Note: The current article has been written more than 4 years ago!
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.
PS, 2020.07.13: De văzut: “Încrederea în sine e tăcută. Nesiguranța de sine e vocală!”.Partajează pe WhatsApp