Coming out

I have been non-religious, non-christian for at least 13 or so years (I struggle to pin it down). It's not something I had been hiding but it's also not something I had been discussing.

I got married in 2003 by a non-denominational "spiritual" person who didn't mention God once in her "talk" lol. My Uncle prayed for everyone afterwards ( I guess he got the clue no one else seemed to have gotten)

Since October 2009 I have been going through a lot of heightened personal growth and a lot of inner self discovery is going on. The Michael Teachings calls it 4th Internal Monad or (IM), and I have talked about that.

It could be seen as a mid life crisis, or a search for self, whatever you want to call it, it has been a very big part of my recent life.

In social situations I usually discuss Childcare or other philosophy, politics mixed with philosophy, theories etc. I don't do much frivolousness. Sadly I've lost friends because of that.

So when I recently had a little chat with my mom about my daughter and how they are just overdoing the Christian thing at school I did not expect the " You don't believe in GOD!!!!! How could you??!!! How DARE you not raise my grandchild in Christian values." hysterical reply.

I was horrified to be honest. I quietly told her I don't think we should discuss this right now, in such an emotional way, that I will respect and always have respected her choices, and just ask the same from her.

In the mean time it seems the trend has spread through my once seemingly tolerant family. The more vocal and honest and open I am about what I say and what I share on Facebook, the more vocal and open they get about their disapproval. I have decided to call myself an Atheist in order to just cut through the crap. Many people seem to think Agnostic means there is hope for them to convert me.

I've been the devout Christian. I have been the doubting Thomas. I'm not anymore. I am fine where I am. Can I have some peace please.

A stab in the heart is receiving the same intolerant treatment from my gay younger brother, who I stood by supported, and comforted when he was scared of being treated with intolerance by our parents and conservative family. Thanx Dude

I'm walking a path here. I don't have all the answers but I am learning what works for me. I guess I will have to find the internal fortitude to withstand these emotional attacks. I do feel stronger than I have in a long time, more hopeful and more positive, even while this is still a stone in my heart.

My Soul Mate Story: Part 2 Arno

When I was 16, I had a best friend. A true BFF. We where as close as only 2 high school girls from dysfunctional families could be.

The story of how I met Arno is also the story of my friendship with Benita. His sister.

I recently read some of the letters she wrote me at this stage of our lives, and it was so cloyingly, sickeningly sweet and soppy. Kind of hard for me to see myself as that naïve, innocent, co-dependant, teenage being. I’ve built so many walls in my life since then, had so many shattering experiences, it feels like a different person.

I always knew Benita had a brother, but I had never met him. She and I were in school together since grade 1 to 3, Then again in High school. We only got close again in High school, by that time Arno had already left school, and went to the Air force for his compulsory Basic training.

I went home with Benita to do homework one day, when he walked in the door. I stood in the passage, looked up and saw this being, surrounded by light. It was like a physical shock to my heart and gut. I instantly turned red, could barely look at him, and could barely speak.

I was struck dumb, and felt myself turning a fiery hot red. Benita still asked me if I was okay, and I mumbled something about probably coming down with a fever. She said “Yes, you don’t look well”

I had to get out of there as soon as possible, just to be able to breathe. After that first meeting Arno was around a lot when I spent time with Benita. We talked from time to time, mostly about music. Whenever I could force myself to control my voice, not stumble on words and actually make sense.

This continued on for a while. He was in my dreams, he was in my fantasies, and I was completely consumed by him every waking and sleeping moment. I thought it was just another annoying crush, which I would eventually get over.

Things took a turn for the worst when Benita ran away from home to live with her Boyfriend and his parents. Like I said, we where both from pretty dysfunctional families, and she tried to escape hers. She got pregnant at 16, and her parents forced her to get married, which she did.

At that time her mother and Arno frequently phoned me. I later found out that his mother pushed Arno into staying in contact with me, as she was hoping I would be a source of information regarding Benita, who she had pushed away, and broke all contact with. Arno later told me that I was so shy, and scared all the time, he never felt completely comfortable around me.

We even went on 2 dates. One to see an Australian band and one to see a movie. In both instances I was way too self conscious and shy to in any way be able to converse with this Godlike creature, who I could not believe would have the slightest interest in me.
Well by the Time I was in my last year of school I think it just got too much for me. The constant intensity of my self consciousness was too overwhelming.

