Although writing usually helps clarify my thoughts, sometimes it clouds me over with angst. I not only encounter complex issues that resist translation, I come into collision with my own perceptions. No matter how the words arrange themselves, they look back at me with trifling glances. The deeper I excavate, the less justice accorded to the lived experience. I tackle it in bits and pieces – save it to draft, then return to it another day. I find I can only devote so much time before I’m consumed with heartache and fatigue.

When we believe we are undeserving, we can involuntarily open ourselves to unsuitable company without understanding the damage it may cause. These unsuitable personalities have abilities to decode susceptibility and hoodwink others through false assurances. While being charming on the surface, they are volatile, combative, and disrespectful of boundaries. They maintain a persistent self referential attitude and suck away energy like vampires.

Abusive episodes operate within cycles and begin with measured doses of seductive sweetness, followed by days of increasing tension, then finally erupting into violent verbal and/or physical attacks. They’re called cycles because the sweetness, tension and acting out become a recurring pattern played over and over again like an endless loop cassette.

You come to a startling realization. What seems real is imaginary. You hold on tightly, only to discover it brings instability, desolation and untold stress. This kaleidoscope of emotional upheaval erodes the soul with unpredictable bouts of dissonance.

You let go. You move on. You grieve. You open up to others. You isolate yourself. You realize many are called but few confidants are chosen. In real time grief is too alien a subject. Society at large fails to acknowledge or comprehend it. There is an unspoken aversion to it. Online, writers convey their thoughts through a generic-sounding-scientific lens. Cold and sterile. Colorless depictions.

Grief is an inner work. I came to realize I needed God to give me a new viewfinder, for mine was passed broken and looking through it, I only grew more anxious and fearful, even when reading the Scriptures. It was when I was at dead end of myself with no sense of direction did Christ answer my prayer.

~ vincenzo ©

*parentheses mine

The ruling majority is rationally driven. It ignores emotions as if they didn’t exist. This makes life challenging for artistic temperaments who filter thoughts through their feelings. ~ vincenzo ©

Throughout youth, many children seek to fix or “unbe” themselves. Their social role call them to adopt a highly charged, extroverted front — to cover their highly sensible, introverted nature. Regardless of their true temperament, they matter to others only to the extent they reflect the resilience and tough-mindedness of the high school jock or spirited cheerleader. ~ vincenzo ©

I first wrote this entry for its therapeutic value. I grew up clueless and highly disconnected when it came to emotional inner reality. To make matters worse, I never paid attention to the consequences of this nameless, soul-killing condition I am about to describe.

Leo Tolstoy, an awe-inspiring writer of classic literature masterly portrayed this phenomena in his novel “The Death of Ivan Ilyich”. In the story he reveals society’s commitment to emotional dishonesty (the antonym of emotional inner awareness) where everyone is wanting the main character, Ivan to believe he would pull through his sickness when all evidence was proving contrary. In the end, death not only related to the physical realm, but an extreme emotional disconnection from others. As one literary commentator wrote,

“The artificial life is marked by shallow relationships, self-interest, and materialism. It is insular, unfulfilling, and ultimately incapable of providing answers to the important questions in life. The artificial life is a deception that hides life’s true meaning and leaves one terrified and alone at the moment of death.”

Since the beginning of my childhood, life, like the robotic walking brooms from Fantasia, kept sweeping my feelings under the carpet. When anyone attempted to draw me out (even as an adult), I froze with discomfort. I never imagined how this frozenness could melt. I never dreamed how creative expression could pave the way to new awareness. I never considered myself worthy of this elusive yet necessary realm called emotional inner reality. ~ vincenzo ©

daily human interaction resembles an onion… you remove one layer only to encounter another without ever getting to the center core of the soul
~ vincenzo
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“ In our attempt to say no to pain, we say no to love and the worse part of all, we say no to our very existence.” ~ Jorge Bucay

“Come, live in my heart and pay no rent.” ~ S. Lover

truth-as-dull

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¨Self-control does not come from controlling our feelings, but from feeling our feelings.”

Emotional trauma is a subject alien to the general public so choose your confidant/confidante carefully. ~ vincenzo ©

* When my life started falling apart I naively sought therapeutic help from anyone who would listen — only to feel more misunderstood than ever.