Latest Posts
- so many ways in which they have abandoned themselves, so that they will abandon their children in the same ways,
- so many unmet emotional needs they will burden the children with, so their children will constantly be caring for their parents instead of the other way around,
- so many ways in which they abuse themselves, so that they will abuse their own children in the same ways,
- so many patterns of destructive behavior that will constantly steer the family to go off the rails,
- so many blind spots preventing self-reflection, forcing their children to make them blind to truth, what really happens,
- so many misunderstandings about how to stay lovingly present, constantly inviting conflict, and
- so many ways in which they can feel offended, making them shame and blame their children.
- primal notes verwerken in childhood 2
- auto mutilation neigingen
- childhood 1, kijken of het wel puur is, of dat mijn verdriet nuances naar iets verwijzen wat uncontained is
- info boxes toevoegen aan childhood 3
- childhood2: misschien white/black magic objectiever neerzetten (maar nog steeds duidelijk)
- Zo was ik vroeger ook: Sun: You will be frozen by a coldness of the heart. This is a state when you feel neither pain nor love, just emptiness. It usually follows intense emotional experiences. You have given more than your share, till finally you are worn out, finished [...] Realize that aloofness and indifference are also powerful emotions and can accomplish much in certain circumstances, where friendliness has not succeeded
- By talking about my deepest shame, I want to bring it into the light.
- When saying yes to life, both shadow and light, my suffering is done and i come alive, The moment I stop running, From the demons in my head, and instead I choose to love them
- Full of Know it all-s, if like to show how I'm learning, because I believe that is what leads to a fulfilling life
Why I Made This Site
I have been through a lot, I have healed a lot, through many different paths. I simply like to share about that.
During my healing, I develop powers within me, that continue to blow my mind:
I dropped many personal habits and patterns, grew from fear to vulnerability to transparency, discovered respecting myself and setting boundaries, brought my physical health to a new level, attracted situations that were unimaginable, healed many traumas of my childhood full of abuse, easily connected with new people, simply found more joy in life, increased self love, slept better and got more energy, increased self-healing capabilities of my body, was able to open my closed heart, became more realistic and effective in what I want, and much, much more.
For a lot of people, it is challenging to relate to the above summary: It can quickly become a repetitive, meaningless list. Or, it is associated with some theories on emotional development, becoming a mental exercise. Another misunderstanding is relating it with incremental progress in life, on how people usually grow. Sometimes the above list makes some sense, but it is hard to imagine how to get there. The biggest challenge is when people have made substantial progress in several areas, but blind spots in other areas imprison their further growth: having lost hope in deeper progress.
Any of that is an unfortunate shame, because a huge opportunity remains unused. To get this opportunity understood, it is not about finding the right words to explain the right concepts in some specific order. It is about finding a way in which you can really feel what this opportunity is all about.
And to feel, I will try to find my way, to you: I want to go all in by writing on what personal transformation truly means to me. I want to share with you my deepest fears, hate, humiliation, courage, trust, surprises, victories, and stories of power and dignity.
Uncensored.
It is about waking up in a real life nightmare, and calling in my deepest powers to start moving something that is utterly stuck. How I repeatedly was challenged to fully accept were I currently am, to let any situation work through me. Eventually, courage and persistence helped me trough many paths: To get me back alive again.
I do not necessarily encourage you to create your own real life nightmare in order to transform. I just want to describe how I got life working for me. I discovered bit by bit, that I am not my past, but my reactions to it, and that I can transform them in many layers: giving me freedom to start responding to what happens in the present, becoming truly alive. And the immense joy and satisfaction it gives. Only in writing about that, I have some chance of creating a website that becomes alive as well, so you can feel this opportunity.
Adding to this, I will be sharing intimate details about my personal life. This has two reasons:
Firstly, when I was unaware and unalive, I often wondered how people lived being alive. How did they talk to each other about their thoughts and emotions, and which things are important for them to make decisions, and why? How would they reflect on their success&flaws and those of others, and go after what they want? I found by my own experience that if you live on the lower level of the emotional spectrum, it just is hard to get around alive people that inspire you. I want to share my inner world, in a way that would have been useful to me, when I started my journey.
Secondly, in the field of emotional development, there is an overload of coaches/therapists/whatever that are keen on sharing images of success. Their instagrams are full of spiritual memes and quoting all kinds of gurus. But they share little of themselves, let alone something vulnerable. And if they share something vulnerable, it frequently is calculated, by the mind. I want to break this pattern, by sharing about my insecurities and perceived failures, also the ones I do not yet have an answer to. Life happens inside of each of us, and I like to keep on living, as authentically as I can.
I also want to write about the methodologies I have used, including the ones for physical health. I have spent 250+ days in trainings of many transformational schools, and received 350+ therapy sessions of many kinds. I want to describe how they complement my process, next to the many other practices that I explored on my own.
Through this writing, I want to illustrate what really matters in personal transformation: how totally different methodologies actually relate, what essential perspectives are often forgotten, and how to turn courage into results.
The closer you move to truth, clarity and necessity for restoring balance automatically grows. And out of necessity, courage is easily born. Courage gives way to feeling what is, acceptance of what is, and by that enabling your built-in automatic process to transform.
It is my wish, that through sharing my map of personal transformation, it can help you to expand your own map: Hoping your next stepping stone moves a bit closer to you.
The sky is the limit, if you choose to learn how to fly.
When elevating your life, the first best thing to do is wanting to elevate your life. The second best thing is getting inspired on how to elevate your life. When you want to get inspired, the first best thing to do is exploring to act on your intuition. The second best thing is discovering how other people elevated their life.
todo
- change the perception of accepted behavior, instead of feeding a society that looks only from the outside, I want to stimulate depth, transparency, vulnerability and courage. So if I would be twenty again, and stumble upon this site, I would maybe believe that I am actually beautiful, and so is everyone else.
Along My Journey
Some time ago, I finished a training on personal transformation. I spoke about my journey, and I wrote a poem about it as well. I presented it to the community that supported my journey.
For me it is still relevant today, about what matters, and who I am. I wish it for you to be useful as well.
◆ ◆ ◆
When I started this journey around 7 years ago, I realized I had a dysfunctional way of looking at myself, and at other people, including my ex-girlfriend, who just broke up with me; because she had to protect herself from being damaged even more.
It was then, that I realized I simply could not love somebody on even a basic level. My words at that time were "I am not emotionally mature enough, for being 29 years old, I am just not where I want to be." That was the first thread I started to follow.
Gradually, after some exploring, and some more, I found myself in a very grave place.
I was waking up in a real life nightmare; It was like when you get back to your house after a long vacation, but seeing that the whole house is in complete chaos. In every room there is furniture laying on the ground, clothes and mess everywhere. The fundaments and walls were about to crumble, with maybe only the front wall looking somewhat straight, so that I could convince myself I was doing okay. Actually, I was in the middle of crumbling down, like the tower card from the Major Arcana from the Tarot deck.
So, what do you do when you find yourself like that? What did I do?
Ignoring this was impossible, so it was either stopping with this incarnation, or gather up the courage, the will and the determination, to start facing, everything.
From my deepest powers I started to create a life for myself that was deeply focused on transformation. Around my fourth year I also quit my job for this.
I submerged myself in any therapy I could find which made sense to me. I needed to start something moving that was utterly stuck. And also for my intense desperation for trying anything but staying the same. To give you an idea, I took a nose dive in the following: The Grinberg method, core energetics, Osho retreats in India, tantra&shamanism, Alexander Technique, all kinds of dancing, waterfasting,(for example only drinking water for 2 weeks), eating only fruit, eating crystal powder, visiting power places, visiting power people, neurofeedback, Paida Lajin,(a Chinese yoga), interpersonal meditation, extradimensional healing and channeling, tarot, biofeedback, salt & magnesium chambers, and also energetic devices like the Rife machine and the Multi Wave Oscillator.
You could say I became addicted to therapy and transformation. Although, what is an addiction if it is the only thing that can really save you? Gradually it became my truth that outside self-development, the world does not exist.
But, in the past month I started to wind down all of this. I have come to a next point: in which I have found all major treasures of my past, and my next challenge is to actually start living, with who I am in this moment.
Looking back, the list of things I have discovered is just too long to even begin mentioning on what dimension, form or practical benefit I have evolved. As for core energetics, I am immensely grateful for the opportunities I have received on exploring my self-expression, my hate and anger, and other themes that relate to my attachment. And in my transformation group, the biggest gift, is that I learned to become more accepting of myself, and by that also accepting other people more for who they are.
So having this background, I want to share something else:
♡
I want to tell
to myself
and to you
as my witnesses
how beautiful I have become
It is something that I thought
was never even remotely possible
I have found it
and still am finding
Sometimes
I am starstruck by my softness
my intention of kindness to others
needing nothing in return
being able to shine from within
When something like that happens
and I realize it afterwards
it can touch me to tears
And sometimes it can frighten me as well
as I think of how I used to be someone else
More and more
I can release myself from a very deep old belief
that I am very ugly from the inside
I can see how that was being fed
and I can cut the cords
I can see more and more
how I have been hated
abused
and misused
And how I started doing that to myself
and to my environment
I understand how I could see myself for only being that
and how I hid myself
very far away
Very far away
from my own dignity and power
But being able to see that
I also see
more and more
That within me lives a personification of softness
which I cannot yet always show
but it does
always exist
And that I can continue
trusting
that I will
no matter what
always return to that softness
creating a deep knowing
a deep existence
Who and how I am that
and who that is inside me
the more I think about that
the more it becomes a grey area
And when I try to claim that
it slowly turns into black
But when I let it exist inside me
without name
but with a deep trust
it becomes shining white
and then I become
that shining white
♡
Navigating To Be Alive
Feeling as fully as possible, is the key to being alive. It is about letting your life unfold via feeling through the heart, rather than controlling your life via regulating through the mind.
It is a state in which all of your qualities are fully playing their own melody, in the symphony you orchestrate to be your life. Feeling all of your qualities makes them play in tune. And while they evolve and you encounter challenges, you transform your symphony accordingly. Playing with your own qualities and that of your environment, however small or big, is a constant exploration of beautiful life meeting itself.
Fully meeting ourselves and the world, is wonderfully easy for children:
They bring their courage
come from innocence
not worrying about right or wrong
because they are exploring life itself
while they accept their own play
with purpose, curiosity, and joy
◆ ◆ ◆
Initially, we have so much trust in life and our heart-qualities, that we fully show and use them, all of the time. In the context of this article, heart-qualities are our personal qualities, for which we need an opened heart to use them. Some of these qualities are our uniqueness, respect, trust, harmony, peace, transparency, love, joy, courage, curiosity, creativity, anger, sadness, acceptance, empathy, forgiveness, deep understanding and serenity.
Through these qualities, each human is fully capable of exploring life, experiencing each situation on its own. Each stage of the situation can be handled and processed as it unfolds, by using the right heart-quality at the right moment, that matches each individual uniqueness. For children, they may require support with the use of their heart-qualities in their own way, along with the freedom to explore them in their own pace.
But along our life, while fully using our heart-qualities, we end up in situations that are too much for us to handle: Through external restrictions, or lack of support, we cannot fully process the situation. Being scared and unable to handle the whole situation, we focus on handling only a part of the situation, using a coping mechanism. This can be any form of fight, flight or freeze.
Ideally we revisit the situation later, coming to a complete understanding of what happened: We allow ourselves to handle the whole situation, meeting it fully with all of our qualities. But if we do not revisit the unhandled parts, the fear stays unprocessed in our system, and the whole situation remains misunderstood. In that case, (subconsciously) we don't want to remember and feel this part in us, and we start avoiding it.
Having made a choice to not fully feel what happened, we can not move past the original fear anymore. We miss out on understanding why and how the situation occurred. Additionally, we miss out on discharging the fear from our system. The fear stays in our body, attacking our health in all sorts of ways.
In the future we may encounter similar situations, that remind us of the original situation: They will activate our fear and the related coping mechanism, preventing us to fully meet the situation we are in. In this state of fear, we lose sight of what is truly happening around is, becoming ineffective in our relationships and shaping life around us.
Consequently, we keep on misunderstanding what is happening, emotionally and rationally. We lose sight of the context in which we live. Anytime something or someone else activates our original fear, by chance or on purpose, we become controlled by our blind fear, and behave through our habitual coping mechanism.
◆ ◆ ◆
To protect us, our mind starts to take control over our life with pre-calculated behavior. It makes us avoid similar situations and related feelings. It also prevents us from using our heart qualities, that are misunderstood to cause the original and related situations. Gradually we start to live through our mind: to detect, train, and respond. But more importantly, our heart is incrementally shut down: more and more we lose access to all of our heart qualities.
Our mind may even start to confuse our heart qualities. Like love for hypocrisy, truth for naivety, transparency for vulnerability, uniqueness for loneliness, courage for stupidity, sadness for unworthiness, creativity for bullshit, acceptance for cowardice, sensitivity for weakness, anger for aggressiveness, forgiveness for humiliation, joy for childishness, and deep understanding for fake conformism.
From the mind's perspective, this even is "understandable": Because what does love mean, when we do not have the courage and truth to show ourselves and meet the other? And what does forgiveness mean, when we cannot restore our boundaries with anger, and cannot accept through sadness what we have lost? What does joy mean, when it is reflected without our uniqueness, and we can't feed it with our curiosity and sensitivity? What does creativity mean in constantly shaping our own life, if we can not deeply understand what happens around us?
Without our heart qualities having each other's magic to stay alive, they begin to fade. Our mind tries to imitate and replace our forgotten qualities, feelings and self expression: we become inauthentic. We start to forget what it truly is to be alive in our own powers and the ambitions we had with them.
Without being able to trust our heart-qualities, trust in ourselves and life decreases, and we stop meeting life fully. Life is no longer lived by us, but is controlled, avoided even, by our blind fears through our minds. Our lives becomes repetitive, and loses its creativity and deep meaning. And while stepping away from our qualities, our self respect makes less sense to our mind: We disconnect from our self-love and dignity as well.
To the extent that we abandon our heart, life becomes a process that is controlled by the mind, trying to avoid and refuse any situations, feelings and heart-qualities that the mind considers to be negative. Our minds also "helps" us to avoid people that challenge our way of avoiding too much: we end up living with people that confirm our mind perspective even more.
The avoiding (and refusing) starts to show up in our life through many different strategies, like: a busy life, perfectionism, suppressing thoughts, preventing people from coming close to us, overeating, withholding our self-expression, withdrawing, over connecting, muscular tensions, diseases, ignoring personal needs, recreating similar situations to avoid other situations, or through any addiction to create other feelings to distract us.
Through conscious choice, any of the above strategies can be used or not-used to serve a particular situation. In that way they are part of our personal power. But when the strategies start to control us to any extent, they become our limiting habitual responses, our so-called (dysfunctional) patterns. They make us miss out on opportunities in life.
◆ ◆ ◆
The paradox is that in order to restore our aliveness, we need to (safely) fully feel our feelings that make us decrease our aliveness.
There exist many strategies for increasing our aliveness. Next to meditating and spending time in nature, it generally is about consciously and fully feeling the feelings we are avoiding. At the same time we should be supported to use our right heart qualities at our right time.
The feelings and related situation should receive enough attention and encouragement, so it becomes unstuck and starts unfolding again, in the direction of the natural completion of the original situation. If it does not receive the appropriate attention and encouragement, it stays stuck and we are just repeating negative feelings.
We avoid certain feelings and situations because our mind doesn't have "a solution" for them, still thinking it is too much for us to handle. But by thinking something through our minds, it simply is technically impossible to reach our soul: So we miss out on the infinite creativity our soul provides. At best our mind can provide us with repetitive ideas that lead to a repetitive life, nowhere near a serious breakthrough.
Our mind doesn't realize that we simply cannot evolve from something that we keep pushing away with our minds, we did not accept through our hearts, something we keep resisting to allow to affect us, something we do not feel. Because we actually do need the real experience to grow the power to step out of it. And this power is only acquired by feeling it fully.
Our heart is the portal to our soul. By consciously feeling any feelings through our heart, sending them through the heart-soul connection, we connect our complete selves with the situation we were in, moving back into that now-moment. We give ourselves a chance again to participate in the game of life, going all-in, the real deal.
At the same time, we are feeding our heart-soul-intelligence information on how precisely the related situation affected us, and why. An invitation is created on the deepest existential level. An invitation to become inspired, respond to, and grow from the situation and its related feelings. In these deepest layers of our being, the trust that we give ourselves, we are not just battling an immense fear. But we are tapping in our unlimited potential as a soulful human being to enrich ourselves with a new experience.
In feeling any situation, what only matters is how it uniquely felt to us. Not the feelings, or intentions/thoughts etc for that matter, of someone else. Feelings or intentions of others may affect what feelings are invoked within us, but that is something totally different than using feelings or intentions of others to guide or control what we should feel. Because what we truly need is the power to move through what happened to us, not through what happened to someone else.
And every time we transcend our mind and make the jump to trust our heart-soul intelligence, we use our automatic and built-in mechanism to transform ourselves: We evolve our identity and what we are capable of. And more importantly, it helps us to expand our dignified truth: Understanding and respecting ourselves, and whatever happened through a much bigger perspective.
Avoiding these situations is not anymore a matter of fear of "something" that can happen, but a matter of clarity and choice on how we navigate life. We then understand the related feelings to be something out of the past. Any sane amount of fear can still be there, but we no longer blindingly fear the fear, so that we can stay open to life.
To navigate life. To meet life. To become life. Fully.
On Light & Dark
This is a poem I delivered at a sanctuary service in 2022 in front of around hundred people. At that time, I was in training at the Netherlands Institute of Core Energetics. The theme of the service was Transformation.
It was the first time I shared publicly about my inner world. It was beautiful for me.
I invite you on a journey
I invite you on a challenge
And just...
throughout out all of this
Just ...
stay you
stay us
stay here
Just ...
breathe
Searching the immense dark for your own spark
Can only be described while you embark
A deep pain, blindingly stark
A terrifying fear, paralyzing sharp
A lonely hate, losing you in dark
And every time you take this wheel
thinking you already knew the deal
searching even deeper to make you feel
finding love through life only as it gets real
it is after that, when you will heal
In feeling there is nowhere left to go
I promise you that you will know
Your pain is yours to heal, as you will grow
Your hate is yours to melt, as sun on snow
Your fear is yours to overcome, you will lay it low
Traveling along all this messiness
you will find your wisdom through unhappiness
your power to act from your godliness
your trust to receive from your goddessness
love to accept from your divine gracefulness
And in the end you will know, all throughout
That no thing whatsoever and how loud
can never define what you are about
can never make you hostage on your route
can never deny you without a doubt
Because when you find your hope in close vicinity
that one spark, transforming "you, limited by inability"
into "you, defining yourself into infinity"
commanding your true nature bursting through reality
Sharing to act, receive and accept in lovability
Sharing your journey
through the immense dark
and the immense light
A joy, so immensely joyful
compassion, with so much depth
understanding, so unparalleled
love, so divinely undefined
My Life 1: Parents
In these articles. I try to describe what I experienced in my childhood.
The reason this website exists(XXX), is that I love to share about how personal transformation helped me to become tremendously more alive. This huge contrast, has two sides. On the one side, I had many dark and destructive experiences in my childhood, that left me utterly alone, highly restricted in my personal power and dignity, intensely sad, and having extreme low self-worth. On the other side, through many transformational experiences, I was able to give meaning to what happened to me during my childhood. That journey is simply wonderful.
In a process that is still ongoing until today, I am able to accept and extract my truths out of what happened to me. These are truths, that automatically carry my life to a higher level, uncovering my dignity, my softness, and my powers and trust in life. Truths through which I face the future and meet the present moment. I keep on discovering myself, to be the light through my own darkness.
To be able to tell you what my truths are, implicitly and explicitly, I need to tell you about the alchemy of my truths: how I discovered them, and against what backgrounds they were extracted. The first background is my journey of discovery that I started in my late twenties, on which many articles exist in this website. The other background is the experiences of my childhood.
These articles are about my childhood, the first background from where I am able to extract my truths.
The main influencers of the background of my childhood, are my parents(XXX). They defined through what eyes I was seen, learning me how to use my eyes to look at myself and the world. My parents both are people with their own uniqueness, their own story, their own backgrounds, their own way of looking at life. I like to tell you about them, how you could perceive them, when you would meet them for the first time.
Meet my Mother
If you would meet my mother for the first time, it could be challenging to make sense of that experience. At first sight, for a split second, you could feel a subtle attentive, sweet, and playful energy, that has the potential to care for the whole world.
However, this subtle energy is very thin, and is for most people easy to miss, making you wonder who you have in front of you. If you miss that deeply hidden, precious beauty, your wondering will be met with something that is hard to put a finger on. Because she looks well dressed, behaves with a smile, uses language that mature people use, and talks, like she has her life in order.
But why don't you see peace in her eyes, and glimpses of dignity or joy? Why is it, that if you close your eyes, nothing of what she says or does comes alive, and you feel a big emptiness, as if she is trying to hide something, not knowing it herself. It even is as she doesn't exist, her words don't make sense by what you feel from them. She is pretending to be alive, but she has hidden herself very far away from life. And you can't get to her, because she almost isn't there at all.
Staying for a while, she starts to reach out to you. Initially masked as a gentle support, but she actually is pulling on to you. If you mention it in words, she will deny it. It makes you think that she doesn't know where she is. Hidden very far behind this pulling, an extreme desperateness is slightly noticeable, making you back up a bit. It is clear she is not aware about it. Suddenly you catch a well-hidden blank stare in her eyes, it starts to makes sense. What does feeling alive mean for this woman? It touches you that she doesn't seem to remember.
You become conscious about her pulling, and you decide to allow her a to tap into you. Immediately you feel an invasive energy in your system, as if her desperateness for life is trying to leech from you. An image of control and humiliation enters your thoughts. Having had enough, you close again. In her presence, other images start to appear, showing a little girl, who moves her arms and hands, but who cannot see what she is doing with them.
You continue talking with her, curious about that little girl. Hearing her talk, life is presented as being impossibly difficult and heavy. But interestingly enough, through her expressions and indirect language, she frequently is complimenting herself. It even seems contradicting. These compliments try convince you she is super hero, and a super victim at the same time.
You start asking yourself, why is she making her own life so difficult? And when was she so intensely humiliated, that she started doing that herself? What forced her to step away from her dignity? And how would she treat her children? She feels so very lost.., it can make you cry.
You feel a need to stay on guard, it is hard to relax around her. Along the conversation you spot another cliffhanger, to pull you further into her story. Out of kindness, you give her some sincere validation for trying her best so hard. But you see she can't bring to feel it inside her heart. It is used some kind of snack to which she is addicted, feeling her satisfied for only a few moments.
You offer her some questions of reflection. You notice her mind has no clarity for them. Furthermore she seems offended very easily, and her minds seems to go blank when processing your deeper inquiries. She can't really look at your questions, it doesn't help her anything. It needs to come from inside herself. You thank her for meeting her, sincerely wish her a rich life, and leave her be.
Getting to know my Mother
After having met her, if you find yourself thinking about her, you may arrange to get to know her better. Maybe you will go walking in nature, or visit museums together, which are things she likes.
Through knowing her, it might touch you deeply why she keeps ending up in situations, in which she is either the super hero or the helpless victim. It appears that, tragically, she just doesn't know life in another way. Her childhood was so immensely heavy for her, that thirty years later, it is a pain she constantly feels inside of herself. But her memories are simply too intense to feel inside herself: the feeling of not knowing when the chaos ends, constantly physically abused and humiliated, and constantly being tossed around by all the heavy conflicts and emotional violence that is going on.
And because she cannot feel it inside of herself, she keeps creating distractions outside of herself: creating situations that evoke similar feelings, to camouflage her original deep pains. And as long as she can't feel the pain inside of her, she will do anything to feel similar pains outside of her.
◆ ◆ ◆
You will also learn that she was literally defenseless when she was a child. Constantly being surrendered to the incapacities and violence of her parents, which were also traumatized in their own childhoods. When my mother tried to defense herself, her defenses were systematically broken down, and she was attacked even harder.
The only strength she could find was attacking subconsciously, and striking very hard. Being attacked subconsciously, her parents would be less aware of it, she having less change of getting attacked back by them. Her way of fighting back has many elements of mean, and manipulative humiliation. It was the only defense she had left when she was little, being constantly attacked by her parents: humans twice her size and double as smart.
Seeing the fear and holes of emptiness in her eyes when she is reminded of that, you totally understand. She still is stuck in that pain: That is why she tries to manipulate and humiliate you, when you are with her in disagreement about something. She doesn't know any other strategy, she needs to repeat her story outside of herself.
◆ ◆ ◆
Every now and then, you will notice that it is hard to reach her. It is as if her mind goes totally blank, and she is not responding to anything outside of her. You wonder where she could be during such moments, and you ask her about it. You may hear that her childhood at sometimes was so dark for her, that she even could not talk for a while when she was young. And from some other conversation you remember, that she has trouble doing relatively simple math. You start to assume she has some kind of cognitive impairment as a result of her abusive childhood. It constantly dims her capacities, and periodically overloads her brain, appearing unreachable.
Knowing her stories, you empathize for her: what is she processing when she is away? Down there, is she experiencing it all over again? It seems the only explanation. She seems to have learned to live with it. Regularly you see her missing clarity on what matters, making her emotionally unstable. Her emotions seem to take her in to all kinds of states, making her disconnect with herself. Sometimes, you feel a wish to hold her, and say everything is going to be okay.
◆ ◆ ◆
Spending time together, you notice many indications, that she yearns for a normal and happy life: to have hobbies, respect, and relationships like happy people do, and have a happy marriage and an harmonious family. But when she is feeling and thinking about it, she can't imagine and focus it, neither can she bring her heart power with it, nor can she put her life into action for that. Her aspirations of happiness, very closely touch the intense pains she suffered when she was young. But she cannot feel her pains yet, so her powers stay imprisoned.
Somewhere, she knows what she want, but she can't just bring it together. It feels like a child trying to make a sand castle on the beach, just by throwing sand on a pile, and demanding confirmation from bystanders that she really is building a nice sand castle. Her actions feel so unconnected, and at the same time she is trying to convince herself she is doing a good job. But deep down she knows it is not what she want, still she keeps on trying, and looking for outside validation to get herself on track.
If you find yourself bothered by her, you might say she is keeping up appearances, being hypocritical, and looking for attention. But when you find time and energy to open up to her, you feel she actually needs is encouragement, admiration, and some guidance. It touches your heart, to see someone trying so hard, but failing so clearly, not getting the lesson. You wish for her to simply be happy, but sadly she cannot feel what it takes, she cannot bring it together.
<todo she tries to make you feel guilty if you do not play along>
Meet my Father
It takes courage to meet this world with softness, kindness and loyalty, living by your principles at the same time. That is what you can feel, when you would meet my father, even from seeing him over a mile away. Moving closer to him, your anticipation of him grows. How does he shape his life? In what way would he use his qualities to spread his wisdom? Is he a musician? Or maybe he is leading some community, in which respect and being welcome truly goes hand in hand?
Having a small talk with him, you notice something is off. Every reply of him seems to make the conversation a bit more stuck. You are talking with each other, but it is hard to have a flowing conversation. It feels analyzed, processed, as if you are just exchanging facts, frames, and bits of information. Talking with him doesn't move you at all. Except for the fact you can feel the potential qualities of this man. They feel anything but alive in him. It is like he has very little left in him to back up his qualities, to bring them into this world.
Sometimes, when he shares his thoughts, they surprisingly seem magical. Almost making you believe that thinking is the only way, that the world is finite, static, as-is, and that there is nothing else in life. Allowing his thoughts to be yours, feels like the world losing its rich layers, its power to surprise, and its creativity. Without you realizing it, your heart gradually fades away, your breathing becomes shallow, and you lose touch with what happens in your body. Life seems simple, logical and predictable. There is nothing to fear, nothing to live.
When you step out of his mind, it feels like the world inside and outside of you comes alive again. It shocks you, that for a moment you really believed, that life is so extremely thin.
Through the conversation, you start to explore him further. When you make a clear statement that he doesn't agree on, he seems to somehow jump back. He does that without moving his body, maybe startling a bit, giving you all the space. His voice changes a pitch higher, and he brings an intellectual reply to your statement. There just is no real body and power to it, it seems as he feels you stepped on his balls.
Hidden very far behind his fear to stand his ground, an enormous aggression is activated for a split second. As if you gravely humiliated and physically attacked him. But he keeps controlling his emotions, imprisoning himself and his powers. Probably you could take advantage of him if you want. With compassion, you wonder how severely he was attacked and humiliated in his life, that he had to stop protecting himself. You fear in what way his children are at the receiving end of his aggression.
Does this man feels seen? By himself? By the world? You ask him about life. Yet again he gives processed answers. But in between the lines, you feel that life is tough on this man. He feels extremely tarnished. You are impressed that he still tries to be courageous and kind, yet you see he brings it out unconnected, through the mind. You compliment him about his intentions. He replies with an intellectual "thank you" and a disconnected smile. You notice he can't feel what you mean.
You conclude he cannot pull the strings to his heart and his emotions, to make them join his life. And without connection to his emotions, he seems to have no clue why he is making his own life so hard: He keeps living in his mind. You can hear it churning, on how to 'fix' life. He seems restless, his body tensed.
You start to feel sorry for this man. In front of you is standing the body of an adult male, but if feels as if you are talking to a little boy. Behind his helplessness, you feel a constant asking, asking you to help him life, to care for his emotions, to care for what he needs, to feel life.
It is time for you to move on, and you indirectly suggest to close the conversation. You feel a sudden impulse to part him with a hug. He reluctantly agrees to it, and while hugging, you feel his heart to be very cold. As if he was never hugged. Out of sympathy, a crying starts inside of you. From your heart, you send him all the warmth you have available. You let go of him, and with compassion, you go your own way again.
Getting to know my father
On the occasion you will meet my father more often, you might do something active together, like playing soccer, or visiting a live performance of any music.
Interested in his life, you ask a few questions about his youth. But when asking about his parents, you get answers with very little information. To a tiny extent, he seems to be empathetically aware that his parents had incapacities caring for him, but it is far from an emotional awareness of the different contexts and dynamics he was raised in. He says he doesn't love his own mother so much. He doesn't question his own upbringing so much, he takes is own tough life as it is.
Once, he was a little boy full of life, full of everything. But through systematic beating, emotional violence and humiliation by his parents, he had to gradually shut down his life inside of him. For him it was very dangerous to live in his body and through his emotions, interacting with the world around him. So he had to start living inside his mind.
He was made into a helpless boy, prevented to know and to feel, what it is like to be alive and to take responsibility. Now being a grown up, he still lives inside that prison, falsely believing there is no one who really cares for him, there is no way to express his anger in a safe and dignified way, showing his grief will lead to more humiliation, becoming alive will get him in danger, that he has little emotions, and they don't have any magic that can make a difference for him.
You notice that in his state, it is hard for him to take care of himself: He feels little impulses to go outside, meet people, get warmer clothes when he gets cold, get out of bed at the right time, eat the right food, and so on. It can make you feel wanting to care for him, maybe even telling him what to do, because he is clueless about life. It reminds you, that he almost always seems to be nice to people, even when offended, and you assume the main reason is, that deep inside, he always needs help.
When you are busy caring for your own life, it can be distracting to be with someone, that subconsciously always asks for help and attention. But when you are open to him for any reason, you realize that his self-respect and personal powers were almost completely destroyed when he was young. He was gravely incapacitated, and sadly, he still lives in those very dark shadows. He needs empathy and encouragement, to step out of his shadows. But it is only his step to take.
After a while, it becomes clear to you that he has withdrawn to his last line of defense: his mind. When you get into a discussion with him, and touch upon something that is important for him, it makes him heated, and his words venomous. You imagine what would happen if you would be living together with him, making it more personal. The arguments could become furious and even violent, like he is fighting for his life. On the surface, he could make the impression of someone that is authoritative, stubborn, arrogant, or claiming to be what is right and what is wrong.
But you identify the deeper reason, that he fled to his rigid mind, mistrusting anything outside of it. When you find yourself in a conflict with him, you are talking to a men whose life was taken away, has fled to his mind, and can't get life back himself. He is defending the only straw of life he has left: thoughts about life, instead of having life itself.
Because my father has almost given up living, it is challenging for him to convince others of his viewpoints. When he makes a statement or gives his opinion, it feels as just some line of a rulebook was read out aloud, not the connected to the current situation of life. There is no real power behind it, there is no life in it to move you. Listening closely, you can hear a whining in his voice, like he really wants to be heard. It makes him come across has someone who doesn't feel taken seriously, constantly fighting to be heard and seen. In his fight, you feel a big loneliness, as if what he thinks does not matter, as if what he feels does not matter, as if he himself, does not matter.
Once, you are talking with him about raising kids. Suddenly, you find yourself shocked to hear him say, that "the only way to control kids, is to beat them", and he "does not know any other way to steer them".
It makes a knot in you stomach, and your heart feels frozen.
It makes you understand that he has disconnected with his inner goodness, and his trust in himself. You suspect that when my father was young, he was gravely attacked, every time he tried to live from the truths of his heart. The truths that can make him flourish. Instead, he was forced to believe in another system, made-up rules from the mind, that bring darkness, fear, and death.
He does not believe anymore, that when he gives himself space, trust and encouragement, he will transform into a fountain of harmony and beauty, spreading it naturally around him. But instead, he is very hard on himself, punishing himself for every "mistake". And when beating himself up all the time, he automatically create a life around himself, that constantly beats him up as well. It makes sense now, that he sees the world as a very though place. Seeing such a needless hardship in him, it can make you feel very sorry. Life doesn't have to be hard all the time. But on a deeper level, he chooses it that way.
What is even more horrific, is that his mind believes that he is doing the right thing, when he is physically attacking and torturing his own children. You even heard him say "I would rather have that my children hate me and don't know the rules of the world, instead of my children loving me and not being raised properly". Feeling that he can be physically very intimidating and uncontrolled, you fear for his children. It touches you deeply, to see a man so extremely lost in his mind, a man that values honesty and kindness so much, who is terrorizing and traumatizing his children, putting them into fear and agony every day. Your thoughts wonder off to his children, how day by day, their innocence is taken away from them, their integrity is being comprised, and the loneliness and sadness in their eyes and heart grows, and grows.
Marriage of patterns
The reason why my parents live together, is very ironically, that their patterns are compatible with each other.
Two examples of my parents's patterns are: constantly playing the hero or the victim, and being emotionally helpless. As describe above, they learned this behavior in their own childhood, in order to deal with their harsh environment and protect themselves. For someone that has a tendency to behave as either a hero or a victim all the time, it fits to be around someone, that has a tendency to be emotionally helpless all the time. And it fits the other way around as well.
When listing the patterns of someone, the big danger is that the person is reduced to their patterns. Focusing on the patterns, it becomes difficult to see the pain behind the patterns. But it is important to realize, that each single personal pain is completely unique: It is a direct expression of the unique beauty of a person, in a unique painful context. If the unique context was not painful, the unique beauty of the person could be expressed in another way, for example, in a unique expression of joy.
Patterns serve to protect and to hide the pain of a person and thus its uniqueness: patterns defend a person from itself and its environment, and make it anonymous at the same time. So when saying two people are compatible in their patterns, it means each of them is hiding his and her unique pain in a way, so that both ways of hiding can exist in the same relationship, in a practical manner. It is about the way of hiding and defending. Nothing else.
When children are born into a family, they will develop themselves based on the relations that already exist. If the existing relations are (mostly) dynamic, children are free to develop their own personality. If the existing relations are (mostly) static, in the case of a marriage of patterns, children will adapt their personality to fit inside these patterns. In my parents's case it was a marriage of patterns. The patterns are as follows.
◆ ◆ ◆
Because my father is emotionally helpless, my mother can help him all the time and she could feel being a hero. At the same time he was emotionally incompetent, so she could be a victim of his misbehavior well. Because of my father's emotional near blindness, he is easily emotionally manipulated, and humiliated if necessary. This fits my mother's perspective that you should either control, or be controlled and be humiliated. She needs to be married with someone who is easy to control, loyal and honest: she definitely won't be controlled herself.
She pays the prize of being with someone who is very stubborn and emotionally helpless, fueling her desperateness with frequent sudden outburst of hysteria. Next to that, she is not able to bring in her thoughts, they are quickly overruled by the thinking power of my father.
My mother's desperateness for validation, is complemented by my father being very loyal. She can whine and draw as much attention as she wants, but he will never leave her. My father thinks that you can only receive love my sacrificing yourself, which is a manipulation strategy on itself. My mother has difficulties using her brain: She fled to her emotions, that are still overflooding her, making her emotional unstable. For the lack of clarity in her brain, she can support on my father that fled towards living in his brain. My mother feels respected for bringing in her (unstable) emotions in the marriage, because my father can't bring in his, they are out of reach for him.
My father was attracted to my mother, because his brain is controlling him, becoming emotionally numb. He needs the emotional instability of my mother to get his feelings stimulated and feel alive. Because my father cannot connect to his own emotions, he can not care for himself and needs my mother to do so.
He pays the prize of being controlled and manipulated all the time, creating frequent sudden outbursts of anger, threatening physically. And he cannot speak for his own emotions, they are quickly overshadowed by the multitude of emotions his wife brings in.
My father feels respected for bringing in his (mind based) thoughts, because his wife can not bring in hers, they are out of reach for her. Because of being with a woman who can be very manipulative and mean, my father can stay in his pattern by being too nice all the time, and living with unhealthy boundaries. It makes him have frequent outbursts of authoritative anger, which in turn allowed my mother to go in the role of victim. The anger of my father could also be manipulatively used by my mother to stay in control.
Summarizing, my father and my mother desperately needed each other, to support each other's patterns, so they can live in a parallel universe in which they would not have to look at themselves. This made my mother and father holding each other in a very tight and invasive grip, always too close so that anything could happen for someone to feel offended. They were fighting a lot, during which my mother used emotional violence and my father used physical intimidation. They were in a marriage of patterns, based on avoiding fear and pain at all costs. And while being in this almost impossible deadlock, they would support their patterns, continuing their pain.
Next to the above, my parents had the theme of 'helplessness' in common. They both increased this pattern by practicing the christian religion. Christianity is a religion that enforces helplessness, by making followers believe they can not shape their own reality, can not have their own truth, and that they should be saved by someone else. Being able to have and evolve your own truth, is anyone's primary spiritual power, to literally create your own world and life. Christianity takes away their own opportunity, to understand that they naturally have the powers to create their own life, and to take responsibility for that understanding. This is a spiritual form of self-humiliation and self-imprisonment.
Making Sense
It might be hard to make sense of having met my parents. They are both very-hard trying people, trying to make life work for them. But because of their inability to connect with the truths of life, it sadly is almost impossible for them to achieve something sustainable.
It is a very unfortunate conclusion, that they are living from one disappointment to the next disappointment, craving for compassion and feeling seen. Many well-hearted wishes and intentions can be send their way.
