll- almost literally- and giving myself to them to be part of their fantasy as well.
So there is something that I have to be careful with, not developing the idea of myself arouind one specific being or situation once again, thinking that only with this particular being and within this particular situation I am able to enjoy myself and that it won’t be with anyone else because that is limitation and bounding myself to further ideas. Fuck, this is hard as it seems I’ve built ideas in my head upon this and building it up as another concept ‘loyalty’.
Well, sufring through the drawer next to my bed I found this little tin box where I kept one of the pipes I used to smoke and it had ashes and a tinny bit of weed in it. I smelled it and got all the ‘memories’ back and I seriously thought of lighting up that bit lol but I didn’t do it, I closed the lid of the box and moved on. Realized that I still fear ever smoking back again and being hung up on it again
I forgive myself that I have accepted and allowed myself to fear ever getting back to the habit of smoking weed on a daily basis because of how I used to experience myself while being under the effect of it
I forgive myself that I have accepted and allowed myself to feel tempted to smoke and see it as something ‘bad’ not realizing that I am still doubting myself as being capable of handle it, instead of using a ‘musn’t do’ as the solution to keep myself away from it. I trust myself in directing myself that I won’t ever be dependent on something or someone to get through this life
I forgive myself that I have accepted and allowed myself to yearn on the feeling of smoking and the experience while being within it because of how I used to create and see things within it, yet never realizing that I had become dependent on this to create, to be and exist and go through my life
I forgive myself that I have accepted and allowed myself to place myself in situations that were harming myself in ‘subtle’ levels as abusing myself by not wanting to face what is here while being under the effects of weed.
I got cool news, I’ve already booked ticket to SA!! and I’m quite excited about it and yeah I’ll have to make paintings and try to sell them to contribute paying the ticket, it doesn’t matter… as long as it takes but it’s been almost a year of been wanting to go so yeah, it’s cool cool.
I got news from my ex friend L. and it was quite interesting seeing my mother’s reaction when I said: ‘I had no problem at all against him’ she said, ‘but you’d said that he had said bad things about you’ and I explained how after all I’ve been through – self forgiveness process- it doesn’t affect me anymore and I truly mean this, there are no hurt feelings towards him, no regrets… in fact it was even cool the way we ended up that relationship, even though I realize that it took me more than a year to completely release it. So I realized that he is one of the strings I cut and released in a cool way already, after we’d been through so many things and got to be as close as sister and brother.
So back to the title of this post, writing. I enjoy writing very much because it is my imprint, my words remain so I can later on go back and see what is it that I was experiencing during this or that time. I sometimes get quite ashamed of the stuff I would write in those diaries as light and love and god stuff, lol, thinking that I was been ‘guided’ by some master in heaven that would lead me to the ‘goodness path’ and save the world or something like that. Reading myself as my past is part of seeing who I was and how I am standing towards that idea of myself at this moment, now that I realize that none of that was really me but the process of the creation of myself as another idea, personality, as a group of opinions based on what I had to do and be.
Ok that’s it for now