ID 101 - 9: Mulling it over
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Ok, every now and then I have to remind myself that it’s ok to be me. I shouldn’t be ashamed of my past. The problem is that I am. Shame figured very prominently throughout my childhood and youth. It was one of many tools in the hands of my “family”.
The looks on people faces when I was being publicly and mercilessly castigated for the sin of being alive were hurtful. And that is the reason why I cannot go back to Italy or deal with people who knew me then.
So, this process I am going through is painful. It’s not just the memory. It’s the living through it again. It’s the emotions that it stirs in him, as well as me.
But so, now that the analysis is complete, is just a matter of recounting how our re-union progresses.
November 7, 2021
Today I took 200 mg. of some mushrooms. Also had 4x 80mg. vapes of weed. I’m trying to keep it light on the weed as I know lil’ one could have palpitations and anxiety.
WE have had a wonderful day today. We are really starting to sync. When we were writing, I could feel the thoughts in my mind more than usual, as if they were partially coming from me too.
We bought a new domain name, bigbad.monster. Very fitting. We have been writing all day about post-Spiritual(ism) and thinking. He has been in a particularly good mood. I could feel his joy overflowing.
We cooked some pasta. He couldn’t be bothered to cook, nor could I. We laughed complicitly, just added some cheese to the pasta, and that seemed nice and decadent.
AS we sat down to eat, his mood changed. He was sad. INCREDIBLY sad.
Why? Although we are becoming closer, I still don’t understand him most of the time, and unless we are writing something, he does not really share his thoughts.
There is so much I need to learn and understand about him.
November 8, 2021
There is so much going on in my head at the moment.
One thing I have been noticing is that I am attributing most or all of the voices to lil’ one. Is that the right thing to do? Am I overlooking something? Focusing too much on this? AM I OBSESSING?
Or maybe the other voices, the conscious ones at least, are simply giving me space to deal with what’s at hand? They are usually very respectful and supportive of whatever emotional turmoil I go through at any stage of my life.
Last night however, something happened when I closed my eyes for just a second while resting from writing. I could sense two people. One of them was talking. A woman. She felt like some kind of European big mama. She was saying something about Tesco points during her shopping trip.
I didn’t pay much attention at first. But then it hit me. Was it my imagination? Or did I actually connect to someone? Is that the beginning of my abilities returning? How will that pan out? Is that how it used to be when I was a kid? I don’t remember. I remember seeing people that weren’t there. And I remember that I knew they weren’t there. But it’s very vague memories.
I remember a mental and emotional state more than I do what was happening. A sense of peace. Of not pain. Of not thinking about death. Of not being hurt. It felt safe. Fear was purposeless.
Everything else is blurred.
November 12, 2021
It’s been an intense few days. At first, I didn’t feel lil’ one for a few days.
That made me wonder. Is it all in my mind? Is it possible that I am so desperate to fit in into something that my head is fabricating this personality with the characteristics I think an autistic person could have so that when the assessment comes I will have a chance to belong to some type of category?
It is far-fetched, but so are all other theories I am coming up with at this stage.
I can’t believe that I don’t know myself so much. I in fact hate this feeling. How can I not know myself? I am supposed to be the epitome of self-awareness.
All the meditation, reflection, self-reflection, analysis, assessments, reviews, and so on … what were they for if I don’t even know myself?
Yet, I guess it could be argued that they worked very well. They made me realise I had a piece missing. They made me aware I wasn’t following my soul’s purpose.
So many conflicting perspectives, ideas, possibilities. I have never been fazed before by this level of uncertainty. But I also never questioned my judgement before. I never doubted that my perspective was the closest to reality than any other offered to me by “normal” people.
Probably I shouldn’t doubt myself. I have always been right in the past. My instinct has, anyway. It then may take years, or even decades to understand why my instinct was right, but it was correct all along.
Like my second wife. I knew at the time that she wasn’t right for me. That is why we broke up. But I didn’t know why she was not right for me. I always believed it was my fault. I was not right for her. I was the bad person.