But the deepest truth is that as a result of their painful childhood, they made all kinds of subconscious assumptions about life and themselves. And while believing in these assumptions, they are automatically creating a world around them that reflects those assumptions. And as long as they do not realize their outer world is reflecting their own subconscious assumptions, they will stay a victim of their own assumptions.
But a change can happen if they would ever begin to realize that they are extremely powerful. They need to accept they actually create their own world, having that enormous power. Accepting they create their own world based on their own assumptions. And they need to discover that they have the power to transform their own assumptions, through feeling what is really hidden behind these assumptions.
Feeling your deepest feelings will harmonize them with your conscious truth, evolving your assumptions, evolving the outer world you automatically create around yourself. When these things begin to fall in place, they will set themselves free.
Moving on
Moving on, the personalities of my parents and their marriage is fundamentally based on very unhealthy dynamics. When seen in the different contexts of raising a family, these dynamics practically translate into the following:
Anticipating on how they can raise a family: they simply are ill-equipped for that task. Even if they would try their true best, which they did, it would be virtually impossible for them to raise a family in harmony and joy.
Now looking back at my childhood, thinking about the possibility if I could go back in time, and give my younger-self an advice: I would not go back in time. Even though I love my younger self very much. My life was meant that to happen that way, including all the extremely difficult moments, of which many I have not fully transformed yet.
It simply is impossible to reject the deepest dynamics of life, because at the core, I am life itself. I want say yes to life, to myself, to all of my truths, to all of my lessons, to all of my beauty. The more I uncover this belief, the more it becomes part of my deepest truth, the more I become alive.
Now that you have some knowledge of who my parents are, it might become easier to understand how they shaped the foundations of my childhood. The unfolding of my childhood can be read in the next article: My Childhood: Parallel Universe.
it is important to realize that every person is unique, an expression of beautiful life itself. And patterns are just a prevention of this expression of uniqueness.
---
If one them would not have so many patters, it would not need the other. So that means that the biggest part of their relationship is patterns that are based on very painful childhood experiences. For them, being together, is an extra way in which they run away from fears, not having to face them.
It becomes complicated, because they are compatible on their patterns, not on the pain behind those fears. So every time they are drawn together because of their patterns, they become more intimate, and they will meet each other in their pains. But their pains and assumptions are
This is a recipe for disaster for creating a family, because every new member of the family, will have to adapt to their every newborn child, will have to adapt its way of behaving and perspective on life in such a way, that the pains and fears of the parents are not confronted.
---
The timeless concept of a marriage, is the most intimate relationship there is. Typically, you live in the same house, sleep in the same bed, discuss many decisions that impact both sides, visit many people, events and countries together, and if having children, you have them together.
To the extent that both partners are conscious, a marriage is a way of growing and enjoying life together. Facing life around them, they both stand upright next to each other, curious and courageous about what life has in store for them. They don't need each other, but they simply enrich each other's life.
To the extent that both partners are not conscious of their life, emotions, patterns, and assumptions, all their relations and thus their marriage as well, is used to keep running away from fear. Not facing life, they stand facing each other instead, constantly leaning in each other arms, fearing life. Like the two sides of the capital letter "A". While they assume they are helping each other not to fall down, they are actually supporting each other's imbalance. This keeps them from falling down, preventing life's valuable lessons to occur.
An unconscious marriage is kept alive by each partner having compatible overgrown strengths and undeveloped weaknesses. The overgrown strength is controlling the partner that has it, for example someone that always needs to care for other people, without having a choice of doing it or not.
having overgrown strengths that control the behavior partner, and thus automatically supporting a related weakness in the
that support the weakness of the other.
Here I am. This is me.
-todo-
The Paradox Of My Childhood Abuse
When I think back on my childhood, I get a duality of feelings that might seem illogical and impossible to exist together. But yet, they do.
One part of me, still feels like a victim to my parents: They severely abused me through my first 18 years of my life: physically attacking my body, compromising my integrity through their intense humiliation, filling me with shame and distrust with their emotional violence, hating me to hate myself and others. Living with them, every second I feared for my life, constantly terrorized by the threat that I could spent any next moment in danger and agony, helplessly surrendered to their arsenal of abuse.
Until my early adulthood, my feelings of shame, constant danger, humiliation, hate, worthlessness and mistrust were severely limiting my life in all kinds of areas. And I just did not know what to do with those feelings. Stuck. Unalive.
Yet, once I started to free myself around my 30th year of my life, I was required on a very deep level to feel, accept, and take my position regarding everything that happened.
Taking my position, turned out to be the opportunity of a lifetime.
When confronted with the fact that my integrity was compromised on such a deep level, I can only respond with something so powerful, and so constructive, that it can withstand the full destructive forces of what was done to me. Anything less than that will keep me in misery, staying unalive.
Most of all, it should be authentic. I definitely should not depend on anyone else: As soon I leave the speech of a guru, exit any church, or put down some bestseller book, I am back on my own two feet again and will collapse under my own misalignment.
My response can only be an extension of the essence that I am, my unfolding experiment of being life itself. And since I am evolving, my response is evolving as well, allowing myself to make mistakes and receive victories. This is the only power that is real to me, that I myself can evolve and put into action, that I can take responsibility for and depend on.
So I was required to take a position, regarding my childhood full of abuse. When I think of getting punched in the face, being kicked while laying on the ground, waking up with wounds on my back, getting intensely humiliated, living a life in which no one really loves me, never smiling, preparing suicide, feeling completely alone, getting emotionally penetrated, and being in intense hate and fear: I discovered an immense richness in comforting myself with acceptance, trust and dignity.
All of my feelings are true, all of my feelings matter, all of my life really happened and is becoming part of my dignified truth. Giving myself so much love, I can allow myself to cry and sooth myself in face of so much horror. I do my best, and it is 100% my right to fully live. Through this, I feel that the only thing that truly matters to me, is living from my softness and protecting it. And by that, honoring the softness in other people as well. Because this balance will allow beautiful life to come into existence, as I know from restoring my own inner balance.
In the end it is not about what happened to me, but how I respond from my core, because that shows and helps me to discover who I am. Because if my response does not work, if it will not eventually give me peace, then it is not who I truly am, or else I would not be life. And in the end, it is about who I am, exploring my beautiful softness.
I am the light through my own darkness.
So next to many other feelings, paradoxically, an immense gratefulness is growing for this opportunity of a lifetime: the deep invitation to discover who I am. Logically: after having discovered so much about myself, how couldn't I be grateful as well?
I call myself to step into this world from my deepest softness: Being able to feel what I am to the core, irrespective of any context, is a wonderful existence I want much, much more of. I am not my abuse, I can survive anything and stay in my truth.
I will live my truth,
any moment of my life.
That is my responsibility,
my power,
my joy,
my life.
My life 2: Childhood
When a couple starts a family, they bring in all of their own belief systems, behaviors, and emotions, as a soil for the children to grow in. The complete inner worlds of both parents, including all the parts they keep running away from, literally permeate every imaginable corner of this foundation of the family.
Concerning my parents, in order for them to constantly escape their many deep fears and pains, their inner worlds exist very far away from reality. This is described in detail in the previous article (XX).
The mixture of the inner worlds of my parents created many twisted dynamics, with innumerable illogicalities. The result is the creation of an inner world of the family, that simply is a parallel universe: completely out of touch with the current reality.
Overview on the family
On a high level, the situation was as follows. The family consisted out of six children: two children in an adult body, and four children in a child body. Our family lived in an isolated house in the country side, with a large distance to the road and our neighbors. Our parents could do with us what they wanted.
My mother ruled the house, and she used her husband to hide her pain and mean behavior. An example is that she frequently started conflicts with her children, out of desperation to feel validated and seen. When she was losing a conflict with her children, she made her husband to beat them. The children were not allowed to reflect back the desperation, pain, and humiliation she threw at them. She always proclaimed to never have hit her children, while she actually abused her husband for that. When she was mean or abusive towards anyone, directly or indirectly, she would protect it with a fragmented and self-contradicting narrative.
My father was convinced that he was emotional incapable, acting like a victim. He was systematically fulfilling his own prophecy. This also enabled my mother in being the hero/victim towards my father. My father was convinced, that he did not have to take emotional responsibility for his behavior, because he was so incapable. Furthermore, he could not make a stand for himself in the society. To balance this feeling of not being seen, he abused his family, mainly his older two children by oppressing and beating them. He would force his rules violently onto the family.
Consciously, my father thought he was in charge, but emotionally he was constantly played out by my mother. My mother openly humiliated her husband in front of the children, as part of her power play. She would say things like "he is just sitting home all day, I have to take care of him to get him outside" or "He doesn't know what clothes to wear, I have to watch him all the time". In between the lines she was constantly saying "look at what a pathetic loser he is". My mother was heavily acting out her wounded behaviour of humiliation towards my father. But because of her limited emotional awareness, she was simply not aware of her humiliation towards my father and her children. In fact, my mother had my father by the balls.
My father stayed unaware of this, and additionally that, he was using his wife to take care of himself. Like my mother, he was stuck using and being used. My father rationally was convinced that he should always be loyal and protective of his wife. Subconsciously my father had a lot of anger towards his wife. My parents were frequently fighting. If it was not openly, they would be fighting in silence, with silent anger, frustrated looks, and indirect comments. My mother used the tactics of emotional violence and humiliation, and my father used the tactics of physical intimidation and authoritative anger.
<info block: the child is dropped when parents are fighting>
My mother was in charge of raising the children, but her own wounds of humiliation and desperation, severely wounded the children as well. Being responsible for four children gave her the validation she desperately wanted. My father was mostly either working too hard, or resting. He could not moderate himself. When my father needed validation, he enforced his perspectives on the upbringing of the children, adding extra chaos to the chaos my mother already created.
There were four children, and the younger two children were not to be touched by any serious negativity, they were expected to be happy, social and successful children: the white sheep of the family. They were the pride of the family, being strongly favored over the older two children, getting more affection, clothes, presents, support, attention, etcetera. Sometimes they were reprimanded and sometimes beaten, but always lightly. They helped maintaining the mask family-image, representing the mask self-image of the parents.
This idealization was needed, to hide the wounded family-image, realized through the older two problematic children, me and my Ob, the black sheep of the family. If my parents were having negative feelings, they used the older two children to unload their feelings. As a result, the older two children developed excessive emotional problems, they represented the wounded self-image of the parents.
The separation between the white sheep children and the black sheep children was very strong. Because as soon this separation of the children would break, my parents would be confronted with their own wounds. Preventing this, my parents could stay hypnotized in their own narrative, that they were fair and loving parents, they did not have severe wounds, and that the older problematic children were not their fault. The separation was always maintained, in many ways.
◆ ◆ ◆
A big theme of the family were the fragmented and self-contradicting perspectives my parents had. My parents had many disconnected concepts on how to raise children. They frequently mentioned or used those concepts, adding more chaos, because their actual behavior was completely opposite to those concepts. By having those disconnected concepts, they created a fragmented and self-contradicting narrative, through which they hypnotized themselves and the children that everyone was doing fine. It led to many destructive situations.
An example would be, that once my father asked the older two children if they had feedback for him. In this way, my father convinced himself to be open, vulnerable, open to self-reflection, and valuing the opinions of his children.
At the same time, he was a father that beat up his child (me, in this case) for crying too much when his child felt intensely alone, a child that has plans for suicide because he felt unworthy of living. My father kept beating him until he was silent. Because my father felt they should not beg for attention in that way, even when the child already tried to get the attention of his parents in so many other ways.
Complementary, my mother approved the return of the silence in the house. Otherwise, she would have protected her children when they were crying, or visited them after the beating. Which she did not do. And in this way, she maintained her mask self-image. Sometimes, when my mother was crying, she would on purpose walk in front of me or the other children, hovering around them for a while, like a mosquito. She was pretending to learn the children that it is okay to cry, while at the same time she was using her husband to beat crying children into silence.
For my father, asking a child for his for feedback in this way, was only for keeping up the mask self-image my father had of himself. He learned me, that concepts like asking for feedback is something you pretend. He was not really interested in his children. Because through the excessive beating he showed, that on the deepest level he is not open to the feelings of his children. The child already stopped showing his father what he needs a long time ago. Because he does not want lie on the floor again, being kicked and punched on his body and face, in agony and terror, fearing for his life.
For my mother, she would cling to disconnected concepts like "It is okay to show that you are sad". When she was acting like that, she learned her children, that emotions were also some kind of act, leading them away from the true magical and sacred powers of emotions. In the meantime, she used her husband to attack her children, also inspiring the children into manipulation and hypocrisy. And she was destroying her own children on a much deeper level, infecting them with her poisonous emotions of desperateness and chaos. As a result of this, the children get destabilized enormously, while trying to hold on to anything toxic their parents offer them.
Further illustrating the fragmentation and self-contradiction, my father was the director of the board of the local church: A community of people that regard themselves as loving and accepting. And my mother, she worked at the child protection agency, to advice the government and police how to deal with matter like child abuse and chaotic families. For families, there are many, many different ways in which it can get off the rails. In the ways of my family, this could be such an example.
◆ ◆ ◆
Zooming out, it is was a horrific situation, not only for the children, but also for my parents. My parents already had many severe wounds from their own childhoods, and now they were creating a family that made them relive everything, wounding their children at the same time. Every day, every month, every year, every child.
They were simply disconnected from their own capacities, so that they could not guide the family based on principles of love, harmony, and integrity. From their own childhoods full of abuse, they inherited many patterns of destructive, anti-social, and unloving behavior. As long as they did not choose to heal the wounds of their youths, which they never did, they had no choice but to continue behaving in the patterns they learned from their own childhoods. That meant deeply wounding two children with their own deep wounds, and raising the younger two into fake happiness. Their emotional awareness stayed very small. As a result, the ability to "choose to act in an emotional responsible way", that ability was simply not available to them.
Without emotional awareness, they constantly steered the family into all kinds of conflicts, situations of stress, division, fear, and emotional and physical unsafety. Nobody could be who he/she really was, but was constantly reacting to all kinds of very unsafe situations and ever-present destabilizing dynamics. Nobody could get what he/she needed, so everyone started to get what/she needed in other ways. And everyone felt threatened all the time, so everyone constantly was in his/her defensive strategies.
My mother mainly acted through her patterns of playing the victim/hero, manipulation and humiliation, and constantly needing validation to be seen. My father mainly acted through his emotional helplessness, authoritative terror, and physical intimidation. As a result of this, the children got destabilized enormously, while trying to hold on to anything toxic their parents offer them. The destabilized behavior of the children created even more chaos.
Intellectually, my parents memorized some concepts about raising children, but emotionally, they did anything but understand them. This resulted in my parents maintaining a very fragmented en self-contradicting narrative. It kept everyone hypnotized in their own painful role, including my parents themselves.
My Older Brother
My Older Brother(Ob) was the first child in the family. Growing up, my Ob(Older Brother) felt that something was totally off. He was completely alone, in opposing the fragmented and self-contradicting world that my parents were creating. My parents had many difficulties with caring for one child, that constantly tried to challenge their boundaries. The boundaries of my parents were very restrictive, because they have so many pains they constantly try to run away from. Having one child already, was simply too much for the many pains for my parents. They started become offensive towards their child, through their own patterns.
For example: He was not allowed to be angry, when he was transparent he was taken advantage of, when he stood up for himself he was shamed and humiliated, his pure hearted intentions where cut off, and when he showed courage to rebel the twisted way of life my parents had, he was met with full destructive attacks to keep him in line. And being the oldest, he tried to care for the family at the same time. My father being in competition with his sons, kept attacking him for that.
Through emotional and physical violence alone, my parents were not able to withstand him. They resorted to deep manipulation: they deceived his 3 siblings, including me, in believing that he was an anti-social criminal, and made him into a living-in outcast. He was someone that was living in the house, but actually he was not welcome. Every day of his youth. The price my Ob(Older Brother) paid for staying connected to his authenticity, was a youth full of fighting and constantly being shamed and humiliated. In the childhood of our family, he is the unrecognized hero, that lost every battle.
Because my Ob was the rightful rebel in the family, my father started constant physical fights with him. Through this, my father taught my Ob, that the only way to win a conflict is by fighting. In the beginning, my father was always winning because he was at least twice his size, weight, and strength. But my Ob continued fighting back, and at some point he was able to really fight back. Around that time, my father started to frame my Ob as being an aggressive criminal. At some point, my father openly started to say in the family about my Ob "He is an asshole". My father was desperate in his role, and totally clueless about how he was destroying his own child, and his own family.
The whole family, including me, was hypnotized by the narrative of my father, and sided with my father, all strongly condemning and judging my Ob. But the one that actually introduced aggression in the family, onto innocent small children, for even the simplest things like dropping a glass, and who is responsible for the physical safety in the family, my father, was left untouched.
A child that gets physically abused, can get restless, and develop problems keeping his attention. Because my Ob was an outcast within the family, nobody helped him. He found his refuge by smoking marihuana, a drug that temporarily helps him calm down. Otherwise, my Ob could not sleep, because of all the judgements and aggression that daily was thrown his way.
My father was in constant war with my Ob, so the use of marihuana was another opportunity for my father, to win a battle, and to make a junkie outcast of him. This also made my father feel seen by taking a stand "against" use of drugs, even when my father himself was the cause of my Ob using it. Logically, my Ob had problems on school: trusting authority because his parents abused him, and problems learning because of his shortened attention span. My father was physically fighting my Ob because he was underperforming at school.
Having a child that you can label as aggressive and anti-social, feeds the hero-victim pattern of my mother. Every time there was conflict with my Ob, my mother kept on repeating "Oh, I understand his behavior so well", so she could fake being the understanding mother. If she really understood his behavior, she would give him the support and protection he needed. But behind her child's back she kept on asking her husband to beat my Ob, and to friends and family she complained about having a problematic-child. She and her husband problematized her child by themselves.
At some point, my parents where constantly threatening my Ob to put him outside the house. And because they were neglecting the needs of my Ob, logically my Ob started to take what he needed without asking. My parents bought a safe, to even further prevent him to take what he needed. And they used "buying the safe" as an extra reason to label him as a criminal. My parents were completely out of touch with what truly was happening.
Me, the second child
21 months after the birth of my Ob (Older Brother), I was born. Growing up next to my Ob, I noticed that standing for what you feel is right, was not working out. I constantly saw my Ob being beaten, humiliated and labelled as an outcast. As a result of this, I took the opposite strategy as my brother. Instead of standing for what I felt was right, I completely adopted the fragmented and self-contradicting views my parents had on reality: I chose to be dominated by my parents.
They price I paid for this, was shutting down my heart, and my emotions. And to function, I used my brain at overcapacity, to always exactly follow the rules, constantly scanning the environment, constantly heaving headache, and being 200% honest all all times. Paradoxically, while shutting down my own feelings, I became over-sensitive to the feelings and perspectives of my parents: Every time my parents would only even get slightly agitated from anything, it would increase my dangers of getting abused. Being hyper vigilant. Always.
I did not succeed in escaping the dark sides of my parents. I actually became a very easy target. Being extremely opposite to my Ob, ironically, my parents had a wide range of children to unload their negativity on. My parents have innumerable inconsistencies, and their rules were always based on which of their pains and fears is currently active. Because of this, they constantly changed their rules, and it frequently made me angry: I did exactly what they wanted, but they did not follow up. It practically meant they had enough reasons to be angry at me, whenever they had a need to feel seen or validated.
At some point I stopped taking them seriously, because whatever I did, they would feel offended anyway. Because I was socially underdeveloped, I could not escape to any friends. My refuge was having bought my own computer, and playing computer games all day. If I would play computer games, I would have the lowest chances on getting beaten and humiliated.
Because I did shut down my feelings, I prevented myself from developing socially, and I missed out on a lot of social activities. This was an opportunity for my father to feel validated as a father, he could explain a child how your emotions work. I do not recall learning anything useful from him in this regard. My mother convinced the family, that I had very little emotions, so that they can be ignored. I grew up believing that what I felt was wrong, and that my emotions were deeply broken. And it gave my mother an extra child that she could call problematic: an extra opportunity for her to be the victim-hero mother.
Because I picked a role opposite to my Ob, obedient vs rebel, we were constantly fighting. This was increased by the aggression and other emotions our parents forced into us. Related to the opposite roles, I was brainwashed by my parents that their twisted rules were completely fair, and that my Ob was totally crazy. But my Ob was not letting himself fooled by them. We developed completely different characters: silent vs expressive, mind-based vs feeling-based, controlled vs impulsive, honest vs dishonest, authoritative vs rebelling, cold vs warm.
When we were in conflict, we learned from our parents that the best way to solve it, is via fighting. I used the tactics I learned from my mother: emotional violence and humiliation. My Ob used the tactic he learned from my father: physical violence. Because I used the same tactic as my mother to attack my Ob, I could do almost whatever I wanted to my brother. Because as soon as I would be exposed, my mother had to stop too. That was out of the question.
Through the chaos in the family, I developed an allergy for my brother. It meant that everything he touched, I treated as if it was infected with a highly contagious disease. I needed to wash it, before I could touch it. What was really going on, is that I expressed the hidden feelings my parents actually had for my brother: he was an outcast, and he should not infect or damage other people with his behavior.
My Younger Sister and Younger Brother
While growing up, my Younger Sister (Ys) noticed, that both the strategies of rebellion and obedience, do not result in getting any safety and affection. She chose the strategy of withdrawal, suppressing her own needs, validating her parents, and caring for her parents marriage. My Younger Brother(Yb) saw that withdrawal is not ideal either, and chose the strategy of over-connection. He always tried to stay in connection with everyone, always being nice, social, available and empathetic. He desperately tried to reconnect the family, an impossible task.
My Ys (Younger Sister) and Yb (Younger Brother) also figured out how to be the perfect children their parents wished for: they needed to give up their own authenticity. With all the twisted stuff my parents did, they learned to not confront them with anything, but to just accept it: Play by their rules, and act happy at the same time, ignoring all their own feelings that something is totally off. My parents wanted "happy" and "successful" children, they got what they wanted. At the end of high school, my Yb won the award of being the most likeable and perfect student. Eventually, my Ys became a medical doctor, fulfilling my mother's need for validation who was 'only' a nurse. My Yb became a business man, fulfilling my father's aspirations who failed in business life.
My Ys and Yb became the white sheep of the family, while me and my Ob where the black sheep of the family.
If the younger two children were also heavily abused, the mask family-image would break, exposing the wounded self-image of the parents.
Having two problem children, was enabling my parents to run away from their own problems: having created even more problems outside of themselves. They were not looking at how they destroyed their own children, but at how their destroyed children brought even more chaos in the family. Attacking, shaming and condemning their problem children, was another way in which my parents did not look at their own wounds.
Whenever my mother had a need to feel like a hero/victim, or had any negative feelings she needed to dump somewhere, she would spend time with me or my older brother, creating more misery in us. Whenever my mother had a need for validation, she would ignore me and my older brother, and spend time with my younger brother and sister. They would be spoiled, forced to accept manipulative love, so in return she would get validation from her white sheep children.
Separation of children
There was a strong separation between the two older children and the two younger children. It allowed my parents to hide and shove their wounds onto the older children, and spoiling their younger children into upholding their idealized narrative.
My parents used me and my Ob as a garbage bin for their dark emotions. As a result, we were frequently angered, sad, disorientated, scared, and we developed many emotional illnesses. Which in turn, was an excuse for my parents to say "look, all these problems our older two children are having: it is them, not us".
Their illusion was supported by having two white sheep children: it made them conclude they were able to raise children properly, despite all of the chaos that existed in the family. They greatly protected their illusion, by denying that they were favoring their younger two children. Because as soon as they would break their illusion, they would have to look at themselves, why they had deformed their oldest two children and their younger children. That would mean they had to face their immense fears, anger, and pains. They simply could not gather up the required courage and dignity. They prevented that from happening, at all costs.
This separation, was maintained through the following mechanisms.
◆ In the first place, my parents had established a relationship with me and my Ob based on negativity. My parents had deformed us into two emotional garbage bins. They needed two children for that. So, after "emptying" themselves daily into me and my Ob, my parents could better connect to their "loving" side, to connect to my Ys and my Yb. With me and my Ob, they were living their wounded self-image.
◆ Second, this separation was created, after my Ys figured out how to be a "perfect" child. She learned from the mistakes of her older siblings. She learned herself how to withdraw, avoid confrontations, accept all hypocrisy, hide authenticity, care for her parents to please them, and to just appear happy and nice.
◆ Third, my parents were relieved they finally had children that were "not causing problems". They were happy to finally be the parents they wanted to be, so they could show them their "real love", manipulatively spoiling them, receiving validation, increasing the separation. The found a way to realize their mask self-image, their false idealization.
◆ Fourth, thinking the black sheep children really were the problems, they wanted to "protect" their white sheep children from the black sheep children, increasing the separation.
◆ Fifth, my Ys and Yb learned from my parents that me and my Ob were the cause of all the problems, and seeing us as lesser children. For example, my Ys was hypnotized into believing that my feelings did not matter, following the example of my parents. My Ys and Yb learned to maintain the separation as well, by acting accepting towards us, but silently condemning us. Seeing that the strategies of rebellion and conforming did not work, my Ys and Yb had no choice but to accept the hypocrisy and side with their parents.
◆ Sixth, desperately wanting to believe they are good parents, they completely lost themselves in their illusion that they had bad and good children. This meant that any negative feelings they had, it must be related to the bad children. And good feelings must be related to the good children. So based on how they felt, they chose to which children they expressed it: abusing the black sheep children, or spoiling the white sheep children. <todo? put this as the first bullet point? "maybe" they caused it from the start?>
Me and my Ob were representing the wounded self-image of my parents. It meant that how my parents were treating my and my Ob, that was actually how they were treating themselves. How they abused us, that is how they abused themselves. How they neglected us, that is how they neglected themselves. How they humiliated us, that is how they humiliated themselves. How they hated us, that is how they hated themselves. And how they were fake to their younger two children, that is how they were fake to themselves. They fled into raising white sheep children with fake happiness, using the black sheep children as stepping stones.
To get an idea of how this played out, the following examples might be helpful.
◆ ◆ ◆
My mother needs constant validation to have her feelings heard, and to feel seen by someone else. At times, I was able to get some distance from her, to get a some rest in my system. It made me feel okay, being able to connect with myself, and life started to become a bit more peaceful again. But, that was too much separation for my mother. She would start to feel alone, helpless, and desperate, and she would start to project those feelings on me. And with those feelings, she would show up in my room, and create a big drama and hysteria: She would say how worried she is about me, that she really doesn't know what to do with me, "in god's name", and that I should be extremely worried and careful too, about what I should "do".
<todo: my mother made me feel guilty when she showed up in my room>
I really didn't know what she was talking about, but she sent me so much desperation and hysteria, that I could not keep it outside. She forced her darkness into my system, and I would begin to feel desperate and helpless as well. And in this inflicted state of desperateness, I was supposed to reach out to her, really not knowing what I should do, and surrendering to her "care". Which I did. She forced me back into being connection with her, in the way she needed, as close as she needed.
In this way, she used me has a garbage bin for her dark emotions. Plus, she could play her pattern of being a hero/victim mother again, by caring for her helpless son afterwards. So as soon as I would start to stabilize myself, she would destroy that, making me unstable again. I started to associate taking care of myself with getting attacked by my mother. And I was trained to be desperately helpless, so my mother could "save" me. I stopped taking care of myself.
Alternatively, my mother would never think of bothering her white sheep children with her hysteria. Otherwise the strategy of withdrawal of my Ys would not have worked. Concerning my father, when he needed to seriously physical abuse one of his children, he would never choose his white sheep children.
For me and my Ob, by getting systematically attacked, we kept being associated with negativity, and we developed severe developmental disorders. This was widening the separation of the children. When I was young, I really believed I was the one making these serious problems: Not knowing how or what, but that it definitely was me. There must have been something seriously wrong with me.
◆ ◆ ◆
From the the other side, my parents would get positive validation from my Ys and Yb. My Yb learned to care for everyone that is near him. My Ys learned to validate her parents. Once, we were playing a board game. I was referring to a rule about how to play the game, and there was discussion about how to interpret the rule. My father remarked "when you are playing a game, it is not about the rules, but about the fun".
This is a self-contradicting message from my father: in such situations, through violence, he is willing to force obedience to his remark. But my Ys said in reply to my father's remark "nicely said, dad". Despite all the chaos that was going on in the family, she learned to flip potentially dangerous situations, playing along with the fragmentation and self-contradiction of my parents. And she managed to stay friends with her parents by giving them validation. She was caring for her parents, instead of the other way around.
◆ ◆ ◆
White sheep children naturally get more affection than black sheep children. At some time, I said to my mother that I wanted to play a harp. She immediately replied, that a harp is too expensive. When my Ys wanted to play an instrument, my parents bought a transverse flute for her. A beginners transverse is flute is a bit cheaper than a beginners harp, but totally insignificant for the big salary my father earned. When I wanted to learn to play the piano, I had to go to the music store by myself, and buy from my own money the books I needed. When my Ys wanted to learn to play the piano, she would get the books for free from my parents. With the argument "she plays so nice".
In primary school, initially my mother would drive me to school together with my Ys and Yb. After school, I always needed a few extra minutes to arrive in the car. I simply was a different child with a different speed, quite possibly due to the abuse. Me being a slower person, she could use that to keep the separation. She got angry at me for always being "too slow". Eventually she refused to drive me to school, and I had to bike to school everyday, while she kept driving my Ys and Yb to school.
Someday, I mentioned to my mother that she was favoring my Ys and my Yb over me. She replied that it is not true, and it is a horrible thing to say, and that I should never say that again. As a child hearing this, I was shocked. I banished that thought from my mind, and I simply started believing that what I felt was not true: I had to choose between feeling the truth or having a connection with my mother. A child will always choose his parents. So I closed my eyes for seeing what was actually happening right in front of me.
Later when being an adult, once my Ob said to me "our parents were enormously favoring our Ys and Yb over us, it was heartbreaking for me see". That made me reopen my eyes again and connect my forgotten memories.
As result of my above attempt to set thing straight, during my youth, my mother repeatedly humiliated me in front of the family and our guests. She would use one of her favorite sayings "I will give you a weighing scale on your birthday, so you can be happy". For years and years, she kept on attacking me for having confronted her, and I could not do anything about it. I needed her to survive. She had me by the balls. Me too.
◆ ◆ ◆
The separation had much more implications. As a result of this separation, me and my Ob experienced completely different parents, when compared to the parents experienced by my Ys and my Yb.
When my and my Ob where fighting, our parents would frequently ignore us. They allowed the one that was losing, to be surrendered to the attacks of the other. But almost every time I was in a conflict with my Ys or Yb, my parents intervened. For example, I would get hit when I was verbally teasing my Ys, but many times my Ob could hit me as much as he want without repercussions. Besides that, my parents had virtually no clue, that when children are teasing/bullying, they are asking attention and affection in a negative way. They asked negatively, only because before that, they were ignored when they asked in a positive way.
Even in the house setup, there was a separation. On one side of the house, I had a room above the room of my Ob. And on the other side of the house, my Ys and Yb had their own rooms. When camping, my Ys and Ys slept in the same tent as my parents. This pattern even is continued today. In the will of our parents, my Ys and Yb are designated as the executors of the will.
Now, when I think back of living together with my Ys and Ys, there is a very clear but hidden separation between me and them. The white sheep children were not to be touched: they programmed me to live by that rule. As if I am not allowed to touch them, as if I am contagious, as if I am less worthy, they are more important than me. They get the preferred treatment, and we don't speak about it.This is just as it is.
The separation between the children in my family, is just one of the many results of the fact, that my parents refused to face their inner pains, anger and fears.
My mother: desperate, destructive, and mean
It can still make me speechless, how she managed to terrorize me. Owning me. Possessing me. There are so many deceptive very mean things she has done. She was an expert in staying under the radar, but at the same time being extremely humiliating and possessing. At one moment she could pretend to be very sweet, and at the other moment she was luring me into a conflict with her, for whatever reason, to make me play her games. If she could not win, she asked her husband to make me surrender to her. Using her husband as her minion, he would physically abuse me, leaving me in agony and terror.
After that, my mother would strangely keep her distance to me. And after some time, she played the good mother again, inviting me to be an helpless lost child, crying in desperation, only wanting to be cared by her. At the same time she would humiliate her husband for anything, also for his beating. It made me believe that my father was the cause of all chaos, anyone but her. Through anything, she stayed in utmost control. This kind of manipulation was extremely hidden, extremely effective, and extremely mean.
As a child, I would never see through the deception that my mother was actually very mean. Instead, I experienced a mother that I was in a conflict with, and because I was heavily beaten afterwards, by someone else, I was believed that the problem was me. Because, afterwards, my mother was a sweet mother to me again. Subconsciously I developed an enormous rage, mistrust, and hate towards her. But because I was so disconnected from my subconscious, it wast just another loose, disconnected feeling that I did not have access to.
The very effective game of terror she played, she being the good/helpless cop, and my father the bad cop, I believed it. Because if I did not believe it, trying to expose her, I would get beaten again, fearing for my life. And she always pretend to have never beaten me: If I would not believe that, it meant I would be beaten again by her husband. So I believed her.
Through her manipulative destruction, she completely detached me from living in reality. I could only mirror her fragmented and self-contradicting way of living, being dominated by her. I didn't know anymore what was right or wrong, authentic or inauthentic, loving or hating, truth or lies, sad or anger, joy or danger, safety or manipulation, trust or being used. The only thing that mattered, was keep on believing her, whatever she said, whatever she did, whatever she felt. And the problem was always me. She fucked with my mind, with my feelings, and with my heart.
The words that best make sense to me, is emotional rape.
When my mother felt in a bad place, and she needed validation, attention, love, or anything else, she would force that out of me. She took of control of my innermost feelings of beauty, purity and love, and abused them in any way she needed it. Apart from damaging my own connections to my heart, she also forced her very dark anger, pains, and fears into my heart. These are feelings of utter chaos, destruction, emptiness and desperateness. She was leeching my heart. As a result, my own inner world was flooded by her destructive chaos, leaving it in ruins. Day after day, being humiliated by my mother, my heart being filled with her destructive and manipulative chaos, I started to believe it was me: "deep inside, I am very ugly".
◆ ◆ ◆
My mother was constantly using me and controlling me at the same time. As if she constantly had me on her leash, and that leash was wrapped around my balls. If I would even make the tiniest movement, in which I was not humiliating and sacrificing my life to her, she would pull that leash, making sure I would feel intense pain. But she would do that very discreetly, very small, but very clear. And if I dared to step out of line, she would always have her husband as a backup. One of her favorite expressions was, saying it in a very mean way: "Don't you dare!". Reading between the lines, it meant "I will destroy you if you do".
Because my connection with her was very intense, she would feel my feelings very intense as well. That meant, that every single time, I decided to not listen to her in any way, even if it was only for one percent, she would feel that I ignored her. But I needed to explore life on my own, so I also made my own decisions. But because she has a very low self-worth and is very desperate for validation, she would feel immediately offended. She would be touched in her wounds of severe humiliation, so she would feel severely humiliated when I made my own decisions.
Because of her limited capacities, she would think that I severely humiliated her. That is why she attacked me very strongly, resulting in my mother possessing me. And because her wounds are very big, almost anything I did, resulted in touching her wounds: She possessed me constantly. My mother desperately wanted to be validated in her wounds of severe humiliation. But she did not face it herself, so logically, it controlled her. Being controlled by her wounds, she abused me through her wounds. And the only way in which I could meet her in that wound, was being severely humiliated myself, as well.
◆ ◆ ◆
An example would be, that she had comments on how I was opening a bottle of syrup, to make my own lemonade. I was not listening to her advice, because I did well on my own. At some morning, I made a mistake, and the contents of the bottle fell all over my sweater, making it very sticky. A conscious parent will take that opportunity to discover what went wrong, help the child learn from it, and give it a clean sweater. My mother, offended that I have been ignoring her comments for so long, punished me for that: "you don't want to listen to me, so now you will have to wear that sweater today". She humiliated me for not taking her serious, and she humiliated me in front of everyone seeing me that day, by wearing a very dirty sweater.
This kind of meanness was her strategy, constantly making me play by her rules, in the tiniest details, or else she would attack me. She humiliated me on all kinds of things, portraying me as someone who has no feelings and scoffing me for it, what cup I wanted to drink out, portraying me as being selfish, standing up for myself, not being deserving of a girlfriend I had, or portraying me as overdramatizing in my pain and loneliness I felt.
Once in my thirties, I was seeing a therapist, who could be very sharp and clear, if that was supporting anyone's process. When she saw my picture on my passport, she asked me :"Boy or Man?". She was asking me, if I thought I was a strong man, or still a helpless boy. I replied: "Boy". I felt a strange feeling near my thighs and moved a bit on my chair, and I said: "I feel as if you just grabbed me by my balls". She advised me: "Don't give away your balls so easily". Living with my mother, I learned to give my balls away to any woman.
I was extremely terrified of her, and with that, of any other woman too. Being with my mother, as soon as I saw even the slightest sign of any discomfort in her, I became scared: I scanned myself and my surroundings, if there was anything that I could have done wrong.
◆ ◆ ◆
At he same time, my mother had an intense hate towards me. As the result of the "misparenting", I developed serious emotional illnesses, and I was diagnosed with a developmental disorder. The people that were diagnosing me, just looked at how I behaved, and how I looked upon myself and my family. They never took the effort to investigate, if I might suffer from severe physical and emotional abuse. But the diagnosis was an extra win for my mother: she concluded that I was the problem in her family (next to my Ob), giving her an extra reason to play the role of victim and hero.
For my misdiagnosis, I was prescribed social training. What I actually needed, was getting care for my many traumatic experiences of severe abuse, helping me to see and believe it was not my fault, and protection against my parents.I immediately sensed the diagnosis and the training was nonsense, so I stopped going to it after few times. My mother held on to the idea that I was the problem. She was blaming me for stopping it, and being the hero mother she likes to play, she instead went to parental trainings herself, "because I refused to go".
At some point, in my childhood, I was so overwhelmed by all the daily negativity, that I broke. Crying, I admitted to my mother that I believed I was really broken, accepting that diagnosis. At some point later on, she told me that she insisted on keeping telling me I had that diagnosis, saying "you will know it, you little man!". That sentence was accompanied with so much meanness, that she actually was saying "I insist, you wíll know that yóu are the cause of my problems, and I háte you for it".
◆ ◆ ◆
Because my mother was not aware of her desperateness for validation, love and intimacy, she used her children for that. At home, we had several cats. When my mother's cat was lying on my mother's lap, and my mother was 'stroking' it, it looked like my mother used the cat to suck life energy out of the cat, as some kind of intravenous therapy. Knowing the stories I do consciously remember, I can only conclude that she must have done the same to me my siblings.
When at one time I was earning money for myself, I kept buying toys for myself. My mother saw that, and was fearing for her validation she needed from me. She asked "but what if I give you presents at your birthday, you won't be happy with them anymore, what do I do?". I was already trained to put her on a pedestal, and I replied "but then I get the presents from yóu mama!". And my mother was happy again.
