On conflagration of the soul

I am continuing my reading of the Karen Horner book. Each page is another conflagration in the garden of my soul. Though it is not a bad thing. Like the indigenous practice of setting fire to an old field so that new plants can burst forth in its place, so too is this reading to what is me. It generates a lot of conflict in me. It forces a renegotiation in my long held beliefs. I may be able to placate myself for a short time. But it is difficult to function for long with contradicting truths in you. Difficult to function meaningfully. The alternative is living a sort of half life. Where you freeze in panic each time you are confronted with said contradictions.

The book has made it hard for me to ignore such contradictions in my own life. I recognize in me many of the self-effacing neurotic behavior described in the book. Among it, I recognize the great taboo I’ve placed in me regarding aggression and selfishness. As I write this, I look for alternate activities and methods to procrastinate. There is no question that it is uncomfortable to write about. As if writing about it is what makes it real. But, this ruleset has been salient in my life for many years. It is a rare occurrence that I take time for myself without pangs of guilt. Even rarer are instances that I am able to spend money on myself, despite its purpose objectively defensible. I see now how absurd it is that I obsessed over a purchase of shoes. The shoes were not expensive. Mine were tattered and torn. What reason had I to self - flagellate myself for this purchase? Now that I am a bit more distant from it, I can see none. But I confess my panicking was all too real when I bought them. I can still relive that panic when I close my eyes. I was certain that I was a selfish for having purchased them, couldn’t I just go without? I -must- be able to go without. But then if I belayed that purchase, I was a miser for having done so. There is no appeasing this self-contempt. It was peculiar, because I was not opposed to spending money with or on friends and family. There was a perverse expectation of asceticism when it came to myself. The hypocrisy laid bare.

Reading this chapter forced me to stop many times. Each time, I would see aspects of this contradiction in different parts of my life. I would be available to help others in their professional and personal matters but I was reluctant to spend the same attention to mine. To my detriment, this behavior cost me several personal and romantic relationships in the past. Spending time on my own needs was taboo. Therapy was selfish beyond anything I could expect. But by some twist of luck, I convinced myself that this therapy was for the good of my current relationship. It wasn’t ideal, but it abated the conflict in me enough to get to this point. I was able to go to therapy without feeling like I was trespassing this boundary. Of course, there is no -right- way to get yourself to therapy. All that matters is that you are there. This constant voice of judgement is another symptom that I am becoming aware of but have yet to eradicate. I may never be rid of it. But what can I do but try.

I met with a friend today and we spoke about how it just takes time to work through this. There is no alternative. Despite how many books I read or lectures I watch, I cannot escape that. I cannot speed this up any more than I can change the seasons. I am desperate to speed this up. I want to finish this change. I want the conflict to disappear. And it is so tempting to think that these issues will disappear simply because I am aware of them. Simply because I understand them (which is doubtful in itself). As the old adage goes “knowing is only half the battle”.

The doing. The doing is the other half. And it is the other half that I struggle with. Doing things for myself is difficult because of how selfish it feels. Even things like eating healthy or working out seem gratuitous when I do it for myself. Of course I recognize its importance in my life. I -understand- it. But that is where my brain stops. I find myself getting impatient because I expect that knowing it means I have accomplished it. And I cannot actually accomplish it because doing so would mean taking time for myself- which crosses a boundary. It is a cycle of self-loathing and judgement. And breaking it is going to be like setting fire to a garden of weeds. It will be uncomfortable. It will take work.

This knowledge lets me know of what to expect, but it does not do the work for me. It will not make it any easier to contend with. I still sit here with a tab open for a shoe that I recognized I needed to buy over a month ago. It is the same story as the last shoe I purchased. It will undoubtedly cause me the same panic and grief. But this time I know what to expect and that it is irrational. I can temper myself to think different. It is this change that is the setting of the fire. Continuing through despite the discomfort. So that once I am through, I can sow new seeds for a life that I would like to live.