Past – When I was around 3, I moved from a place and a family where I felt free, and loved (Pîrjol), to another where there were rules, and love (I thought) was conditioned by following them (Năvodari). I detailed this here: My soul. I realized the things written in that article last summer (summer of 2016).
In a nutshell, I felt, then, that I am not loved in either of the places and if I want to be loved by my family in Năvodari I need to follow rules. I thought love was conditioned by good behavior.
I was wrong, I was loved in both places, though the expression of it wasn’t clear to me at that time.
And I’ve built, based on this, a whole set of emotions, and, actually, a life.
When you go online on a forum, there are two opposite views:
One person comes with an open heart, wants to help, offers resources, gives time, effort and interest to help. That person is positive and welcoming. But, most important, the person’s attitude is “If I can help, I’m willing to help, the world will be better with my input”.
Generally, a reply or more comes after that with a sarcastic message, ruining the first impression. Most important, the person feels he/she’s entitled. “I deserve to receive quality posts on the forum, who is this newbie who made a mistake? This is my house, my party, these are my rules.”
Unfortunately, this kind of attitude doesn’t do good for either party, as most people prefer not to join the conversation anymore.
Am auzit recent o explicație a lui Andrei Pleșu pentru “Fericiți cei săraci cu duhul” ar fi cei care, indiferent de starea materială, nu pun materialul în locul spiritualului. Spre exemplu, cei bogați nu fac din bogăție o pricină de poticnire. Cei săraci cu duhul pot fi bogați, dar bogăția nu le ia mințile.
Dacă aș fi client, aș vrea să fie un magazin amplasat cât mai departe de un alt magazin. Aș prefera să am un magazin în nord, unul în sud, și tot așa.
Dacă aș fi vânzător, și aș ști că în centrul orașului e un magazin magnet, aș face magazinul fix în centru, și, mai mult, l-aș face chiar vizavi de acel magazin.
Dacă îmi fac magazinul în nord, practic cedez concurenței mele orice altă zonă decât zonele apropiate mie.
It appears to be futile – writing a long post on a subject. After all, most blog posts, even those with a clear demonstration behind them, can be turned into something smaller.
Well, it helps. It helps you become better in the process of writing. Going through the path of writing a message makes you a better person. You work for it.
Some of my blog posts tend to look rather stupid. Simple ideas, repeated, at times, obsessively. Well, I like them, nevertheless, and I learn from writing them, despite of this.
Case study – sometimes, when I go to an event, I photograph weird things – the entrance, some objects in the room, a logo. Most people would focus a lot on the speaker, less on the organizers, and very few times on the participants.
My focus tends to differ. I don’t go around in the room photographing objects. But I do photograph lots of things, and this helps me make a photo story which tends to be not necessarily easier to follow, but easier to remember.
The photo at the entrance helps you connect with the room. The various photos in the room help you connect with the audience. And so on.
Another case study – yesterday I resized a partition. I thought the process would last for a few seconds, but it lasted for about 15 hours. I couldn’t cancel the operation, once started, so I had to wait to finish. The whole day I checked on the status, to see how much it would last. It brought some frustration. The next time I’ll need to resize a partition, surely, I’ll know more about the process than I know right now.
Writing about things makes you remember those things better. When you are the teacher, you learn some things yourself.
Quand j’étais petit, j’ai été élevé par une tante. J’etais très libre, sans restrictions, de temps en temps laissé seul, jusqu’à ce que j’avais 3 ans. Après cela, j’ai été élevé de 3 à 18 ans à Năvodari.
Pendant ce passage de Pîrjol à Năvodari, j’ai gardé en moi un désir de liberté (et de solitude), qui est une émotion fondamentale en moi.
Quand j’étais à Năvodari, j’ai eu le sentiment que pour être aimé, vous devez vous comporter comme un bon enfant. J’ai été élevé différemment à Pîrjol, où peu importe ce que j’ai fait, j’étais encore aimé.
Où cette chose mène? J’ai préféré être sans amour, plutôt que sans liberté. Donc, je suis resté non aimé (c’était mon sentiment, avec les personnes à Pîrjol loin de moi, et les personnes à Năvodari pas proche), mais libre, plutôt que aimé et avec des règles.
Mon système de valeurs est basé sur deux choses:
1. Je suis libre, je peux faire ce que je veux, je brise des choses, je suis un héros, je me sacrifie, je donne tout, je n’ai pas de règles.
2. Je ne m’aime pas et je ne peux pas aimer les autres, parce que je n’ai pas de système pour me positionner à la famille.
La vue depuis l’espace de mon enfance est la suivante: J’ai été élevé par une tante + oncle à Pîrjol, Bacău, en riant, heureux, aimé, gâté, bien traité, jusqu’à ce que j’aie 3 ans. À 3 ans venir à Năvodari, Constanţa, mère , Père, aimé, élevé bien, apprécié.
La réalité à l’extérieur de mon cœur n’est pasle même que l’enfant en moi. L’enfant avec moi s’est réveillé quand il avait 3 ans, pris du Paradis et mis sur une route pour suivre les règles à être aimé / comparaisons avec le frère calme. Si je voulais être aimé je devais suivre les règles.
Il n’y a aucune relation entre le regard extérieur et ce que je découvre en moi-même.