She also asked directly validation from me. I remember a conversation in which she was complaining to me that I was not appreciating her qualities. As I was programmed to serve her, I asked her what her qualities were, so I could adapt myself to "appreciate" her. Offended by that question, she said I had to discover them by myself. Many times, she was pretending to be a mature adult by replying in these kinds of ways.
Around my 11th year there was a time, when she started to talk to me in a strange way. I could not really make sense of it, it felt as if she was leaning into my heart and my into genitals. She talked about her deeper feelings, and I was just standing there, replying as I thought I should reply to her. It even felt romantic from her side, telling me things she never told me, like how she looked onto life. During these days, I caught myself thinking "if I want, I can take the place of my father, and become her partner." Feeling into it now, it felt very strange and destabilizing for me, to relate with my mother in such a way. As if she wanted me, and I needed to be there for her. Later having read about the surrogate spouse theory, it became clear as day for me. Additionally, it turned out I was the one in the family, that was cooking for everyone each Monday. In me she saw her potential perfect husband, and she started to connect with me on that level. It is disgusting to me. Forcing a child into a surrogate spouse relationship is also known as emotional incest.
She would complain to me about her childhood with "my mother has done things to me that I can only tell when you are an adult". I don't question the severity of her statement. But essentially she was being the victim in front of me, her child, forcing me into caring for her. And because of her "cliffhangers" I assumed my life was "quite okay", since hers was "really bad". It made me believe that my own family does not have any problems. And if I felt bad or my parents react bad on me, it must be because of me.
In this constant chaos between desperateness and humiliation, one extremity is that she threatened to put me out the house, to live at another place, because I was causing problems. Another extreme example is, that she was complaining to me that I don't love her, and that I don't care anything about her. Me being shocked and not knowing how to reply on that, she forced me to say it. "Well, then tell me that you love me! You don't love me, do you!!?". As I was totally in her control, I said to her that I love her. Seeing that my mother was very angry and desperate about my heart, I started to believe that my heart was not okay. Additionally, the words "I love you" got a very twisted meaning in my life.
<todo: anti-fat>
My Father: authoritative, intimidating, and insecure
I remember my father as someone how is extremely unpredictable, and at the flip of a switch can turn into a monster that can kill me. When he was beating me, lying on the ground, I had extreme pain and fear, totally disoriented in space and time, protecting myself at all costs, desperate for the beating to stop. I am lucky that I never broke a rib that punctured one of my organs. I had nightmares that he attacked me for my life, and that he shot me. Later in life during therapy sessions, when I relived some of those experiences getting beaten, many times I did not believe how extremely terrified I was. Being with my father, there was only one rule:
Make. Sure. You. Will. Not. Be. Beaten.
Dropped a glass on the floor when you are learning how to hold things? Slap in the face. Didn't listen to his demands? Punch in the face. Accidentally did something that was very serious according to him? Lying on the floor, getting beaten, fearing for you life. Irritating him? Same. Getting in conflict with you mother and not letting her win? Same. Saying something I shouldn't be saying? Whatever he came up with. Doing something I shouldn't be doing? Same. Even it was innocent? Same. Were you doing something good but he couldn't understand? Same. Was I experimenting with my emotions, so that maybe later I could use them maturely in society? Same. Was I making stand for myself? Same. Did he had a bad day? Same.
He acted like a total maniac, and when he was not in his role, he pretended to be the reasonable and nice father. When my father was at home, and I came into the same room as he was, I would tense up. I would scan around, if there was not any object I could accidentally touch, so they would fall on the floor and break. And every time I was with my mother, if she was discomforted by anything, my mother could play her wildcard: put her husband at the frontline.
Out of the blue, my father could come up with some rule or principle...tbc
Once I saw a picture of him when he was young. I saw still the same look in his eyes. I knew I was being raised by a child, making me angry. But then being a child myself, I could not put in into words.
◆ ◆ ◆
Just like my mother, my father also had a desperate need for feeling seen and validated. But because he could not make a stand for himself in society, his needs were not fulfilled. At home, he was dominated by his wife. And because of the separation of the children, he could not really touch my Ys and my Yb. So in his life, the only place where he would truly feel seen, is when he was physically abusing me and my Ob.
To hypnotize himself that he was a good father, he convinced himself that the only way to steer children, is to beat them. Later, he once disclosed, that at some point in my childhood, I was not responding anymore to anything, except "physical stimuli". My father shut down his feelings so much, that he had became apathetically technical, about raising his children and managing feelings. For him, it was a matter of applying the right "stimuli" to steer the "process" in the "most optimal way". In his own youth, he experienced severe abuse, making him feel immense agony and terror.
To hide from the intense pains of his childhood, he hypnotized himself, that the whole world is composed of predictable patterns, causal facts, random events, and optimal processes. He reduced himself to a biological robot. He hid his feelings so far away, so that when he was beating his children, he was made blind to see, that they suffered from immense agony and terror. When as a consequence his own children became very lonely, fearful and sad, he couldn't recognize those feelings in them either. In himself, he had deeply hidden these feelings too.
On a deeper level, he was repeating the pattern he learned from his father: "If you are disobedient, you will be beaten". As soon as he saw one his own children being disobedient, he would feel an impulse of anger to beat them. Even towards his own children. He was beaten so many times when he was young, that beating was his only association when seeing a disobedient child. Other more constructive associations with disobedience, like dialogue, respect, learning, empathy, believe, trust, acceptance, he buried deep below his pains. He could not reach those anymore.
My father was constantly acting very primitive, and by acting like that, he lost respect from his children. Feeling disrespected, he would only get angry faster, beating us more, becoming even more disconnected in his behavior. And every time he was beating us: deep, deep, very deep down, not aware of it, he was feeling his own immense agony and terror. The only way left for him to respond, was to repeat it.
◆ ◆ ◆
Wanting to feel validated and seen by his wife and his children, he was in competition with his three sons. When we innocently would try to imitate him, he could become irritated. He was scared of his own children stealing his show. When I was still young, I had a lot of life energy, on which my father was jealous. He suppressed my aliveness, mainly through beating me. He taught me that being a man, you should be scared of your place, instead of being at ease in your dignity and playfulness.
My father had a picture of a bodybuilder, and as a joke he cut out his own face and put it over the face of the bodybuilder. He looks very muscular in that picture, with clear signs that it is edited. Children like to imitate their parents, and at one time I recreated a similar picture with my own face. When I showed it to him, he made an agitated and sarcastic comment. He could not have any imitation or competition.
Being older when I expressed my wish that I wanted to do two university studies at the same time, he became angry about it, calling me arrogant. I succeeded in doing both for one year. But then I lost interest in the university, and just focused on one so I could get done with it.
When I left home for studying and periodically came home, my father could not suppress me anymore every day of the week. I started to reconnect with some of my qualities. When I started to make more jokes, just for fun, he got angry and said I should not practice my jokes at home so I could tell them to my university friends. He could not deal with the possibility that one of his sons might be funnier than himself.
◆ ◆ ◆
When I was about 7 years old, I had history lessons in school, about the second world war. The discussed topics were far above my understanding, but I learned a new symbol: the swastika. At that time, to me it had no meaning whatsoever, and through experimentation, I drew a swastika on my hand with a pen. For me being a 7 year old child, the swastika was just some random collection of lines. When my father saw that drawing on my hand, he had no clue how to have a talk about this from father to son. It could have been a meaningful talk about important topics, with the possibility to together wash the symbol from my hand. Instead, he said: "if you ever draw that symbol again, you have to leave the house". I had no clue where that came from. Hearing that, something broke in me, because my father was willing to banish me for some random symbol? It felt as if the relationship I had with my father, someone to always wanting to care for me, broke. I felt very alone and disillusioned. I had no one to depend on anymore.
The more agitated my father was, the higher the chances were, that I could be beaten. So I was always hyper vigilant, making sure nothing would agitate him. One of his patterns is offering help, as a manipulation to get love and validation in return. So appearing unselfish, he was actually selfishly offering help to people. When he would offer any help to me, and I refused, he would get agitated. So I rarely refused. It was one of the many ways in which I had give up my boundaries, through a seemingly nice act of getting offered help.
Every second of my youth, I was terrified of getting physically abused by my father. I developed a chronic headache, because I was hyper vigilant all the time. Because I had so much fear in my body, my legs started to shake at one point. And when I was sitting on a chair, I was nervously shaking my knee up and down. For me, it was a way to release stress from my body, to calm down a bit. But my father got annoyed from seeing my shaking knee, and made a directive comment about it. An annoyed father meant, I had higher changes on getting beaten. So I stopped shaking my knee.
It was very humiliating for me, to not even be able to control my own body. I was completely controlled by the grievances of my father. But I needed to discharge stress, so instead, I found a way to scratch my lower back, without anyone being able to see it. 20 years later, I could still see the scars on my lower back. Being an adult, when I am reminded about my abuse, my lower back can start to itch again.
In my twenties, I confronted my father with the fact that I felt extremely alone, terrorized and humiliated when I was young. I told him, that at as a child I concluded "nobody really loves me, and I just have to live with that". He immediately replied, that as a child I was not able to have those kind of thoughts. His immediate refusal shows, that he lives in a complete different reality on what children can feel and think. And, that he heavily suppresses is own childhood, including the emotions and thoughts he had at that time. But he is not aware of that. And because he made himself in a biological robot, he thinks his children are robots too, without any emotional inner world.
Christianity in our family
Sometimes adopting a religion can be very helpful. If you do not know what to believe or feel, it can give you direction in life. And when you have travelled in that direction, you can choose something new. Just like a child that is learning to ride a bicycle, adding two side wheels at his back wheel, so called training wheels, helping him to stay upright. Additionally, the training wheels restrict the child, in how fast it can ride and make turns at the same time. The choices in his path to travel are heavily restricted, but it can learn to drive safely. My parents were very fearful of falling down in life, and our family practiced the religion of christianity fanatically. As a result, my parents used so many training wheels of Christianity, that they greatly restricted themselves in personal growth. It fragmented the chaos in the family even more.
Our Christian family life was as follows. Every evening we prayed before dinner, and read the bible afterwards. We went to church each Sunday, we were not allowed to watch television on Sunday, except my father, who wanted to watch soccer. We mainly had only contact with other Christian people, it was rare for us to have nonbelievers come inside our house. I played soccer at the Christian soccer club. When I went to middle school and high school, I had to bicycle two hours each day to the nearest school of fanatic Christians. Each day at school was started with reading out of the bible, and singing songs for worshipping. We regularly bought our fruit and vegetables from the Christian groceries store. We were sectarian Christians.
We had to go to church two times on Sunday. Sundays were perfect to rest: sleep out and play all day. Both were not possible for me, because we went to church in the morning and in the afternoon. The church was boring. When I complained about going to church, my father replied that water is also boring, but you really need it too. When I am thirsty, water tastes amazing. Later in life when I skipped the church for some weeks, it was still boring.
Once, a cassette tape of The Lion King movie found its way into our house. Shortly after, my mother read in our Christian daily newspaper, that the movie contained many un-Christian references like using nature as an inspiration for living life and reincarnation. So she threw away the tape, and bought a replacement movie. That turned out to be a movie about Asterix. My parents had totally no clue that Asterix is a story about Celts living in northern western France, that resisted the invasion of the Roman empire, the Romans that spread the Christian religion. The Celts were strong believers of many concepts that are also in The Lion King movie. So by getting Asterix into the house, our parents actually got a symbol of resistance against Christianity into the house.
Our family practicing Christianity, meant that every day, the whole family was feeding itself with Christian messages and thoughts, disempowering us in all kinds of ways:
We cannot create our own life, but our lives are guided by someone else. We do not have to reflect on ourselves, because Jesus takes responsibility for all our actions. And even if we develop powers to forgive ourselves or someone else for anything that happens, it does not matter. Because what only really matters is that Jesus forgives us. Trying to work on yourself is maybe even sinful, because why do you need anything if Jesus can give you everything? When in my late twenties, I started to become interested in personal development. My father commented on me, that it is unhealthy to explore myself through these other perspectives.
◆ ◆ ◆
Something I like to stay very far away from, are rituals of black magic. It is an environment of fear, death, pain, possessing, and suffering. Dark magic is used to call in evil powers from other realms. Practitioners of dark magic use techniques like torturing, cannibalism, drinking blood, sacrificing animals and people, helplessness, unworthiness, ownership, and casting curses.
<Todo: explain white and black magic here?>
When I was in the church with my family, we practiced similar rituals: We worshipped at a medieval torturing device (a cross), and at "celebrating" Holy communion, by consuming bread and red wine, we imagined we ate the flesh and drank the blood of another human person. We were singing songs about how weak we are, and needing to be saved by someone else. We were made to believe these songs are celebrations, but we sang them being lifeless, numb, and without expressions. We worshipped a life form that expects us to worship him. A life form that expects worshipping from other life forms is a form of narcissism. When I was born I was "baptized": A curse was cast over me in front of the whole church, that I am a helpless sinner, that by nature I will sin in life, and that my life belongs to another entity. Everyone in the community was cursed this way. We read in the bible about sacrificing animals and people. There is a very dark esoteric engineering of black magic in Christianity.
Nowadays, many communities exist that still practice some Christian elements, but are slowly moving away from the dark magic rituals of fear, unworthiness, and needing to be saved.
In the church, my family and everyone else was hypnotized to believe we were engaging in rituals of light and love. Actually we were sending our energies away through dark rituals. We were made to be totally disconnected and disoriented from our own spiritual powers and compass.
◆ ◆ ◆
When singing songs to worship in church and school, we were hypnotizing ourselves with simplistic views on life, literally singing songs like "Satan is scared because Jesus is alive", "Be scared of God", "blessed be when staying away from nonbelievers", and "I am a man whose powers fail". Constantly hypnotizing ourselves that nonbelievers are bad, hell exists and is terror, and every man is believed to be weak on its own. Next to that, all our friends and contacts were in the church, making any thought of leaving the community scary and lonely. A Christian follower is in a very tight grip.
We were encouraged to becoming a victim, by being made to believe that we are not in charge of our own lives, and just have to accept anything that crosses ours paths. If we would be trying to understand what happens and why, it was considered a grave sin, because we cannot be God, all we needed was Jesus and he is there for us. And anyone who does not believe in this, is a bad person. We are the good persons, we are the chosen children of Jesus.
We were deceived into believing, that when we only did some simple things every day and week, we would be "good" people. We would only have to pray for forgiveness every day, read the bible every day, go twice to church each Sunday. On Sunday we were also not allowed to buy anything or watch television. Watching movies with profane language and nudity was also forbidden. The primitivity of our fragmented and self-contradicting believes, were reflected in exceptions that watching soccer on Sunday was okay, just like watching Asterix, but not the Lion King. Also, when watching a movie on television that contained nudity or profanity, we pretended we didn't like it with expressing an exasperated sigh.
For my family, adopting Christianity meant that we were encouraged into a very simplistic perspective of life, meeting only similar people, preventing us from any real self reflection and personal growth. A universal spiritual law is that anything that happens outside of you, is a reflection of what goes inside in you. This is the most essential law of personal growth, that we completely missed.
As a Christian family, for our many disappointments in life, we tragically accepted the life God had planned for us. Our parents had no clue, that actually we were all doing it to ourselves, by our own ways of living. We did not question anything inside or outside of ourselves, missing many, many valuable opportunities for personal growth. This greatly prevented my parents and the family from growing out of the mess we were in.
Through practicing christianity, my parents were abusing themselves and the family severely. And just like their other forms of abuse to us, they were totally clueless about the damage they were doing.
Life in the family
Living in this family was a surreal experience. Deep down, my parents did not feel like parents to me. For example, when we grew up, we were repeatedly told that we had to leave the house when we reached the age of 18. This was told indirectly, by saying that children that still live at home after 18 are ridiculous. Furthermore, my mother complained to us about doing our laundry, sometimes threatening to stop it, and when my father was at home, he wanted us to to be silent. My parents having children, felt like a wish that was not deeply connected to their perspective on life. Being around the children and doing basic tasks was already too big of a challenge for them. Let alone meeting their children in their emotional needs. We rarely had eye contact in the family. Except for when my parents were angry, they forced me to look in their eyes. For me, eye contact meant danger, humiliation and shame. I rarely made eye contact with anyone.
Also, we where not calling our parents "mama" and "papa". In some strange way, we ended up calling them by their first name. My parents gave me food and shelter. And them telling me what to do, think and feel, felt like a strange agreement that was part of living in their house. They had very fragmented and contradicting ideals and demands about having children. I had to live up to their picture of an ideal family, while they were deforming and abusing me. When I became emotionally sick of them, they threatened to make me live outside the house, somewhere else. And when I was older, it became clear they would start to see me as some friend to take for granted, so that they could use me to have day trips with. They only had the capacities to think from their perspectives, so that is what they did.
When me and my Ob were very young, our parents portrayed us being very naughty. Calling us "naughty", is one of their coping mechanisms to not look at themselves. It is the same as being around a dog: When you are letting a dog out, and you are not clear to him what behavior you want and don't want, he will do anything what he wants, showing behavior that can be seen by humans as naughty. In reality, the owner of the dog is not giving clarity on what behavior is approved. If the owner is very clear and the boundaries are communicated, the dog will behave, and will even relax into the leadership of its owner.
Knowing from my own middle childhood memories that my parents were very inconsistent, they must have been very inconsistent as well when I was very young. So already at a very young age, they were blaming me and my Ob for their inconsistencies they put on us. My parents didn't know what they wanted, because they were not connected to their deep truths about how they could lovingly support us. Instead, they reacted out of their wounds and fears, attacking us physically and emotionally.
◆ ◆ ◆
I still have many black spots in my youth. When I try to remember my childhood, I can list several situations and feelings, but these memories do not feel like a continuous stream of life passing by. It feels as if I only know some movie frames, but I don't remember living the whole movie. Many times I try to remember a movie frame, a certain period. But then I can only feel an emptiness, like someone has made many cuts into my movie. The images that are the most clear to remember, is my mother standing in front me, screaming in desperateness, or humiliation me in her anger, followed by a getting attacked by my father. Related to my father, it is getting kicked and punched while standing or laying on the ground, bracing for impact. The other image is getting lectured by him on some rule. Those were the main things that matters for me, to avoid that at all costs.
How much I was beaten and humiliated, I just can't remember, I must have suppressed these memories. Being able to remember these moments would have disabled me in my daily functioning, I would constantly be physically frozen in my body, being in shock, not being able to move. So I hid this constant frozenness and shock, in deep parts of my subconsciousness. When I rationally try to reconstruct, I figure I must have been severely attacked every one, two, or three weeks, getting punched daily or weekly, depending on the current state of the family. It is similar for the attacks from my mother. Together with the constant threat of any abuse, and the constant implicit suppression as a result of it, I was constantly living in a state of deep fear: I was living in terror.
When I would get gravely attacked by my father, I experienced an intense mix of terror, agony, humiliation, and sadness. He forced himself to be seen by me, like I had to worship him in intense fear and pain. It made me feel extremely unworthy. And together with the attack from my father towards my Ob, I would be constantly reminded that the danger of getting tortured always lurks around every next corner.
I just didn't understand what my father was doing. Why was he hurting me so much? Wasn't I doing my best enough? Did he even love me? Why didn't he care that I had so much pain and loneliness? Am I an inconvenience to him? What is he trying to say to me? I concluded, that it must be because of me. I am wrong. I am wrong of existing. I do not deserve to live.
The attacks from my mother were even more devastating for me. There was so much hidden humiliation towards me. She only needed once or a few times per week, to show me that she owns me. A humiliation, a command or even a request, was enough to keep me in line. If I did not follow them exactly, she would become irritated or unstable, with the danger of getting attacked by her desperation and meanness. I would be getting told and felt, that every form of conflict, misunderstanding, pain and chaos is my fault. And she could always ask her husband to control and humiliate me further.
She once asked me to cook for her every Monday. She pretended she asked me, but if I refused, I surely would get a big backlash, some periodical humiliation and an intense beating. So I "willingly" agreed. I was cooking for her every Monday. My mother was playing her game of polite mother, so she expressed to me being very thankful for my efforts. I was programmed to receive her thankfulness with a validation and a smile. My ideas of all kinds of social concepts, like asking for help, were extremely distorted.
It was extremely disorienting for me. She appeared nice, but there was so much danger from simply being around her. Because she played good cop and bad cop at the same time, my core feelings of trust, safety, truth, and love were severely damaged. I was made not being able to trust myself anymore, in anything. At what place should I place what item in the fridge? How should I say thank you to her? What clothes do I need to wear when we go to town? Or should I put on an extra sweater? Will be she angry about having to wash that sweater? How should I do my hair? Can I say to her that I am feeling cold in the house? Did I just looked at the wrong way? Moved the wrong way? Thought the wrong thoughts? What questions should I ask her when we drink tea together? In what bucket should I place my laundry even if we have only one? How much bread can I eat? How long should I stay when she talks to me? What should I put on my bread? Can I show that I am scared because of this? What feelings should I have towards myself? And towards her? Which wishes are wrong to express? How much friends should I have? How do I get them? How much should I love her? What did I just forget to do? Did I do anything wrong? Did I had to feed the cats even when I never have to do it? Why is it my fault that she is angry now? Is my father around now, so that I will get a beating because of her anger?
Everything I did was wrong, even if I tried very hard to do it the right way. Every mistake, however small or big: she was keeping score, and it was making me one step closer to the next humiliation, desperateness, or beating. I was made extremely insecure, and my mother thrived on this. She welcomed me with open arms, being able to tell me what to feel, to suck me deeper in her chaos and abuse.
Having this openness towards her, she sent me all kinds of desperation, humiliation, fears, anger, and sadness. Because I was made completely out of touch with my inner compass, I started to believe that I was the problem. I was the cause of all this desperation and every kind of negativity. I don't know what, why, or how, but it must certainly be me. I must be very ugly inside.
And so, a blanket of constant shame was put over me. It was maintained through constant threats and frequent attacks by my parents. I became this blanket of shame. And I was not welcome in my family. Everywhere I went, I took these feelings of unwelcomeness and humiliation with me. At school, during soccer, in the church. Everywhere I was not welcome, and people, apart from some mature adults, responded accordingly.
I felt so much pain and hate from my parent, that I started to believe they could not be my real parents. Because believing that my real parents were hurting me so much and did not love me, that was simply too painful for me. So I hypnotized myself. Once, I was taking a shower, and through the bathroom window I saw my father and Ob in the garden. I started to cry, realizing that that man outside, was not my real father. And that boy outside, was not my real brother. I cried very hard, feeling so lonely. And my mother, she is not my real mother. Hypnotizing myself, I felt the pain how much they were hurting me. My real parents existed elsewhere, and they would really love me. Some day I will meet them. Suddenly, my father knocked on the bathroom door, and asked if I was singing again. Being terrified of my him, I said yes, and he went away. Before that shower, I stopped singing a long time ago.
Every second of my youth, I was terrified of getting beaten. I carried this fear around me, in my eyes, in my feelings, in my body, in my bones and muscles. I was expecting to be beaten all the time. When could be next moment? How could I prevent it? Or if it happened, how could I minimize it? Constantly, I was searching for danger, and I tried to prevent it. I was constantly scanning my environment. I was never safe.
Once in school, a single classmate tried to claim superiority over me, by attacking me and trying to wrestle me to the ground. After some wrestling he did not succeed, and I ended up being in control over him. Other classmates that enjoyed the fight, in turn encouraged me, to hurt him and claim my victory. But instead I said "No, I am not like that", I let him go and I stopped the fight.
But even while I was born in purity, growing up in a poisonous family, I learned to disconnect from myself. Everyday my parents would abuse me, and because I could not safely express my anger, I had to keep that anger inside, hiding it. This anger grew inside of me. Gradually, it turned into hate. My hate became so intense towards my parents, that I just didn't know what to do with it.
At some point the hate started to turn into plotting revenge. Every time they would abuse me, I wrote down what they did to me on a piece of paper that I kept in my bedroom. I would write down abuses like: getting beaten, punch in the face, not getting dinner, being forced to have my head under a tap with cold running water, drinking rancid milk because I forgot to drink it, having to stay at home while the rest of the family went to a concert, getting pinched hard in my ear, and my Yb and Ys getting favored over me in any way.
I plotted, that when I was older, and thus stronger than them, I would visit my parents, tie them up, and do all these things back to them. Plotting this, I did not realize that the hate I had for my parents, I also grew towards myself, and all the other people I would meet. Whenever I experienced any form of inconvenience from someone, even very small ones, I learned that I could not communicate about it. The only way to set things straight was keeping a score in the background, that later in some way I would pay them back. I had feelings of hate with almost everyone I met.
Through the beating, my father learned me to not take a stand for myself. He systematically destroyed my defenses. I was helpless. My classmates felt this, and throughout my youth I was an easy target for them. I learned how to be a garbage bin at home, so automatically, I would also be it outside of home. At one moment in school, I found myself lying on the ground, getting kicked by four classmates. It felt as if I was in trance. I could not bear it anymore, I disconnected from my feelings, glazing into their eyes while they were beating me. And as I learned from my father to be an easy target, I laid helplessly until they stopped. For me, at that time, it was normal getting beaten. I learned from my father and mother that no one really cared for me. So I never talked about it with anyone. My classmates could do with me what they wanted.
Over time, I became convinced that emotions were bad, because I only saw them creating negativity and pain. It made my mother unhappy, it made my father unhappy, and it made me unhappy. So what is the point of emotions? Every kind of emotion I felt in my body, I suppressed myself from expressing and living it: Even the smallest things like a sigh of relief after stretching my body, or a smile from enjoying a warm shower or tasty food.
As much as possible, I tried to shutdown my feelings, otherwise it would have derailed me further, or it could have killed me. While suppressing my emotions, still my fears started to show up in my thoughts. I became convinced that a gang of criminal people was out to kidnap me. While being outside, I was trying to look around, what they might look like. As far as the understanding of a destabilized 8 year old boy goes, I figured they were people that had their upper arms uncovered. This fears was another expression of my believe that everyone was trying to destroy me. I couldn't connect it too much to my parents, because they were my only chance of survival. Frequently I thought about running away from home. But I thought that was forbidden. I was extremely scared and extremely lonely. I had nowhere to go.
Where do you go when you have nowhere to go? Where do you hide when you have nowhere to hide? How do you keep on living when you are unworthy of living? What is loneliness if it is the only thing you know? How do you stay sane if you are constantly destabilized? What do you conclude about yourself, if the only thing you know is getting attacked and humiliated?
As I tried to hide from my fears, I tried to run from my sadness as well. But I couldn't. At one point during night, I started to cry very hard. Crying my guts out, hoping that someone, somewhere, would hear me and start saving me. My father came into my room. He pretended to care for me, and then he left. I kept on crying, my soul was crying through me. My father came again, and warned me that I should stop begging for attention. He left my room, and I couldn't but continue crying. Very hard. Very lonely. Very sad. If just someone would hear me.
Then my father came into the room again, angry that I did not listen to him. He started to beat me, until I stopped crying. I learned to stop expressing my loneliness and sadness. It froze in me. My mother did not come to save me. She knew that I was being beaten because of crying. She ignored me. Behind the superficial game of playing mother and child with her, I didn't trust her for one inch.
I couldn't take it anymore from my parents. But I didn't know what was going on, or who it was. My body knew, and tried to resist. At some point, I could not keep inside anymore what my parents forced into me, figuratively and literally. At dinner, I started to throw up what I was eating. After some dinner's my mother said: if you throw up one more time, you have to eat everything of what you just put out. My mother forced herself into me. I was helpless in front of my parents.
I could not resist, I could not hide, I could not defend, I could not run away. My parents literally owned me, forcing me to swallow whatever violence, hate, anger, desperateness, destruction, manipulation, and hypocrisy they threw at me.
I forgot who and what I was. The more they fed me their darkness and destruction, the more I started to believe it was me. I was that violence, I was that hate, I was that anger, I wast that desperateness, I was that destruction, I was that manipulation, I was that hypocrisy. How could I love myself after getting fed all of their poison? I could not. I started to believe that I was very ugly from the inside. Unworthy of anything.
Eventually, when I caught myself starting to smile at something, I reminded myself that I was not worthy of smiling, and I stopped smiling. I deserved to be unhappy and very lonely. When I was beaten again, or emotionally attacked by my mother, I would go outside, sit in the high grass where nobody could see me. I would be silent, deeply sad without crying, immense lonely without asking for help, looking out without hope, having pain in my heart without feeling it, being dead while having a body, breathing without having a breath.
The poison of shame got deeper into me. I was surrendered to it, and I could not stop it. If I cause all this pain, conflict, and all other negativity, I should be not worthy of living. Gradually, I became convinced that I should kill myself, because I am not worthy of living. It grew in me, through all the darkness my parents fed me.
When I was around 11 years old, I went to bed at night, and stayed awake. I needed to kill myself, so I needed a plan. Around 02:30 am, I got out of bed and I walked to the kitchen drawer to get a knife. In the living room I took the anatomy book from the bookcase, and I searched around my neck and in the book, where my carotid artery was located. I found it with my hand, and I pointed the tip of the knife in the skin of my neck.
So that is where I was: being an 11 year old boy, in the middle of the night, standing all alone in the living room in his pyjamas. My right hand was balancing an anatomy book, opened to the page of the blood vessels of the neck. In my left hand I was holding a knife, and pointing it in the left side of my neck. And while standing there, I was crying, saying to myself: "This is what I have to do because I am not worthy of living" (Dutch: "Dit is wat ik moet omdat ik het niet waard ben om te leven").
This is the darkest moment of my life I can remember.
Sometime later, I put the book back in the bookcase, and the knife back in the kitchen drawer, and went back to bed. At least I had a plan now. The following months, I started to warn my parents and my teachers me that I was going to kill myself. For them I was just the same child that was trying to get attention.
I never did put any further action into my plans. But preparing my plan for suicide, something clicked in me. I understood a deeper reality: There is nobody that really loves me, and I just have to live with that.
It became my new conscious believe, and I used it to hide all the previous believes and pains: Everybody is destroying me. Emotions are bad. My parents are not my real parents. Deep, deep down, I am very, very ugly.
My newfound believe helped me to struggle through life, without falling every few meters. I found something that worked, but at a very, very high cost.
I closed my heart, I closed my soul.
The next article describes the continuation of my life: Childhood 3: Struggling (XXX).
My Life 3: Stuck
Above anything, I had given up all hope. I had so much pain of loneliness and rejection, that I just did not dare to reach out anymore. If you paid close attention to my eyes, you could see a lot of sadness, an endless suffering. But it was hidden, by not believing anymore that anyone would come to help me. Reaching out and getting rejected again would mean feeling even more intense pain. I kept it to myself, alone. I believed that nobody really loves me, and I just have to live with that. Desperately, I tried pushing my suffering away, trying to live the life that was expected from me. But deep inside, I was broken into pieces, through the constant abuse by my parents. I was fragmented.
I needed my parents to stay alive. To stay connected to my parents, I kept believing the fragmented and self-contradicting narrative they forced into me. I believed that I was a difficult kid, instead of them having emotionally destroyed me. I believed that I deserved humiliation and physical punishment, instead of them being unable to love me. I believed that I was the cause of all the problems at home, instead of them creating the chaos. I believed that I should feel guilty and keep myself in check, instead of them not taking responsibility for their wounds. I believed that I could not be angry and hateful towards them, instead of them needing to respect my emotions. I believed that all my wishes were wrong, instead of them thinking about only themselves. I believed I was not loved. And I believed it was because of me, not being worthy of love and living.
Not knowing what do with this rejection by myself and by my parents, I switched myself completely off. My joy, my love, my truth, my life, my self, it did not exist anymore. Instead, I acted like was expected from me. Play sports? Check? Go to school? Check. Believe in Jesus? Check. Act like I enjoy life? Check. Believe that I am a sinner? Check. Make nice compliments to my mother? Check. Swallow her destabilizing emotions? Check. Be a good child so my mother feels like a good other? Check. Make sure my father feels seen? Check. Accept his rules? Check? Accept the blame of being the problematic child? Check. Believe I am problematic? Check. Believe that I am autistic? Check. Believe that my feelings are wrong? Check. Go to therapy? Check. Act obedient and respectful? Check. Be totally honest? Check. Be thankful to my parents? Check. Act what others tell me to do? Check. Think what other want me to think? Check. Feel what others want me to feel? Check.
In the past, every time I showed my true self, I was not loved, but I was rejected. I learned that for getting fake acceptance, which I thought was real, I needed to do what was expected from me. Because otherwise I would end up miserably alone, helpless with my unworthiness and my pains. The only way in which I could survive, was to disable my heart and become anonymous. I would still have my pains and my unworthiness, but by somehow living the narrative of my parents, I would have some connection.
As an extra defense mechanism to hide my pains, I developed a belief of superiority and tendency to control others. My many painful emotions and memories made me think I was deeply unworthy. As a reaction I trained my mind to convince myself that I was the extreme superior best, creating a deep split between my mind and my emotions. Any tiny hints from others that I was not superior, made me feel my deep slit of pain, almost instantly translating into anger towards my new perceived humiliator. I was putting so much effort into believing that my superiority was real, that I made myself unable to connect with reality and my feelings. By making myself untouchable, I made reality, my feelings, and other people untouchable for myself.
But I would still have intense painful feelings, in situations when people avoided me, I ended up being alone, or when I was punished by my parents. Feeling intense pain often made me jump back into my dissociation or my superiority, living in my mind. It was the only way in which I was able to stay somewhat functioning. It made me forget the real world. Due to resisting my emotions, my whole body was very tense, but by living in my mind I did not feel that. In my mind I felt space, clarity and rest. I did not have to check into my emotions and reality, because I believed emotions to be irrelevant, and I convinced myself that I was the best.
◆ ◆ ◆
But even through my many defense mechanisms of dissociation, controlling and perfectionism, I was too scared to show them. I withdrew myself far away. I was unable to meet life. Instead, I was living in stasis.
Life became flat and meaningless. I acted like a presentable teenager, nothing strange seemed to be going on. My haircut was okay, my clothes were well taken care of, I could hold a conversation, I showed interest by asking questions, and I could talk about different topics. My grades at school were okay, I played soccer at a local club, I had proper teen jobs to earn money, and I went to church every week. To some it could even look like I was well behaved, properly raised even. That is what I wanted to live up to.
In reality, my constant attempts at self-hypnosis actually failed most of the time. It was a narrative I kept on living in, but my behavior was totally different. For example, almost every time the class started in secondary school, I was afraid of sitting alone. Because of that I made no eye contact to invite my classmates to sit next to me, afraid to get rejected. If I would be in a conversation with someone, I would only talk from my mind, scanning every word if it would not make anyone angry. I would also hide my anger every time if someone told me something that I didn't completely agree on. I was used from my father that if I do not follow his perspective on life, I would get beaten. I felt threatened by anyone that had any different point of view.
When playing soccer and my teammates would get slightly frustrated at me, I would immediately panic, and do something very unfavorable with the ball. I could not relax into playing soccer, or destress my body by moving. I didn't really knew why I kept going to play sports, but it was okay to be away from home. When my teammates said they had a nice refreshed feeling after a training or match, I didn't know what they were referring to. I could not feel my body.
Because I was heavily mistrusting towards woman, I had little contact with girls my age. Apart from having one good friend, I did have relationships that had some elements of friendship, like I went camping with some boys out of my class in summer. But when they asked me next year to join again, I surprised them by refusing to come along again, because I falsely believed I was not part of them. From my family I was not used to being welcome, feeling welcome was scary.
◆ ◆ ◆
Curiously, sometimes I met people that I felt at ease with. I could speak my thoughts, about how I analyzed other people and myself, and being able to empathize with them. We could help each other reflect on life, and be together with whatever happened. It is as if I learned to completely shutdown to most of my external world, while I could be in openness and harmony with very few people. I still had very little access to my feelings and being in the flow of life. But being able to speak freely, occasionally gave me much needed breathing space.
Growing up with my parents, I was made to believe I amounted to nothing, and my perspectives and feelings did not matter. Being very scared of any rejection, I hardly showed myself. When I felt any tiny sense of judgement or frustration from someone, out of fear I shut myself down, switching to behaving from my wounded self.
It meant that for most people, it was almost impossible to get a bead on me, unable to figure out who I was, or what my intentions and feelings were. I was also told that it was unclear whether I was not interested to connect with others, or that I was just unable to connect with others. For me, it was a constant juggling of different needs. I was suppressing my hate to anyone, I needed space alone, I wanted to belong, I felt misunderstood, I wanted to be seen, I wanted to hide, I wanted to be seen, I wanted to cry, I wanted to be nice, I wanted to have friends, I was scared, I mistrusted anyone, I wanted to trust and be trusted, I wanted to fight, I wanted to rest, I wanted to be supported; all of these conflicting interests were always battling for attention.
With the very little awareness that I had left, nothing was ever really taken care of. Trying to direct myself from my mind, I was like a broken ship in the middle of the ocean, constantly changing direction to a different port to get help. I was not constructively responding to what was happening outside of me. I was constantly reacting to my inner fragmented world, towards all the conflicting parts inside of me that were fighting for care and attention. I could not get a bead on myself either. Just like my parents, I had become a personification of emotional chaos.
Anywhere I went in life, I carried my enormous wounds with me. My wounds where constantly seeping through my mask of anonymous behavior. The fear of not being welcome and accepted, getting attacked and humiliated, and my feelings of sadness, loneliness, desperateness, shame, hate, and unworthiness, severely limited in how I moved through life.
I did as best as I could. My mental world was overdeveloped, so I was able to finish university, with a focus on business administration and information technology. In the meantime I founded an online gadget store, and followed an additional university studies program in public administration for one year. At the start of my university studies I left the house of my parents, and as a result my will to life would slowly start to return. It materialized in a way that fitted my life at that time.
First Spark of Life
In the last years of my studies, I met some classmates that were reading books about self-development. I wasn't really connected to them, but enough to get inspired by their interests.
For the first 20 years of my life, I struggled hard with emotions and social dynamics. I could not yet see, that my parents wounded me like that. I honestly believed I was socially incapable, and that I had little creative, emotional, and spontaneous capacities, like my mother implied towards me. I thought the only way to "fix" this, was by learning fake emotional and social behavior. I became interested in fabricating my social skills. My first two books I ordered on amazon, were "How to talk to anyone" and "How to win friends and influence people". The books were very practical, and so very useful for me being a starter.
At some point I was reading a chapter that suggests to make eye contact to people. Subconsciously I related eye contact with humiliation by my parents, when they forced me to look at them when they were angry and humiliating me. Not aware of that, I followed the advice of the book, and being 22 year old, I started to look some people in the eye when I talked to them. In the beginning it felt surreal and very scary. Looking into someone's eyes, it felt as the other person was angry at me, and I vaguely felt my shame and my pains. Looking back, these were all associations from my childhood abuse.
But in a way I persisted, and I forced myself to keep looking. I think sometimes I came across as someone who was just staring other people in the eye. Anyhow, I felt extremely powerful, like I was joining real life, in how the real people relate to each other. I still avoided eye contact with many people, and I still had a very long way to go. But this was my first practical step in personal development, ever.