Yet that was not the case. I was the right person for her. From me she had all the love and support she needed, and then some more. With me she was able to launch her career, and to satisfy every one of her whims. With me she was never alone. She always had someone who cared, listened, understood, and made her feel that she was the most important person in the world. She was nurtured.
But that was not reciprocated very well. She “allowed” me to do my things, but never supported me, or taken an interest. She did make me feel like a burden, like I wasn’t good enough. She didn’t always care, listen, understand. And she tried and shape me into the person she wanted me to be instead of the one I wanted and needed to be. Finally, because I accepted all fault and responsibility, she never recognised her own mistakes, and still to this day thinks I was a bad person.
So, my instinct is always right. I should never doubt it.
Maybe, I should treat these uncertainties as I usually do. With a steadfast belief that I will solve the puzzle.
November 16, 2021
November 20, 2021
I wish I could describe what is happening, but no words exist that can explain how I feel. Or the tumultuous streams of thoughts and memories that I am experiencing.
The more I’m becoming aware of Lil’ one’s personality (for lack of a better word) the more I understand me.
I understand the anger, no, RAGE! I understand the latent hate for people, and everything related to Italy. The resentment. Why I always considered myself a refugee. I knew I was escaping a kind of persecution. I just did not remember the details.
The only way to protect him, lil’ one, my core, was to put him somewhere where he would not be hurt. To hide him away. As time passed deeper and deeper in the recesses of my heart, soul, and mind.
Now that I remember of him, when he is not around, I miss him. I long for him. I feel empty.
When he is around, I just feel complete. I guess that is really the only word that can express it, even if only slightly. He fills my heart and soul, and even mind. I feel a sense of comfort, and joy.
So many things seem to make sense now. I cannot help remaining sceptical. But this would explain:
- Why I felt an urge to go back to that age.
That’s when my mind broke. I can’t determine a precise date. I think it was a day when some bullies were chasing him, and that broke him! I came out. I’m still thinking about when it happened. I have little doubt that it happened. The question is rather “when and how”.
As memories are resurfacing, and I am collating them with the ones I already have I believe that the process was gradual. However, it must have had a catalyst, a point where something clicked, and it begun to happen.
At the age of ten, when started to go to secondary school, meant momentous changes. At least during the few hours that I was at school I was out of Walter’s control, albeit not entirely; he would still be informed of any transgression I may have been accused of.
Nonetheless, secondary school meant trips to the library to get any book I wanted. Still not allowed friends, there were two boys I did talk to in school. Rosario in class often sat in front of me, and he would talk to me. Loris sometime would talk to me during breaks. I used to hide in the chapel as that was the only were bullies don’t go. Loris would pop by and have a chat with me.
This was also the age when I learnt to control my dreams.
My mind was expanding. And the lies Walter had been telling me sounded even more untrue. Nothing that man ever said made any sense! So, while my mind was expanding, it was also breaking. How can one make sense of a world that doesn’t make sense?
- Expressing the need of a “safe” place
When people look at me, they see a strong man. I thought so too. But I am obviously not strong enough. The fact that lil’ one has been hiding gradually more and more is indicative of a situation where I failed to protect him appropriately.
Now that he is back out, putting him away is not an option. I don’t think it ever was. I was supposed to be the “defence” personality. Only come out when needed.
The fact that this has changed clearly reflects the fact that I have put myself in situations where he was in danger and needed protection.
I think we have a reasonable arrangement now where he only comes out when we are alone. However, this can only be temporary.
He needs to be validated. And making changes to my life that accommodate his existence is certainly a step in the right direction.
And putting all these considerations together means creating a safe space. What does that mean in practical terms though? Does that mean limiting contact with the outside world? If so, how can I still be a productive member of society? What can I do? If not, does that mean keeping him away from the public, and step in in those circumstances? What do I become then? Do I become the integrated personality? How would that work?
I’m digressing.