1. Il ya un contexte dans lequel je suis libre, heureux, je fais ce que je souhaite. Je suis quelque part ici. Dieu est ici aussi.
2. Il ya un autre contexte dans lequel j’ai essayé de construire l’amour, et, dans cette situation, il ya l’amour de ma tante, inconditionné et continue. Ensuite, l’amour conditionnel de ma mère. À partir de ce puzzle, il ya des pièces manquantes.
Je me souviens que j’avais très peur quand j’étais petite la nuit, j’ai presque toujours eu des cauchemars. Ces dernières années, moins effrayant, mais, encore, j’ai eu des rêves avec des soucis. Dans la plupart de mes rêves, je m’inquiète. Presque tout ce que je rêve, je rêve avec inquiétude. J’ai peu ou pas de rêves calmes.
Pourquoi? Parce que je ne me sens pas aimé, et que ma vie n’est pas une paix tranquille et sereine dans laquelle les émotions se produisent, mais il ya un bruit continu (le non-amour, douloureux comme il est, envers moi et les autres). Ce bruit couvre tout.
Pourquoi ai-je besoin de faire des blagues, beaucoup? Je commence par la prémisse que, dans la relation avec quelqu’un d’autre, cette personne ne m’aime pas / appréciez-moi. Mais, quand une personne rit, cette personne devient vulnérable, c’est un petit sacrifice qui vous fait paraître bête devant les autres. C’est un cœur ouvert. Quelqu’un m’a dit que cela ne signifie pas que, automatiquement, je construis une relation avec cette personne. Peut-être, mais pour moi c’est «assez bon».
Le bruit constant s’arrête quand je fais rire quelqu’un, et cette personne devient vulnérable. Même si ce n’est pas vers moi, et je n’ai pas de relation, c’est ma propre méthode de validation – le rire.
Si je parviens à arrêter le bruit puissant, je peux entendre le jazz. Je peux dormir sans soucis. Je peux écouter du jazz. Je peux regarder Tarkovski.
Mon processus d’avoir des modèles dans la vie et les gens à la recherche est parce qu’il n’ya pas de vie tranquille, dans laquelle je peux construire des émotions régulières, mais seulement des hauts et des bas, et je suis soit élevé (par rapport à la plupart des gens) ou faible (par rapport à des modèles). Je ne suis jamais au même niveau.
When I was little, I was raised by an aunt very free, no restrictions, from time to time left alone, until I was 3. After that, I was raised from 3 to 18 years in Năvodari.
During this passage from Pîrjol to Năvodari, I kept in me a wish for freedom (and loneliness), which is a basic emotion in me.
When I was at Năvodari, I had a feeling that in order to be loved, you need to behave as a good kid. I was raised differently at Pîrjol, where no matter what I did, I was still loved.
Where this thing lead to? I preferred to be without love, rather than without freedom. So I remained non-loved (this was my feeling, with the persons in Pîrjol far away from me, and the persons in Năvodari not close), but free, rather than loved and with rules.
My system of values is based on two things:
1. I am free, I can do whatever I wish, I break things, I’m a hero, I sacrifice myself, I give away everything, I have no rules.
2. I don’t love myself and I cannot love others, because I don’t have a system to position myself to the family.
The view from space of my childhood is the following: I was raised by an aunt + uncle in Pîrjol, Bacău, laughter, happy, loved, spoiled, well treated, until I was 3. At 3 years coming to Năvodari, Constanța, mother, father, loved, raised well, appreciated.
The reality in my heart is not the child within me. The child with me woke up when he was 3 years old, taken from Paradise and set on a road to follow rules to be loved / comparisons with the calm brother. I wanted to be be loved and I had to follow rules.
There is alomst no relation between the external look and what I discover within myself.
1. There is a context in which I am free, happy, I do what I wish. I am somewhere in here. God is in here, too.
2. There is another context in which I tried to build love, and, in this situation, there is the love of my aunt, unconditioned and continues. Following that, the conditional love of my mother. From this puzzle, there are some missing pieces.
I remember I was very afraid when I was little at night, I almost always had nightmares. In recent years, less so frightening, but, still, I had dreams with worries. In most of my dreams I worry. Almost everything I dream, I dream with worry. I have little to no calm dreams.
Why? Because I don’t feel loved, and my life is not a quiet and serene peace in which emotions occur, but there is a continuous noise (the non-love, painful as it is, towards me and others). This noise covers everything.
Why do I need to make jokes, a lot? I start from the premise that, in the relationship with someone else, that person doesn’t love me / appreciate me. But, when a person laughs, that person becomes vulnerable, it is a little sacrifice which makes you look silly in front of others. It’s an open heart. Someone told me that this doesn’t mean that, automatically, I build a relationship with that person. Perhaps, but to me it’s “good enough”.
The constant noise stops when I make someone laugh, and that person becomes vulnerable. Even if it’s not towards me, and I don’t have a relationship, it’s my own method of validation – laughter.
If I will manage to stop the powerful noise, I can hear the jazz. I can sleep without worries. I can listen to jazz. I can watch Tarkovsky.
My process of having models in life and people to lookup to is because there is no quiet life, in which I can build regular emotions, but only up and downs, and I’m either high (compared to most people) or low (compared to models). I’m never at the same level.