Second Spark of Life
As I was expected to do, at the start of my studies had I joined a fanatically christian student association, I lived with housemates that were also fanatically Christian, and I kept going to church almost every Sunday. There were some people in our student association that frequently didn't go to church, and it was frowned upon. "Luckily" I wasn't one of them.
The anthem of our study association was singing about "expanding your horizon", and we prided ourselves for having that as one of the main pillars in our activities. Ironically, we were only studying subjects that were compatible with the Christian religion, like Immanuel Kant (who rigorously defended the concept of sin), any other theological way of thinking, and christian subjects applied to daily life. Once we had a study group that was studying masturbation, the members of the group were exploring how it was bad and sinful, and how to stop doing it. Just like in church, we fooled ourselves we were open minded. Christianity indoctrinates their followers that they are open minded and free, while they actually are in chains.
I had the habit of praying every night before going to bed, and asking forgiveness of my sins every time. Nearing the end of my studies, many times I couldn't figure out what I would have done wrong that day. Maybe today in the bus I somehow did something wrong to another passenger? Or did I buy fruit from the store that was meant for someone else in God's plan? Was I not nice enough to someone today? I believed it must have been me, and I surely should have done something wrong that day, just like I always did something wrong in my childhood. So every night, I kept on asking forgiveness for my sins that I surely did. But somehow, it started to itch a bit. What was I actually doing? Next to that, my housemates started skipping going to church. And they showed me, that not really much was changing if they missed church a few times. They were still healthy, responsible, and nice people, fun to be around with.
In my bible study group, there was one member who started to make sarcastic comments about the bible. When Christians read the bible, there is a hidden programming in each Christian. When you have any questions or doubts about God, you always steer it into conclusions like "we are only sinners, we don't know", "luckily Jesus has forgiven us", "the ways of God's plans are not understandable for humans", "it is a grave sin to even think that we can try understand God's ways, we are only humans" and "we are so lucky that we are Christians". These responses are part of the subconscious programming to keep Christians hypnotized. Once when the discussion was going towards the usual path, my group member started sarcastically replying with "you see, it works out every time, the bible is always right". I didn't really pay attention to him, but altogether, something was changing within me.
Praying started to become a chore for me, instead of something that I wanted to do. At some point I stopped praying for a few nights, maybe I was just really tired a few nights in a row. And it happened a couple of times more. I couldn't really feel a difference: the world was still the same, I was still the same. So what was the sinful difference that I was made to be scared of? I just could not notice it, and I became doubtful about its need. I became a sinful doubter of the Christian religion. I wasn't so sure anymore if I wanted to pray, if I wanted to read the bible, or if I wanted to go to church. Slowly, it didn't make a difference to me. Although, I did have some remnants of my Christian faith inside of me, that made me feel a bit uneasy about rebelling.
At the end of my studies, I was doing an assignment near my parent's home, for which I left my own house and lived at my parents home for a while. Before each dinner, we would pray, and sometimes other members of the family took turns to say the prayer. At some point my mother asked me I would wanted to say the prayer. Hesitantly, I expressed that I wasn't so sure anymore about Christianity. My parents were completely shocked, and quickly my mother said the prayer. I was never asked to pray again.
My refusal to pray was my seal of redemption.
Third Spark of Life
Starting university, I had a pretty rigid idea about how my future would look like. While being at university, I would find my wife, would marry, and have kids. And after my graduation, I would be a consultant for ten years, after which I would start my own company in a related field. Having these kind of rigid expectations were part of my wounded personality.
However, in the last few months of my studies, I continued to read more books about personal development. I was reading The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People by Stephen Covey, and the autobiography of Anwar el Sadat: In Search of Identity. Because I was heavily disconnected to myself, it was difficult to really connect to the core of their messages. Although, I was heavily inspired by them. These books had something that I did not have. I was searching for my identity and truth.
Additionally, I managed to get inspired by reading the famous book of Viktor Frankl; Man's Search for Meaning. Frankl is a man who survived the holocaust, living inside a concentration camp. During his hardships, he received many insights about what makes people tick; what gives them meaning in life. After WWII, he became a psychologist that practiced logotherapy: the practice of helping people finding meaning in life.
While he was in a concentration camp, he was observing his fellow prisoners. He discovered, that once a fellow prisoner lost his hope of someday getting out the concentration camp, he would die within a few weeks. This was a far greater determinant for dying than anything else like malnutrition or illness. The ones that kept having hope, they usually continued to stay alive. Later when being free again, Frankl became skilled in helping people find their meaning in life. I was struck by a deep realization, when he wrote about an invitation that he gave to of his clients:
“Live as if you were living already for the second time and as if you had acted the first time as wrongly as you are about to act now!”
I felt heavy, as if my whole outlook on life, my present and my past, my whole body, and my whole self, was in chains. I was not able to move anything about myself, everything was planned, it was just a very logical reaction of what I experienced, what I learned, and how I planned and expected my life because of that. I remember clearly, sitting on the leather chair in my parent's house, reading the book, letting this realization sink in. Subconsciously I felt that I was not living at all. I did not want to be in these chains, I needed to throw my life around. Drastically.
Within a few minutes, I decided to change my life completely. Apparently I was ready for that. I came up with the idea of changing my life in three major ways. It didn't take long to fill them in.
The first big change would be that I stopped believing in Christianity. My faith was fading, and I wanted to find out what it means to live without it. I gave myself permission to not read the bible anymore, to stop praying, to stop believing that Jesus needs to save me, and to stop going to church. Second, I would already try to become an entrepreneur right after my graduation. I did not need to wait ten more years for that, I could do it now. My plans of being a consultant for 10 years suddenly seemed unattractive to me. Instead, I would move to a big city, and start a company there. I didn't know what I was going to be doing, but I would figure it out, something in business and it. Third, I wanted to try something that I have never tried before: dancing. I could not dance at all, I didn't even like it, but I knew that so much people enjoy doing it, and it is very different from what is in my life, there must be something in it for me.
Change needed to happen. Now or never.
Moving to Amsterdam
A few weeks later while, I got in contact with another man that already was having his company. Let's call him John for now. The iPhone and Android smartphones were just introduced, and John was making money with creating apps. Back then, very few people knew how to make apps. I send some e-mails back and forth with him, and I made a concept Android app to show my skills. I said that I was nearly graduated, and I wanted to be an entrepreneur in software. He was open to working together, and we kept in touch.
◆ ◆ ◆
Some months later, I graduated and I moved to Amsterdam. I had some small savings for a few months of living, after which I could always take a regular job. Within a week I found a house in Amsterdam, that had one living room and two bedrooms. Because it was hard to find living space in Amsterdam, I made a concession. I would be living and sleeping in the living room, while I would arrange two other housemates to live in the bedrooms. However, to get to the kitchen, the person needed to walk through my room. I said to my housemates that it was totally no problem for me, and that they should go to the kitchen anytime they wanted. Practically, it meant that at any inconvenient time I would be waken up, because a housemate wanted to do his dishes at 23:30, or needed to prepare breakfast at 06:00 when I was sleeping in. I even allowed my housemates to dry their laundry in my small room.
What was going on, is that I was unaware that it actually was a major inconvenience for me, to have my privacy and rest constantly disturbed. But I was totally not aware of that. In my childhood, I was made to believe that my personal space, boundaries, privacy, and rest did not matter. My parents constantly invaded me, and if I would get angry about it, I would get beaten and humiliated. My parents taught me to give up my boundaries, to not notice my frustration about it, to not express my boundaries, and getting used to constant invasion.
In Amsterdam I was living 4 years like this, having no conscious frustration about this whatsoever. I learned to disconnect from my feelings at a young age. Once I found myself in the middle of lovemaking with my partner. Someone entered my room, and saw us being busy, and he got back. I felt some frustration about his carelessness, but then again, I did not say anything about it. After 4 years, I rented the whole house by myself. A few years after that, I still had unpleasant dreams about people constantly walking through my room. I was inviting and allowing people to constantly invade my space, subconsciously getting frustrated all the time, and I had no awareness on what was happening.
◆ ◆ ◆
Within a few months in Amsterdam, I got my first project via John. The cooperation went successful, and after some more projects he invited me to share all profits equally and become co-owner of his company. Together with some other people, we had projects for customers like Google, PayPal, Vodafone, a Dutch newspaper NRC, the Dutch government, and many others. At some point we got two employees to help us. I was making good money for big names and I had employees: my ego was satisfied.
Apart from external validation, again I was repeating a pattern that I learned in my childhood: being used. I was working a lot, and I nearly escaped from a burnout. John was working as well, but a far cry from what I was working. Just before my burnout, I once worked 32 hours straight from 09:00 until 17:00 the next day, and during my holidays I was constantly working in the evenings. One day, I found myself waking up with pain in my chest, and my father (who did suffer from a severe burnout) warned me that I had to take a serious break. I took a break and went back to work, but still working a lot.
Once a friend said to me, that I would make more money if I would work on my own. But I was simply blind to his message that I was being used, so I did not do anything with it. From my childhood, I was used to simply obeying someone without asking critical questions, because asking critical questions meant punishment. Being imprisoned by my parents, I was also used to the idea that I had nowhere else to go, because no on else would take care of me when I was young. While working, it did not even occur to me, that elsewhere there might be a better work opportunity. I was hypnotized, in simply obeying and staying at the same place. I had projected John to be my parents. I used him to take care of me, and in exchange, I let myself being used to do most of the work.
If I was open to the possibility that my friend might be right, a simple calculation would have made me understand. I could make more money if I just became a freelancer and worked on my own. My credentials were more than enough, and there was a high demand for software engineers at that time. I willingly allowed my partner John to use me, and I had no clue what I was doing. John was having a similar situation with another partner of him, that actually took a stand for himself, and they had frequent conflicts. Once I even mediated between them, in a meeting with the three of us. But I could not recognize the pattern inside my own life. I was completely blind.
◆ ◆ ◆
Some months after having moved to Amsterdam, I started taking dance classes. I began by taking streetjazz classes, a mix between hip-hop and jazz dance. I wanted to dance something that was cool and stylish at the same time. Style wise, I made a right choice. With my stiff body and my out-of-tune pacing, it actually didn't matter so much what style I started with. But my teacher got cool moves, and we danced on funk and pop music, so I was happy to practice. On a deeper level, I was giving myself an immense gift, by creating an opportunity for expressing myself and connecting to my body.
Dancing turned out to be the complete opposite of how I lived. Dancing is about being connected to the music, finding freedom within the limits of the melody, allowing the flow guide you, and let your body speak your language, in between the lines of the choreography. But I was used to structurally act, based on a systematic analysis, of what was happening and so what would be happening. I saw the world as predictable and behaving through rules and processes.
Taking dance classes helped me to explore a lot about myself. Because I was used to living in my mind, I had a lot of challenges to practice a hobby that is about living in your body. For example, when we were practicing body rolls, I discovered that my torso and back also is a part of my body that I can control. So far, I only used it to have my head on top of it, and to bend it at the right moments when I would stand, sit, or lie down. But after practicing a body roll, my torso started to feel like a limb that I can bend on different places, which is even fun to do. Besides exploring my own body, I had zero awareness on how extremely tense my body was at all places. Now, many years later, when I look back at my first practice videos, I see an enormously stiff and scared boy, setting his first steps in living inside his body.
Still living in my mind, it was hard to connect with my body that enjoyed the new movement. But somehow, I got the hints that my body really loved dancing. For more than ten years, I practiced all kinds of styles: ballet, modern, salsa, bachata, and hiphop. Several periods I took 4 or 5 dancing classes per week. Ballet turned out to be my favorite dance. It appeals to a softness and subtlety that is almost breathtaking for me. Naturally, there were a lot of girls in dancing classes, and sometimes they were curious towards me. Once, a girl came up to me after class, trying to start a conversation. But because of my mother I was very scared of women. Being scared of the girl as well, I switched to talking from my mind, and the conversation lasted less than two minutes.
Meeting Me in Amsterdam
Even with the changes going on in my life, I was desperate for living in my heart, but I simply did not know, that I was searching for my heart. Instead, I was searching with my mind, inside my mind, disconnected from life and my heart. I thought happiness was about having a successful job, interesting interests, good looking friends and a good looking girlfriend. I was not connected to what these things mean to me, how it affects my own uniqueness, how it makes me feel.
From my childhood I learned that I should keep my sensitivity and feelings as far away as possible, from myself, and other people. Revealing myself, what I am to the core, would only cause immense pain and disappointments, and is something to be very ashamed of. At the same time, I held a deeply buried belief that I was unworthy of having any pleasures in life like smiling, and I deserved to be happy and lonely. I was not aware of any of this anymore. But as long as I would keep myself away from my feelings, myself, others, and anything else, it would remain impossible to explore what life and happiness means to me.
Living in Amsterdam, I would not find out soon that my feelings are actually the keys to my true dreams. Instead, I learned to live anonymously to myself and to others. And while doing that, I kept making life difficult for myself. It might help to understand, if you would have met me in Amsterdam during that time:
◆ ◆ ◆
Drinking a tea in the streets of Amsterdam, you see a boy passing by, blond hair, tall, slim, well dressed. Looking at him, he inhabits the body of a young adult, but he feels like a teenager that is still a child. Your eyes are caught by his stiff shoulders and his somewhat crooked back. And while scanning his body, you see he is controlling his body, even working against it, unable to let it flow and serve him. It makes you remember that people treat their bodies similar to how they treat their life.
When walking, he constantly scans around, like he constantly is looking out for something, his eyes big, and somewhat scared, but without giving himself away, in any way. He doesn't appear relaxed, neither searching, or open for that matter, but more like someone who is following the conviction of his thoughts. The boy having passed you and walking away from you, you send your attention in order to contact him, with the kind of intention that people usually feel in their back. You feel he noticed you, but he doesn't pay attention, and keeps on walking. It remains unclear why.
Resuming your tea, you let him go. And your thoughts wonder off to other people walking by. After a while, you see that same boy is coming back to pass you, he must have bought something. Remembering his anonymity, you become particularly interested. You know the typical anonymous behavior of the human kind, but he is hiding something. At thirty meters distance you try to spot his energy, feel his thoughts, and figure out what he is up to. It is too early to say, but he seems to have noticed you, and is blocking your inquiries. He becomes hard to read. Like he carefully manages everyone around him, deciding who to keep at a distance. You wonder if you scared him at thirty meters already, even when there are so many people around.
You look the other way, backing off a bit, but keeping track of him. He should be around twenty meters away now. Ten meters. Feeling into your own intentions, you notice an innocent curiosity in yourself, and conclude you weren't sending any harm his way. Trusting your impulses, you decide to allow your curiosity to guide you. He should be near you now, and you give him another look. He saw your peeking, and in a split second your eyes meet each other. Immediately his eyes widen a bit with fear, and he quickly looks away. You seemed to have startled him while walking, and your curiosity grows. What is such a sensitive boy doing in such a busy city, and why is he so scared?
Flowing in your curiosity, you try to have a chat with him. You raise your hand, greet him, and ask him some questions. But by each bit that the contact slightly intensifies, by raising your hand or greeting him, he seems to startle a bit more, withdrawing inward. With each step you take towards him, he stops being present. While responding to your chat, he does not bring himself in the conversation. It is like he lets his mind run the show, behaving like he thinks what is expected from him, becoming artificial. You try to be extra careful with him, hoping that he brings himself into the connection again. But he seems to notice you trying, feeling a desire from you, and he tenses up even more. He cannot regulate himself, and you decide to give up trying, and just see what the conversation brings.
Along the conversation, in each silence of a split second between you, you can feel his thoughts running at lightning speed. He seems to runs all kinds of checks, balances and questions on how you come across. Does the color of your pants match with your hobbies? Do you really like the weather today? Why are you not asking how I am doing? Is your smile fake? Why are your hands and arms relaxed, are you pretending? He doesn't trust you, and scans for danger. And while doing this, he continues with his artificial behavior. You notice his mistrust, and if you open your warmth to him, it makes him suspicious, as if he needs to give something in return. It makes him backoff, by moving slightly backward and stumbling over his own words. For now it is impossible to reach him, you can not let him know that your intentions are good. You wonder where the real person is behind this behavior. What is he really thinking, what is he really feeling? Why is he not showing himself? What happened to this boy?
Chatting for some time now, he seems to relax a bit, and he starts to ask some questions about you. While his questions seem very rational, you feel he has a genuine interest in you. There is something peculiar to his questions. They assume a frame with limited causes and effects, implying your reply can be only one of a few different answers. You decide to challenge him a bit, and answer outside his frame. Immediately you feel him tensing up, feeling invalidated, even a bit frustrated. You feel sorry for him feeling hurt, after he showed genuine interest in you. To compensate and give control back to him, you make a joke about your answer. Being quickly agitated, it seems hard for him to understand the point of view of other people. You feel glad to have noticed his frustration, and agree to walking on eggshells for the time being.
Telling something about yourself, it seems he picks up subtle nuances on how you life your life. It fascinates you, that he is so very rational and process oriented, but extremely sensitive as well. Carefully telling him about this, it makes him open up a bit. It appears he needs to feel seen before he can show himself. He cannot protect himself, and trusts on the sensitivity of other people to not get hurt. A difficult position you imagine.
Opening up a bit, he shares some of his analysis on life, what kind of people exist, and why they behave in what way. You decide to not confront him with putting people in boxes, and assume that out of fear he needs to feel an illusion of control about what happens around him. Again, the theme of fear and control. Instead you ask him about unpredictable people. It seems he almost hates them, clenching his jaw while answering that inconsistent people are horrible. He just showed another pointer for anger.
"Fear, distrust, control, anger, and being unreachable while pretending to be available..." The words echo through your mind, and feeling them together translates into some sort of lifelessness. He talks like he has his life in order, but all his expressions point to another direction. He rarely smiles, speaks from a heavy and dense energy with a high pitched voice, his eyes reveal hidden sadness, his whole body is extremely tense, and he uses calculated objective words, with little adjectives. He seems to be moving from analyzing one frame to the next one, instead of experiencing the flow of life. Staying far away from of a real connection, he seems to protect himself. It doesn't look like he knows anymore what he is protecting.
The conversation is nearing to an end, although he doesn't seem to notice that. It is as if he is expecting you to tell him what to do. There is even a helplessness, trying to make you into caring for him. You catch yourself thinking that he is easy to take advantage of. Shortly after, you let him know that you would like to leave for your car. Hastily, he prepares to leave, and apologizes for not noticing it. Calmly you tell him that there is no need to worry. Looking him in the eye, you silently wish him to keep meeting people that treat him with respect. In the past it must have been different. With a genuine handshake and smile you part your way. You notice that he keeps pulling on you, even after you left his sight.
State of Living
Considering my my incapacities and where I came from, I took great steps by leaving Christianity behind, moving to an unknown city, and starting a new life there. During the week I was writing code and managing projects, in the evenings I was taking dancing classes. In the remaining evenings and weekends, I was either seeing friends or resting, and reading some books about self development. I also joined a local football team, sporting two times per week. And I took up voluntary work, by working in a shelter for homeless people once a month. I was shifting my life to the best of my abilities.
If you would ask me at that time if I was happy, I would probably be silent for a few seconds, and reply with mind-based reasons why I thought that I was doing "okay". But I could not answer from my heart. I could only answer that question for the parts of my life that I could allow myself to see.
To some extent I knew that my body was not super flexible, and that I was a bit angry sometimes. I noticed my nightmares, my challenges with women, wanting to have more friends and to be more spontaneous, but I didn't gave it much attention, I thought it to be normal for me, it was just how it was. In reality, I could feel small parts of my wounds, but I simply could not handle myself feeling more of it. Deep inside, I had a vague feeling that I kept pushing away, telling me that I was not even remotely happy. It was a subconscious defense mechanism, to convince myself that I am okay. If I would face my harsh reality in its totality, I would instantly be in a state of shock, retraumatizing myself, unable to take any action for the better.
But deep, deep down, I was always in shock. Terrified, immensely sad, and desperate of what happened to me in my youth, unable to understand with my feelings and mind what happened. Subconsciously I was constantly scared of anything similar happening again, still living as if any next moment I could be humiliated or being beaten while lying on the ground. All the memories, feelings, and beliefs of my childhood: they were controlling me on the innermost layers of my being. I disconnected from them, and tried to live from my mind, without feelings. And with my mind I convinced myself I was doing okay. But apart from living up to my own rules and goals, almost everything else in my life showed, that I was not doing okay at all.
Once, already being two years into my healing journey, I was in a group therapy session. The therapist explained that we have an internal dashboard in our brain, that shows the status of our feelings. For example if we are very lonely, or very angry, the light for loneliness or the light for anger will start to flash red. The light tells us we should do something about it, like calling a friend to feel less lonely, or expressing our anger so that it can be released. The therapist asked around in the group, about what light was frequently asking flashing red in each of us. Someone replied with not feeling seen, the other with needing to put himself first, and someone else with expressing her boundaries. I told the therapist that my whole dashboard was constantly flashing with red lights. I was used to ignoring my internal dashboard, and through my mind I was living the life that was expected from me.
I was totally disconnected from my feelings and what was truly happening inside and outside of me. I had no clue about why and in what way, I was attracting what people and situations around me. Additionally, to navigate my life, I was using a map that was not based on how life works. The deepest meaning of life is reflected in how it touches our deepest feelings. Feeling life keeps us in harmony with it and ourselves, allowing us to join the rich flow of life. In contrast, I had no clue that I was trying to live my life by thinking it through, constantly stopping it. Also, I was unaware of what opportunities I was missing from the automatic flow of life, that could give me growth and joy.
◆ ◆ ◆
Now, having travelled far into my healing journey, and still having a great distance to go, it is starting to become clear what I was really feeling, and what was really going on. In the upcoming paragraphs I will try to give a meaningful description of my inner life at that time. It useful to know that in the past, my wounds were not always active, but they were always limiting my life. And if in some rare moments I was somewhat at ease, I was in a precarious balance that was easily destroyed. But below the surface I was always in shock, being susceptible for any wounded behavior.
Writing about my wounds, I have no illusion that I have even healed one of them completely. However, most of the time, I am able to take responsibility for my wounds, emotions, thoughts and behavior.
Practically this means, that I notice when my wounds are growing in pain, before they can express themselves into destabilizing or harmful behavior towards myself or people around me. When that happens, I can take care of myself, and express my feelings to myself and others. Sometimes I ask for help. The practical result is that my behavior is now functional, allowing me to enjoy life, to have intimate relationships, and to follow my deepest passions.
Next to that, I do claim that I am rationally aware of most of my wounds. This means in any moment I can still loose myself in them, but afterwards I can open to what really happened, and if necessary, I can give them priority in my life.
Below you can read about my wounds and my behavior that was controlling my life until my early thirties.
◆ ◆ ◆
[todo: bevestiging zoeken, ook via grapjes]
[todo: keur mensen af binnen enkele minuten, "saai" "dom" etc]
I believed that I was very ugly from the inside, scared of showing myself, having lots of toxic shame. I was still living inside the same shock, abuse, humiliation, loneliness, and terror that I experienced in my childhood. With everyone I met, I still made the same many assumptions about what behavior, feelings, and thoughts were allowed and not allowed, and what repercussions could follow. I kept on making the same assumptions about how badly people would treat me, and why I deserved that.
I was still living inside that same prison, together with suppressing severe amounts of fear, anger, hate, and sadness. I did not dare to touch the walls of my prison, testing out boundaries with people. I just did not show myself to people, believing what I truly felt and thought was not welcome. Everywhere I went I was not welcome: sooner or later people would find out about my ugliness and always causing trouble. I frequently broke eye contact and other forms of relational connection. Some people radiate their presence all around them, a feeling of "Here I am". I was radiating "I'm not here".
I was scared of other people's frustration and my own frustration as well, they would cause trouble. I ignored my own boundaries and related feelings, could not express them, neither most of my wishes. And sometimes I was hypersensitive for my boundaries, they were a deep wound that I sometimes got aware of. If I felt violated, I learned to hide my feelings. Not having access to my anger, boundaries and sadness, forgiving other people was almost impossible for me. Being in a relationship with me was like walking on eggshells.
I believed that nobody loved me, and that I was not worthy of living. I was neither worthy of smiling, sharing joy, friendships, celebrations, and affection with other people. Those things were for other people, but not for me. I had little dignity and self love, and was easily offended. After feeling offended I escaped into shutting down my feelings and convincing myself that I am superior, judging and humiliating the other person in return. If I heard people laughing a few meters away, I assumed it was about me.
I skillfully managed to hide all of my feelings of superiority, fear, hate, sadness, and masked them with decent and respectful appearing behavior. I believed that if I showed any of my forbidden feelings, I would be attacked. I heavily mistrusted anyone, especially women. If people would be friendly to me, I frequently mistrusted them and reacted distantly and sometimes cold. I expected people to always twist reality so that they would not have to take responsibility for their actions and perspectives. For other people, I was very hard to read, to get a bead on.
I believed that I was autistic and that my feelings, instinct and impulses were broken. I could not trust and act on my them, they are wrong and would always cause trouble. I would withhold signs of appreciation and affection towards others for the same reason. And, expressing them would me make vulnerable so that I can be humiliated and taken advantage of. I simply did not notice most of my impulses anymore. I could not feel my impulses like when I needed fresh air, warmer clothes, water, food, or human company. Not listening to my impulses, often I was stuck in apathy, numbness, and inaction, unable to energize and move myself into action in order to care for myself.
Being disconnected from my feelings, prevented me from developing an emotional awareness of where people currently are, and where they are coming from. I could not see their inner emotional compass, and could not understand any direction they were taken in their life. I frequently guided myself and my relationships into destructive dynamics. I could only see life from my perspective, because there is only one predictable truth. I had little capacities to see what my share was in creating any situation. It was hard for me admit guilt, and I frequently blamed others. Anything else would arouse my fears. I could stay stubborn in my own way of thinking for a very long time.
I saw life as a structured predictable process. Believing that life was predictable made me feel a bit safe, as an antidote to my immense fears. And because life actually is unpredictable, I was constantly in mind analyzing and processing what just happened and what would be coming, changing my understanding and rules of life so that it would be predictable again. My mind was always racing, on and on, fooling myself.
Frequently having frustrations about anything, I could be endlessly fixated on them, in the thoughts they would create in my mind. I was not able to feel the underlying feeling, understand and accept what happened in reality, and move on. I just did not not know how to get out of my loops. The only way to get out, was connecting my thoughts with my feelings, and the people and life around me. But because I learned that the outside world is not safe for me, and feelings are painful, I kept on being stuck. Endlessly.
I believed life was about controlling other people or being controlled. Rejecting emotions and spontaneity, I believed that everyone's life was run through their minds. My only way of defending myself was by trying to control what people think. If they would have a different ideas on something, sooner or later they would offend and abuse me, just like my parents would abuse me. I tried to manipulate and control what other people where thinking, by subconsciously sending them anger. I felt threatened if they had different perspectives. I was scared to speak out if I had a different perspective.
Offended by anyone's different perspective, I would be submissive(passive) in front of them, and aggressive when they did not have my attention. For me, conversations and discussions were not about an equal exchange of thoughts and emotions, in which both sides speak their truth. When someone showed any sign of anger or frustration, I would startle, and change my point of view hoping them to calm down. For me anger or frustration meant being beaten and humiliated, instead of simply another person having different feelings toward something or someone.
I used my emotional helpless to get sympathy from other people, and made them into caring for me. They could use me in return, and I felt entitled to be taken care of. Disconnected from my own feelings, I was able to get lost in the reality, truth, and wishes from other people, if someone manipulated me into (falsely) feeling secure. I had a tendency to completely open up to them, in honesty, obedience and loyalty, manipulating them into caring for me, just like I had to manipulate my parents into caring for me. It was easy to take advantage of me.
Disconnected from my feelings and inner beauty, I assumed that my inside world and those of others do not matter. Consequently, I misunderstood that things like joy, acceptance, friendship and happiness were a result of outer appearance. Lost in my mind, disconnected form my feelings, heavily deprived of happiness and terrified of rejection, I was obsessed with outer appearance, like popularity, success, weight, clothes, and looks. My mother once said about someone else "she is a very nice lady, but very thick, so, well..." implying by her tone of voice and facial expression that it's a grave sin. The outer appearance of someone else could be a reason for me to keep someone at a distance, if they did not match my criteria of perfection. As soon as I would find myself in a new group of people, I would scan around and look for the few people who I approved. I would reject the rest.
As a result of the consistent humiliation by my mother, I was severely holding back my masculinity. I suppressed my sexuality, actively rejecting it as being sinful, dangerous and abusive, as that was how my mother treated my sexuality. Instead I was trained in being overly serving the female sensitivity. I rarely took action, leadership or initiative when around a women, except for serving them. My genitals have a tendency to become smaller when they are in standby, my mother emotionally castrated me.
Being terrified of women, having a romantic relationship was impossible for me. I would constantly feel that I would be doing everything wrong, I could not express my boundaries and wishes, I expected woman to emotionally take care of me, I expected them to very inconsistent, manipulative, and I would frequently despise them if they were not around, acting submissive when they were near. I could not bring in my feelings to build an emotional foundation that is essential in a relationship. As soon as I was feeling more of my heart around my partner, I would also feel my immense pains and shut my heart down again, rejecting my partner in any way. I was unable to stop a relationship, on a deeper level being scared of losing my mother again.
In lovemaking, I could not surrender, I was simply too scared and needed to stay in control all the time. Later in life when I got aware of my abuse, I told my partners that they needed to be extra careful around my thighs and stomach, otherwise these parts think they will get beaten again. Initially, my sexual fantasies were getting urinated over by my mother, and being beaten and penetrated by my father. Living with my parents, my sexual integrity was compromised as well.
Related to my father, I developed the assumption that all man are pathetic and can not stand their ground. They are easily manipulated and angered, and I am in competition with them, instead of them being my brothers. I felt intimidated by man that can really stand their ground, trying to not make them angry at me.
When someone would give me a pat on my shoulder, I would get flashback of being beaten by my father. As I was taught, I believed that the only way to solve conflicts was through manipulation and physical intimidation. When I was around children that would annoy me, I would get impulses of hitting and beating them.
For several periods of many months and years, I would have nightmares of my youth, 5-7 times per week. I did not remember having genuinely pleasant dreams. My nightmares were about getting shot or attacked by my father, being in conflict with my mother, or being rejected. Growing up, I feared for my life. I also had many nightmares in which I was somewhere in a public place, only to discover that I was not wearing any clothes around my legs, feeling completely exposed and humiliated.
Throughout my whole body there were signs of severe humiliation. My whole body was extremely tense, and at several places I had disfigurements, like a tilted and crooked spine. I also had many weak areas that where frequently injured, like my left knee, lower back, neck and right foot. Blood circulation was low, and I frequently had cold feet and hands. My heart rate in rest was around 80-90 bpm, and my breath was barely noticeable and hearable. My voice had a high pitch, reflecting my fear.
To help me suppress my emotions, I had a lot of sugar every day, and I overate at dinner. I was unable to sleep at healthy times, and I frequently slept in, laying in bed in apathy. I believed life to be hard. I frequently lost myself in feeling a victim of life, suppressing those feelings as well. I was addicted to playing computer games, it was the only place where I would not be humiliated and beaten. My house was a mess most of the time, I barely made efforts on making a nice place for myself.
Core Of My Wounds
The core of my wounds was a very deep shame. With all the pain, sadness, humiliation, and terrorizing that happened during my youth, I concluded that I caused all of it. My parents kept pointing to me (and my older Brother) with everything that happened, and constantly attacking me for it. Complementary, with all the chaos, there was virtually no opportunity for me to open my heart, and to live from my softness, sensitivity and well wishing to myself and others. It simply was too dangerous to explore these and other qualities that are inside of me. So I grew up, simply not knowing how beautiful I am. In my twenties, my father once said "I'm surprised how very sweet Wouter actually can be". My mother kept dismissing my emotions as if they didn't amount to anything. My parents did not know me either, just like they do not know themselves.
Instead, all I saw around me was frustration, conflict and other forms of darkness: these were the only clues that I used to create my self-image. And when I would coincidentally act from my purity, I would be attacked and destroyed, like a plant that keeps sprouting new twigs, which are stamped on and crushed. Again, and again, and again.
There were no opportunities in my youth to show to myself how beautiful I can be. So my self-image was based on believing that I had no inner beauty, and that I caused situations like conflict, disappointment, pain, being a burden, hate, humiliation, and terror. I concluded that this could only mean that I am very ugly from the inside. And that must be the reason why nobody really loves me, and why people want to humiliate, control, and hurt me. Also, I believed that my feelings where broken, listening to, and acting on them, would only create even more pain. This was my core wound, and the origin of almost all of my behavior and beliefs until my thirties.
I could never how my sadness, fear and anger to my parents. Because then I would mirror back their darkness back to them, which is something they avoided at all costs through physical and emotional violence. So I learned that my emotions are bad, and that they should play no part in my life.
My core wound of shame convinced me that I was deeply broken, impossible to heal, and I had to find ways to live with it, alone. Even the psychologists said that I was broken by diagnosing me with autism, while I actually was a victim of childhood abuse. This prevented myself from exploring my wounds, and to start living from a place of healing and acceptance. In this way I could never heal, accept, and use my powers, that would allow me to incrementally shape up my life. I was extremely stuck, and all my wounded beliefs and behaviors were immobilizing me even more. I found a way of living so that my wounds were minimally touched and I convinced myself that I was doing okay. But behind all of this, my deep wounds were still my deep wounds.
Furthermore, my wounds were heavily reflected in how I felt constantly unwelcome, how I suppressed my anger and sadness, and how my body tried to protect myself as best as it could.
◆ ◆ ◆
Wherever I went in life, I assumed that I was not welcome. It even was one of my truths, I simply knew it. For all the bad things that I had done, for all the troubles that I had caused, being an inconvenience for existing, being very ugly deep inside, other people just did not want me near them. And if they showed otherwise, they were probably pretending or playing along the rules, just like my parents were pretending they loved me when I was young.
During a time in my life in which I was journaling a lot, I mostly did this in cafe's in my neighborhood. But while picking cafe's, I assumed people didn't like me coming there. So I had a lot of cafe's that I alternated, before I went to a cafe I had recently been to. Sometimes when I would be recognized, the staff could smile at me. I felt wrong for making them recognize and smile at me, I thought that I must have come too often to their place. I simply believed their smiles were fake and that they didn't want me in their place.
Sometimes in life, people would feel what I was doing, and they said to me "Wouter, you are a nice boy, I really like you". I couldn't hear what they were saying, I didn't dare to believe in the opportunity they were serious to me. If I would open up to hearing what they said, it probably was false and I would be rejected again, feeling immense pain and loneliness. I ignored them. Just like my parents did not want me to exist, the whole world did not want me to exist.
While I experimented a bit with looking people in the eyes, it was extremely scary and I only did it for short moments. Looking longer, I felt shame when I exposed myself by looking other people in the eye. There weren't any memories or images or thoughts that would enter my mind, but just being extremely scared of showing myself, because I believed that I was ugly and that I was always causing pain. Showing my deep ugliness would mean that the other person would become angry at me and would reject me, and I would feel pain and lonely. All the humiliation, rejection, and judgements that I received from my parents, it translated into a huge feeling of shame for showing myself.
Apart from expecting to be rejected, I also felt I was unworthy of having a happy life and lovingly being taken care of. It was caused by constant abuse, and seeing my younger sister and brother being constantly favored over me. Through this, I was programmed to believe and feel, that a happy life was not meant for me. So if there was a party, a nice event, or any joy to be shared, I felt I was not deserving that. I do not belong with spontaneous, successful, and happy people. It simply is, not for me. I learned to evade situations that would give me joy and a sense of belonging. Additionally, I could not reach out and ask for help, I believed I was not worthy of receiving love, and getting rejected again would bring even more pain. My reflex in my arms of reaching out was completely gone.
In my 30's I went to see a physical therapist that is specialized in treating trauma. He would touch the imbalances of my body while I am lying on a massage table. When certain emotions and images would come up, he would guide me to process and heal them. I visited him over hundred times, and the first tree times I visited him, he kept repeating "I see many of signs of humiliation in your body". The most visible being my crooked upper back, anterior pelvis tilt, my tense face and eyes, disconnected movements of my limbs, and extreme tension all over my body. In the beginning, when he would only come near me without even touching me, I would already have many images and flashbacks of getting beaten, my whole body tensing up even more, reliving my abuse. In real life, I would feel this with many people I met, greatly suppressing it. Fox example, I would get flashbacks of being abused when people would give me a friendly pat on my shoulder or back.
◆ ◆ ◆
I tried to hide my sadness as far away as possible, I was scared of crying. Subconsciously, I was still scared from my parents, because they heavily beat me when I was crying. I could only cry if they would understand why I was crying. Otherwise I was just trying to get attention, and I would be beaten into silence. When I felt a need to cry, I was trying to understand why I was crying. If I could not understand it, I would stop my crying. I could not give myself permission to cry freely. The disconnection between my mind and my emotions severely limited my self expression. Physically, my body prevented me from crying as well. When I actually was crying, the related muscles would tense up, so that I would produce only hiccups, with barely noticeable sound. This is also known as inward crying.
Most of my wounds, I lived through my anger, which I also heavily suppressed. As a result of the nightmares, until my thirties, almost each morning I had to recover from my intense nights. Almost each morning during the first few hours, I was angry and low on energy. Later in day it was usual to have one or a few additional episodes of anger, which typically lasted between 30-90 minutes. I was feeling anger in my system, and my mind tried to give me situations that could have caused it. It could be any situation that happened just a few moments ago or thirty years ago.
Almost daily I would also think about my parents and how extremely much I hated them. Naturally I also had this hate towards myself, for being so "stupid" and "unworthy" that I lived with them. And often I projected this hate to people around me, wherever I would see them. When I felt violated by people, I would imagine how I would attack or sometimes kill them.
My anger could pop up in any moments, after which I consistently suppressed it with my mind. I could already feel my anger when I was walking on the sidewalk, and I saw someone walking towards me in the opposite direction. In my mind I would expect him to walk into me, and I was already getting angry at him for this hypothetical situation. Being in a conversation and someone said something I didn't agree on, I would feel anger towards the other person, especially if it was a woman. Based on my childhood, I felt forced to adopt the view of any other person. Naturally, I would also feel scared to say that someone else wouldn't agree on. Because I assumed whenever I said something, I forced the listening person to adopt my point of view, and he might become angry about it. For me life existed about forcing each other into each other's points of view and behavior. Any difference would mean conflict.
When the actions of someone else impacted me negatively, however small or big, I would feel anger towards that person. Immediately my emotional memories would be activated, in which my parents gravely offended me. So in face of any adversity with a person, I would detach from the connection, and suppress my immense anger. This could be a split second or days, depending on what was touched. Having learned that anger is not welcome, I tried to hide it, and I continued the connection artificially from my mind. But because I could never really feel my anger, I could never discover how my boundaries were violated, or feel what was needed to restore them. So whatever (perceived) misgivings I received from anyone else, I could simply not forgive them. I learned myself to suppress any anger, whatever it cause, and behave artificially until the anger subsided. Never being able to express my anger, I lived in hate as well, to anyone that happened to be in my crosshair when I was hateful. All this sadness, anger, and hate, I kept it hidden from the outside world.
