20 September 2015

transported

when walking along the road of spiritual enlightenment, i think that i do quite well... i'm booking plenty of progress in many areas, can talk anyone under the table where reflecting and projecting and illusions and convictions are concerned, feel i have unearthed quite a few raw nerves and confronted them, gone through my own little versions of Hell... on the whole, i'm pretty happy with myself. on the verge of being conceited... {which is another whole ego-trip i'll have to look at soon...} but there is one area of my Inner Development that keeps tripping me up, every single time...

i don't like my body...

i don't like the way it looks when i see it in the mirror, i don't like the way it makes me feel, i don't like the way it reminds me of my grandmother {who wasn't a very pleasant woman, very troubled and well, ugly... i hate to say this, and i feel a horrible person for even contemplating this notion, but when i saw pictures of my nan when she was young, i wanted to cry... i know she was vastly under-loved and not cared for enough, told she was stupid and thick, and she never had the gumption to question her ' educators', as she was too busy being scared and unhappy... i know that a big chunk of what i'd see in photo's of the woman that gave birth to my mother was fear, sadness, self-loathing, and we all know that that is the worst basis for creating true beauty, inside or out...}.

i loved my body when it had a clear function...
i loved being pregnant, knowing that a new life was growing inside of me, that although it also freaked the hell out of me, i was a vessel for the little people that are now making their own lives, their own choices and falling in love and all that... i nourished them, for the first 7 months of their baby-hood, and quite some time after that {cos they were faddy eaters, and they got their comfort from being close to me and fed for years}. i sometimes have to tell myself that my milk, the milk that came out of my boobs, raised four babies for the first 7 months of their lives!?!! me?! and then i feel so bloody proud of my body... so bloody proud...

but that just fades into nothing when i think of all the other areas of my life... as long as i can cover it up, hide it, not have to be reminded of it, i'm quite okay. the internet is good for that, as is writing letters. anything to do with not needing to have my body involved is fine. as Sherlock was saying in one of the episodes that i still enjoyed {series one or two}: it's just transport... as long as it's fed and gets the minimal amount of sleep, and doesn't get too beaten up, it will function, and that's all there is to it.
now, i know he was made to be an unsocial, unusual, brainy, living in his head way too much, freak kind of bloke, and way too much is made of what his writers made him say, or not say, but i had to admit: that's how i think i feel, most of the time... it's transport... it gets me from A to Be, it carries my organs, it keeps my brain alive, it makes it possible for me to type, and write and craft and take pictures... but please, don't look at it...

cos that's what people do... they look at each other... i do... i look at others, and i judge. she's nice-looking, and she's too thin, and he's gorgeous, and that bloke there.... jeez.... i 'm convinced people look at me and judge... people say they don't and that i'm just being harsh on myself, but they do... everybody does - it's a normal human behaviour. we judge to see who'd be good partner-material, or fathering-potential, or mothering- possibility, or has friendship-stuff... we look to see what person out there could potentially fill our voids... it's totally normal... only, i don't want anybody to look at me, cos i have this innate fear that they'll see my grandmother - a big, ugly, sagged-out, double-chinned, grey-haired, unhappy person...

cos i guess that's what i feel i am...

have i ever felt attractive? yes...
in the last 20 years? no...
at the beginning of my two relationships {which still amaze me...} i felt attractive... i look back at photo's of myself then, in 1991, i was the most attractive i remember myself... thin, healthy, beaming - happy... but, was i happy already, when the only 2 guys that have ever desired me wanted me in their lives? was i happy already, when i suddenly had quite a few friends, and a fun life? can i ever resemble the happy person i was back then? or has that ship sailed, and should i settle for being a cranky old woman, who's years, no decades past her prime, who serves no purpose anymore, not to anyone but her kids and the cats...?

so, yeah, plenty to work on still... to achieve that happy mind and happy soul in a happy body... it's not just transport, i'm very much aware, but still....