So I thought I would share one of my first attempts at spiritual autolysis with you, it's the one that I talk about doing in the story that never ever even happened. I don't know, but it seems to fit here. And if it doesn't well, so what, The thing is you think you have a choice, you even think you choose to read this crazy stuff but I tell you, you didn't, and don't, just like I don't choose to write this or post this like you probably think I do. That my friend, is how different it is, but to see it is to set yourself free and everyone else you come across, like just take a load off, and finally just sit down and know that it really is okay and it always was.
S/A about 3 years ago
You have to start somewhere. You don't want to but you have to. I have to because it just sits inside of you like a curse, like a bloody curse, your whole life, my whole life I've been living with this bloody hell inside of me and it just eats at you almost every day. You know you try to be strong, you tell yourself "be strong, be better, try this, try that, maybe if I fast for two months, yeah that's what I'll do I'll fast for two months and that will work, maybe that will work, it's worth a try anyway, just clean the sh** out, get it all right the f*** out me, I'll do it, I can do it, I have to, I have no choice and then, I can't do it, one day, two days, maybe even five, but I can't do it, this is stupid anyway, I'm just hungry as sh** and it's not helping anyway, the sh** isn't even moving, it's still f***ing there, it's burning a hole in my gut. It's killing me I know it is, it's killing me slowly and I can't stop it, and I can't live with it either, so on to something else, let's try this or something new or back to fasting if only I could get it right if only I wasn't such a weak minded f***, I'd be able to do it, can't give up have to try again, I try again and fail again, always failing, I'm a f***ing failure. Isn't that what my mother always told me? Yeah that was her favorite line what a f***ing failure I was, failed daughter, failed wife, now a failure as a mother isn't that the worst one, your ruining your children she would tell me, why because I’m actually nice to them, f*** her what does she know she failed me too she ruined me good, it's bad when your own mother treats you like a piece of sh** when your a kid and your own mother doesn't give a damn whether you ever come home in fact tells you don't come home because we don't really want you anyway, yeah that sh** is deep it's wide and it's spread like cancer through your whole life the whole life was wasted f***ing bloody hell.
No, I don't want to write, I never want to write but now I have to because the sh** is just there, it's there and it wants to come out and it doesn't care that I am trying to avoid it, I'm trying to find another way to get out of this but I'm here now and I can't get out of here because I'm not even here anymore, I've gone to another place and I don't seem to give a sh** about this world because I already know it's not even real. I know already it's not real and my mother's not real either. It's all just a mirage, I can see that already but the sh** is still there. I'm not okay with the sh** because it's just overflowing into everything and even though I know I'm different, I'm not like anyone else I know, I'm not all wrapped up in this and then that like lint stuck all over the place and for what? For what? What's it all for? I'll tell you what it's for, it's for f***ing nothing. There isn't anything out there or even in here. What's that they say? No one here gets out alive? No you don't but what they don't tell you is no one here gets in alive either. That's the truth, you may be alive for your first five minutes out of the womb if you even survived that noise but you are basically born dead or at least half dead, for sure, by the time you can tell someone your name you've been had, welcome to the world of the walking dead. Is it any wonder that there's a popular TV show with that very name? Of course not, deep down people know that they are dead living in a f***ed up fantasy land that will never satisfy them at all. It will be one up hill battle after another, one f***ing problem after another and no one tells you but you will never f***ing arrive anywhere. You will not figure it out unless you wake up and figure out what the truth is. The truth that you are just living in a nightmare that has continued for f***ing ever. No amount of success or money or love relationships can ever be what you want, how can you even know what you want if you don't even know what you are? Even then what you are doesn't even want anything except to be known. But you can't know who you are until you know what you are not. And you are not anything that you ever thought you were, you are not even a person, that is the lowest thing you can even be. I don't care if you even think you are some generous, fabulous, loving, compassionate person because if that's what you are what does that make everyone else, a***holes? We are a**holes. Every single one of us is an a**hole. We are all walking around trying to get something that will fill the big black hole and nothing works. The minute you think you've finally found something to fill it up with the bottom falls out because the hole is f**ing bottomless. You and your life are just a bottomless pit of wanting and wanting to get from here to there and you never arrive not because you can't get it together but because there is no destination big enough to fill a bottomless hole. The hole can not be filled. The only thing that can fill the hole is to realize that this whole life is not even real. It's all a delusion, but don't dare tell anyone that if you do figure it out or you will be locked up in an insane asylum.