◆ ◆ ◆
My emotional wounds were reflected in imbalances and contractions in my body. They were attempts of my body to protect and hide my wounds from the outside world and myself, preventing them to be vulnerable.
My upper back was crooked, which is called kyphosis, reflecting humiliation. My lower back was tightened and shortened, it felt like a hard plank. My neck was very tense as well, pulling my head backwards to protect it, like the reflex of a prey that is being grappled onto the neck. I developed a spontaneous injury in my trapezius muscle. My tight lower back was tilting my hip backwards, holding a lot of fear, and it destabilized and tightened my legs and feet. Sitting in lotus position was impossible for me, just like bending forward from of my lower back. The muscles of my upper legs where one block as well, I could simply not relax them: if I would take the top of my quadriceps muscles, and move it left and right, the whole muscle group, including its lowest part, would move left and right in the same way. Virtually all my muscles in my whole body where extremely tense.
Having tight shoulders, I was constantly pulling up my arms, and my chest was heavily contracted all of the time as well. Even while having kyphosis, I still pulled my chest up to appear bigger and untouchable. Logically, my spine was very imbalanced, and my neck was in a very unnatural position to keep my head straight. My head was the only part that was somewhat artificially straight, reflecting the fact that I escaped into living in my mind.
Standing up, I would heavily lean onto my left leg, tightening it even more. I developed a chronic injury in my left quadriceps and my left knee. I was standing on the middle part of my foot, sinking in my feet, instead of resting on my heel. Logically my calves where very tense as well. While leaning left, my right leg was slightly hanging in the air. In an attempt to stay connected, my right knee was hyperextended, turning slightly inwards, and with my right big toe I tried to grasp the ground. My right big toe joint had a chronic dislocation, it was always bend as well. My left shoulder was higher than my right. The left side of the body relates to the emotional and receptive qualities of a person, while the right side relates to the qualities of action and ratio. I fixated my emotions, trying to achieve artificial freedom in my thinking. My right leg being free, it was unconnected to the ground, searching for life, trying to make sense of what was going on.
Most muscles can be divided in three groups, muscles for breathing, for standing and walking relaxed, and for being in any action. My muscles for breathing and being relaxed were so tensed up, that I was using my action muscles to force air into myself instead of breathing. If I would be sitting on a chair, at times I heard a constant clicking sound in my neck vertebrae, because I used muscles in my neck to pull air into my lungs. My belly was constantly sucked in, even when I would be standing relaxed, or resting in bed laying on my back. My diaphragm was constricted, I could not breath with my belly. To breath in my belly, I could only force air into it. Because of my tight chest, sternum and ribs, I could rarely breath in my chest as well. I tried to protect my heart as best as I could, being completely closed. Even when lying next to me, you could not hear me breathing. I did not dare to make a sound. Breathing in and out should be like a camping mat: your whole body participates, being noticeable even in your feet. I had very short breaths, only minimally expanding my chest. I did not dare to take any space, and gave it back very quickly after having breathed in.
Related to my face, my eyes were widened, so that I could see any danger as fast as possible. At the same time my eyes tried to hide my pain and loneliness, not daring to reach out anymore. My eyes had similarities to the shape of triangles, they revealed suppressed sadness. My tight neck heavily tightened my eye muscles, I needed glasses to see sharp in the distance. My whole face was tense, out of fear my mind was always in hyper focus, and my forehead was constantly tight, developing a chronic headache. Out of suppressed anger, my jaws were very tight, and I would grind my teeth at night. During photos I would often have my eyes closed, even the sound or light of a flash could startle me. My lips would be defensively closed, pointing a bit downwards, revealing the suppressed grief.
Because I had so much fear in my body contracting everything, my blood circulation was low, and I often had cold hand and feet. My lymphatic system was heavily impaired, giving raise to inflammations later in life. The lower blood and oxygen supply to my hands and feet made them age faster, looking older than the rest of my body. The muscles around my lower arm where very tight as well, it prevented the ulna and radius to rotate freely around each other. My heartbeat in "rest" was around 80-90bpm, even while I exercised regularly. All over my body, my skin was contracted and rigid. Because of the low blood circulation, my skin was pale as well. Being in rest did not exist for my body. But if I was not doing anything in particular, my hands were frequently in fists, and I contracted other parts throughout my whole body.
Revisiting reality
Sometimes I connected with my deep pains for a short moment, like when I was alone on new year's eve. In these few moments I would think about my feelings, write them down, and try to give them a place in my mind. Afterwards I would quickly jump back into my mind, feeling fear, which I masked to myself and others with superiority. But I could not feel about what I was thinking, let alone exploring feelings on their own and following them. I was unable to trust, that only my feelings can take me to forgotten places. Places in my heart that I had abandoned a long time ago.
<Lena>
However, within me there was a feeling growing, being frustrated and disappointed that I was still single. I longed for the warmth and affection from a woman. And what I needed was a woman that would love me as I am, even with my many incapacities and deep pains. In that way, I could start to love myself again, and regain my trust in women. Because unconsciously, I was still believing that I am very ugly from the inside, that woman only want to humiliate me, and that nobody really loves me. But I was not aware of any of this.
Instead, I felt I needed to have a girlfriend, and my mind took it over from there. I lost myself in all kinds of fantasies what it would be like to have a girlfriend. The bigger the hole grew of not loving myself and missing a women in my life, the more disconnected and grandiose my fantasies became. I imagined I would have a model like girlfriend, like in the Disney and Hollywood movies. And she would always be happy, smiling, sexy, intelligent and funny. She would be the one that would save me, give me a happy life and make me feel seen.
I started reading books that made me believe such a fantasy was realistic, also reading practical advice on how these women where apparently to be seduced. I further illusioned myself, by selecting specific moments of my life that supported my image of superiority. Because of those moments, I considered myself the best of the best, so I deserved the best of the best girlfriend. My mask of superiority led me further astray.
I was convinced that I really needed a girlfriend and I wanted to experience making love. I wanted that so bad, that I even set a goal, needing to have lost my virginity within a year. If I just practiced seducing women, I would gradually increase my skills. And in due time I would have a super hot girlfriend who would make me happy. In reality, I was giving myself all sorts of false promises and hope. True happiness come from the inside, and you can only attract a partner that has a compatible level of happiness. My mind-ideals where disconnected from what I needed on an emotional level. But because I could not use my feelings to connect theories with reality, my disconnected theories in my mind were my only guide.
I started to practice the skills of a pickup artist. Little did I know that it was incompatible with my wounds and my inner character. For a few times, I walked down the Kalverstraat, a shopping street in Amsterdam. And while walking, I tried to push myself to start conversations with women. I did not manage to start any conversation. I tried my luck in bars in the evening, going there alone. But emotionally I was so frozen, that I had little success. With my mind, after many failed attempts, I once forced myself looking at a woman for 30 seconds, trying to make contact. There was no empathy or playfulness in my stare towards her, it was mechanic.
I was unaware that a connection with someone else is about listening to your own feelings, and allowing your feelings to inspire you how to connect. Instead I learned to distrust my feelings, so all I had left was my disconnected mind. To her, standing at the other side of the room, it must have been unpleasant, maybe even intimidating, to have a guy staring at you. Another time I managed to start a conversation and I tried to use my tricks to keep the conversation going. It felt awkward to me, being dishonest about what you want to say and why.
In hindsight, what I truly needed was learning to trust my own feelings again. If I would be guided in understanding that deeper layers of feelings point to deeper truths, I could use these deeper truths to allow my life and behavior to happen, instead of forcing something from my mind. But as written above, my actual path was different. I needed to experience the contrast that is visible now.
◆ ◆ ◆
My efforts were not producing the results I expected. Desperate for results, I considered taking lessons in relating to women and seducing them, but I did yet not follow up on that. Instead, I created an account on a dating website. My ego felt hurt that I had not succeeded in real life, and my illusions where painfully starting to fade. Via the dating website I started mailing with a woman, let's call her Alice for now. We enjoyed sending e-mails to each other, and she made a very empathetic and soft impression on me. We decided to meet in real life.
Lost in my mind, disconnected from my feelings, unaware of the value of inner beauty and terrified of rejection, I was judging people heavily by their outer appearance, and my reaction towards Alice was no different. In my mind I fantasized about how very pretty Alice would be. Consequently, I was disappointed that she was not as pretty as I fantasized her to be. "Nevertheless", we would have our date.
But during our date she managed to open my heart. I noticed that she had a beautiful smile, a sparkling joy, was very soft and extremely accommodating, still had her own opinion, and was kind to me and other people. Intelligent and funny too, didn't take herself too serious. Actually I liked the way she looked. She was simply wonderful. She♥ was able to pierce through my strong mask and armor of still being terrified from my childhood, that was strongly rejecting and judging her at the same time. Even when I had suffered so much humiliation, meanness and rejection from the first woman in my life, my mother, I was able to open my trust towards Alice, if only for a little bit. I fell in love with Alice, and she fell in love with me.
But again, I was not aware what was happening. Consciously, after our date I had some memories of her beautiful smile and kindness, which I liked very much. At the same time, I was rejecting her a lot through my mask of being terrified, judging her to be too thick. I also felt a desire to be with her, but could not feel that I actually was in love with her. That was all I was aware of.
As soon as I would allow my mind to think about Alice, I would reject her again, just like I was rejecting myself. Through all the abuse in my childhood, I trained my mind to be super strong to defend myself. But it was heavily working against me now, I could not allow myself to love someone, it was far too dangerous. My mind was even stronger than the feeling of being fully in love with Alice. My mind would filter anything imperfect that would lead to "rejection". When in my heart, I could see her beauty. When in my mind, I would actively make her ugly in behavior or appearance. If I did not make her ugly, it meant I would start to love her more, which was too dangerous. I learned with my mother that when I open my love to a woman, I would be crushed by humiliation and manipulation.
And even if I heavily suppressed my mind, it meant I would have to trust saying or acting on what I truly felt for her, that I love her. But I believed that my feelings were broken, so I could not take them serious: believing my feelings and acting on them would only cause more trouble. Next to that, becoming aware of my feelings was extremely difficult for me, because I needed to suppress my feelings almost constantly, otherwise I would feel my enormously painful childhood wounds. When opening up to feeling, it is impossible to choose what to feel and not to feel. You either open up to feeling, feeling more of everything, or you close down, feeling less of everything, all the way down to not feeling anything at all. Anything that is not felt, is mistranslated through the mind, in desperate attempts to keep you afloat.
I had great difficulties connecting to my feelings of loving her, just like I could not connect to the other feelings inside of me. At rare moment when I felt my love for Alice, I would feel joy and a wish to be with her. But as soon as I became conscious about it, my mind started to interfere, judging and rejecting her. It happened similar to when I was young and I noticed that I started to smile about something: I told myself that I am not worthy of smiling, and I stopped smiling. In my youth and with Alice, I could not open up to connect around me, it was far too dangerous. I was terrified.
◆ ◆ ◆
Related to Alice, it was a constant ping pong with opposite perspectives, between my mind and my heart, between rejection and judgments, and love. And the more I tried to understand what was going on, the faster the ping pong went, and the bigger the pingpong ball grew. Throughout our whole relationship, it drove me to intense frustration, shame, judgments, anger, sadness, hypocrisy, headache, and tiredness. It drove me crazy. But now, taking a step back from all of this, in my childhood I simply was made emotionally sick by my parents. And in my relationship with Alice, it finally started to show itself to me: I had great difficulties loving someone on a basic level. Talking with my friends about it, they said that I was overreacting, and were hoping that I could find my way with it.
I was totally unaware of what dynamics where at play. I did not not even know the difference between living in my heart and living in my mind, let alone having awareness on what place I was living in each moment. To me it felt like two separate rooms with its complete own perspectives and truths on life. In some moment I was in one room, and in the next moment I could be magically in the other room, with complete opposite feelings, thoughts and truths on Alice and life. Having been in the other room would only feel like some vague distant memory, with no way to return to it.
I did not understand that my judgements were only possible when I was living in the false truths of my mind. And I did not understand that when I was living in my mind, I was in deep fear, not feeling safe, mistrusting people around me and running from the wounds inside of me, terrified of showing myself through who I love. And as long as I had deep and open wounds, I would consistently push myself back to living inside my mind, out of my heart, rejecting and judging myself and anyone, including Alice. I obsessed about Alice because I was lost, living inside the maze of my own mind.
The cause was way deeper than I could reach at that time. I assumed my feelings and thoughts towards Alice were some kind of mathematical equation. But with logic I could not solve it. Looking with my mind inside my mind, I could never find the invitation to grow inside my heart. Now looking back, the only concrete solution would be intense therapy for my childhood wounds. In this way my heart would become a safe place to live in again, and I could be with Alice while living inside of my heart. But at that time, I simply was not yet ready to face myself.
My confusion and insecurity towards Alice made me hesitant in important moments in our relationship. I felt I really wanted to be with her and I loved her, but while living in my mind, I could not see a future for us. I felt fake, a cheater and hypocritical, scared of being exposed. Not knowing the dynamics of what was happening inside of me, I felt helpless as well. In the beginning of our relationship, with great fear and shame I told Alice the reason why I was doubting. She told my that I could have any kinds of doubts, but not the kind I spoke of. She was heavily hurt by my thoughts of finding her unattractive. But after taking some days for herself, she wanted to continue our relationship, she loved me dearly and at that time she needed me as well. I was greatly relieved, but also stressed because I had to keep on struggling inside of myself.
I wanted to say to her that I loved her. But I was terrified to follow my feelings, as I still believed from my childhood that they are broken, and that they only cause trouble. During the whole relationship, I was stuck in this doubt and helplessness. Within a year, we went together on our first holiday, for one week.
But it was too intense for me. We were together for 8 days, and suppressing my patterns for so long exhausted me. My mask to hide my wounds, that I was holding up towards her and in society, I could not hold it up for 8 days straight. Being back home, I was able to recharge in the evenings and in the weekends. But on holiday we were together all the time, requiring me to fight my outward rejection all the time. I could not help but surrender to my wounded behavior, and I started judging her. Feeling judgmental on her and ashamed of myself at the same time, I started to ignore her. When Alice asked what was going on, I hesitantly replied that I had the same thoughts again about her posture, thinking her to be too thick.
The bomb was dropped. Again. In the middle of our first holiday, that was actually supposed to be a celebration of fun and relaxing for the both of us. She was speechless, and went out for a walk. She felt heavily offended, hurt, and unsafe. We went home by plane one day earlier. Her parents picked her up at the airport and offered to take me home as well, but I felt deeply ashamed and took the train back to Amsterdam. I was desperate and started to take cognitive therapy. Again, Alice took some time for herself. Knowing that I started therapy, she decided that she still wanted to continue our relationship. Again, I was greatly relieved and stressed at the same time.
◆ ◆ ◆
I started to take cognitive therapy, visiting a psychologist called Anouk. I had no clue what to expect, my only frame of reference was that I was wrong and broken, and that maybe she could help me. On a deeper level, I was extremely stuck in life, between my shame, mistrust, fear, judgements, sadness, and anger. All of these themes were extremely entangled in each other. Even looking at one little thread without touching it, would put me into shock, making me escape back into my mind. That is in a nutshell the complexity for which I asked Anouk for help.
But as soon as Anouk tried to help me understand something, or invite my feelings, or suggest another point of view, I would immediately close all my doors and shut her out. I would shut Anouk out as well, if I felt she was setting up a path in the conversation to make me realize something. I was hyper vigilant to spot any attempts to push me in any direction. I was extremely terrified of letting a woman into my inner world: Not again. I would not let another woman come into my heart, and let her destroy everything like my mother did. But at the same time, I desperately needed Anouk, because I had so much pains and loneliness in my heart, just like I needed Alice. These pains screamed for a loving woman that would accept and welcome me. Pains that turned to be too challenging to heal within a relationship.
So in these sessions, I ended up talking a lot with Anouk. I mostly kept talking about my thoughts, and very little about my emotions. Anouk did ask questions, but she quickly found out, that I could only explore my world from my point of view, or else I would feel manipulated and offended. When she suggested to have empathy for someone else, I would be triggered, as if my feelings did not matter, like in my childhood. So she would ask what I experienced, and what my thoughts were about it. In between the lines she kept track of I felt, and sometimes asked question pointing to a very small direction, but that is all she could do.
In the beginning of our talks, very slowly I needed to feel that I could trust her, and that she would not abuse or manipulate me. She would simply listen to me and help to validate my emotions and my point of view. Additionally, to challenge if she was to be trusted, I would ask her about her business life and sometimes her private life as well. I asked questions that at first sight were totally irrelevant to my reasons of visiting her. But I needed to check if she really cared about me in some way, and that she was not just pretending, like my parents pretended to be my parents. Luckily she passed that test. She found a way of answering my questions in which she stayed connected to my needs and her boundaries. If she wasn't able to, she would have felt to me as the next women that pretended to be someone who she is not.
During my first five sessions with Anouk, building trust was all I could do. I needed to discover, with little steps, that not all women were out to hurt me. But the sessions had very little effect on how I behaved towards Alice. Alice periodically asked how my sessions where. Having little emotional awareness at that time and being scared of showing myself, it was hard for me to explain what was really going on. In some way she understood that I needed time, but at the same time she grew frustrated about not understanding what I actually was doing with Anouk. Me and Alice did not find a way together, in which she could support me in the wounds that I was uncovering.
Having some basis of trust, I would allow Anouk to ask more about my inner world. We talked about Alice, and how my childhood was. Sometimes I surprised myself by having tears. They usually appeared when I was talking about Alice, or when the wounds of my childhood were slightly touched. Slowly but surely I was starting to reconnect with my painful feelings. At some point I told Anouk that I was beaten by my parents. But I was confused to hear her say, that beating children is not allowed, and that it even is a crime punishable by law. I was told that the things of which I thought were normal, were actually not normal.
Something big was shifting, mountains were starting to move inside of me. I kept this revelation in my thoughts some days, and I suspected something was off during my childhood. I started to assume that in some way it was related to my inability to love Alice. I wanted to get to the bottom of this. I asked my parents individually to come over, to talk about my childhood. They told me the same story that they expressed to me when I was little. I was autistic, and I had a lot of problems with my emotions growing up, and it was very difficult for them to raise me. They portrayed themselves as victims of the situation they created themselves. They were hiding behind a diagnosis that I got, after they abused me into being emotionally disfigured. My mother prided herself on going to therapy by herself for raising me.
When I told my mother that I was extremely sad and lonely when I was young, she humiliatingly replied "oh little boy, yes you had such heavy times with us". From the point of view of my mother, she was still the victim of her own childhood. She needed to heal her own wounds first, before she could see what she had done to her own children. Later in the conversation talking about my difficulties with Alice, my mother replied that I should be even greatly thankful for having such a nice girlfriend, implying that I actually do not deserve her. When I confronted my father with having beat me, he replied with "I simply don't know another way to control children. If you do know another way, let me know." I later heard that my father once said to my younger brother "at one point, Wouter only reacted to physical stimuli".
My parents did not have satisfying answers when I asked them difficult questions. They were still imprisoned by their own wounds, unable to look at themselves. And when I was talking with my parents, I was still trying to fit into their narrative, positioning myself as an autistic boy that was difficult, because I was used to behaving myself like that. In the months that followed, I decided that I needed to find out what really happened, on my own. I did not want to have contact with them anymore. It was a very difficult decision for me, but it later turned out to be the best decision of my life: I do not belong with people that are disrespectful towards me.
But it would still take a long time before I could really feel and discover that truth within myself, walking my own talk. I was still having my own wounds that were controlling me, and that were hurting myself and other people. Sometimes I could not even look at myself in the mirror, but I was fixated on how I rejected Alice. At some point Anouk told me, that she also had insecurities about her weight in the past. She told me about her past insecurities, so that I could express my feelings that I had about her posture towards her. In that way we could explore the underlying real feelings in a safe way. I immediately froze when she told me that. I was not ready to show her my feelings of hate, fear, mistrust, humiliation, shame, disgust, desperateness, loneliness and sadness.
Later I discovered that these feelings were not about Anouk, Alice, or anyone else. These where feelings that I got by being abused by my mother and the loneliness that followed from it. And through additional abuse I learned to heavily suppress them. I confused every woman to be my mother. Even with Anouk I was still terrified of showing them, unaware what they were, or where they came from. Her invitation was ten bridges too far.
It would take me eight more years to feel safe enough to express these feelings, directed towards another female therapist. I directed them full of immense anger and hate, using all kinds of language and catharsis, followed by crying and shaking from being terrified, excessive overeating that evening, and having difficulties sleeping the following nights. I explored these feelings many times, through many techniques. At that time with Anouk, I kept on exploring themes that were more accessible to me.
◆ ◆ ◆
My relationship with Alice did not improve significantly. With little steps I was becoming more aware of my emotions, but I was still unable to take responsibility for my behavior. I was still very unaware of the dynamics that were going inside of me, and towards Alice I kept hiding myself. Sometimes I showed myself deeply in love towards her, but in general there was a dark cloud above us. There was uncertainty about our possible future, and there were many unspoken feelings from both sides. Our emotional connection and intimacy was slowly dripping away.
During our second holiday I could somewhat stay in connection, but I was still struggling a lot, and pretending to be happy. After our second holiday, she asked if I was still struggling with negative thoughts about her posture. Helpless and in shame, I answered by saying yes. Both being in our mid-twenties, we started couples therapy. We tried everything to save our relationship, fighting for each other and ourselves.
Alice was also having difficulties with me not seeing my parents anymore, she could not understand why I stopped seeing them. I was listening to a deep gut feeling that I could not really put into words. But Alice believed that I was discrediting my parents through my "autistic" limitations. She took it out on me with anger, saying I should start seeing them again. For Alice at that time, because of her wounds, being connected to other people was more important than being connected to herself. That was also one of the reasons why we were still together as a couple. And when I was choosing connection with myself instead having connection with my parents, she felt attacked in her beliefs. At this important point in my process of healing, she could not support me, but was working against me. It drove us further apart. Despite her anger, I was able to stay with my decision, which was highly unusual for me back then.
Over time, our relationship was starting to feel empty. Alice suggested we took a few months apart from each other. We would pause our relationship, and after that we would evaluate how we feel about being together or splitting up. After our long break, again, we both decided we wanted to be with each other. We desperately needed each other. Being with each other, we both still needed to find out something about ourselves. Our relationship continued in the same way: the passion was long gone, Alice was feeling insecure, and I was struggling with my mind and my judgments. I still really loved her, but it became increasingly harder to connect with that feeling. I kept on racing in my mind, trying to find a solution in my mind, that could only be found in my heart.
Three and half years having passed in our relationship, Alice decided that she wanted to go on a trip for a few weeks. She wanted to challenge herself and explore life on her own. Our relationship fading, we had little contact during her trip. And when I had no physical connection with her, it was even harder to feel my love for her, and stay in my heart. My wounds kept pushing me into my mind, into being terrified, and judging myself and others.
I started to objectify her even more, and was creating fears of the possibility that she might have gained weight during her trip. Unaware of what was happening, I fixated on that thought, fearing that I could not love her anymore, and that I would be rejected by the people around me. In that period, I was only aware of my judgments. Feeling ashamed of myself as well, I kept endlessly racing in my mind, on and on. And the more I thought about it, trying to fight my mind with my mind, the bigger my worries became.
I was being controlled by my wounds from my childhood. And I was past the point of no return. I was unable to take responsibility for my behavior towards Alice.
◆ ◆ ◆
When Alice returned, I waited for her at the airport, together with her parents. Me and Alice seeing each other again, we could feel our love, but our connection had became more shallow. It felt like I took her for granted, loving her but not knowing how to love her anymore, struggling with my judgments, scared of being exposed for my inner ugliness, hopeless, and scared of losing her.
That night we slept together for the first time again. But when lying next to Alice and hugging her, I was still hypnotized by my fears. At one point my hands where feeling on her body if she had gained weight. I (wrongly) concluded that it was the case. After a few seconds I realized what I was doing, and I snapped out of my hypnosis, pulling my hands back. With shame I told Alice what I was doing. She told me that we would continue the conversation in the morning.
The next morning I did not know where to look or how to behave myself. I felt deeply ashamed. For the rest I was simply unaware what happened: Being controlled by my wounds instead of my conscious awareness, I had humiliated Alice, hurting Alice in her insecurities, and I broke her trust. And while doing that, I had deeply cut myself in my own wounds again, strengthening my belief that I am very ugly.
I left towards my own house. After some days we met again at Alice's house, going for a walk. She told me angrily that she actually lost weight during her trip. And that after what happened, she was unable to trust me again sleeping next to her, even if she wanted to. Hearing what she told me at that time, I had little capacities for truly empathizing with her, other than condemning my own actions.
Some time later she hinted about breaking up, but not doing that yet, in order to care for me. I still had no contact with my parents, and possibly being single again, in a few weeks I would be spending Christmas alone. I said that it is very sweet of her, but that it should not be a reason for her to not choose what she needed. We agreed that we would let sink in what we talked about. Usually when we would walk, we'd hold hands and I chose what path we took. At that day, sometimes she would chose our path. That evening sleeping together, she had put on extra clothes. She could not be vulnerable around me anymore.
After a few days we met at the beach on a dark December. There were many clouds, but you could see rays of the sun passing through clouds. The sky was beautiful. "It is day of hope" I remember myself thinking. Hand in hand, we walked on the beach, still loving each other, and talking about our relationship being stuck. Alice told that me, that many of her friends and family where withholding advice, and only helping her discover how she feels and what she thinks. Because if she made any decision, it had to come from herself.
Our conversation continued about how difficult our relationship has become, and how much hurt there was. At one point she mentioned that she didn't know any way to continue, and that our relationship had become impossible. I stopped in our walking, and asked Alice with fear in my voice"is that what you want, do you want to stop our relationship?". She looked at me, in sorrow and sadness. "Tell me Alice, is that what you want?". She could not say any words, pressing her lips, and with tears starting to flow, she nodded "yes". And she said "Otherwise I would be destroying myself". I looked away and felt my tears coming up.
After some minutes apart, we found comfort by hugging each other dearly, feeling each other while it was still possible. We walked back to the train station, and Alice wanted to still hold my hand. Holding her hand for a few seconds, I pushed hers away, because it hurt me too much. Eventually, I surrendered and hold her hands again. And while taking the train to our last station together, we held on to each other. We both got out at our last station together, kissed each other on the lips and hugged each other. Alice used this last moment together to ask me: "You should not start blaming yourself too much, Wout? And this may sound very stupid, but will you promise me that you will find other people to be with in the coming days?". I replied with nodding my head. I sincerely thanked her for every thing that we had lived together, and we got each into our own train.
◆ ◆ ◆
I was devastated the days after. My world had collapsed, and I had lots of tears. Crying was still difficult for me. Being outside, everywhere I looked, I hoped that Alice would appear again.The following weeks, my heart felt as if it was shaved with a razor blade. And after some weeks, I felt relieved as well, because I did not have to put up with my judgments towards Alice anymore. I could feel and think what I wanted, and nobody would get hurt. I also felt immensely ashamed for what I did to Alice, blaming myself for having humiliated her. I pushed my feelings of shame far away, to the familiar unknown places of my heart.
Subconsciously, I was losing myself in my blame, deepening my wounds even more. I used the breakup as a further confirmation to myself, that I am very ugly from the inside, otherwise I would have no problems loving Alice. And this proved to me even more that my feelings are worthless, because trying to trust my feelings of love, I had humiliated and wounded Alice. I could only see blame and shame for myself. Growing up with my parents, I was trained to be a magnet for blame and shame.
Despite Alice having cautioned me to not blame myself too much, I could not see the bigger picture: We both really loved each other, made many well-intentioned efforts, and within our capacities, we were honest about our feelings. Consistently for three and a half years, we both made multiple self-empowered choices to be together. We both did our best.
Now looking back at my relationship with Alice, there was also a lot of love between us, but there was simply too much pain and misunderstanding. We had many rich moments, of pure love, laughter, on adventure, in nature, celebrating achievements, sharing family and friends, supporting each other at difficult moments, enjoying parties together, and so on. But we were unable to use these moments to increase our intimacy and trust. And because of this shortage, we were not strong enough to face, accept, and heal anything what could happen, unable to turn it around and use it to our advantage.
Being in a close relationship, I was confronted with becoming more close with myself. I could simply not face my wounds of deep shame and self rejection. And we did not find a way, so that Alice could support me in my healing. Instead, it backlashed by projecting my self-rejection into rejecting Alice. Again, we could not find ways, so that I could support Alice into healing her wounds. This ping pong intensified, until I physically humiliated her. And after three and a half years, we were exhausted of loving each other. We both lost ourselves into the dark sides of our wounds, unable to bring them into the light, to discover our beauty underneath.
Only many years later, I was able to connect to my deeper feelings for how my behavior towards Alice: "I did not mean it that way... I was simply terrified... You really are beautiful".
◆ ◆ ◆
I never spoke to Alice again. Half a year after our breakup, I received a loving e-mail from her mother. Next to being thankful for being in each other's life and having respect for everyone's efforts, she repeated that there was no one to blame. She wrote that it was always her intention to welcome me as I am, without reservations, respecting and accepting each other. She wished that I didn't blame myself for anything, reminded me of my positive qualities, and hoped that I was being nice to myself and taking good care of myself. I replied by being thankful for the rich moments with her as well, and that I was grateful for living in a family, in which people are soft and accepting towards each other. Because I simply did not experience that yet. Her e-mail also helped me to blame myself less, although I still lost myself in my blame, pushing it away.
After becoming single again, and being tossed around by my feelings of loss, relief and shame, I was getting some clarity back in my mind. I could clearly see, that how I behaved, proved that something within myself was very off. My words at that time were: "the way I look towards myself and towards other people, for my my age, I am simply not emotionally mature enough, this is not who I want to be". Something really needed to change. At the same time, I was still seeing myself mainly through my own wounds. As a result of the breakup and the self-explorations that followed, I developed another belief, telling myself "I first need to fix myself, I am not pretty enough yet".
To the best of my abilities, I tried to translate what happened into a constructive frame for myself. There can be many self-loving adjustments on my perspectives and beliefs, but in the end, this is what I came up with. These perspectives got my engines running for the next step. And for me, after all that happened, that is all that mattered. I needed to start something moving that was utterly stuck. And the relationship with Alice, surrounded with much of her softness, helped me to start seeing that, for which I am forever grateful towards her, and myself.
Alive of Transformation
EXPLORE YOUR DEEPEST POWER:
- YOUR ABILITY TO TRANSFORM -
Invitations for growth can be challenging
Especially when they touch upon themes
that seem to stagnate you
But when there is a curiosity to investigate
approached with a fine-tuned sensitivity
supported by an inviting methodology
in a space of patience and acceptance:
A beautifully rich opportunity appears
You can automatically connect
with your built-in mechanism
to transform and surprise yourself
I, Wouter
have lived this process many times
It is part of me
I OFFER TO SUPPORT YOU
- TO SURPRISE YOURSELF -
Style
Through touch, voice, and non-doing, I guide people to experience different states of consciousness, breath, spatial & body awareness, and self-expression. These are indirect methods that increase connection to the present moment: supporting the transformation to unfold by itself.
It is a state in which all of your personal qualities are fully playing their own melody, discovering your own symphony that you orchestrate to be your life. Feeling your qualities makes them play in tune, and when challenges make your qualities evolve, you transform your symphony accordingly.
Trusting and allowing each quality to play their right note, at their right time. Creating harmony with life inside and outside of you.
The result is that life starts to adapt to you, instead of the other way around. Your body, mind, and emotions become more at ease. Events that used to distract and frustrate, gradually lose their power over you. Clarity on what is important for you will be increased. It becomes easier to go for what you want from life, and to receive it as well.
My trust in these methods is based on my own journey and training, which is about expanding emotional intelligence and body awareness.
For over 250 days, I was in all kinds of transformational programs. For reference, thorough therapist training programs typically last around 60 days or more, divided over multiple modules and years. Additionally, I received over 350 personal sessions through many different methodologies.
For me it began in my childhood, when through violence I was forced to disconnect from my heart. I lost access to most of my personal qualities of dignity, uniqueness, intuition, vulnerability, sadness, anger, boundaries, acceptance, understanding, forgiveness, joy, patience, empathy, sexuality, trust, and self-love.
Being wounded in many ways, I came to believe that I was broken and ugly inside.
I experienced what is important in this process of rediscovery. Seeing myself again, I started to love myself again, and wishing more of anything for myself. And the more I reconnected, the more I could simply drop my patterns of self-limiting behavior. I transformed my sensitivity into my advantage.
Examples of other themes that I work with are: postural imbalance, spinal misalignment, breathing, perfectionism, withdrawing & overconnecting, fear & terror, shame & judgment, hate, chronic headache, asking for help, grinding teeth, nightmares, eating disorders, and chronic tension & pain.
I like to share my qualities of rediscovery with you. To support you, my trainings allow me to receive a diverse range of intuitive hits. Some of the feedback I have received, is never having felt seen so deep before, and having achieved breakthroughs that were not achieved in many years and sessions of personal development.
During my work, I will do everything I can to make you feel safe, and that the explorations are within your window of tolerance. I am open to accommodate you in any way you need. From my side; most of my methods assume a lying position, some are done sitting or standing, but any variation is possible.
I would love to see you.
Highlighted Activities & Experience
◆ For 65 days during 3 years, I was trained through the methods of core energetics, at Lifeworks NY, and Netherlands Institute of Core Energetics. Additionally, I received over 90 private sessions. Some of the themes were inner child work, embodiment, anger, intimacy, attachment, bio energetics, and role-play based therapy.
◆ For 70 days during 1 year, I was trained in bodily posture, standing, sitting, lying, movement, grounding, manifestation within the body, and energetic healing, at Alexander Technique Centre Amsterdam.
◆ For over 100 sessions during 5 years, I received lessons in body awareness, emotional navigation, breath, trauma release, and de-armoring, taught by Markus Schnizer through the Grinberg method.
◆ For 42 days during 2 years, I was trained in tantra, native American Shamanism, dark eros, and bio energetics, mainly under the guidance of John Hawken in the Czech Republic.
◆ For 2 weeks consecutively, I engaged in waterfasting, withholding from eating and only drinking purified water. Apart from innumerable biological advantages, the mind becomes still, increasing awareness of thoughts, emotions, and behavior.
◆ For one month, I resided in the Osho commune in Pune, India. During my time there, I focused mainly on inner child work(primal deconditioning), family constellations, intimacy, and breathwork.
◆ For 16 days during 6 months, I was trained in circling, which is interpersonal meditation and intuitive trauma healing through non-doing, at Circling Europe.
◆ After attaining a technical BSc and my MSc in Business Administration, I moved to Amsterdam in the early 2010s. With two partners, we had a company and some employees. We created apps and websites for companies like NRC, Vodafone, Red Cross NL, and the Dutch Government, winning some awards as well.
◆ It is my dream to someday publish my journey and its insights, for which I am currently in my writing process. I share more about my inner world than people usually do, because I believe in a world with more transparency. Currently, these articles are available:
◆ And I like to play. Just like I enjoy dancing any style from ballet to modern and hiphop to salsa, any color of life is welcome for me. Mischievous children or animals can totally make my day.
Code on Demand
Hi there, I am Wouter, a code specialist from the Netherlands (MSc UTwente). I am versatile with backend, mobile, and web technologies, comfortable with complex IT challenges in new technologies.
For over 20 years I have been IT. I have worked with many technologies, like java, ruby, .net, kotlin, php, javascript, scss and python, and supporting technologies like sql, big data and ai. In the past I had my own company with some partners and employees, but currently I prefer the freedom of being a freelancer. I like to learn new stuff. Some of the things I wrote myself are an object relational mapper (orm), api mapper, runtime form generator, android hot code reloader, and many other things. A side project of mine was an incremental java compiler with advanced type inference.
Below you can find some highlighted experiences of my career so far.
Groendus
Groendus supports companies on all their matters related to energy: contracts, usage, generation, investments, and billing. Groendus was founded by NPM capital after acquiring and merging several players in the Dutch market.
In the founding stage of Groendus, I created an artificial intelligence that detects different scenarios of excessive usage of electricity and gas. Whenever excessive usage is detected, their customers should get a notification on how they could save energy. Known variables were the customer's buildings, their coordinates, and their usage history of gas and electricity.
During the course of the project, the dataset was enriched with historical weather data. Additionally, usage profiles were created through various dimensions, giving insight into matters like opening hours of each location and use of the air conditioning. The language of the project was .Net, hosted on Azure.
14 different scenarios of excessive usage where requested, ranging from simple to more complex. Examples were: excessive gas usage (customers pay an extra charge for their peak use), estimating the temperature isolation efficiency for each building, and detecting air conditioning usage during closing hours. They asked me, because their in-house engineers did not have the right skills, and it turned out to be too challenging for an MSc AI-specialist they hired before me. Within time and budget of the project, all of the 14 scenarios where supported.
Dott
Dott is a micro mobility supplier that recently merged with TIER. They offer shared e-scooters and e-bikes in European cities. In the founding stage they collected investments of €50 million combined.
In the founding stage of Dott, together with one other engineer I was responsible for the initial architecture and implementation of their Android frontend app. It was the typical thrill of joining a startup. During my time the company grew from 12 employees to several hundreds, and there were frequent changes in technical design, product, and planning. Deadlines were strict.
Anecdotally, for the first few months we kept having a bug that we couldn't put our finger on. Initially I left my colleague to fix the bug, because he seemed to be more enthusiastic about the new technology we were using (Kotlin Coroutines). Coroutines contain a threading mechanism, and bugs related to threads are one of the hardest kind of bugs to fix. But Dott was going to launch its product soon (in Brussels), and we needed to have our app clean. Every now and then my colleague kept on spending time trying to find the bug.
Three weeks before launch, I dropped my work, and started to help my colleague, who still could not fix the bug. Within a few hours I was able to manually reproduce the bug, and within one day I fixed it.
Moop
In the early 2010s, together with two partners, we had a company with some employees. Our company was called Moop, holding an office in Amsterdam in Pakhuis de Zwijger. We developed Android and iPhone apps, backends, and websites, mainly through using the technologies of java, ruby, swift, php, and javascript. We worked for companies like PayPal, Vodafone, Sanoma, RDW, NRC Media, Vebego, NS (Dutch Railways), CataWiki, ANWB, Blendle, RET, GVB, the Dutch Red Cross, RWS, Veolia, the Dutch government and Google.
We won awards at contests organized by Google, Accenture, SpinAwards, European Newspaper Award, iCulture.nl and some others. Apple recommended our NRC Reader iOS app as ‘great subscription’ in the app store; a place which is only reserved for work that Apple sees as meeting a standard of high quality. Several of our products were featured nationally; in newspapers and on television.
