not yet punditik

I have not loved myself as I should, because I have loved others more than I love myself. I have not valued my feelings, but have dismissed them. I have not paid attention to my needs, and have put others needs before mine. I have not trusted my opinions, and been sceptical of my decisions, listening to the voices of others. I have been too hard on myself, and too easy for others. I have minimised myself and accommodated others. Have given up my hopes and dreams. And settled. I have been misunderstood. I have been blamed. I have been shamed. And I have been abused. I have been abused, used, lied to and manipulated. I have lost more than I care to count. But I have deposited a bank of experience and knowledge. And through it all, gained intangibly more. For many years I confusedly did the same thing over and over again, with no stoppage of abuse, sinking deeper into uncertainty, despair, disorder, anger and near depression. For many years I focused on u...

I watched the clip of the man being whipped in a restaurant and I wept. I wept - not for the whipping, not for the pain, not for the indignity of that moment. I wept for something larger than that moment, or those moments. Yes the whipping was a violation. The whipper abused. The whippee was diminished and violated. For the whipper – I asked myself – why did he do it? –why did I do it? What must be my mental thought process to think that this will teach a whole grown person, make them pay for the mistake they have done, make reparation, or make them not do it again? What kind of pavlovian experience have I been through, experiment am I conducting – because this is not first time I am doing this. For the whippee – I asked myself – why did he allow it? – why did I allow it? What state am I as person in – spiritually, soulicaly, physically to allow such a violation? What has come before in my life, conditioned me before in my life, to be able to accept my current debase...

image from phallu.me I know there is my dress my choice, and it is for both males and females. Anyone can wear whatever they want, wherever they want, whenever they want. And who am I to tell you otherwise. But when butt cracks in low riding pants plus underwear bend over in front of my face, I think I need to speak – and your choice ends. In fact I have spoken up before and often . The latest time being yesterday. In a banking hall. I’m sitting down next to your pal. He is doing things on his phone, that you need to see. So first you wedge yourself in between your pal and my bag, since there is no empty seat next to your pal. I get hit with the rough hot edge of eau de sweat layered with strong undertones of suffocating hip, representing the pinnacle of un-hygiene-ness. I’m patient – no comment. You are uncomfortable, of course you are – you are perched on practically nothing. And you stand. In front of me. Leaning your torso sideways to your friend, the bac...

But God.  Yes – but for God, it would all be different. And but for Him, I thought I’d come to the end of this series. Apparently I hadn’t! Something told me – the back end, the backend of me.   Not my neither regions, thank you – but my internal operations. The inner workings, internal operations, the core, the backend – things happened there too. Think about it.   You changed.   Changed over the Hurting, had to change really to get through the Hurting like you did.   Think about it. Raging I remember it. High level anger. Item destroying, clothes rending rage. Yes I did – ripped up my Victoria Secrets [what we girls call the evening wear boubou or dirax], and was left starkers, in the middle of my living room. Thankfully I was alone – or not – I was preggers. What a sight. What a fury. I was madzers [read that word recently, had to use it] with more than fury – I do not know if there is a word to describe that level of ferocious I would get to. B...

image from  https://www.goalcast.com/2018/03/29/letting-go-someone-love/ Dear Hurter I let go. I let it go.  I let it all go. I know now that you are not what you say you are.   That you are not what I thought you were.   This knowledge has beat me down.   Tore me up.   It took a while for me to even acknowledge that there was something wrong.   Even longer to accept that that the wrong was here to stay.   And longer still to let go of the wrong. I know that for a while there I refused to believe who you showed me you were.   I tried to hang onto to the expectation of what I thought you were.   I could not, did not want to believe what you showed me was what you really were.   I held onto a hope of what I wanted.   Believing that you were like me, like others around me, that face value was real value.   Initially I suffered befuddlement.   I was confused and bewildered.   I saw the muck....

Dear Hurter image from  https://livelifehappy.com/ I remember. I had a fantasy.   I tried to live it.   Of what we were like.   Of what we could be like.   Of what you were like.   Of what you could be.   My fantasy was love bound.   I wanted to be loved.   For the whole of me.   My beautiful parts.   My ugly parts.   I maybe wanted to be love too much.   Unconditionally.   Because I got told not too long ago – I love too much, care too much.   I would like to let you know that I love you.   Yes I do.   I have loved you moment after moment, for years.   Unreservedly, until the point where my loving you started to kill me.   At that point, the love I have for myself welled up and pushed back at the love I bore for you.   Because unlike my irrational self, my intuitive self knew.   My intuition knew. At some point, my higher self told me this is not right, som...