I'm alone. I can't tell anyone and I can't talk to anyone about this. I'm starting to see that the sh** is not even real. Seriously who can you tell that too. Everyone is living in this f***ed up dream and they think this dream is all important and it is to them. It's after-all, all they have but I start to see things are just not really there at all. But what is the truth? What is true? Here I am in that place, I don't know that either. I'm in between, half on one side trying to peer into the other side to see if it's safe to let go and cross over but I don't even know what that means without being insane. If I told anyone I would be insane so I'm alone now, but am I? What if I can't even be alone? What if I am all there is and the world is just what I've imagined it to be all along, what if I've just imagined this whole thing and there really is no world, nothing at all but what I see which isn't real, just feels real and looks real, what if we are all just dreaming all this up and what the f***, we couldn't have dreamt up something better than this? Why wouldn't we dream up some nice comfortable sh** instead of f***ing crap? And my dream life isn't all that bad from the perspective of the American Dream. I have a job, I have three great loving children, a car, food, money, shelter, hell I'm about to buy my own house but I'm not like the others I don't see this great accomplishment, like I should be so proud of myself. I'm dying, I'm 51 years old and my life is running out and the whole thing was a complete waste of time, all that suffering and all that fear, omg how much fear have I had to live through, f***ing fear is like a f***ing curse, ripping your insides out everyday, f*** this sh**, I want to know the truth. I don't know what the truth is but I suspect this isn't it. This life is not the truth. Sandra is not the truth.
Another day I'd rather not write, terrible day, nobody ever loved me day, nobody ever will day, poor me, everyone hates me and no one can love me, my daughter reflecting that back to me at the store, pissed off that we are shopping at the discount store, you f***ing loser you f***ing failure, that kind of day. I loved a guy and he didn't want me, no one wanted me, they all left when they found out who I was, they didn't want that, that needy girl looking for love, hoping for love, no one wanted that, nobody wants that kind of love, is that even love or is that just a big dark hole that no one can fill, way to big and way to deep, don't fall in there they probably thought, you will f***ing drown. Away they all left one by one going away and I'm alone again, always alone, alone in my deep dark hole, but wait who was that girl? Am I just a girl or a woman now? Can I be that story? Why am I just a story? Is everything just a story? Is everyone a story? Why do I have be an ugly story or a sad story? If I'm just a story can't I choose a better story? How about a happy story with a happy ending? Or is that just for movies and fairy tales? Hey no fair, I didn't get the fairytale life and the fairytale love, I got no fairytale, what the f***. I want the fairytale, not this other crap, I don't want lack and loneliness and depression and sadness and poverty and just holes in my life. My life is just full of f***ing holes. What the f***? What did I ever do to deserve this sh**? This just sucks and I'm so nice, I'm so nice to everyone and I'm the one who gets all the holes? How the f*** does that work? Unless...