IT is mostly an enabler, sometimes it creates entirely new propositions. We enabled process and proposition innovation in the markets of facility management, publishing, and public transit. We made a multitude of apps in other markets.
Eventually Uber acqui-hired Moop, and I was not interested in joining. I continued on my own, preferring the freedom and flexibility of new projects.
Self development
Next to IT, my great passion is personal development. At the end of my twenties, I was simply unsatisfied about how I looked towards myself and other people. Since then, I am on a quest to understand and feel my deepest beliefs, giving myself an opportunity to evolve them. Throughout my journey, I have been to all kinds of trainings for over 250 days, and I received over 350 private sessions in personal development.
As a result, I enjoy innumerable benefits, like being more at ease, having more energy, a better posture with less injuries, sleeping better, and having deeper connection to myself and others. In the workplace, when in the past I would be witnessing a heated discussion, I would just stand by and hope for the best. With my newfound qualities, I find it easier to understand where people are coming from, including the reality of the context. As a result, I frequently see opportunities to support mutual understanding and acceptance.
The Bond With Parents
The most important persons in any childhood are the primary caregivers, usually the parents. Especially during their early years, children are mostly around their own parents. They are the biggest inspiration on how to be human, how to survive, and on how to enjoy being alive. Similar to animals: if you let a young kitten be raised in a nest of young puppies and their parent dogs, the young kitten copies the behaviour of its 'sibling'-dogs and its 'parent'-dogs. In this same way, children copy their parents: how they move, how they think, how they feel: how they meet life itself.
This copying behavior has many implications. One important implication is that, whatever happens to a child, the child thinks it is totally normal: his parents repeatedly show the child, that is how it should life. Irrespective of how it makes the child feel. Because the feelings that a child feels regularly, that is what he considers to be normal. In this it is not about what the parents say is normal or not normal, but how they consistently act.
Next to that, children are wired to love their parents unconditionally, especially in their youngest years. Even when the parents act unacceptable, the child has to choose between accepting the behavior, or stopping the relationship with his parents, of which the latter is more dangerous for the child. This becomes apparent when anything negative happens that is not understood by the child. Logically, the child wants to prevent it from happening again, and makes up a misunderstood cause. In this, he has to choose between rejecting himself or his parent. Naturally the child will reject and blame himself. Because if he will (repeatedly) choose to blame his parent, the connection with his parent will suffer, decreasing the love and support he can receive from his parent.
Of course, the more a child has access to different people and different perspectives, he will be able to develop a broader and more flexible behavior. So that in different situations, a child has more tools(behavior) available: playing with life in a way to support his own growth. Because behavior, is the bridge between meeting the outside world and the inside world. Opposed to this, when parents live in fixed behavioral patterns and a separated environment, the child is limited in developing his behavior, losing his uniqueness, aliveness, and opportunities for growth.
These and related implications indicate that the bond between a child and his parents is extremely close, and extremely intense. Regarding the development of a child, it results in the following dynamic:
Children literally are glued onto the capacities and incapacities of their parents.
This dynamic can lead to situations that are wonderfully rich, extremely dark, or a combination of both. The actual meaning and values this dynamic represents, is different for each individual, for each step on their own path. For me it is an impressive feature of life itself, allowing for different ways to grow and experience life, with its highs and its lows.
My Life 4: Man in the Mirror
I was so fed up with my failed relationship, that I was open to trying something radically different. With my therapy sessions I partly discovered some of my limiting beliefs. I rediscovered my beliefs that "nobody really loves me", and that "I am unworthy of having fun". But I still had a long way to go into growing emotional awareness on what they mean to me, setting myself free. Continuing that path at that time seemed to only give incremental change. I needed radical change.
I became greatly interested in immersing myself in the world of social development, dating, and sexuality. I had seen many stories of people that immersed themselves into that world, and becoming more social, emotional, sexual and happy. I wanted that too. I also was convinced that I could cheat life, thinking that I could increase the range of woman that I could date. In that way I could choose a different type of woman for my next relationship, so that I would not encounter the same problems again. And believing myself to me broken, I also hoped that my transformation would somehow fix me, so that I would not hurt my next girlfriend as much as I did hurt Alice. I was not yet aware that I did hurt myself severely as well.
It was not yet the time to start looking deep inside of myself. I was not yet convinced, that that would be the place to look for answers. It meant that I kept pushing my wounds away. However, I was ready to start looking at how I behaved, opening up to discovering how my behavior originated within me. And by acknowledging that I wanted to change, finding a way that fit my path at time, I was taking my next major step in my personal transformation. Slowly moving away from my victimhood, I started to take responsibility.
Two months after my breakup with Alice, with a lot of fear and anticipation, I made the jump. I signed myself up for a weekend bootcamp for man on social empowerment, attraction, and seduction. In that period, the dating industry was moving away from the superficial pickup lifestyle, towards values like authenticity, transparency, and emotional awareness. The bootcamp was provided by AttractionGym: They provide coaching and education to man and woman, that have problems with their dating life.
It was a mind-blowing weekend. A world was opening for me, that used to be closed and off limits. At Friday 7pm, we met at a cafe at the Rembrandt Square in Amsterdam. There were 14 participants, and we got introduced to 7 coaches, who all in some way transformed their dating life. One of the coaches was working as a psychologist during the week, specialized in working with teenagers and adolescents. His name was Jan and he would be my coach for the weekend.
In the cafe, we would first have a presentation about the theory behind dating. The first rule was to see yourself as a social person towards yourself and others. This means being open to any kind of contact while being in a bar or club, opening yourself up to the flow of life in a social setting. And to support this, we were encouraged to immediately make contact with the first two persons we saw when we entered a venue, like giving a compliment about anything. The second rule was sharing your impressions and associations you had on someone, and mixing them with teasing remarks. We were also instructed to respect any women's "no", and to just continue our evening with other people.
Many more theories were shared, like taking leadership and initiative, but they all revolved around what flirting means and how get into flirting with women. The ticket to flirting is just having fun with anyone, entertaining at least yourself, with whatever you do. We also did exercises to play with the theory, and got funny standard replies and stories to help us in case we did not know what to say. By being given all kinds of theories and practical guidelines, we received stepping stones to start our journey. When we became confident with the stepping stones in the future, we could mix it with exploring our own authentic style. If we wouldn't have the stepping stones, most of us would freeze in real life, having a very difficult start into flirting.
In theory it looked very simple, it was time to practice in real life. Under the guidance of Jan, together with another student, we stepped into the nightlife of Amsterdam, visiting its clubs and cafes. It actually was really hard for me. I was constantly shy of getting into a conversation with someone, not knowing what to say. But the trick is not thinking about what you are gonna say, and just show up and follow your inner flow. I was constantly stuck in my mind, and Jan was constantly trying to get me into action and start to talk to woman. Scared of the next time interaction, I would even sometimes hide from Jan to give me a new instruction. When I would start a conversation, I would immediately be overwhelmed by having actually started a conversation, and being scared of opening myself up.
I can remember a moment that I was talking with two women, and the conversation somehow got dry. Having lost their interest in me, the women went to the bar to get a drink. Jan saw me withdrawing from the conversation and instructed me to take leadership over them. In a clumsy way I walked after them, trying "to take leadership". They probably didn't notice me "taking leadership". But throughout the evening, Jan kept encouraging me. And besides being stuck many times, I spoke with many different women. I even got into dancing with an unknown girl, which for me a that time was a huge achievement.
The next day we would practice approaching women on the streets in daylight. Simply said, it was walking towards a women, or stopping her in her tracks. Greeting her and having her attention, I gave her a few seconds to make sense of what is happening. After that I would show my interest in her, and talk about anything that I liked, while making sure that I kept flirting. I found approaching a women out of the blue extremely scary. The first few times I could feel my heart pounding in my chest. To warm up, it was helpful to start by only giving a compliment to a women, and then just walk away. But even those moments I felt my heart racing like hell, and I felt very awkward. But with some persistence and the right coaching, I was surprised that it actually is possible.
If I kept myself at ease, and was open about my intentions and my curiosity towards her, many natural conversations are possible. With some women, it was very easy to get their attention, and with others you had to be firm and clearly present. Many times I would become scared, now knowing what to say, and stop the conversation after a few sentences. I left the woman clueless behind. I also got many coaching in how to stay at ease, taking a few deep breaths, making time for every step in making the connection, and speaking clearly. For example, when I said to Jan that I was very scared, he suggested me to stay aware and connected to being scared, and approaching a women at the same time.
Some conversations went so well, that I even got several phone numbers of woman. Discovering that I could talk with so many women, and that some even gave me their phone number, was a huge paradigm shift for me. That night we went into the clubs of Amsterdam again, and again it was really hard. The day after we went onto the streets again. But despite my struggles, I was able to start conversations with different women, and experience my first steps into my new world. It was also my first time ever that I got such detailed coaching on my emotional state, how I came across and how I could adjust my behavior and still stay connected to myself.
At the end of the bootcamp, I was flabbergasted at the many emotional highs and lows I experienced. At many moments I felt completely stuck, wanting to go home and give up everything. And within 5 minutes I could be enjoying a conversation with a women, or feel exhilarated about having received a phone number from a woman that looked completely out of reach to me. And it was just possible by managing my emotional state, and allowing myself to express from that place. I wanted more of this. I joined the 6 month transformational program that AttractionGym offered.
Each month I would have two Saturdays of coaching, on the streets and in the clubs. And once a month I would have coaching call, to discuss anything related to my development.
meer woorden als tof en fantastisch, voel meer emotionele ruimte in allerlei dagelijkse contacten, heb nog veel verwachtingen van vrouwen, maak makkelijker contact, meer zelfvertrouwen, ik zie de kansen om mee te doen in het leven ook met vrouwen,
Through experiencing the breakup with Alice, I had cut myself in my wounds. I saw the breakup as another proof that I was very ugly from the inside, and that following my feelings would only lead to disappointments and problems. Despite of Alice's soft words, I was blaming myself tremendously for what happened. I would still feel ashamed for what I did to Alice, for many years to come. Even now, writing this, I still have some shame. Little could I see, that I tried my pure best to make the relationship work and that I discovered many valuable insights about myself. In contrast, I mostly saw a confirmation of my shame. Focusing on shame, I was repeating the pattern that I learned from my parents: ignoring my purity and good intentions, ignoring the context and history, and instead blaming myself.
I continued seeing myself as impure, broken, and unpretty. Besides that, I was scared of anything similar happening again. Distrusting my feelings to guide me, I escaped again to my mind.
I restarted believing in my fantasies that I had before my recent relationship. I had read about stories that promised easy access to seducing skills to attract beautiful women. And I started to believe again that having a beautiful girlfriend would make me happy, because that is what I saw in the movies and the magazines. I also assumed, that if would immerse myself in this world, surely something would change for the better within myself. Immersing myself would also give me a change to explore my sexuality, something that was suppressed in me, as result of my childhood and growing up in a religious sect.
Furthermore, I simply did not know any other way to "fix" myself. The only other references of working on myself where my therapists of my childhood and Anouk of the past 3 years. My childhood therapists inspired me that I should not look at my wounds, what really happened, and I was broken anyway, but instead try to work on my outside "social" skills. And with Anouk I did make important progress, but I could not yet see the deeper value of it. At that time I saw my relationship with Alice as a failure.
Reading about the pickup artist lifestyle, there were true stories of people that made a big transformation, becoming more social, sexual and at ease. My mind was convinced, and I went all in. While I had adversity regarding having the goal that I should have sex with many women possible, I forced myself to adopt that believe. During some days I would say to myself "having sex is a goal on its own, having sex is a goal on its own, having...", repeating that to myself for a minute. While programming myself helped me to open to a total different perspective on life, it would later have its backlash on me.
met AG herhaalde ik een patroon uit mijn jeugd, niet naar mijn wonden kijken, maar naar de oppervlakkige buitenkant
er waren veel andere mannen en vrouwen die ook in de scene zaten, ik ging daar aan mee doen
ag [...] (jackie? dragana?)
emma
bradshaw
emma uit
rh
circling/aoi/markus/achiel/anna&klaus/chris/humaniversity/cvt/circlingfestival/pune/primal
neurofeedback
chakra breathing
christina
corona
waterfasting
core/john/riet
mwo
jayne jubb
at
Baby exploring his hands and feet
For a long time, I could only feel intense hate and an enormous sense of betrayal towards my parents. When I was near someone who reminded me in even the remotest sense of my parents, I would feel an enormous feeling of hate for a short second, after which I pushed this feeling away, because it wasn't about that some one person. But I believed I was that hate,My hate was so huge, I just didn't know what to do with it.
Because of the abuse in my childhood, at early adulthood my life was steered into a deadlock, being checkmate. Realizing this, I became desperate to try anything but staying the same. Knowing that listening to my mind has failed me, without knowing, I opened to start searching with my heart.
When a baby explores his hands and feet, he doesn't yet realize what sensations he feels in his body. He starts to discover that some of his sensations are connected to how he uses his hands and feet, that he actually has them, and later on that his limbs can help him in life. In this same way, I had to discover my heart again, how to actually listen to it, and experiencing my heart makes my life worth living. I discovered the heart provides an extremely rich frame of reference to orientate life, with truths far deeper than the truths of the mind. And the more I see that, the more my gratefulness grows towards life. Even towards my parents: they played their role very well. My childhood was never about having very loving parents with integrity, it was about preparing me for this immensely rich lesson on life, learning to reconnect with my heart.
So I find myself in this paradoxical reality, being able to feel immense anger toward what happened, and being able to feel utmost gratefulness for life. The more I feel, accept, and heal my abuse, the more I can re-establish what happened to me, but more importantly: what I feel and who I am. And it is this immense depth is what makes me say yes to life, more and more.
The feelings we create in any situation, is one of the deepest parts of our existence. And thus by allowing our feelings to exist, even if they seem outrageous or extremely disrespectful, we allow ourselves to exist. Depending on the way we act on these feelings, we can drag ourselves down, or nourish our power and dignity.
My aliveness was decreased by having experienced severe abuse during my childhood. I had many unpleasing feelings and memories, that I had to refuse to feel by living in my mind.
How I thought life worked was turned out to be very far away from the reality.
I was forced to try turn a life around, my life that was utterly stuck.
Consequently, I was forced to let go of my view on the world, and surrender to try anything if could find a deeper truth.
I learned that no matter what difficulties in life I still may be facing, I will always find a piece of beauty that belongs to me. Even if it seems very scary or confronting, it always makes life more rich, more joyful, more worthwhile of living.
-rootedness-
-unique depth-
-deep trust-
-commanding reality-
The truth that I found is that if I let go of everything, the only thing that remains is the beauty of me being life itself.
Methods & Style
The starting point for any transformation can only be where you currently are, to the fullest extent. So my first task is always to meet you, and welcome you to take time, space and patience for what is alive inside your world. This process is the first defining moment for
Showing yourself to someone new can be rich process in itself, and is the basis for
Any thing that matters to you, matters.
To create a rich opportunity for true personal transformation, it is necessary to select the methods that have the best fit. This fit depends on..
intake, degree of: safety, sensitivity, guidance, self-awareness
loosen up awareness,
stepping stones for transformation
navigating the transformation
impulses for expression, new insights, emotions, visualizations, sensations and realizations
here & then
window of tolerance
feeling and sense making
The goal is always twofold: the theme itself and increasing self-navigation.
Throughout your exploration, we continually discover and adapt to what style best fits your current wishes and capabilities. It can be a combination of the following:
-–> Guided meditative exploration. When help is requested to explore a theme, usually not only the theme itself is practically stuck, but also perception of the theme. As the perception of any reality defines what opportunities to grow are available, this need to get unstuck in order to allow progress.
With a personalized meditation, I can guide you for a moment, to drop all perspectives and focus points you currently have on your own reality. And I may offer you similar or alternative perspectives that stimulate flexibility and a fresh curiosity. Next, I will invite the full power of your consciousness, including your feelings, intuition, and the intelligence of your body.
This is like a loosening up massage for your perspective on your reality. In this way, new insights, emotions, visualizations, sensations and realizations can enter your awareness: These are potential stepping stones for your personal transformation. I will support you to approach them with courage and openness, and help you take appropriate actions to step into your personal transformation. If I perceive related opportunities, I can invite you for complementary exercises, out of my broad range of experience.
-–> Postural & bodily awareness. Every single time you engage in a limiting (habitual) response, your body automatically reacts(mirrors) with a contraction of muscles and fascia. The nature of the response will determine what part(s) of your body will contract.
If not properly discharged, residual tension will build up in your body, holding it in contraction. This greatly impacts your energy, both physical and regenerative abilities, posture, and likelihood of both internal and external injuries. On the subconscious level, residual tension constantly influences you to re-enact your responses, stimulating it to become habitual; literally holding on to something in the past.
Via a combination of coaching and specific physical touch, a proper discharge is invited: The body is encouraged to relax and to reclaim its natural spacing and posture. This process will automatically be mirrored in your psyche. For your psyche to reclaim its natural spacing and form, potential stepping stones for transformation will come to the surface of your awareness. Again, these can be any kind of insights, emotions, visualizations, sensations and realizations. I will support your navigation for stepping into your transformation.
-–> Embodiment
When you explore your theme on your own, a lot of times even the exploration of your habitual response, has become an habitual response
Throughout this, I will encourage you to stay connected to the present and your whole experience, so that integration can take place. Experiencing the process of discharge greatly increases the possibility of choice and awareness over the nature of your habitual responses.
Although I will be genuinely curious towards the different layers your story, we always take your experience as the starting point for any further examination. Through this, we discover together what style is fitting for your unique development. More importantly, this will increase your capabilities for exploration on your own.
Throughout our meeting, I will put out invitations for you to investigate your themes from a different perspective. You decide what is interesting and safe to explore, so we can do that in your way, and in your pace.
guided meditation
non-doing
embodiment
touch
breath & postural awareness
through what is utmost rich for your process of personal transformation.
Irrespective of what theme(s) will be explored, it is key for any process that a connection is nourished towards your inner subtle guidance.
This can be accomplished by inviting a state of consciousness, in which any pre-existing believes, assumptions and frames are still allowed to exist, but are prevented from influencing what you choose to experience right now.
Explore
When there is a curiosity to explore any chosen theme(s), it is key to nourish an increased awareness of your reality
Over time, limiting habitual responses impact our lives in major ways. This especially applies to habitual thoughts & emotions, physical posture & movement, recurring patterns of behavior recreating the same situations, and restricting to express yourself as you truly want.
In a challenging life, we rarely truly investigate our habitual responses, but we do end up being dissatisfied by its impact on our lives, because then:
It is not fully us who live our lives.
Fortunately, in a shielded environment that is safe, welcoming, and fine-tuned to the participant, the nature of these habitual responses can be explored.
Through a variety of practical methods and exercises, an experience can be lived that is connected to the habitual responses being explored. It is a kind of immersive simulation that evokes feelings to safely experiment with.
Usually, by allowing ourselves to feel, we eventually make whatever comes up, part of our dignified truth. Connecting to our deeper truth is the single most powerful way to increase the rich flow of life.
The beauty of these exercises is that there is always the possibility of decreasing its intensity or stepping out, so that the stimulation stays within the window of tolerance. In this way, variations on the exercises can be repeated over time to familiarize oneself with the related themes.
As familiarity grows, we become empowered when the situations present itself again in real life: through recognition we can stay conscious and foresee different courses of actions, and make a choice to act differently.
Trough this process, habitual responses lose their power they have over us. In this way we regain freedom in our behavior, and thus power in how we continuously shape our lives.
My work is to invite and support you, to explore hidden parts of your reality.
Examples could be perfectionism, trouble expressing boundaries, repeatedly experiencing the same relationship issues, trying to stay in control, always ending up in situations where you need to be the hero, restlessness, not being respected in your sensitivity, always enduring, feeling superior and unconnected, or having a tight hip and knees creating injuries later in life.
Results
When there is a curiosity to explore any chosen theme(s), it is key to nourish an increased awareness of your reality: Humans posses the extraordinary power of accepting and using circumstances that seem impossible. And by that, translating them into meaning and truth that automatically carries their own lives. This simply is, magic beyond words: We are all magical creatures, constantly casting magical spells through the lens of our own uniqueness.
When traveling the path of personal transformation, many benefits can be enjoyed. Your emotional and spiritual awareness will be increased; understanding better what actually happens in your life, and why. As a consequence, navigating life simply becomes easier. Furthermore, you become increasingly less dependent on outside circumstances: being less bothered by what would previously have bothered you. Because of that you increase clarity on what really matters to you: you can easier focus for what you truly want in life, and receive it.
Hidden parts of your reality are connected to hidden parts of your strength. So, by exploring hidden parts of your reality, you discover hidden parts of your strength. As there are endless possibilities for exploring, there are endless opportunities of growth through any dimension, shape or practical benefit.
Growing in understanding and experiencing this, creates profound joy and trust in life. Because, actually, we are life itself.
Practically speaking, innumerable benefits can appear in your life. Although highly dependent on the unique individual, these are random examples to paint a picture:
More synchronicities in your life, accepting yourself and others for who they are, stronger intuition, needing less sleep, seeing colors more bright, enjoying simple things easier, having free choice to use perfectionism as a tool instead it controlling you, successfully setting boundaries, having richer conversations, more intimate friendships and relationships, speaking out what is going on inside you, full breathing instead of just your chest or belly, a longer spine, healthier posture, looking more attractive, less injuries, stronger self-healing abilities, healing a neck and shoulder from stiffness, stop having nightmares every night, being able to stay in a relationship, having free choice to use perfectionism as a tool instead of it always controlling you, attract more emotionally mature romantic partners, no more clenching your jaws or grinding your teeth, eating healthier when you choose to, healing autism, a vibrant and healthier skin, better at taking care of yourself, increased self confidence, having fun dancing, fluent natural body movements, better bodily balance, effortless public speaking, animals feel more safe around you, feel what other people are feeling and thinking if you choose to, expressing your anger in a healthy way. Less fear; more trust.
As for myself, I am often amazed by what transformation I see in myself and others. Because of this, I simply stopped believing that there are things that cannot be transformed.
The endless sky is the limit, if you choose to learn how to fly.
Some time ago, I finished a training on personal transformation. I wrote a poem about it, and presented it to the community that supported my journey.
It still is very relevant today,\ and that is why I add it here:
♡
I want to tell,
to myself,
and to you,
as my witnesses,
how beautiful I have become.
It is something that I thought,
was never even remotely possible.
I have found it,
and still am finding.
Sometimes,
I am starstruck by my softness,
\ my intention of kindness to others,
\ needing nothing in return,
\ being able to shine from within.
When something like that happens,
\ and I realize it afterwards,
\ it can touch me to tears.
And sometimes it can frighten me as well,
\ as I think of how I used to be someone else.
More and more,
\ I can release myself from a very deep old belief,
\ that I am very ugly from the inside.
I can see how that was being fed,
\ and I can cut the cords.
I can see more and more,
\ how I have been hated,
abused,
and misused.
And how I started doing that to myself,
\ and to my environment.
I understand how I could see myself for only being that,
\ and how I hid myself,
\ very far away.
Very far away,
\ from my own dignity and power.
But being able to see that,
\ I also see,
\ more and more:
That within me lives a personification of softness,
\ which I cannot yet always show,
\ but it does,
\ always exist.
And that I can continue,
trusting,
\ that I will,
no matter what,
\ always return to that softness,
\ creating a deep knowing,
a deep existence.
Who and how I am that,
\ and who that is inside me,
\ the more I think about that,
\ the more it becomes a grey area.
And when I try to claim that,
\ it slowly turns into black.
But when I let it exist inside me,
\ without name,
\ but with a deep trust,
\ it becomes shining white,
\ and then I become,\ that shining white.
♡
Times
by doing anything that you like, you can soothe the pain that you cannot change
you will rise the surface, just be careful of what and how you you are approaching things
you are in true love, and you will be helped
Todo vandaag:
√negativemargin LR
√build jekyll at macbook
√git client op werve
√ forwarding aliveoftransformation dns&config
√ mail ...
√ oefenen vragen
- facebook opschonen: nieuwe header, bijna alles op mn feed afschermen, foto's afschermen, en een paar foto's toevoegen
- facebook profiel toevoegen op mn site
- facebook rondvragen
- huis opruimen
fri 20 dec -
7:28...10:06=2:38
wed 18 dec - 1:01
9:30...10:31=1:01
di 17 dec - 8:00
06:45...12:25=5:40
1:30
...
ma 16 dec - 6:20
06:50...11:37=4:47
14:42...16:25=1:43
zo 15 dec - 5:53
7:30...11:17=3:47
15:22..17:28=2:06
za 14 dec - 3:00
fri 13 dec - 6:04
6:44...11:12=4:28
12:11...13:47=1:36
thu 12 dec - 6:21
7:17...10:30=3:13
11:31...13:45=2:14
16:31...17:25=0:54
wed 11 dec - 6:29
7:07...10:39=3:32
12:04...14:07=2:00
16:46...17:33=0:47
tue 10 dec - -
mon 09 dec - 6:07
6:59...10:56=3:56
14:51...17:02=2:11
sun 8 dec - 5:51
sat 7 dec - 3:02
fri 6 dec - 0:00
tue 5 dec - 6:16
wed 4 dec - 5:00 (√)
tue 3 dec - 6:12
sun 1 dec - 2:30
sat 30 nov -6:00
fri 29 nov - 6:09
thu 28 nov - 5:04
wed 27 nov - 0:50
tue 26 nov - 6:12
mon 25 nov 6:23
thu 20 nov = 5:03
wed 19 nov - 5:51
tue 18 nov - 6:19
mon 17 nov - 6:06
sat 16 nov - 3:54
fri 15 nov - 3:04
wed 13 nov - 4:57
tue 12 nov - 4:53
mon 11 nov - 6:03
sat 9 nov - 1:58
fri 8 nov - 5:13
thu 7 nov - 5:06
wed 6 nov - 6:52
tue 5 nov - 6:04
mon 4 nov - 6:07
sun 3 nov 1:55
mon 18 oct 5:08
fri 15 oct - 3:49
thu 24 oct - 5:00
wed 23 oct - 5:07
tue 22 oct - 3:31
mon 21 oct - 5:40
sun 20 oct - 4:29
sat 19 oct - 2:00
fri 18 oct - 3:58
thu 17 oct - 3:15
wed 16 oct - 4:00
tue 15 oct - 3:59
mon 14 oct - 5:23
sun 13 oct - 3:49
Gedicht
--- 0 ---
Ik wil beginnen met een gedicht:
als ik terugdenk aan mijn kind, mijzelf als kind, dan vind ik hem in een verlaten stukje bos in het gras
hij huilt heel veel, hij schreeuwt en schreeuwt het uit van verdriet
met verkrampte schouders en armen, tranen rollen over zijn wangen
zijn ogen gevuld met tranen, zijn blik vervaagd
niemand hoort hem, niemand die hem ziet
niemand houd van hem, niemand ziet het mooie kind dat hij kan zijn
hij heeft geen plek waar hij zich veilig voelt, niemand om zijn tranen mee te delen
als ik hem vind dan zou ik tegen hem willen zeggen dat het niet zo is, dat er wel écht mensen van hem houden
maar er wordt niet van hem gehouden, niemand houdt écht van hem
er wordt gehouden van hem omdat hij geboren is uit twee mensen, omdat hij een leerling uit de klas is,
omdat hij in een voetbalteam hoort, omdat hij bij een kerk hoort
maar er wordt niet gehouden van hem om wie hij echt is, want niemand kent die persoon
wat is liefde voor iemand als je hem niet kent
hoe kon ik ooit van mezelf houden als ik mezelf niet kende
wie kon er ooit echt van mij houden
--- 1 ---
Ja? Wil je praten over de momenten dat je vocht met mij en jij altijd won? De gevechten die je gewonnen had terwijl je die eigenlijk allemaal hebt verloren? Ben je écht bereid om mijn verliespunten proberen te zien? Denk je dat je het in je hebt, dat je man genoeg bent, om mijn verhaal te horen? Het verhaal van mijn gevoel zonder jouw regels? In plaats van 18 jaar lang jouw regels zonder mijn gevoel? Want er is maar één verhaal dat je van mij gaat kunnen horen.
Het verhaal is triest geert, het is een heel erg triest verhaal waarin jij mij bent kwijtgeraakt. Waar je mij hebt laten vallen. Om nog maar te zwijgen over mijn broer Bram.
Vind je dat je het goed gedaan hebt? Of dat je op zijn minst een voldoende verdient? Waarom? Omdat je mij kleren gaf? Omdat je mij op vakantie nam? Omdat je mij naar de efteling en thailand nam? omdat je mij voorgelezen hebt? Omdat je mij hebt ondergestopt? Omdat je slapeloze nachten hebt gehad vroeger toen je mij als baby verzorgde? Dat had ik van iedereen kunnen krijgen geert, de jeugdzorg had het mij zelfs nog kunnen geven. Er waren kinderen die niet naar de efteling & thailand zijn geweest maar die nu veel gelukkiger zijn dan ik. Er waren kinderen met veel minder kleren dan ik maar die nu veel gelukkiger zijn dan ik. Er zijn kinderen die een échte vader hadden die nu veel gelukkiger zijn dan ik. Vind je dat jij een échte vader was? Dan weet je niet wat een échte vader is, anders was je dat écht wel geweest.
Vind je het onterecht dat je nu de volle lading van mij krijgt? Terwijl je volwassen bent en een vrouw aan je zijde hebt? Ja, die krijg je, want ik heb de volle lading van jou gekregen toen ik kind was, en alleen, heel erg alleen. Ik was kwetsbaar, zo ontzettend kwetsbaar. De hele maatschappij vertrouwde jou dat je mij mooi ging maken, ik kon niets anders dan jou vertrouwen dat je mij mooi ging maken. En je hebt mijn hart kapot gemaakt. Jij gaat nu mijn volle lading krijgen Geert, dat is de enige mogelijke vervolgstap.
Wil je nu weglopen van dit gesprek Geert? Zeggen dat ik gek in mijn hoofd ben en in het vervolg hopen alleen maar over koetjes en kalfjes met mij te praten? Ik wilde weglopen van jou geert, toen ik klein was, maar jij bleef maar achter mij aan komen, jij kwam als een berg ongecontroleerde woede achter mij aan, die dacht dat hij aan het opvoeden was, terwijl hij eigenlijk aan het kapot maken was. Ik wilde weglopen van huis, want mijn ouders was ik toch allang kwijt, de enige reden dat ik het niet deed was omdat ik dan in de jeugdgevangenis zou komen, dat had ik een keer gezien op het klokhuis. Misschien had ik dat eigenlijk wel moeten doen.
Of vind je dat je mij genoeg liefde hebt gegeven. En je daarom een voldoende verdient. Liefde geven is niet iets wat je in iemands richting werpt en hopen dat hij het opvangt. Het is ook geen innerlijke overtuiging naar een ander persoon en waarvan je mag verwachten dat ze dat bij jou zien. Liefde is iets wat je met twee handen geeft, het voor de ander houdt, en net zo lang wacht totdat hij het met twee handen aan kan pakken. En liefde geven betekent niet dat je liefde terug mag verwachten. Liefde is alleen goed gegeven als je het vanzelf weer terug kan krijgen. Proef jij nu significante liefde van mij naar jou geert? Ik niet.
Dit verhaal gaat over wat ik niet van jou gekregen heb, wat je mij had moeten geven, en hoe ik kapot ben gemaakt, het meeste door jou. Dit verhaal gaat over emotionele armoede. Over lastig zijn, en niets waard zijn, en dat nog geloven ook.
Wil je nu zeggen 'ik heb nooit gezegd dat je lastig was', of zeggen 'ik heb nooit gezegd dat je niets waard bent'. Het gaat er niet om wat je wel of niet tegen mij zei. Het gaat erom hoe ik me bij jullie voelde, en dat is wat ik voelde van binnen. Dat is het enige wat telt. Gevoel. Heeft Bram dat trouwens ook niet tegen je gezegd? Hopelijk leer je die les ooit nog. En vraag je je af waarom ik Bram erbij haal? Ik vraag me oprecht af waarom Herma jou niet bij ons weggehaald heeft, of waarom zij soms het ‘opvoeden’ over liet aan jou. Want dat is misschien haar grootste fout. Jou je gang hebben laten gaan. Of heeft Bram het gezin kapot gemaakt? Ja? Is Bram ook al kapot geboren? Of is Bram kapot gemaakt. Is het toeval dat Loes en Tom goed terecht zijn gekomen, en ze opgroeiden toen jij veel werkte en jij al op je bek was gegaan met Bram en Wouter?
Schrik je van mij, vind je dat ik overdrijf, dat ik doorschiet? Met mijn woede? Met mijn kilheid? Met mijn dwangredeneringen? Met mijn verkramping? Waarschijnlijk wil je heel graag geloven dat ik kapot geboren ben, en dan kan je je verschuilen achter een geplakte pddnos sticker. En maak je dat iedereen in je omgeving ook wijs. Ik weet gelukkig beter. Ik weet hoe mooi ik ben. Gelukkig weet ik dat inmiddels, ik was het eigenlijk niet gewend dat mensen mij mooi vinden, beetje raar toch? Wouter een mooi persoon? Is Wouter toch geen autist? Kan wouter sociaal en gevoelsmatig echt functioneren? Komen mensen bij Wouter om te vragen hoe hij denkt over hun leven en relatie? Zijn er mensen die hun diepste geheimen delen aan Wouter? Meer dan één? Meer dan twee? Meer dan een paar? Zijn er mensen die hebben gezegd dat Wouter een goede therapeut zou kunnen zijn? Dat kan toch haast niet...
Ik ben jou nu keihard aan het raken op je gevoel. Durf je dit wel? Want dit gesprek gaan we echt niet rationeel aanpakken. Dan is het een spelletje duelleren met theorieën en argumenten. Al je rationele argumenten kan je allemaal laten vallen. Dit is een gesprek op gevoel. Wat voel jij bij mij geert? Wat voelde je toen je mij de eerste nacht achterliet in Enschede toen ik daar ging studeren. Weet je dat nog? Voel je dat nog? Ik gok het gevoel wat hoort bij je uitspraak 'hou je taai'. Hoezo moet ik me ‘taai’ houden, het leven is toch bedoeld om te genieten? Voelde jij misschien toen al dat het niet helemaal lekker bij mij zat. Dat voelde je waarschijnlijk ook al veel eerder. Maarja, wat moet je daarmee hé, gevoel. Kan je liever je toevlucht zoeken in theorieën en netjes in elkaar stekende argumenten. Dan heb je ook niks te verliezen. Nouja, behalve het gevoel. Oh wacht, waar gaat het ook alweer om in het leven? Gevoel. Wat heb ik daarvan bij jou verloren? Bijna alles.
--- 2 ---
Waar moet ik beginnen, ik weet het eigenlijk niet. Waar moet je eigenlijk beginnen als een auto kapot is. Wacht even, ik heb de auto net nieuw, er is achttien jaar aan gebouwd, hij komt zo uit de garage, dus hij zal toch wel goed in elkaar zitten? Ooh, wacht even, met elke auto is altijd wel iets kleins mis, dus eventjes naar kijken en dat repareren en dan kan ik wegrijden. Maar wat moet je doen als je merkt dat het stuur vast zit, en je erachter komt dat de wielen kapot zijn. Wat moet je doen als de tank leeg is, en erachter komt dat alle leidingen lekken. Wat moet je doen als alles slijt als je wil rijden en er geen olie is. Wat moet je doen als je total loss bent, maar nog wel ziet dat het ooit een auto was.
Wat moet je doen geert, wat moet je doen als je erachter komt dat je eigen hart ontzettend kapot is.
Ik begon het pas door te krijgen toen ik met Lieke samen was. Ik kon niet van haar houden omdat ze een klein buikje heeft. Een fucking buikje! Ik schaamde me ervoor en had al snel door dat ik gewoonweg niet kon weten wat echte liefde is. Misschien op dezelfde manier dat als je gezin kapot is je ook niet kán weten wat échte liefde is. Nouja, ik kon het zo opzoeken in een boekje over liefde. Maar liefde is niet iets wat je hoeft te weten. Liefde is iets wat je alleen maar écht kan voelen. En als je het voelt, dan voelt je borstkas warm aan, dat kan ik je inmiddels wel verklappen over echte liefde, je voelt het letterlijk in je lichaam, en als het zo mooi mag zijn, elke dag, bij veel mensen. Maar wacht even, ik voelde niks in mijn hart, ik had het helemaal uitgezet mijn hart.
Wat voelde jij bij mij? Wat voelde ik bij jullie? Ik voelde een ontzettende frustratie opkomen na mijn conclusie bij Lieke. En ik gokte dat jij en herma daar heel erg veel mee te maken hadden. Ik moest dit uitzoeken, zonder jullie erbij, met jullie heel ver weg. En dat ging ik doen ook.
Ik dacht eerst dat ik een gewone opvoeding had gehad. Want ik wist niet beter.
Maar goed, ik ging eerst maar naar de psycholoog, naar Anouk. We kwamen al snel bij mijn subtiel gezegd “on-soepele jeugd” uit, en ze deed me vroegere conclusies herinneren die nog voorbij komen in deze brief. Anouk insinueerde na een tijdje dat jullie vroeger veel van mijn persoonlijke ruimte zouden hebben afgepakt, en dat dat rechtgezet moest worden in een gesprek en/of een brief. Dat kwam maar half bij me binnen, want jullie hadden toch gewoon je best gedaan, en ik was toch ook een lastig kind met autisme, en bram had adhd, en ik had toch gewoon straf gekregen toen ik stout was.
Ik vond het wel raar toen Anouk zei dat je kinderen eigenlijk niet mag slaan, maar ik ben het aan mensen om me heen gaan vertellen, en langzamerhand bekend te raken met de gedachte dat ik vroeger mishandeld ben. En dat mijn ‘vader’ een kindermishandelaar is. Mijn gewenningsproces eindigde met een bezoekje aan de website van het openbaar ministerie, op de pagina “Richtlijn voor strafvordering kindermishandeling”. Mijn ‘vader’ hoort een taakstraf te krijgen, en eventueel in de gevangenis te belanden. En mijn moeder is op zijn minst medeplichtig, dat heeft ook een straf indicatie. Dat is allemaal nog best onwennig, maar het lijkt echt zo te zijn.
Wat ik ook best raar vond, is dat Anouk af en toe zei dat ik iets heel puurs in mij heb, en ook heel zacht kan zijn, en ook heel gevoelig ben. Dat ging ook steeds half langs mij heen. Ik bedoel te zeggen ... ik was toch autist? Afgelopen jaar ben ik ook heel erg in de weer geweest met meiden aanspreken op straat en in de club. Ik kreeg af en toe terug dat ze mij heel sociaal vonden. Soms voelde ik ook binnenin mij de sociale behoefte om contact te maken met mensen. Zou Anouk dan misschien toch gelijk hebben? Ze is geen autisme specialist, maar ze heeft in haar gz carrière toch al best veel gekke mensen voorbij zijn komen, en daar lijk ik steeds minder tussen te passen. Oh wacht even, vrienden om mij heen vinden mij ook geen autist eigenlijk, als ik ze mijn diagnose opbiecht, ze zijn blij hoe ik soms met ze mee kan denken, en ze kan helpen sociale situaties in te schatten. Ik krijg zelfs soms terug dat ik een goede therapeut zou kunnen zijn. Oh wacht even, ik krijg soms ook terug van mensen terug hoe lief ze mij vinden, hoeveel zelfvertrouwen ik schijn te hebben, hoe mooi ik kan zijn. En dat ik prachtig ben.