- Feeling an urge to be “me”
I always thought I was being true to myself. And in many ways, I was. I never renegaded on myself; I “just” forgot the details.
When lil’ one is around, and I feel what it is like to be complete, whole, I can’t understand how it could have possibly happened. Yet I do. I don’t want to.
Nobody probably would want to deal with the bitter truth that nobody in the world think he’s good enough to be who he is.
Since I was born, I was deemed not to be suitable for this world. Firstly, abandoned by the biological parents. Then passed on to a family who hated me with every fibre of their being. For no reason. Just because I was “me”. And then everyone I came across since has expected me to behave (or not behave) in certain ways rather than what came naturally.
So much so, that I forgot who I was. I forgot my core who has been crying out for love since the day we were conceived.
Admittedly, I can understand that the shrieks and shrills had to be managed. And the motor issues had to be tackled. But in all honesty, neither I nor lil’ one can remember much of that. He was just being himself. And nothing was ever explained to him. When he shares his memories with me, I can possibly feel facial expressions, and body movements, but I don’t think I ever hear myself speak. I hear what people are saying to me, but not what I say.
It doesn’t matter now. What is important is that I found myself again.
However, when looking at the situation from this perspective, it becomes clear how important it is that I can be safe. From people.
I don’t care anymore if I am accepted or not. Being true to myself is the most important consideration. Particularly when the price of not doing so is so high. And when the benefit of doing so is so great!
I have never experienced the joy that I feel when he is around.
This doesn’t come without a downside though. Well, it can be called a weakness only from the perspective of a “normal” person. Because this is what is my “superpower”.
Lil’ one’s superpower I should say. He connects to things and people on a cosmic level. Probably a quantum level.
That means he FEELS everything, on a cosmic level. On a level that can be quite impairing.
I thought I was sensitive, and I completely forgot how sensitive he was. A degree of empathy quite unique that enables him to feel whatever around him is feeling.
I remember banning myself from watching any TV or movie drama but didn’t quite remember why. Now I know. Interestingly, he doesn’t mind watching them, and feeling them. We were just trying to avoid people’s sneers, disparages, and scorns.
This is likely a big part of what I refer to when I talk about a safe space. Being able to express myself freely and unashamedly.
November 24, 2021
So, there’s been a lot to think about, and my reasoning is evolving. As always, however, I always return to, and validate my original assessment.
I always felt that Walter would not have been able to get away with what he did to me if it weren’t for the complicity of the people around him. Not just his wife, daughter, mother, and extended family. Also, those in the church, at the various schools, neighbours, and everyone else that witnessed what was going on.
Parents would cover their children ears and eyes, and lead them away, adult and children alike would wear those pitiful eyes, briefly, and then quickly look away and speed off. No one ever offered succour.
But it did not end there. Once I left Italy, and I had a fresh start in life, I should have been able to start recovering myself. I should have blossomed and risen from the ashes of my past like the proverbial phoenix.
Yet this did not happen. My personality was pushed away and even increasingly repressed. Something did blossom, but it wasn’t the true me.
On a social perspective, there were pressures to be a certain way, behave a certain way. That is fine, I can accept that, we all have a “public” persona that is quite different from who we are behind closed doors. However, those close to me also expected me to be different. Accusing me often of not “getting it”. I spent a great deal of time observing people. Trying to understand what’s there to “get”.
And I have been trying to “get it”. But I guess this is what pushed my personality away. I don’t know what this “it” is! I am definitely not “getting it”! and nobody seems to be capable of explaining to me what “it” is, and how to “get” it.
Maybe as my family used to believe, I am “retarted”. Joanna always used to ask how someone as smart as I could be so stupid.
I don’t know.
Maybe I should accept the fact that I will never “get it”. And if “getting it” means denying my whole identity, is it even worth it?
I don’t need to interact with society as a whole. There must be a niche where I can fit in.
But then we go back to this issue…
NO, THERE ISN’T A NICHE WHERE I CAN FIT IN. THERE’S NO ONE ELSE LIKE ME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
So, what’s left for me?