Unless, no one gets the fairytale because it's not a story. You are not real. You were born into a particular family in a particular part of the world and you had all these imaginary experiences and the story just wrote itself from the pieces that were thrown it's way. But you are not a story. You can't just be a story. You can't just be a f***ing story, even if it's a good story, who the f*** wants to be just a story, stories are for books and movies and television shows. Stories are not for real life. Surely, you don't get pushed out into the world through a birth canal just to live a story, how stupid would that be? And all these years, you've been walking around thinking you are this person, wondering who the f*** all these other people think they are, well they look like they know a bit more than you do, their stories look like they might be working out or not, you know there are people with some stories that are a hell of lot more f***ed up then yours. But if you are not this story, this story of you, and your past and your thoughts going all day and night long like a big monologue that never says anything new, than what are you? Who are you? You could have had any number of names or stories, well you could have if you were born somewhere else to someone else, then you would have a different story but it doesn't tell you who you are. And everyone else is going around believing the story of whatever story they have, they are all going around the same as you with their own little or maybe big in some cases stories of who they are and most of them aren't even all that different, same issues, you can read all about them online, millions of people popping pills to try to straighten out the story a bit, or at least tolerate it better. Could the whole world be delusional? All of us walking around believing stories that we didn't even get to write ourselves? We don't even get write our own stories, put whatever we want in the story so it can all work out? No, they aren't even our stories, they are all just filled with whatever crap got thrown our way because that's how some other story was going. And no ones writing their own stories either, nobody is writing their own stories but you know you have to be responsible for your own story no matter who wrote it but you can't because it just keeps writing itself after the initial storyline has been laid out. Sh**, how long do you have to live to finally be able to be in control of your own story? I think you can't, it's not possible, because once a story always a story. It is after all just a story. You don't read a novel and then put it down and come back and read it again only to find out the entire plot has changed. Once it's down on paper and sent to press the story doesn't change. F***, the story of the world hasn't changed AT ALL. We are still just going around like a bunch of f***ed up stories sticking to our stories. Maybe there's no such thing as a good story, in every story there's a problem or a villain and then it either gets resolved as in fairy tales or it's just another tragic ending. Death is always the ending. Everything eventually ends in death, end of story.
Is that the truth then? I don't know but f*** the story.
I'm done reading now. I could read more but what's the point, I could just keep reading my whole life and don't get me wrong I love to read, and it's very useful for some things and also an enjoyable pastime as far as pastimes go but if I want to find the truth, more reading isn't going to help me along right now anymore than posting funny memes on Facebook is which by the way I love to distract myself with way too much. Of course, my ego loves it because it takes up so much time, there's no chance of really getting into this writing to wake up thing which it knows will be the death of it. Nothing in Maya's world actually wants to die after all what would or even could want to be annihilated? Certainly not the all important self, no it doesn't want that all. It only wants to feel good and even better to look good. It would love nothing so much as to tell everyone "see I told you so", I really am f***ing great and f*** you for not noticing it sooner or for telling me otherwise. You should have seen that I was smarter than you and that I was special. But you didn't and now I'm great and f*** you. There's absolutely nothing more painful to the ego than thinking it is less than someone else in any way. That is the biggest "it sucks to be me" thought it can have but as far as thoughts go it's actually infinitely more useful than the going around thinking you are better than the others because it never wants to see beyond a thought that makes it feel good, after all isn't "feeling good" what we are all chasing after?
I'm at work now and instead of Facebook I decided to write tonight or at least try but don't I look so good here with my nice keyboard and all and what do I have like ten minutes or fifteen at most left to my breaks. This will most likely be a pointless undertaking but I really feel like I should get in the habit of looking for the truth no matter where I go or what I'm doing to I guess see how it goes. Of course, this job is what I do for money and that's it, if it wasn't for money you can bet one hundred percent odds that I would not otherwise be in this place. It's a precarious kind of job too because I'm a casino dealer and my money comes from tips so it matters greatly whether people are winning or losing and whether or not they feel like sharing any of it with you. It's a great place to people watch and it's a great place actually to watch how your ego reacts to either winning or losing the bets that people will make for you when they feel like it. On the one hand, if someone makes a bet for you and you lose it, meaning if they don't win, you don't make any money and it goes into the pocket of the house and/or casino you work for you think well that sucks and why did that happen and if you do win and you get to make money, you wonder again why did that happen and how can I make it happen again. (And again, and again, and again.). Or like what just happened on my last rotation, a player will come up and just b*tch at you that they never win and why don't I let them win and I'm watching my ego as it gets out it's imaginary sword and swings hard and decapitates them while screaming shut the f*** up. I could feel the discomfort as they just went on and on and I'm standing there dealing cards to them thinking, it's going to be my pleasure taking all your f***ing money you stupid f***. This is a normal occurrence amongst dealers but the difference is I'm standing there aware of the discomfort and of the thinking and I'm thinking that's my ego being activated and I'm just smiling because I can feel it but I know it's not real. I know that self is not real.