Ik snap het niet meer… Wat is er aan de hand… Als ik geen autist ben, wie ben ik dan wel? Als ik geen robot ben, ben ik dan een gevoelsmens? Als mensen mij mooi en knap vinden, ben ik dan niet lelijk? Als ik niet geslagen mocht worden, ben ik dan slachtoffer van kindermishandeling? Als ik nu een persoon aan het worden ben die andere mensen blij kan maken, wie was ik vroeger dan toen ik in verdriet leefde? Hoe kan het dat die mooie persoon die ik nu aan het worden ben, vroeger niet bestond? Wat is mij vroeger afgepakt?
Ik merk ook dat ik steeds ontspannender wordt in mijn schouders en borst, in mijn stem, in mijn zelfvertrouwen, in mijn houding, en ik maak ook veel vaker spontaan contact met anderen. Ik ‘lijk’ soms wel heel erg sociaal, en soms leef ik me automatisch in in andere mensen, wat is er in hemelsnaam met mij aan de hand? Oh ja, ik had ongeveer 2 keer per week denkbeeldig ruzie met geert. En soms ook nachtmerries. Soms ook over mijn moeder, maar vooral over geert.
Laatst ging ik mee in de gedachte dat het conflict met jou echt niet meer zo verder kon, en ik er mee aan de slag moest. Ik merkte dat ik vooral erg veel woede voelde, over hoe vaak je mij straf gaf, en je mij op een dwingende en boze manier toesprak, waar ik niet onderuit kon komen, omdat je mij achtervolgde met je correcties, je woede, en je verbale en non-verbale straffen. De vervloekte woede op jouw hoofd kan ik zelfs in mijn hoofd tegenkomen als ik in mijn woonkamer probeer te genieten van muziek luisteren. Het voelt bij mij als een heel erg ontzettend groot onrecht hoe je mij corrigeerde, want in dat verschrikkelijk misselijke evenwicht wat vroeger tussen jou en mij bestond, zag ik niks terug van de mooie persoon die ik nu aan het worden ben. Geert, gefeliciteerd, het is jou gelukt om mij “op te voeden” en niet te weten wie ik écht ben.
Nu ik er meer over na heb kunnen denken en voelen, trek ik deze conclusie: Jij was veel en veel en veel en veel te veel aan het werk met de slechtste kant van mij, met mijn donkere kant, met mijn onwaardige kant, met mijn robot kant, met mijn onmenselijke kant, de kant van wraak, van vergelding, van eenzaamheid, van onbegrip, van woede, van afstoten, van beklemming, van dwang, de kant waar geen liefde is, de kant waar geen leven is, alleen maar adem, de kant van dood. Geert, jij bent voor mij de dood geweest waar ik me op een gegeven moment van afgesloten heb, om mezelf niet te laten sterven.
--- 3 ---
Ik zal één voorbeeld geven geert, ik weet inmiddels dat je slechtziend bent, maar ik ga je er toch eentje geven.
Het was een zondagmiddag, ik had net op tv iets gezien over hoeren, wist ik veel wat dat eigenlijk is, en toen zei je tegen herma dat jij ook even boven kwam om ook een dutje te doen, en ik zei voor de grap 'dat kost 100 gulden per uur'. Kan je nu die woede voelen die je toen ook voelde Geert? “Dat iemand jouw vrouw een hoer noemt”? Voel je dat? Dat is jouw FUCKING PROBLEEM, met een hoofdletter, met 15 hoofdletters, dat is waar jij fucked up bent, zonder te overdrijven. Dat ik, als onschuldig klein kind, die niet weet wat seks is, die niet weet hoe mooi het is of wat het kan kapot maken, en die dus ook écht niet weet wat een hoer is, jouw vrouw per ongeluk een willekeurig woord benoemt en je dat niet trekt? Jou fucking probleem is dat zelfs een onschuldig kind die woede bij jou kan opwekken.
Ik zal je vertellen over hoe emoties zijn geert. Woede is een emotie die je inzet nadat je gekwetst bent. In een goedmaak proces geeft een gezond mens grenzen aan en houd die grenzen in de gaten bij andere mensen. Na een overtreding van de grenzen, wordt samen begrip gezocht, wordt samen liefde opgezocht en wordt er met excuses de overtreden grens weer symbolisch teruggegeven aan de ander. Maar als grenzen overschreden worden, en je krijgt je eigen grens niet terug via het gezonde proces, dan pas ga je je gekwetst voelen, en dan volgt het woede-proces, dan pas wordt als laatste redmiddel, in onmacht, woede gebruikt om de ander persoon weg te jagen uit het overtreden grensgebied. En nadat je elkaar heb weggejaagd, probeer je los van elkaar het conflict te snappen, je wilt het eigenlijk samen doen, maar dat kan in eerste instantie dan niet meer door die woede die als gewelddadige noodweer is ingezet.
Door iedereen wordt gezegd dat jij niet ‘sorry’ kan zeggen, vraag het maar na aan je vrouw. En als ik dat zeg bij jou, dan bedoel ik inmiddels het hele proces. Jij slaat het eerste proces heel vaak over, want jij bent een zwakkeling die zichzelf niet goed kan beschermen en dus heel snel gekwetst is, jij grijpt veel en veel te snel naar het woede proces en je regeltjes.
Terug naar het verhaal: Direct na mijn opmerking gaf je mij een tik tegen mijn hoofd, en je zei 'dat mag je niet tegen je moeder zeggen'. En ons gesprek was afgelopen. Dit was zo een kans, geert, een van de duizenden kansen die jij aan je fucking blinde ogen voorbij hebt laten gaan, om te signaleren dat er een klein kind voor je zat die niet door had wat hij aan het doen was.
Wat had je anders kunnen doen: Je had mij eventjes subtiel streng aan kunnen kijken, niet om mij te laten schrikken, maar net genoeg om mij te laten realiseren dat er iets niet klopte. En je had tegen mij kunnen zeggen: 'kijk nou eens in de ogen van je moeder, en beantwoord deze vraag wouter: Voel je dat ze nu blij is, of voel je nu dat ze verdrietig is?'. En toen had ik heus wel kunnen zien wat er in de ogen van herma te zien was, en daar was ik dan van geschrokken, en daarna had je kunnen zeggen: 'het is niet erg wouter, we maken allemaal foutjes'. En daarna had je kunnen zeggen 'mama vond het niet erg dat je een foutje maakte, maar mama is nu wel verdrietig, wat kan jij doen om het goed te maken met mama, je kan sorry zeggen, of je kan haar een knuffel geven'. En reken maar jij fucking hond, jij fucking hypocriete klootzak, dat ik mama allebei had willen geven.
Ik ben een heel gevoelig persoon geert, en jij hebt mij de volle lading gegeven van jouw verkrampte woede.
En wat had jij mij nog meer ontnomen op al die momenten die daar op lijken, je sloeg mij niet alleen steeds een stukje van jou vandaan, maar jij hebt mij niet geleerd hoe fouten maken werkt, hoe goed maken werkt, hoe begrip en inleven werkt, hoe je scheurtjes in harten kan repareren bij mijn broers en zus en bij mijn kennissen die zelden mijn vrienden werden. Nee, jij liet mij weten dat ik verkeerd was, jij gaf mij geen liefde, met jouw verkrampte woede leerde je aan mij hoe je scheurtjes in harten maakt, want door jouw woede liet je mij alles in me eentje uitzoeken (in plaats van samen), waar ik nog veel te jong voor was, en wat me dus haast nooit lukte. En vind jij het gek dat ik bij jullie een ontwikkelingsstoornis opliep? Flikker toch op man, het recept hiervoor bij een heel gevoelig persoon heb ik net voorgelezen.
Ik was uiteindelijk zo erg ver van jou vandaan geslagen, dat je zoveel van jouw verkrampte liefde kon zenden als je wilde jij fucking debiel, maar ik voelde het niet meer. Vraag je je nog steeds af hoe het komt dat ik zo hard tegen jou kan zijn, vijf/zes jaar lang geen contact? Dat is je antwoord.
Elke keer als je besloot dat ik verkeerd was, en straf verdiende, koos jij voor jouw verkrampte woede in plaats van op zoek te gaan naar liefde, de liefde die ik zo ontzettend hard nodig had. En dat heb jij veel en veel en veel te vaak gedaan. En dat neem ik jou gruwelijk kwalijk. Die verkrampte woede in jou, die jij veel en veel te vaak de boventoon liet voeren in hoe jij was, waar jij een fucking scheitert voor was om hem in de maatschappij te laten zien, want daar laat jij gewoon over je heen lopen, die woede liet jij de vrije baan in je gezin, daar durfde jij wel te laten zien wie je eigenlijk bent, tegen een moeder die je met stemverheffing de mond snoerde als je met je zielige hart een discussie niet kon winnen, tegen kinderen die je stil sloeg toen ze met hun kapotte harten fouten maakten, jij fucking parasiet. Vroeger als er bij ons vriendjes en vriendinnetjes over de vloer kwamen, en als jij de leuke papa speelde, ik voelde een boosheid, maar ik wist niet wat dat gevoel was bij mij, en waar dat vandaan kwam. Maar ik weet het nu, jij voerde de schone schijn, je speelde een spelletje, je deed een masker op, maar ik weet wie jij echt bent. Niet mijn vader.
En naast dat jij geen vader voor mij was geert, het ergste komt nog, ik heb 25 jaar van mijn leven met een super kapot hart rondgelopen, me afgevraagd waarom mensen mijn hart niet mooi vinden, waarom ik weinig vrienden heb, waarom mensen niet bij mij willen blijven, waarom ik heel veel, heel alleen ben geweest. En ook, ik begin nu pas alle kleuren in het leven te zien, te voelen, en echt te genieten. Ik heb dat 25 jaar lang niet gedaan, en dat heeft me heel veel verdriet gedaan. Maar geert, ik weet inmiddels dat dat mijn eigen probleem is, dat ik daar zelf mijn weg in ga vinden. Ik ga dat niet doorgeven aan mijn kinderen zoals jij dat wél gedaan hebt.
--- 4 ---
Je weet nu wat voor terrorist ik jou vind geert, al jouw verkrampte woede die jij hebt laten vloeien met als vermomming 'de kinderen opvoeden en de orde bewaren in het huis'. Je weet nu op welke weg jij en ik aan strompelen waren. Ik ga je een paar sleutelmomenten vertellen, geert, waar die weg de ontzettend jammerlijke afgrond in is gegaan.
In groep 5 ofzo had ik geschiedenisles gehad over de tweede wereldoorlog. Ik had daarvan niet alles goed begrepen, en in naïviteit tekende ik een hakenkruis bovenop mijn hand. Ik stond ergens later in die dag met jou in de keuken. Je zag dat ik een hakenkruis op mijn hand had getekend, en je zei tegen mij: 'als je dat nog een keer doet moet je het huis uit'. Weet je wel wat je zei tegen mij, jij fucking debiel? Jij zette het woede-proces in, en je jaagde mij zo ver weg als je kon, namelijk uit je huis, uit je hart, uit het gezin! De emmer is ergens bij mij overgelopen hoe ver ik jou mij kapot liet maken, en dit had heel goed de druppel kunnen zijn. Er knapte iets in mij, een illusie in mijn hoofd, dat jij mijn vader was en altijd van me zou blijven houden. Want als ik nog een keer een dom tekeningetje op mijn hand zou maken zou jij onze band verbreken, zou je mij verbannen, zou je mij niet meer willen zien. Dan zou ik niet meer bij jouw huis horen. Zo erg weinig hield je kennelijk van mij. Zo erg weinig was ik kennelijk waard.
Ik had liefde nodig geert, mijn hart wist dat, maar ik kon het niet vertellen. Ik kan me herinneren dat ik op een gegeven moment nachten begon te huilen toen ik in bed lag. Wat was ik eigenlijk aan het zeggen toen ik zo veel huilde in bed ‘s nachts? Wat voelde ik? Mijn hart schreeuwde om liefde geert, ik voelde dat er wel iemand zou moeten horen hoe eenzaam ik mij voelde, en mij ging helpen. En eerst kwam je ook wel boven geert, om te vragen wat er was, en je probeerde me te troosten. Maar ik had nog veel meer liefde nodig geert, de avonden daarop huilde ik ook, want mijn hart had meer liefde nodig, mijn hart was aan het sterven. Maar na enkele avonden was het voor jou genoeg, je zei dat ik moest stoppen met huilen, en toen ik niet kon stoppen met huilen, kwam je boven en ging je mij slaan. Moet ik het je echt stap voor stap uitleggen? Ben jij echt zo ontzettend fucked up geert? Een kind die liefde nodig heeft die sla je niet, die geef je liefde. En jij bent zo ontzettend blind dat je dat niet zag. Als je wist wat échte liefde was, dan had je dat herkend dat ik dat nodig had.
En er zijn nog meer momenten geert, zoveel momenten dat jij jouw verkrampte woede de boventoon liet voeren in plaats van op zoek te gaan naar liefde. Alle zovele kleine momenten dat je dat deed, een klap tegen mijn hoofd (Hoe durf je! Gore hond) omdat ik een kopje kapot liet vallen op de vloer, een tik omdat ik loes pestte terwijl ik juist toen aandacht & liefde nodig had, een klap omdat ik per ongeluk iets verkeerd deed zonder dat ik het doorhad, je legde over mij jouw deken van verkrampte woede. En dan heb je nog de extreem schandalige harteloze momenten, dat je mij over de overloop sleepte en ik wakker werd met wondjes op mijn rug, of die ene keer dat je mij sloeg op mijn kaak waarna hij nog een tijdje bij mij na-gloeide, of die ene keer dat ik boos was geworden op mijn neef Koen, en jij mij achtervolgende naar de wc en mij commandeerde om de wc deur open te doen omdat je mij toch wel zou krijgen, en ik angstig de wc deur open deed en je mij in elkaar sloeg. En het Koen-verhaal heeft nog een belangrijk staartje, ik had van jou geleerd dat woede de enige manier is om conflicten op te lossen, ik wist niet beter, en omdat ik jouw techniek hanteerde, kreeg ik van jouw straf. Ik werd gestraft omdat ik een jongen was die ik zelf eigenlijk niet wilde zijn, maar waar jullie, waar jij het grootste aandeel in had dat ik zo geworden was.
Oh oh oh wat ben jij blind. En wat heb jij mij bang gemaakt, ook voor de keren dat ik dacht dat ik iets verkeerd had gedaan en heel bang werd omdat ik in elkaar geslagen zou worden, en ik dan toch niet straf kreeg, maar de straf had ik dan allang gehad. Ik herinner mij dat ik een keer per ongeluk met een waterpistool water op het plafond had gespoten, en jij zou over een paar uur thuis komen, oh man, wat was ik die hele middag ontzettend bang dat ik in elkaar geslagen zou worden. De onzekerheid, waar zou ik geslagen worden? Op mijn rug? Op mijn hoofd? Zou ik een trap krijgen tegen mijn benen? En hoeveel pijn zou het doen? Wanneer zou het stoppen? Hoeveel zou ik voelen? Zou ik mijn evenwicht verliezen en op de grond vallen? Zou je dan doorgaan met trappen? Hoe boos wordt je op mij? Hoe ongewenst en afgekeurd en onwaardig zou ik mij gaan voelen? Volgens mij heb ik die middag misselijk buiten op het grasveld doorgebracht. Uiteindelijk was het water alweer opgedroogd toen jij thuis was, en ik soort van biechtte het bang op dat ik water had gespoten op het plafond, maar jij lachte het weg. Ook dit was weer zo een schandalig moment geert, waar jij zeer verwerpelijk harteloos was, dat jij je kind zó gemaakt hebt dat zelfs in deze situaties hij flinke angst en pijn voelt. De angst voor pijn is erger dan de pijn zelf, dat staat in het martelhandboek van de CIA. Er zijn nog écht een stuk meer of misschien wel veel meer extreem schandalige momenten dat je mij mishandelde, maar ben ik ze vergeten en/of ik heb ze weggestopt. Ik heb geprobeerd na te gaan hoe vaak jij mij mishandelde, maar ik weet het gewoon niet meer, ik dacht dat het normaal was. Hoe vaak mishandelde je mij? Ik weet het niet meer, net zoals ik ook niet meer weet wanneer ik mijn nagels knipte, en t zou me echt niet verbazen als ik vaker dan dat werd mishandeld. Oh oh oh, wat ben jij een laf monster geweest geert, en wat haat ik jou intens.
Terug naar mijn jeugd van mishandeling: langzamerhand werd ik heel verdrietig geert, en ik werd heel eenzaam, ontzettend eenzaam. Ik trok letterlijk de conclusie dat ik het simpelweg niet waard was om blij te zijn. Want hoezo was ik iets waard, hoezo was ik liefde waard? Want die kreeg ik niet. Ik kreeg afkeuring. Dat ik niet goed genoeg was, en dat ik voor verdriet zorgde, en straf en woede verdiende. Vanaf dat moment, elke keer als ik bij mezelf merkte dat ik ergens om moest lachen, ergens blij van werd, kreeg ik automatisch de gedachte 'ik ben dit niet waard, ik mag niet blij zijn', en ik stopte met glimlachen en werd weer ongelukkig.
Ik voelde me zo eenzaam geert, dat ik op een gegeven moment ervan overtuigd was dat jullie mijn echte ouders niet zijn, dat ik een pleeggezin leefde, en dat mijn echte ouders, die ergens anders waren wel écht van me hielden. Ik kan me het moment nog herinneren dat ik aan het douchen was, en heel hard aan het huilen was, ik zag jou samen met bram op het grasveld voetballen, en ik dacht bij mezelf 'dat is mijn echte vader niet', en 'dat is niet mijn echte broer', ik moest heel hard huilen. Jij hoorde mij en vroeg achteraf of ik weer aan het zingen was. Ik zei tegen jou dat ik aan het zingen was. Natuurlijk was ik aan het zingen geert, denk je nou echt dat ik mijn verdriet zou vertellen aan de klootzak die mij aan het kapot maken was? Dacht je dat echt ik dat met jou durfde en wilde delen? Dat ik me bij jou veilig voelde? Of dacht je dat ik met jou wilde delen toen ik op school in groep 4 in elkaar werd getrapt? Denk je dat ik met jou durfde te delen dat ik gepest werd op school en op de voetbalclub? En dat ik dus overal waar ik kwam in mijn leven eigenlijk niet welkom was? Denk je nou echt dat ik met jou zou delen hoe kut ik mij voelde, hoe ik op de middelbare school nog steeds gepest werd? Want dan pas ben je een vader geert, als je kind zijn verdriet en onzekerheden en angsten met je wil delen, want dat is pas waar opvoeden écht begint, het niveau wat jij nooit bereikt hebt met mij. Een kind hoort zijn problemen aan zijn vader durven te geven en dat ook doen, dat maakt pas een echte vader. Jij gaf jouw woede problemen aan mij, je deed het dus andersom, je bent mijn vader niet.
Ik weet niet meer precies wanneer het volgende gebeurde is geert, maar wat nu komt is “het pareltje” van “jouw opvoeding van mij”. Ik ging zo oprecht geloven dat ik niks waard was, dat ik er niet mocht zijn, dat ik mezelf dood wenste. “Ik wil dood” was sindsdien mijn levensmotto. Wat in - en in triest is dit geert: een klein kind van rond de 8-10 jaar oud die oprecht gelooft dat hij niks waard is, er niet mag zijn, waar niemand écht van houdt, en die zichzelf de dood in beredeneert. Ik ging volgens mij ook nadenken hoe ik dat zou kunnen doen, en ik weet het niet meer heel helder, het was immers de donkerste periode uit mijn leven, maar volgens mij ging ik nadenken over verschillende technieken om mezelf het leven af te nemen.
Wat ik nog wel helder weet is dat ik besefte dat je halsslagader heel belangrijk is. Nu komt het geert, het meest zwarte moment uit mijn leven. Ik wilde dit uitzoeken, en besloot op een dag dat ‘s nachts uit te gaan zoeken. Ik zorgde die nacht dat ik wakker bleef, en rond 02:00 ofzo ging ik uit bed, liep de trap af, liep naar de besteklade, pakte een scherp genoeg mes eruit, en liep naar de boekenkast. In de boekenkast pakte ik het anatomieboek, en vond het plaatje waar alle aderen in je lichaam te zien waren. En daar stond ik dan, zielloos alleen, een klein en ontzettend kwetsbaar jongetje, overlopend van verdriet, in mijn rechterhand had ik het boek vast, ik zag waar mijn halsslagader liep, en prikte een klein beetje met mijn linkerhand het mes in mijn hals, en dacht huilend “dit is wat ik moet doen, dit is wat ik moet doen als ik mezelf dood wil maken”. Wie is hier nou de grootste schuldige hier, ik kan er niet om heen: het is niet herma, ook niet bram, ook niet de kerk, ook niet de basisschool, en het is ook niet de voetbalclub. Geert, dat ben jij: jij bent de grootste oorzaak dat ik de dood in de ogen heb gekeken, mijzelf bijna mijn leven heb afgenomen.
Jullie begonnen ook te erkennen dat er écht iets mis met mij was en stuurden mij naar de riagg. Maar de pddnos diagnose voelde voor mij niet goed, alsof ik in een rolstoel werd geduwd terwijl ik hele zwakke enkels had. Ik haatte het woord pddnos en autist. Ik voelde dat ik dat niet was, dat ik geen autist was, maar ik kon er geen woorden aan geven. Ergens tijdens mijn sova cursus bij de riagg ging ik inzien dat ik inderdaad niet op deze manier verder kon leven, met de ontzettende pijn die ik had. Ik trok letterlijk de conclusie 'niemand houd écht van mij, daar moet ik het maar mee doen'. Vanaf toen ging het ietsje beter, omdat ik mijn gevoel had uitgezet. Het ging niet beter omdat ik naar die voor mij suffe cursus ging, het ging beter met me omdat ik de realiteit geaccepteerd had, en ik ‘stopte’ met vechten en het verlangen naar liefde.
Mijn gevoel trok het niet meer, ik ging in overlevingsmodus, ik zette mijn hart op slot. Vanaf dat moment was je mijn vader niet meer geert, als je kind je hart op slot doet voor jou heb je het als vader verprutst. Vanaf mijn 10e/11e/12e ofzo waren je kansen verkeken, want ik liet je mij niet nog meer kapot maken. Vanaf dat moment was je iemand voor mij die toevallig in hetzelfde huis woonde, toevallig sterker was dan ik, en dus de baas was. En dat je mij eten en kleding gaf, mij op vakantie nam en al die dingen, dat voelde als een rare afspraak die daarbij hoorde. Voor mijn straffen die ik van jou en Herma kreeg had ik een oplossing gevonden: ik ging ze allemaal opschrijven op een a4’tje, en als ik dan later ouder en sterker was zou ik je ontvoeren, je vastbinden, en het je allemaal teruggeven. Het a4’tje had je trouwens gevonden, en toen ging je mij minder fysiek straffen. Maar het kwaad was toen al lang en al lang geschied.
En vraag je je nog af hoe het kan dat ik soms ongewone theorieën in mijn hoofd haalde, niet kloppende opvattingen over sociale gebruiken of gevoelskwesties? Dat ik smetvrees ontwikkelde en gerelateerde opvattingen, of dat ik op een gegeven moment écht dacht dat er een bende mensen achter mij aan zat die mij wilde ontvoeren. Al die ongewone theorieën geert, die ontstonden in mijn hoofd, omdat ik compleet niet meer in contact was met het belangrijkste kompas van mijn leven: mijn hart.
Ik zal je ook vertellen waar mijn puzzelstukjes van jouw defect als mens in elkaar vallen geert, en de puzzel die jij misschien nooit af gaat krijgen in je leven. Toen ik je ongeveer 6 jaar geleden vertelde dat ik op mijn 10e de conclusie trok 'niemand houd écht van mij, en daar moet ik het maar mee doen', toen was jouw eerste reactie 'daar was je toen veels te jong voor, dat had je nooit kunnen bedenken!'. En ik heb via Tom een quote van jou opgevangen 'op een gegeven moment reageerde Wouter alleen maar op fysieke prikkels'. Dit beiden voor mij, is de conclusie dat jij echt totaal geen idee had wat je aan het doen was toen je mij aan het kapot maken was, terwijl je dacht dat je aan het opvoeden was. Totaal geen idee. Om nog maar te zwijgen van je onderontwikkelde emotionele bewustzijn en je beperkte inlevingsvermogen. Je dacht kennelijk dat er totaal niks emotioneel substantieels in mij om zou kunnen gaan toen ik kind was, en dat je mij zou moeten africhten alsof ik een hond was. Er bestaan trouwens ook gezinnen die hun hond niet eens slaan, maar het beestje alleen maar opvoeden met liefde. Gek hé, eigenlijk, dat je met liefde kan opvoeden.
Of je een kind mag slaan, inclusief corrigerende tik, die discussie ga ik niet met je aan. Daar ben ik te goed voor. Ik verwijs je door naar het openbaar ministerie en bijhorende richtlijn voor strafvordering kindermishandeling. En voor hoeveel emoties en gedachten in een kind om kunnen gaan, die discussie ga ik ook écht niet met je aan. Daar ben ik ook te goed voor. Daarvoor verwijs ik je door naar het dagboek van Anne Frank, kijk maar hoeveel emoties en gedachten van haar daar in staan. Bovenal eigenlijk, ik verwijs je door naar de psycholoog, en als startpunt kan je deze brief nemen. Mijn vader ben je al minstens 20 jaar niet meer. Oh oh oh ... en om nog maar te zwijgen wat voor schade je bij Bram aangericht hebt... Die gast is nog steeds niet terecht. De psycholoog vind het trouwens waarschijnlijk een hele leuke casus als jij daar met je bibberende handjes aan komt janken. Iemand die op zn 60e eindelijk eens zijn jeugd gaat verwerken. Super leuk. Wel te laat om te voorkomen dat hij het doorgeeft aan z’n kinderen en zn gezin kapot gemaakt. Maarja, beter te laat dan nooit. Nee geert, ik heb geen medelijden met je. Ik heb al genoeg met jou mede geleden. Ik zou er het liefst met een bakje popcorn naast gaan zitten.
--- 5 ---
Als je zelf in een autogarage gaat staan dan ben je niet automatisch een echte auto. Je kan wel doen alsof, en met je stem zielige geluidjes maken enzo. Als je een kind verwekt dan ben je niet automatisch een echte vader. Je kan wel doen alsof, zielige straffen geven enzo.
Ligt de waarheid niet in het midden? overdrijf ik? even een check: ik was er letterlijk oprecht van overtuigd als kind dat je mijn echte vader niet was, ik was er letterlijk oprecht van overtuigd dat er niemand was die écht van mij hield, je gaf mij geen onvoorwaardelijke liefde - nee, je was niet een échte vader voor mij.
Heb ik andere dingen te zwaar aangezet in deze brief? Heb jij mij kapot gemaakt? Hoe kan je iemand helemaal kapot maken, helemaal kapot: door hem te laten geloven dat er niemand is die echt van hem houdt en óók laten geloven dat hij het niet waard is. Mijn eigenwaarde, zelfrespect en hart is schandalig ver afgebroken vroeger.
Of ben ik toch stiekem autistisch, en ben ik disfunctioneel geboren? Ik ben afgelopen jaren het vergif van mijn jeugd uit mijn lichaam aan het werken. Als je ziet hoe ik me nu begin in te leven in mensen, hoe makkelijk ik contact maak op dansles of in de club of waar dan ook, emoties begin te lezen bij andere mensen, of met een opmerking een gevoel spiegel wat ik bij serveersters in een café zie, dat is gewoon echt niet disfunctioneel. Ik ben disfunctioneel gemaakt doordat ik mijn gevoel moest uitzetten.
Het gevoel is echt niet overdreven, je hebt mij echt kapot gemaakt geert, op verschillende manieren, en mijn woede mag er zeer zeker zijn. Want door die woede kan ik mijn eigen grenzen terug pakken, mijn gruwelijke monster uit mijn jeugd heel ver weg jagen, en ruimte creëren om mijzelf weer lief te hebben. Liefde die mij vroeger is afgepakt. En dat er verschrikkelijke dingen mij aan gedaan zijn die ik niet verdiende. Dat ik wél liefde verdien, dat ik er wél mag zijn, dat ik wél mooi ben, dat ik prachtig kan zijn.
Succes ermee, ik geef het terug aan jou. Ik ben er klaar mee, ik ga verder met mijn leven, ik ga verder leven met andere mensen die mij wél mooi vinden. Want ik mag er zijn. Niet van jou, maar zéker wel van mijzelf en andere mensen.
Hier is mijn woede aan jou. Mijn woede hoopt dat jij erin stikt. Maar ik hou teveel van Tom en Loes om je dat écht te wensen.
Wat ben jij een hypocriete verkrampte klootzak
Notes
fri 13 dec -
ik blijf mezelf maar vanuit schaamte benaderen, maar ik heb ook heel veel goed gedaan.
riagg moedige mij aan om niet naar wijn wonden te kijken, maar te focussen op het fixen van extern gedrag. niet alleen mijn ouders waren nep, de mensen die mij probeerden te helpen ook.
g&h gaven mij complimentjes voor dat ik slim was, ze creëerden een vals zelfvertrouwen, en versterkten daarmee mijn wonden
toevoegen aan part2.separation: dag in dag uit tweederangs behandeld worden, ik kreeg een consistent signaal van mijn ouders dat ik minder liefde waard was
het schrijven is een constant onderzoek hoe ik werd misvormd in mijn verleden, met wat voor manieren en effecten, en wanneer ik mij vervolgens vanuit de misvorm bekijk en vanuit mijn natuurlijke vorm. Des te meer ik mijn misvorm kan herkennen, des te meer ik eruit kan stappen, niet alleen qua gedrag, maar ook qua naar mijzelf kijken.
had ook
Todo:
Struggling
minimal breathing "wat lekker, ik hoor je niet ademen"
platte buik
Believing what I was told
Almost daily I was abused by my parents
I have to tell my human experience. I have to tell what pain was in my family, how it entered my body, entered my thinking, entered my feeling, entered my heart, and became my truth. Stuck pain causes a distortion in reality, that keeps on distorting until it is cleared. Until it is seen for what it really is, a choice: a tendency to create more pain, or an invitation to meet your own uniqueness.
Pain is not something I have to be ashamed for. Even if it kills my life, scares people away from me, or makes me feel utterly lonely. I am not my pain. My pain is my reaction to something full of pain, an energetic imprint that keeps distorting my view on reality and messing up my life. It is not who I am.
My pain is that I consistently was told that I am difficult, causing problems, causing sadness, causing desperateness, causing anger, causing fear. It was combined with constant physical and emotional attacks, destroying my defenses. I was forced to allow these messages of pain to enter me. My pain is that I was made to believe that I am the cause for pain, and gradually I did start to believe it. And at some point it was my truth, that I am pain itself.
As a child, it was the only thing that made sense to me. My mother told me that I don't love her, that my heart is broken, and that she is worrying extremely about me. Almost always when I met her, it ended up in conflict, desperateness, disappointment, and loneliness. My father consistently punished for anything. Physically, I was constantly unwelcome, and my presence meant I had to pay for it in pain.
Everything I did on a deeper level, was condemned to be wrong by my parents. At one point, I simply started to believe that it was me. I was living with a mother who was constantly worrying about me,
--- LONG LIST ---
Jaap Spanjer
Anneke met cadeautjes
denigrerend praten over andere mensen inclusief familie
geert maakte korfbal belachelijk
geert maakte grapje over dikke mensen en Coba
herma: Dikke mensen zijn onwaardig
Hockey mensen zijn lelijk
8jaar: meerdere keren van school weggelopen
When I think back on my youth, I still have many black spots.
-CVT herbeleving- net zoals nagelknippen, etc-
herma bekkeninstabiliteit
kleine penis
Heidenen kunnen ook aardig zijn
Monstertje - voorzichtig
tandarts afspraak vergeten? jammer dan
moest een goed kind zijn zodat mijn moeder zich een goede moeder voelde
10jr, vakantie kon totaal geen contact maken aan tafeltennis tafel
niet praten over seks
geert ging lollig doen toen Eva en Bernadette er waren
--- DONE ---
groter stuk vlees als 10 (voortrekken)
als kind waren we heel ondeugend -> de grenzen van mijn ouders klopten niet
toen ik thuis grappig werd ging mijn vader mij onderdrukken
mijn vader onderdrukte mijn levensenergie ansich
geert concurrentie met kinderen, bijv toen ik zijn geplakte foto nadeed
T+L ook gehypnotiseerd dat ik en B black sheep zijn, geleerd ons te verafschuwen, maar hypocriet te doen alsof ze van ons houden
wouter heeft ook gevoel
ballet en allerlei zelfontwikkeling was slecht
ik koken, durf geen nee te zeggen -> onder strakke angst -> neppe dankbaarheid van herma
zelden aankijken
ogen aankijken == boos worden == vernederen
Christendom
lion king - Asterix
zondag geen tv behalve voetbal
twee keer naar de kerk "water is ook saai"
Water is lekker als je dorst hebt. Als je niet meer naar de kerk gaat kom je vanzelf weer in contact met je eigen waardigheid.
wachten bij de kerk
dreigen met stoppen van onderbroeken wassen
Rare afspraak van ouders
Het huis uit als je 18 bent
ze dachten alleen maar aan zichzelf
scheiding: met kamperen, ik en bram sliepen buiten de tent
paranoia
'iedereen maakt mij kapot'
'het is je eigen schuld jongetje'
zoog energie als mijn mijn moeder mij knuffelde
ik pestte vaak mijn jongere broer en zus, ik had aandacht nodig
briefje met mishandelingen
Huilen dit zijn niet mijn ouders, mijn echte ouders die wel echt van mij houden leven ergens anders
Niemand houdt van mij, en daar moet ik het maar mee doen
Zelfmoord voorbereiden
Black-white sheep separation
Eten uitkotsen
In elkaar getrapt door geert
in elkaar getrapt en gepest op school
herma hoofd onder de koude kraan
zelfmoord plannen: hij wil aandacht
geknepen door moeder
herma ging overdreven huilend voor mij staan
--
When I start to feel into my heart, how I felt when I was growing up, I stumble across a wall around my heart with big signs: not again, stay away from it, it brings you nothing but trouble, you get into hole you cannot get out, it is not worth the risk of losing yourself again. Not after you have done so much work on yourself to get out, and you are just starting to be happy again. Just don't do it.
Even more than thirty years later, the loneliness and sadness I felt in my youth, still has its grip on me. But I want to feel it again, I don't want to put it away and fake my life around it, or write a fake website. It is so important how I felt, to tell a story of depths and heights, that can inspire people. Inspiring myself, for example, how I was able to withstand so much darkness and loneliness, and I still found my way in the future, into the now, into learning to accept.
But I want to prevent my crying and turn away, pretend that it did not happen, that I did not lose my parents, that I did not lose myself, that when darkness came, I did not stop believing in myself, that I did not loose the grip on my own hand, my life did not turn into hate and fear, I did not left myself for dead, that I did not forget who I was.
But I did. All of it happened. And much more.
I start to remember my regrets. Should I have been less strict on my parents when I was young? Should I not have damaged my first girlfriend? Should I have just been more happy, maybe even fake it, because so many people fake their lives. I can do that too. Should I have been less difficult? What was the problem actually? There weren't any problems, right?
But why did I have nightmares almost every night of my adult life, until I started therapy? Why are nice dreams for me so rare, that I can only count 3 of them so far? Why was I waking up each morning low on energy, because I just relived every thing again? What are these nightmares of my youth, that keep haunting me? What the fuck really happened? My analysis of my family doesn't mean shit to me, if I cannot pinpoint how I felt.
It is this feeling of extreme loneliness. I remember a scene in which my parents just got angry at me, I was punished in the usual way, and my parents went along with their daily business. I was standing alone, and it happened for thousandth time.
A slight disappointment, that also for this time, I was not able to make my parents happy. I disappointed them again, and I don't feel they love me anymore. They are only angry at me. I must be so ugly, that I just cannot be part of something happy.
It is very strange, when as a child I tried, with all my best efforts, to be a good child as I could possibly be. Yet, after each time I tried my best, I was consistently invalidated, rejected, condemned, and humiliated. I kept on trying so hard, in so many ways, through so many rejections, to do what my parents wanted me to do. To be the child they wanted me to be. Every time I ended up being rejected.
There is nothing I could do right, but I believed I could, and that all failed attempts were because of me. I kept on getting shout at, being beaten, humiliated, and framed as annoying, impossible and difficult
.. .. .. .. ..
Also, we were repeatedly told that we had to leave the house soon after we became 18. And as soon as I was living away, she would visit me, using me as entertainment for her day-trips, and getting calls from me for her birthday. While being a child, she also threatened with putting me out the house to live elsewhere, because I was too 'problematic'. Children are disposable, put them away after you mess them up, but they can still can be used later on. My mother constantly bombarded me with hypocrisy, humiliation and meanness, sugarcoated with nice sentences and her-validating ideas. I had to choose believing that was normal, or leaving my mother. A child is by nature programmed to stay with its mother: so living with my mother was normal to me.
Being a very non-conscious person, she would immediately attack me.
Our parents thought they were raising us, but actually they were constantly using us for their own sick needs. They did give us food, clothes, and a room to sleep in, but it felt like a strange exchange for letting them use us.
Every time my OB did something that in any way touched the deep pain and fears of one of my parents, my parents had a choice: They could look at themselves, and feel what was triggered, and take time to process and heal it, optionally searching for help. Or they could fool themselves by believing it was not their deep pain they were feeling, but it was solely caused by the actions of my OB. Because my parents have little self-reflection, they rarely had a choice to look at themselves. The only option for them to use any of their physical and emotional violent tools available, to prevent my OB doing the thing that
When my OB(Older Brother) was born, he was born as an unwritten page: he did not have the memories, fears, and pains that my parents have. Coming from innocence, he had full trust in life, meeting life with its full capacities and emotions.
The first part of any childhood is without words, and is hard to remember. Yet, as soon as a child is born, a child negotiates with his parents through expressing his emotions. It is in this early stage, that the child already meets the implicit and explicit boundaries of his parents.
For example: A parent that has suppressed anger will have difficulties when a child keeps on expressing his anger about something. An unconscious parent will still be patient with their baby, until the point that their suppressed anger is triggered too much in any way. At that point, the parent will feel his immense suppressed anger, and in an overwhelm expresses it to anyone near him, usually his baby. Over time the child learns that his anger not welcome, and starts to suppress it himself. Of course anger does not always take this course of action, but any suppressed emotions of parents will always be triggered by children.