We stayed in contact over the phone, where I had no problem to talk to him at all, and this was it. Benita and I had had a falling out at that stage, as her mother was using me to get to her, and Benita felt very threatened by her mothers overbearing controlling manipulations and obsessions.

We parted ways, which was very painful to me, and I spent many nights on the phone with Arno, crying about this. Both of us being able to share our saddest emotions around this tragedy.

After school I left Cape Town and went to Film school in Pretoria. My 2 years in Technicon was the start of a very intense growing up experience, filled with Self destruction, meeting my Twin Flame, and getting to know the real me.

I broke all contact with everyone from the past. I was not this shy, self concious, blushing child anymore. I found false bravado, false self esteem, and false value in many things.

A lot of first steps where taken, and I found it painful to look back at that child I had been.

From time to time, when I was home for the holidays I would phone Arno and Benita’s parents and find out how things where going with them, but I had no more contact with either of them. This was how I found out about Arno getting married, his parents kicking him out of the house, and disowning him for it. This was just a part of the pattern that they’ve been following throughout the time I’ve known them.

Lanee’s message

On the flight back from the USA I listened to Lanee’s message more than once, on the walkman I specifically bought for that purpose.

I was a bit disappointed about the time frame change, and I was even more sceptical now than ever before. How in the world would I ever get together with a man I firstly could not come near in all the time I knew him? He was married, I knew they had a baby, he never showed any interest in me, beyond friendship.

Where would he be? Do I really want this? I just came out of a very nice little relationship which caused me great pain in the end, so do I really want to form a stronger attachment. If Rob was a pre-view of Arno, did I really want the real thing?

I landed in South Africa mid July 1998. My time was filled with reuniting with family and friends. I even ran into an old comrade from Technicon, who wasn’t even supposed to be in CT. I told him all about Lanee, what she said, Arno, and how I am struggling to not pick up the phone and phone his parents even.

Another friend from Tech, visited with me and we spent a day at the V&A Waterfront looking at crystals and stones, as Lanee had given me a list of Crystals and what they could be used for.

After that weekend I just couldn’t wait anymore. It had been a month. I was dying inside. I had resolved my issues with Rob, I spent time reuniting with family, and I was alone again. I was alone, bored, frustrated. I was living in a house with younger souls again, and the day to day friction was driving me to despair again.

I so badly needed to hold onto the magic, light and hope that Lanee was in my life I decided to phone Arno and Benita’s parents and just find out where everyone was. It would make me feel slightly better, and more resigned if I could let it go and find some way to at least know.

The moment his mom heard it was me, she told me. Her and Arno where at the V&A Waterfront that Saturday and they saw me. They where trying to remember my name. They didn’t call to me or anything, but Arno wanted to, but felt bad not being able to remember my name.

They’d been trying to figure it out ever since. She told me he had been divorced, and told me the whole terrible story behind it.
Arno was working close to where I lived, and she took my phone nr to give to him. (Oops did I give it to her)

His, now, ex wife had cheated on him, which he only found out after they where divorced, and the baby was most probably not his. That’s the short version.

I spent over an hour on the phone with his mom listening to the whole sordid tale though.

Eventually we rang off. I just sat there, overwhelmed, kind of excited, a little bit scared, and decided Lanee was wrong. I was supposed to find him. How else could he find me? He was free from the commitments I though prevented us from being together “in the right and proper way” according to Lanee.

I needed him. I did not want to be alone inside my head anymore. I had a taste of what things could be like. I did not want to go back to my old life of lonely self destruction. I was ready. And then the phone rang again. I was still sitting there. It was him.

Arno phoned me. He had been trying to get through to his mom’s line for the hour that I was talking to her. He had remembered my name and wanted to phone her to tell her. He got my number from her.

That was the beginning of our Romance. He visited me the next day. A month later we where a couple, and we where ready to commit.

History with Mental Illness. Part 1: Childhood

I’m trying to force myself to do the things I am promising to do. I said I’d do a post about my history with Depression, no matter how little I like to dwell on that issue.

I’m doing this as I believe everyone asks themselves the question at one time or another. “Is this feeling normal?” “Am I normal?” “Is there something wrong with me?”

Those are some of the things I have been asking since I was a child. I started reading self improvement articles in magazines around the time I was 10, because I knew something wasn’t quite right.

Obviously my environment was slightly dysfunctional as is about 80% of Families.