My previous article(XXX) ended with describing why my parents simply could not raise a family in harmony and joy. Even before the beginning, it was destined to go astray. I will describe what happened.
A family can only be as strong as its foundation, which is the relationship of the parents. In this relationship, ideally there is a desire to be with each other that leads to acceptance and trust, instead of a need to be with each other that leads to control and conflict.
feeding the narrative at all cost
Anyone who challenged their narrative, was met by their full destructive force of physical attacks, emotional abuse, and humiliation. As a child you are defenseless from your parents.
My parent kept on suffering, and took me and me siblings with them.
This narrative was put in place, so that they did not have to take responsibility for their own behavior. They did not manage to find courage, extremely scared from their own childhood full of abuse, and never took the courage.
Ik begon het eten uit te kosten, maar moest die onder dwang opeten als ik het nog een keer zou doen. Ik had het daarna nooit meer gedaan, en was gedwongen om het in me te nemen, ook het energetische.
The foundations of my family was the relationship of my parents. My emotional wounds made them needing each other.
My mother has difficulties using her brain because of her own severe abuse in her youth.
Because of her traumas, my mother is constantly looking for situations in which she can either play the hero or the victim. She doesn't know any better. She sees the world through the glasses of control in fear of humiliation: you either control and humiliate if necessary, or you are controlled and humiliated instead. She is over flooded by
My father is living inside his head, and needs external emotional stimulation to feel alive. My mother
Having suffered severe childhood abuse herself, my mother always dreamed of later having a wonderful family on her own.What she was not aware of, is that she brought in many unhealed wounds from her own past. Fearing humiliation, she is desperate to stay in control. And because of the chaos in her own youth, she is looking on participating in life as either being a victim or a hero. Her past of being emotional neglected, steers her to constantly get validation from the outside
A family can never be stronger than its foundations.
If each child of the family is like one room in the building, then the parents are the foundations, the concrete beneath the walls. But tension arises if the parents never learned from their own parents that foundations actually exist, and cracks start to appear in the walls of children's rooms. The parents will start to blame the children, instead of taking responsibility for the foundation.
In these articles, I like to describe without filters, what happened to me when I was young. It is a dark story, my invitation for dignity. Yet I tell it like this, with such a detail, because it is part of me. It was, and still is, part of my invitation.
Including how I look at the following:
My mother, who abused herself, and me.
My father, who abused himself, and me.
Myself, who was abused by them.
And with immense gratefulness,
I like to add:
That along my journey,
I have learned,
from countless beautiful people,
and my self,
to love myself.
I still am learning.
Accepting myself, is only possible with accepting what happened to me. If I keep pushing my past away, I will keep pushing parts of myself away: parts that are imprisoned in my past.
Only by letting the past work through me, feeling it as much as I can handle right now, I will grow to see life from a bigger perspective: increasing the dignified truth from which I live.
Acceptance cannot exist without truth. So only if I tell from my deepest truth, so I can find my deepest acceptance, so I can live my deepest growth, to find my deepest love.
From where was I able to the extract the essence of my truths?
So let me tell you then, about my darkness.
Before becoming the child of my parents, it was clear to me that becoming their child would be a very intense experience for me. I wanted my life to have deep meaning, through the dark and the light. I could feel their harsh difficulties in life, their immense pains, their extreme fears, their unanswered prayers, having lost almost all hope in life. And, they were willing to have me as their child. I wanted them to be the start of my life. My life, in which I will become alive.
What really happened during my childhood, was a total, awful mess, on many layers. It made my live very dark, making me feel intensely abused, humiliated, manipulated, terrorized, physically unsafe, unworthy of living, and extremely alone. I was victim from these wounds throughout my life until my early thirties, severely limiting my options on how I could live my life. In one occasion, I was hurting someone that came close to me: Repeating what was taught to me.
Now, I am increasingly connected to my powers and my dignity, and life is rich for me. Although sometimes, I still can get triggered, for a short time being controlled by my blind fears and its patterns, during which I still am a victim of my own wounds.
, what I understand from it, its context, and how my childhood impacted me.
Before becoming the child of my parents, it was clear to me that becoming their child would be a very intense experience for me. I wanted my life to have deep meaning through the dark and the light. I could feel their harsh difficulties in life, their immense pains, their extreme fears, their unanswered prayers, having lost almost all hope in life. They could be my perfect parents.
The origins of my wounds, are the wounds from my father and my mother, which in turn they inherited from their parents, and so on. The adults in any family are responsible for guiding and supporting the family, so that everyone can explore all facets of life they choose for themselves, in their own way, time, and speed. My parents simply had very little capacities for that. They even have many difficulties with exploring life on their own, because they suffered severe abuse in their own childhood. This made their hearts very closed, and so, they mostly are controlled by many of their blind fears. They are not the ones who are living their own lives. Their own blind fears are.
If you are abused in your childhood, you learn to abuse yourself. That is just all you know on how to live life. Because a child that is abused, learns to forget what life truly can be: being fully in your powers and connected to your dreams. If you never heal yourself, you will keep abusing yourself.
And the way you treat yourself, that is how you treat others, including how you treat your children. It is as simple as that. However beautiful or extremely painful the consequences may be. At the same, this is something anyone can hide behind, or use as a reason to take true responsibility. The choice really is, anyone's own.
Now looking back at my youth, I see many obvious signs and examples that they simply passed on their intense pain to their own children. My parents were largely out of touch with their dignity and personal power, living in a reality that has very little connections with the truth. They never gathered up to the courage to take a deep look in the mirror, and explore and heal their own wounds.
- Main patterns+narrative+defending&feeding the narrative at all cost-
A summary of the mess in my family can look like the following:
My mother was the spider in the web of the family. She ruled the house. She was not able to let go of control, because her blind fears taught her, that losing control is immediately followed by intense humiliation. To control and get what she needed, she used manipulation via either humiliation and emotional violence, or playing the good mom/husband.
My father has a big wound of getting humiliated in his youth, during which he fled to living in his mind. Consequently, he cannot take care of his emotions on his own, otherwise he would become numb, emotionally lifeless. In his mind he was living in a world in which he thought he was in charge, but he was constantly played out by my mother, on the deeper emotional level. She had him by the balls. Somewhere he was aware of it, but he could not grasp it.
My father desperately needed my mother, but at the same time he was very angry for getting manipulated and humiliated all the time. My mother felt misunderstood, she was helping my father, but unconsciously, she was constantly attacking his integrity and humiliating him through her need to control him. Because of her youth, my mother has difficulties thinking clearly, so she needed the clear mind of her husband to stay somewhat clear herself. My mother and father held each other in a very tight and invasive grip, always too close so that someone would feel attacked. They were fighting a lot, during which my mother used emotional violence and my father used physical intimidation.
Because my mother's self worth was compromised in her youth, she was constantly looking for validation from other people, including her children. When she started feeling insecure, she would start rattling cages in the family, to get any kind of attention or validation. If she did not get validation in a 'positive' way, she would get it in another way. Usually, it ended up getting into a conflict with me or my older brother. Getting into a conflict is a form of validation she could feed herself with. But because external validation only helps for a short while, she had to start conflicts over and over again.
When she could not win the conflicts with me or my older brother, it meant she would lose control or had to look at herself. But that would be impossible for her, because of her fear for humiliation and her spots of blind fear. So she asked my father to "handle it". That would almost always result in getting kicked or punched in the face, sometimes while lying on the ground, being in agony and terror, fearing for our lives.
My mother vaguely remembered it is unhealthy your children. But because she could not lose any conflict with us, she bypassed this easily. She would ask my father to hit us, and she convinced herself that she has never hit us. She repeatedly said "I have never hit you". When she was feeling so immense helpless, the only thing for her left to do, was lying, and living in her reality, far away from the truth. Also, she would abuse her husband as the scapegoat as the one who did hit the children. Many times my father physically attacked us by himself. But my mother could not stop that, because then he also could not hit us when she asked for it. My father allowed himself to be abused by his wife, because he cannot life without her.
Deep down, my mother felt she was not being the mother she wanted, although with desperation she just did not know how to do it differently. This increased her hunger for external validation even more. She demanded from me, that I say to her "I love you", which I did. When someone demands from anyone to say those words, it is not about the meaning anymore, because otherwise that someone would not ask it. For my mother it was her helplessness in her role as a mother, feeling she was not the mother she wanted to be. In her panic she needed validation, and abused her adult powers to take it from a child. By that, for me, she was also destroying the true meaning those words can have between two people. In the same way, she also demanded from me that I would appreciate her as a person, blaming me for "you don't like anything about me", and forcing me to start falsely appreciating her.
My mother felt herself to be extremely helpless in her own youth. For her it was a constant battle, in which she either was the super strong hero, or the very weak victim of her own parents. She didn't know life any differently: so as a result in her later life, she kept on creating that pattern again and again. For creating her family, she married a husband that would fit into her patterns. He was emotionally helpless, so she could help him all the time and she could feel being a hero. At the same time he was emotionally incompetent, so she could be a victim of his (mis)behavior well.
The only way in which my mother could heal her victim-hero pattern, was feeling and moving through the pain that caused it. But because she did not do that, the pattern was controlling her, forcing her to keep on recreating the same situations over and over again.
Apart from many occasions when my mother played the helpless victim in any situation, she also played victim of her man in front of the kids. She would complain about his behavior, that she is so unfortunate to have married him. My mother would undermine her husband in front of the children.
Because of the severe abuse my older brother and I suffered, we developed emotional illnesses. In the context of our severely abusive family, we developed anti-social behavior. We became the black sheep of the family. The younger two children became the white sheep. Again this was a repetition of the hero-victim pattern of my mother. When she would feel the need to feel a victim or a hero, she would spend time with me or my older brother, further deforming us. When she needed validation for being a good mom, she would ignore me and my older brother and spent time with the younger children. She would be feeding them manipulative love and spoiling them to get validation and recognition in return.
Out of this black/white sheep dynamics, another pattern originated. Me and my older brother became the garbage bin for any emotional garbage my mother had. Because if she got angry with her white-sheep children, it meant her self false-image of being a good mom bursted in pieces. Logically, it probably even went that far, that when she was with one of her white-sheep children, and they behaved in a way she didn't like, she saved her anger internally internally. Waiting for the moment that my older brother or me was around, taking it out on us. It must have been the same for the anger she couldn't throw at her husband.
When my mother grew up in our own family, having a very hard time herself, she dreamed of later having a happy family. It would have been beautiful for her to have that. But her unhealed wounds made that impossible for her; she kept on repeating her patterns. My mother came to see that her family is not the happy family of her childhood dreams. Having very little self reflection, she would blame me and my older brother. I felt an intense hate from her, for "ruining up her childhood dreams". But she could not consciously think that she hated me, because then her false self image of a loving mother would burst. So deep down she hated me, while she kept pushing away any thoughts about it. But it was clear from her actions.
My mother had difficulties telling what she wanted. Directly telling what she needed, meant for her to expose her inner world, which is impossible, since she has a blind fear for being vulnerable and humiliated. When my mother wanted to us to do something, often she started talking about people that do the exact opposite, and how ridiculous they are.
When we grew up, we were repeatedly told that we had to leave the house when reached the age of 18. This was told indirectly, by saying that children that still live at home after 18 are ridiculous. Even more, she saw children as some conditional investment for the future. For her, having children meant to suffer during their youth and to later have adult children as some sort of friends and have day-trips with.
When she kept on creating a big mess in her family, she started to threaten the black-sheep children by handling them over to child services. Because she could not self-reflect, she really believed that the problem was her children instead of herself and her husband. But instead she was destroying her own children, threatening them with putting them outside the family, and still expecting them to be friends later on in life. She could just never really be there for us.
Because my mother was not aware of her big holes for validation, love and intimacy, she used her children to fill those holes. At home, we had several cats. When my mother's cat was lying on my mother's lap, and my mother was 'stroking' it, it looked like my mother used the cat to suck life energy out of the cat, as some kind of intravenous therapy. Knowing the stories I do consciously remember, I can only conclude that she must have done the same to her children.
My mother needed me to be her problem child. When I sometimes managed to get some distance from her, she was feeling her big lack of validation and intimacy. She simply did not know what do with that, other then forcing me to get back into connection again. The strategy she used for this was to hysterically tell me that she is very worried about me and I should be worried to. She was using desperation as a means to re-establish connection with me. She forced me to feel worried as well, and reach out to her, after which she could act through her pattern of being the hero mother.
In a dysfunctional family, the second child often becomes the emotional sponge, absorbing all the emotions for which no responsibility is taken, of which there were many. In this emotional role, it has the strongest bonding with the mother. I was the second child. Sometimes, this second child is seen and used by the mother as the surrogate spouse, being the perfect husband that her real partner can not be. Around the age of 11, she started to behave strange to me, talking longer to me and sharing more of her feelings. In some strange way, it even became romantic. As a 11-year-old, I was thinking "if I want, I can take the place of my father being her lover". It must have been in a time when they had lots of marital struggles. My mother was constantly living through her unconscious fears and desires, having very little awareness of what was really going on.
Throughout her life, my mother was victim of the abuse in her own childhood. She would complain to me about her childhood with "my mother has done things to me that I can only tell when you are an adult". I don't question the severity of her statement. But essentially she was being the victim in front of me, her child, forcing me into caring for her.
My mother associated her black-sheep children with negativity, and her white-sheep children with positivity. Logically, this resulted in a difference of receiving affection. For example when I wanted to learn to play the piano, I had to buy my books myself, riding on my own bicycle to the shop. When once I asked to play the harp, I got the answer it was 'too expensive' (even renting), while my younger sister got her own (western concert) flute and the necessary books, including extra books for playing the piano "she played so nice". She consistently degraded me and my older brother. Because if we were becoming too happy, it would not fit with her victim/hero patterns and her false self-image, and she would have to face her many blind fears. She once offered me to go to painting lessons, which didn't interest me. But to maintain her patterns and false self-image, she needed to have offered me something I didn't want. She consistently deformed me to what she needed me to be.
Once I said that she was favoring my younger two siblings over me. She said it was a horrible thing to say, so I banished that thought from my mind, I simply started believing that what I felt was not true: I had to choose between feeling the truth or having a connection with my mother. After that my mother repeatedly humiliated in front of the family with one of her favorite sayings "I will give you a weighing scale on your birthday, so you can be happy". A connection with its mother is everything to a child: she abused that maximally. I sold myself to her. She had me by the balls. Me too.
My mother was living a reality that had virtually no connection with what was really going on. She kept losing herself in her own maze of wounds and blind fears. At some point my mother was working at child-protection services of the government, while she was abusing her children at home. She was also giving 'advice' on matters like domestic abuse and out-of-home placement of children. For her being a "loving child services agent" served as a counterbalance for what she did in her own family. When people cannot feel their pain, they try anything to avoid and hide hit. Anything.
I had to choose believing that was normal, or leaving my mother. A child is by nature programmed to stay with its mother: so living with my mother was normal to me.
At home, we had several cats. Because my mother wanted them. I remember that one of the cats was was a favorite to my mother. The thing is, when that cat was lying on my mother's lap, and my mother was 'stroking' it, it looked like my mother used the cat to suck life energy out of the cat, as some kind of intravenous therapy. Knowing the stories I do consciously remember, I can only conclude that she must have done the same to me when I was a baby. It is a grave compromise of my integrity, being forced to give your body away like that.
The hypocrisy went on and on. At some point my mother was even working at child-protection services of the government. Also giving 'advice' on matters like domestic abuse and out-of-home placement of children. And my father was heading the board of the church, supposedly an institute of love. An horrific display of hypocrisy and being out of touch with reality.
My mother just didn't know how to be a mother. Being very desperate, she was wanting to do anything to move away from that feeling. Anything.
It is a grave compromise of my integrity, being forced to give your body away like that.
Because my mother had many spots of blind fear, she was greatly hindered in her abilities to self reflect. If you see a situation that you affect negatively yourself, you cannot see it when it is related to your spots of blind fear. These spots will do anything to prevent you feeling the related pain and fear. In order to "protect" you, your mind will convince you that any outside plausible factor is the cause of any problem.
in my family that pointed to the pains in my parents, they never choose to gather up their courage
A sensible starting point for describing it, may be a metaphor for the family in which I grew up.
For my parents, running the family was like trying to drive a car that is total loss. But actually, our parents broke it, constantly crashing it along the way and fighting about how to drive to the next crash. Moreover, they thought the car was running reasonably okay. My mother even is a car license official, advising the government when some parents aren't allowed to drive. So if anything, it certainly is not her. Sometimes, they wondered about other cars, how they somehow drove faster and the passengers smiled most of the way. But those cars don't go to church each Sunday.
By the way, they often experienced sudden, immense heavy shocks through the car. These shocks threw everyone out of their chairs in the dashboard, and sometimes through the windows. The seatbelts stopped working a long time ago, but the oldest two children seemed to work just fine as airbags most of the time. Annoyingly, these older children are screaming a lot of the time and resisting their tasks. My parents were sure "They must be the reason why this car drives a bit slower and everyone has bruises and injuries. Maybe we should put them put them in a bus with other resisting children". Luckily the younger two children don't have these problems, "Look how nice they are!".
Next to that, all of these shocks were making the children very scared, it was terrorizing them. My parents didn't really notice; the car was driving similar to the cars their parents drove when they were young. Maybe even 3% better.
Because my parents did not have the courage, clarity and dignity, to see how their own actions influenced any situation, they started looking outside themselves for a reason. For that, they deformed their first two children into their black sheep: my older brother and me. The other two younger two siblings got the role of white sheep: my younger sister and my younger brother.
You need a driving's license to drive a car, you need study to get a job, but anyone can become a parent.
This was perfectly fitting for the patterns of my mother. Whenever she wanted to feel like a victim or a hero, she would spent time with me or my brother, further deforming us. Whenever she want to feel good about herself being a mom, she ignored her first two children, and spent time with her white sheep, feeding my younger two siblings manipulative love, to get validation and recognition in return. This also helped the patterns of my father. He has trouble standing up for himself in society, so whenever he wanted to feel seen, he would terrorize me and my older brother.
It was a family in which always multiple things were going on, like
My role as a black sheep, came with many demands. So much, that I had to give up my own boundaries, and compromise on my own integrity as a child.
Because children are very receptive for the ideas of their parents, my parents
However, it may be helpful to understand that my family as a system, was almost always out of balance. There were always multiple things going on: hidden conflicts, domination, manipulation, emotional violence, controlling each other, physical abuse, humiliation, miscommunication, many marital problems, burnouts, parents playing the victim, hysteria, talking behind each other's back, complaining, bullying, policing, uncomfortable angry moments of silence, scapegoating, arguments, parents seeking validation, emotional incest, hypocrisy, lying, stealing, exclusion, hidden disappointments, growing frustration, slamming doors, shouting, fighting, mistrust, terror, rebelling,
, and were punishing/humiliating me and my older brother for it.
some (hidden) conflict going on, hidden disappointments
There was no safety at all, at any place, at any moment.
My family, consisting out of two parents and four children, found its way into a very twisted look on reality, very far from the truth. It was an extremely hypocritical narrative, that supported and allowed my parents in their behavior of abuse and humiliation towards their children. My parents, extremely scared from severe abuse and humiliation they suffered in their own childhood, tragically passed it on to their children. During my childhood, they chose to have a self-serving (fear-serving) narrative, while abusing and humiliating their children. In the family, there was a lot of sadness, loneliness, humiliation, fighting, anger, hate, unsafety and insecurity. They never chose to gather up their courage and take responsibility for their own behavior.
Anyone who challenged their narrative, was met by their full destructive force of physical attacks, emotional abuse, and humiliation. As a child you are defenseless from your parents.
My parent kept on suffering, and took me and me siblings with them.
This narrative was put in place, so that they did not have to take responsibility for their own behavior. They did not manage to find courage, extremely scared from their own childhood full of abuse, and never took the courage.
and can put all blame on me and my older brother. Anyone who challenged that narrative, was abused
. Nobody cares for each other, every one cares only for himself, but is completely unable to, because the whole family is one big war zone and a snake hole.
General situation, total feeling,
specific situations and specific feelings.
a lot happened, so much, that i forgot many concrete situations, I banned them from my memories, sometimes it feels like a blackhole
the most important to write is how deeply I suffered, the richness of the darkness I experienced
The immense suffering I experienced, how it made me feel, and from what situations i got those feelings, and from what dark places my parents created those situations.
I grew up in a family that you could call a peculiar case. Actually I don't think a 'normal' family exists; but, if your read on, you might understand my choice of words.
My parents where disconnected from their hearts, so they simply could not raise us through the language of love. They brought together the immense unhealed pain from their own childhood as a soil for our family. Our family life consisted out of constant hidden conflicts and frequent fighting, both verbally and physically. In this very unstable warzone, no one could ever get what they needed via genuine interaction. For my mother to get what she wanted, she resorted to emotional manipulation, humiliation and alternating between playing the victim and the hero. She ruled the house. For my father to get what he wanted, he resorted to authoritative terror and domination by physical abuse. Consciously he thought he ruled, but in his emotional dependency he was constantly played out by my mother. Also, my mother would complain about her husband to her children when he was not around, like "he can not even care for himself, I have to do it". Disrespecting him and undermining his position. She had him by the balls. On top of this was the layer of hypocrisy and christianity (we were 'good' christians, whatever that meant...), keeping up appearance and imposing a way of thinking to hypnotize all six of us to convince we were doing okay: If you have very, very little love, and you cannot feel the truth to heal it, you are going to fool your way around it. But deep, deep down, you always know.
How this impacted my siblings, I will mostly leave to their privacy. To sketch the minimum dynamics I found myself in, it played out somewhat like this: My older brother instinctively felt the hypocrisy and constantly rebelled and aggressed to my parents. At the same time, he tried to care for his younger siblings, through the mess the whole family was in. He was never understood and was made into a living-in outcast. He stood for an heroic cause, fighting a battle he never won. I saw that being a rebel didn't work out, and I chose the role of a conforming policer and emotional sponge, living by rules in my mind and suppressing my own feelings. Playing the role opposite to my brother's, we were constantly fighting: I used the tactics of emotional abuse and humiliation that I learned from my mother, and he resorted to the tactics of physical abuse he learned from my father. I treated my brother as if he had a highly contagious disease, everything that he touched, I could only touched it after I washed it. I was just expressing how my parents actually treated him. As a result of the roles we adopted, we got labelled the problem childs. But actually we were acting out the the poisonous energies that ran through family, being a garbage bin. My younger two siblings noticed that being a rebel or emotionless conformist didn't quite work out, they resorted to respectively withdrawing and overcaring. They also adopted the role of becoming 'perfect children', feeding my mother to be validated being a 'good mother', and that having two problem childs wasn't "her fault". My mother eventually got the cast of actors she wanted: whenever she felt sad/anger and wanted to feel a victim, or playing the hero for looking after her 'problem children', she would spend time with me or my older brother, creating more misery. Whenever she wanted to feel a good mother she would ignore us and spend time with my younger 2 siblings, spoiling and forcing them manipulative love to get recognition in return. My father was mostly working, or when at home, tired from being overworked and resorting to his usual patterns. Because he could not make a stand for himself, not in society and not in his family towards his wife, the only way he could feel seen was by beating his problem children, imposing fear in them. The younger 'perfect' children were not to be really attacked. Just some minor slaps so that he could believe his own story.
As for my personal experience, I was living in constant terror of being beaten and humiliated. My mother was by words pretending to be nice to me, but in behavior she was extremely mean. For example, my mother creates conflict with anyone who doesn't play by her rules. So when she was in conflict with me, it would frequently escalate. And when she couldn't 'win' from me, she would ask my father to 'handle it', so that would mean lying on the ground in terror and agony, being kicked and hit by your father: fearing for my life. She pretended to have never physically hit us, but being the 'caring mother', who would have 'disagreements' with me. It is hard to show affection for you mother if you treat she treats you like that. But she forced me on saying "I love you", which I did, because she needed validation.
She also needed me to be a problem child. When I sometimes managed to get some distance for her to get some rest in my system, she would pop up in my bedroom hysterically. She would be saying how worried she is about me, implying I really should be worried too. In that inflicted helplessness I was supposed to reach out to her, so that she can feel connection and validation for being a hero mother for a problem child. She was abusing me for feeling connection, an endless hole she needed to fill in. But as soon as I tried to wrestle free from this, she negatively enforced the entanglement by conflict or hysteria. I was taught to play by her rules and only hers. Anytime as soon as there was a sign of discontent in her, I startled, and scanned if I could be made the cause for this, and adjusted my behavior, feelings and thoughts.
In a dysfunctional family, the 2nd child often becomes the emotional sponge, absorbing all the emotions for which no responsibility is taken, of which there were many. In this emotional role, it has the strongest bonding with the mother. When it is a boy, it can even becomes the surrogate spouse of his mother, filling the unmet desires of the mother for a perfect husband. It turned out I was the one cooking every Monday for the family. Even more, around my 11th year there was a time when my mother shared more intimate feelings, she was becoming strangely close in the loving compliments she gave me. And as a 11-year-old, I was thinking "if I want, I can take the place of my father being her lover". It must have been in a time when they had lots of marital struggles. Twenty years later, when I read about surrogate spouse theories, it was clear as day to me. It was such a twisted and strange dynamics I had then found myself in, also being forced to connect with my mother on a intimate and romantic level. Forcing a child into being a surrogate spouse is also known as emotional incest.
My mother had her own share of abuse in her childhood. But because she never healed it, she passed it on to her children. She would complain to me about her childhood with "my mother has done things to me that I can only tell when you are an adult". I don't question the severity of her statement. Essentially she was being the victim in front of me, her child, forcing me into caring for her. And because of her "cliffhangers" I assumed my life was quite okay, since hers was "really bad". The hypocrisy and twistedness was being fed from all angles: pain goes anywhere when you don't care for it. During her growing up she fantasized about later having a lovely family. And when I, one of her children, was being a "problem child", she hated me for ruining her childhood dream: "you will be knowing that >you< are the one being sick causing the problems".
'Problem' children get less affection and care than 'perfect' children. For example when I wanted to learn to play the piano, I had to buy my books myself, riding on my bicycle to the shop. When once I asked to play the harp, I got the answer it was 'too expensive' (even renting), while my younger sister got her own (western concert) flute and the necessary books, including extra books for playing the piano "she played so nice". Maybe when I played the harp I was able to have some form of self-expression and be slightly happy. She could not have that. She once offered me to go to painting lessons, which didn't interest me. But she needed to have offered me something I didn't want, so she could keep on pointing to me. She consistently deformed me to what she needed me to be. Once I said that she was favoring my younger two siblings over me. She said it was a horrible thing to say, so I banished that thought from my mind, I simply started believing that what I felt was not true: I had to choose between feeling the truth or having a connection with my mother. But my mother repeatedly humiliated in front of the family with one of her favorite sayings "I will give you a weighing scale on your birthday, so you can be happy". A connection with its mother is everything to a child: she abused that maximally. I sold myself to her. She had me by the balls. Me too.
Our mother never intended to be really there for us. "I love your father more than you, you do understand that, right?" Also, we were repeatedly told that we had to leave the house soon after we became 18. And as soon as I was living away, she would visit me, using me as entertainment for her day-trips, and getting calls from me for her birthday. While being a child, she also threatened with putting me out the house to live elsewhere, because I was too 'problematic'. Children are disposable, put them away after you mess them up, but they can still can be used later on. My mother constantly bombarded me with hypocrisy, humiliation and meanness, sugarcoated with nice sentences and her-validating ideas. I had to choose believing that was normal, or leaving my mother. A child is by nature programmed to stay with its mother: so living with my mother was normal to me.
At home, we had several cats. Because my mother wanted them. I remember that one of the cats was was a favorite to my mother. The thing is, when that cat was lying on my mother's lap, and my mother was 'stroking' it, it looked like my mother used the cat to suck life energy out of the cat, as some kind of intravenous therapy. Knowing the stories I do consciously remember, I can only conclude that she must have done the same to me when I was a baby. It is a grave compromise of my integrity, being forced to give your body away like that.
The hypocrisy went on and on. At some point my mother was even working at child-protection services of the government. Also giving 'advice' on matters like domestic abuse and out-of-home placement of children. + Father head of board of church. An horrific display of hypocrisy and being out of touch with reality.
She chose to not take responsibility for her pain. Thus she was constantly reliving it in her subconscious, controller her. And her pain choose me as its sponge. But I wasn't allowed to reflect it back, I had to take it all in. And if I was trying to reflect it, it came back stronger, until I allowed it in.
Sometimes I catch myself thinking "Oh man, they better not be my parents, can't even begin to imagine..." But they were.
toen ik veel geld had en veel cadeautjes voor mijzelf kocht was herma bang dat ik niet meer blij werd als ik iets van haar kreeg
toen ik fles van siroop verkeerd open maakte, en niet naar haar advies luisterde, moest ik voor straf de vieze trui de hele dag aan
ze klaagde een keer letterlijk dat ik haar niet waardeerde als zoon
ik ga nu naar de bart smit.., en ben dan ik dan een goede moeder?
je mag nog best blij zijn dat je zo'n vriendin hebt, zo leuk ben je niet hoor
met ontkennen van fysieke straffen veroordeeld/vernederd ze geert, en manipuleert zij zichzelf in die lieve rol, terwijl ze dus de bitch was
'expressing' repressed emotions, voorbeeld frido-elian
overgang ouders - ik: monstertje
---
I have been as truthful as I could in describing how I experienced my parents. In the immense chaos our family found itself in, my parents also made gestures that originated out of love. But there was very little space for that. When I got constantly bombarded my explicit and silent abuse of all kinds, I needed to close my heart, so I could not feel and receive the loving gestures. Opening my heart would mean dying from the overwhelming abuse. So this is how I experienced growing up. There are enough theories about why parents abuse their own children, it usually comes down to this: how you were abused, without healing it, that is how you constantly abuse yourself, and that is how you abuse your children. But to acknowledging what happened to me, there is only one truth: my accounts of what I experienced, and the sides I saw from my parents, being a child. Maybe once they become conscious of the abuse they did to their children, thus to themselves, maybe feeling inspired to start their own healing journey.
I want to add that everyone was enormously trying their best, trying to make living together work. But the breathing space for this was very small: the harsh truth is that the above behavioural patterns were dominant in our family, by a landslide. There was just no clarity and consciousness to turn things around, not even slightly.
Besides my father and mother, I had one older brother, a younger sister and and a younger brother, so six of us in total. In our family there were many well-hearted intentions in each of us that could invite beauty and growth. However, there was rarely any soil of love, preventing that these seeds could ever sprout:
Notes dagboeken
ik speel wel die hulpbehoevende jongen die zichzelf heeft uitgezet
teveel pijn om mezelf te zijn
She tries to find her luck in doing things that happy people do But she isn't aware that it doesn't make her happy.
Makes herself and everyone believe she has got it all figured out.
And why are her eyes completely black when you close your eyes and think of her?
You'll notice she probably completely backs off when you start to hint, that she runs to her false story, where it is safe, where she doesn't feel utterly desperate and feeling completely alone, without any love, not having to be in her own black hole, the one you just saw in her eyes.
Geert takes part in the world through living up to the rules that he made up about life, and he expects everyone to respect these rules. If you don't respect his rules, for Geert it means you disrespect him, even if you have respected him emotions while not respecting his rules. + sacrifice as the ultimate goal + Program Geert
niet nee accepteren (vroeg 3 keer aan peter of hij wat van mijn eten wilde)
opgesloten in mijn gedachten, gevoelens als kompas simpelweg onbereikbaar
kon simpelweg niet vergeven, en vanuit die woede kon ik andere mensen zelden of eigenlijk nooit accepteren. verzetten van een afspraak terwijl ze een goede reden hebben kon ik niet accepteren, ik zelfs vriendschappen stopgezet daarom
rigide neigingen, want mijn hart wordt niet geaccepteerd, dus ik moet leven vanuit regels en perfectie. ook veroordelend wat ik onderdrukte. maar daaronder zit veel pijn en veroordeling naar mijzelf, ik vond mezelf lelijk, scheve tanden en kromme rug
soms was ik gelukkig voor een paar dagen, maar eigenlijk ben ik nooit gelukkig geweest
niet bewust van mijn gevoelens "vandaag heb ik bedacht dat ik soms meer voel dan ik denk. ik ik weet niet wat ik daar mee moet"
...het gevoel waar ik eerder wel eens naar hoopte. Dat ik rustig op een stoel kan zitten en kan denken: het is goed zo.
voice: high en insecure, contracted throat, afraid of speaking my truth, expecting not to be taken serious
was bang om dingen fout te doen, dacht toestemming nodig te hebben voor alles, altijd ontvankelijk voor mensen, ook als ik ze niet aardig vond
toen ik ontspannen op een feestje was dacht ik "niemand heeft door dat ik eigenijk een kneusje ben". ((als ik stiekem een kneusje ben, dan is uiterlijk vertoon het enige wat ik heb, wounded self-image))
"vandaag weer 6/7 tinder matches, dus op mijn innerlijk wordt ik goedgekeurd!!"
Wouter
Wat een kut leven
iedereen mag doodvallen
ik heb niemand
wat moet ik doen?
ik heb toch niks te verliezen
behalve mijn vrienden
ik haat iedereen!
ik ben fantastisch, maar
iedereen negeert mij!!
zie hoe superieur ik ben!
Wouter
"hij (ik) is saai, lelijk, hij is een kneusje, hij heeft geen gevoel, blijf bij hem uit de buurt (Ob,me-Ys-Yb split), hij is een aandachtstrekker, bah"
Wie vind ik mijzelf? Ik moest huilen toen ik dat opschreef
Vroeger was ik handicapped en mocht ik dat niet zijn
Lieke bleef zich voor mij openstellen, keer op keer, maar op een gegeven moment ging het niet meer. Haar liefde is ook niet perfect
je moet altijd op je hoede zijn, er altijd goed uit zien, vele vrienden hebben of anders kom je in de shit (masker van herma)
en tegelijkertijd dacht ik dat ik voor Lieke (elke vrouw: mijn moeder) moest zorgen
mijn taal gebruik was ook plat, ik gebuikte eigenlijk zelden woorden als prachtig, blijf of fantastisch. Op zn meest zei ik dingen "best wel mooi, of soms heel mooi", vooral rationele zaken. Op vragen gaf ik bijna altijd een rationeel antwoord, in plaats van te antwoorden uit mijn gevoel.
2011-03
Ik heb geleerd hoe ik op de foute manier goed kan zijn. Maar wanneer ik iets op de goede manier fout doe, zeg jij me dat het goed is.
bang om ontdekt te worden dat ik "lelijk" ben, 'shit ik wordt ontdekt'
het lijkt alsof alles wat ik schrijf (denk) meteen met mezelf duidelijk afspreek.
Als ik bij Lieke ben heb ik regelmatig gedachten dat ik haar niet knap genoeg vindt. het lijk wel een angst. Terwijl ik mezelf vaak fijn voel als ik bij haar ben. Ik denk dat ik aangeleerd heb constant op mijn hoede te zijn
Toen ik foto's van Adele zag verdween grotendeels mijn angst voor Lieke's gezet zijn
ik ga gedragingen & gedachten identificeren die bij mij materalisme ondersteunen, en die vervolgens 2 week niet doen ( fb profiel minder stoer, kleding kopen bij de zeeman, niet meer knappe foto's kijken op fb, niet meer stoer over Haarlemmerstraat fietsen, niet meer naar Lieke's onderkin kijken, niet meer trots voelen als Lieke iets doet wat mij status kan geven, etc). wat ik wel ga doen: ontdekken voor mezelf waar ik wel echt van haar kan houden. mezelf onderzoeken ,wie ik ben, waar ik gelukkig van wordt en dat meer naleven
2012-09
studio 80: praatte onduidelijk, moest een paar keer vragen wat ik zei, onhandige gesprekken
meteen al contact, maar wist gewoon niet hoe ik ermee om moest gaan, werd meteen bang
"ook bedacht dat ik dansen in partner moet zien als een conversatie" -> de wereld en menselijke interacties waren totaal vreemd voor mij, alsof ik iets buiten mijzelf analyseerde, in plaats van wat in mijn wereld met de ander zich afspeelde. mijn gevoel en emoties was ik niet, maar dat was "iets anders". over uitgaan onrealistische verwachtingen, niet meegenomen dat ik onder stress kan staan en tot veel minder in staat ben dan theoretisch ingeschat. "als je een stap overslaat in het proces met een vrouw kom je als een creep over"-> sterk rationeel perspectief, ipv gevoel
mbt lieke: ik obsedeerde mij met haar onderkin en gevulde uiterlijk, ik had niet door dat de gedachten uit mijn angst kwamen, en probeerde het op mind niveau op te lossen ipv gevoel niveau. Daardoor kwam ik niet uit mijn angst, en kon ik het niet loslaten, verdwaalde totaal in mijn gedachten, inclusief mijn angst-perspectieven, terwijl liefde iets is wat leeft in het gevoel. bij de Meijer's werd ik echt ontvangen, kreeg een lief sms'je van Ine waar ik bang van werd, omdat ik bang was dat ik t niet kon. Boos omdat hele familie een Sonja Bakker dag had, woede vanuit mijn conformiteit en onverbonden superieuriteit. Zodra ik in superieuriteit en gedachten zat, zat ik eigenlijk in angst en verdriet, maar had er niks van door. Sterke split emoties en verstand
Lieke kon mij ontzettende veel begrip en warmte geven:
toen het uit was: "je moet het jezelf nu niet heel erg kwalijk nemen, Wout?", "dit klinkt heel stom, maar wil je me beloven dat je andere mensen gaat opzoeken?"
ik zat eigenlijk nog heel vaak in mijn gevoelen van angst en pijn, maar negeerde die en projecteerde die op Lieke. en terwijl ik dat deed bleef ik dezelfde rondjes rijden in mijn gedachten. "staat mijn gevoel nu uit toevallig?" -> ik was in hevige pijn en vluchtte met mijn aandacht naar mijn gedachten. sterke pijn en angst van niet geaccepteerd worden en dus niet welkom zijn. Als ik gevoel "uit" had dan kon ik niet meer voelen dat acceptatie iets is vanuit je hart, en vluchtte ik naar oppervlakkige kenmerken om geaccepteerd te worden, o.a. een knappe vriendin, ik leefde in een ander universum, en had dat niet door.
Zodra een vrouw mijn hart kan voelen wordt ik super bang, daar ben ik vroeger gedecimeerd
"hoe voelt een warm hart? Wat doen mensen toch bij andere mensen die niet knap zijn? het leven is toch een grote rekensom? Hoe kunnen mensen nou blij zijn met de kleine dingen uit het leven?"
vandaag werd ik wakker en ik dacht aan Lieke. Ik dacht toen: het maakt me niet uit hoe je bent. Wat je nu hebt dat is alles wat je me kan geven en dat is goed zo. Toen ik dat dacht werd ik rustig van binnen. Ik kreeg het gevoel waar ik eerder wel eens naar hoopte. Dat ik rustig op een stoel kan zitten en kan denken: het is goed zo.