So my first documented, recognised episode came when I was in Std 4 (Grade 6) age about 11, I think.

My home-room teacher was on Maternity leave, and her replacement did not like me at all. To be honest I don’t remember much about what was said or done to me, if anything, but my perception was of feeling threatened to the extreme.

I was an extremely shy child, quiet and good in every expected way, maybe slightly dreamy and unfocused. I always did my homework, was never disruptive in class.

Somehow I did upset this teacher, and her, me, like I said I can’t remember the details of the Why.

So one Monday when my mother dropped me off at school, on her way to work I lost it. I was hysterical; I refused to go to school. She forced me out of the car, and drove away, and I ran after her. She probably didn’t know how to handle this, and took her only option (She had to get to work, kids don’t get this) so she kept driving.

What did I do? I went into the class to my teacher, face a mess of tears, and still ever so obviously upset and uncontrollably crying, and told her I need to go home I feel sick.

There’s very little of what happened that day that I still remember feeling, but being unable to stop crying is the most prevalent feeling still. I just could not stop and I did NOT want to be at school. I wanted to crawl into a dark hole. I wanted my room, my stuff, my safety. I felt embarrassed by my actions, I felt scared of what my mother would do to me. Being unable to stop crying and the horror of having to go to school that day was stronger than anything else.

The teacher phoned my mom and she picked me up again. I don’t remember the consequences of my actions. I have no idea what happened after this or the next time I went to school.

This event has stayed with me though because it led up to my mother taking me to a child psychologist.
I don’t know if she told me what was going on, but I was clever enough to know this was a head doctor and if I don’t tell him what he wants to know, what “normal” people would say and do, then I would probably be put in an insane asylum. I just didn’t want anyone to know I was crazy, as I felt I was.

So when he asked me questions I told him everything I thought would be the “right” answers. I’m not quite sure how I managed to know what the “right” answers where, but for instance, when he asked if I really liked spending every break in the library, or if I would rather play with friends outside, I told him I like playing outside, but sometimes my friends aren’t there.

This was Bullshit; I didn’t like the other kids. I got teased mercilessly, I felt self conscious, and I felt different. It felt like I was an alien, mixed in with humans. I knew none of the rules, and I couldn’t please anyone, even though I tried. I had been asking questions about my school work, that the teachers couldn’t answer.

I always seem to notice discrepancies, and I guess they felt threatened that I wouldn’t just shut up and conform. This was done quietly though. I was a “Good” Child in school.

I loved the library. I could read comics all break long, I could read books, I could explore everything I wanted. The Library teacher also loved me, so I felt safe there.

So almost everything the psychologist asked I answered non truthfully. His diagnosis, there was nothing wrong with me, it was probably a normal childhood stage, I would outgrow it.

So obviously I started thinking, if the lies I told meant I was normal, would that mean if I told the truth, that I was not? See too clever for my own good.

Well this was my first look into the world of psychologists. It took me many years to return, more successfully to the world of Therapy. By that time, though, I was forced to get help as I was at the point of no return

Sometimes I just don't know

Well, Most of the time I just don't know.

At least I am feeling more "normal" today. Good thing else all the non important work and relationship worries I am facing today might have sent me into a full blown Depression. I don't even want to use the D word. Much more of a swear word to me than Fuck or shit.

Anyhow don't wanna talk about that Monkey on my back. The one that's most on my mind today is the person who gave birth to me.

I guess from about the time I realised there was something not quite right with myself, I have known there's something not quite right with my mother.

When I think of my emotions regarding her during my growing up years, I recall the fear, dread, stomach in knots, that moment right between where her car pulled up in the driveway till where she walked in the door and I could figure out what type of mood she is in. It would come out quickly, most times.

I'd be able to see if it was a quiet/irritable one, a full blown Demon of anger one, or a good one.

During the good ones, she'd actually pretend to listen to whatever I was excitedly rushing out to tell her about my day. She'd have this faint preoccupied smile on her face. I would blabber on and on. Deep inside knowing she's not actually listening. Still denying it to myself. And usually when I Knew she wasn't paying attention I would start acting out in some way.

I can now look back, as a parent, at how I used negative behaviour to try and get some true attention from my mother. At least when she was busy criticising me, she was there, in the moment. She was listening. She was seeing me. She didn't know or understand me. But right then and there she wasn't thinking of anything else, except how bad I was right then.