Saturday, April 7, 2018, 1910 Hrs.
Oppression: the tool of those who would make you believe that someone else is weaker than they are and cannot do anything to change the circumstances under which they live, in order to do anything about their position.
Tools, the object that we use to make performing some type of work easier to accomplish. A tool can be literally anything, there are no limits as to what a tool can be or how they can be used to perform the tasks for which they were made. Emotions are tools the sort that keep information in a package that is usable and retrievable at the necessary times when a job needs to be performed. The problems with emotions are that they can become corrupted by breaches in their natural configurations.
Try to see the emotions as a container, a can-shaped container, the purpose of the shape of a can, is to contain the most product, in the least amount of external space in order to be able to stack and place more containers of the same shape in a compact space. Now, see this same can, dented, impacted by an outside force that has corrupted its intended shape. Now, if this indentation is minimal, the cans’ intended purpose is pretty much left intact, but if the shape has suffered a major shift in its shape, it may now lean to a side, or be made shorter and out of position enough where it will not support other containers of its type in a usable manner.
Foregoing the traditionally expected rendition of mental health, we have to look in search of the abstract model of what and how mental health can truly appear to be. Sometimes we form hard-based beliefs based upon something that has been taught to us by other persons who are no more sure about the truth of the matter than are we, but, they have titles and we are told that someone with a title knows more than we do and that we must submit to them our thirst to learn the truth.
I have an emotional illness and it was caused by trauma that produced injuries, and those injuries have developed into a new form of their existences into what they are today. I am not disordered, but there are disorders inside of my life based on these unhealed and untreated injuries. So, to correctly identify my problem, I have Post traumatically Caused Illness Patterns. From these patterns, my life is often interrupted by disorders in the continuation of my directional journey. Life is not statically-based, it is multi-directionally configured and it needs space in order to move freely into its own necessities.
The first thing that any of us must do if we are to decide where we are on this lifelong journey of self-identity, is to truthfully identify the “me” that I am. Individuality is all confused because we are forced into an assimilative process. Our parents were forced to send us to schools, where we were forced-fed a litany of erroneous and dangerous information. It was streamed into our minds as at the same time that same mind was seeking to grow beyond its natural born condition of being just more than an intuitively reactive device.
Schooling is not a protective environmental process, it is like being thrown out of a moving car and being left to figure out how to survive the event! In school, we are forced into a grouping. Some of the people in this group are as afraid of the newness of this unfamiliar environment as are some of the others, the problems start when one is met who has been trained to be less than sociable. This can be the kid who is always picking on someone else. The “bully”. Bullies are afraid just as the other kids are afraid, but this person has decided that he or she is going to the leader of this group of frightened and unaccustomed to the present situation as a protective measure for him or herself.
Bullies are frightened and limited thinkers, these especially frightening persons have been either mistreated at home or are just so emotionally stupefied by their new surroundings that they have to lash out, protect themselves from the unknowns that they are now forced to face. This, is an emotional illness; it is the abnormal (or maybe normal?) reaction to something that society has decided is to be seen as normal. Often, we are forced into uncomfortable situations and are expected to perform as expected based upon forced societal norms, when in fact a little more analysis an inspection would prove that there is nothing normal about being forced to do anything.
Bullies seek out the most obvious weakness in the crowd. Smaller kids, obviously shyer kids, etc. they know instinctively, (because we all do!) that some of us are weaker than some of the others. Some of us are more empathetic at a young age than others, and we tend to place ourselves in the places of those children who are less than likely to protect themselves by pushing back. We just don’t do anything, because, in this way, we won’t become victims as well.
Does this lack of involvement make me a bully as well? I used to ask myself. I retaliated against my bully, I did this by becoming his bully, I tormented him because he had done it to me. As a kid, I didn’t really give much thought as to why this could be wrong, until the day I saw myself in a mirror and saw that my face could look evil. Damn this scared me! Me, as the evil-doer, the monster who haunted someone else’s dreams. I think this frightened me more than almost any other event in my younger life, the time before I was in my young teens. I had to fight the kid back if I were to go to school and not be afraid, but I took it to another level, I stalked him, I told him the things that I was going to do to him, I looked at him as if I was the devil himself to scare him. All of this, because he did it to me.
I have no excuses to offer, I just made myself believe that I had to destroy this issue in as many terms as possible. He bullied me, I bullied him, and this tit for tat, led me to destroy a belief that I held that I was a good kid, I was brutal.
Now, with PTSI I have the distinction of having to be exclusively honest with myself, lying to one’s self is never an option, although quite a few people choose to go either ignore the condition or try to lie to themselves about having it because of either ego or fear of stigma. In either case, it is sad and it is dangerous, this illness needs to be identified and it needs to be accepted by the one affected personally, and then by the whole of society.
Maybe by standing silently by ad only observing, we are adding energy to the bullies of the world, I know that when I was the bully, no one spoke out against what I was doing, no other kids, not even the teachers! It was when my mother found out that the deal was ended!
Apathy is the gasoline for oppression’s march forward. We can do something, say something, or…we can do nothing. We can stand silently by, and watch one more person become like we are, emotionally disrupted in the attempt to clean out the damages left behind by their traumas. This issue is barren in its brutality, it has nothing to hide it from being viewed, and it has the assistance of apathetic and abusive people to fuel it along its way.
PTSI and bullying, they are concomitant in some cases, and they are also totally opposite in other ways. It depends on where you are in the process.
- Where am I in this process?
- Am I willing to tell my story to others?
- Can I make what I’m going through, sound believable to the minds of other people?
- Do I want to accept that I need help in processing the elements that will help me to heal?
- Does my condition cause me to bully other people in order to feel protected?
- Am I hurting my family and friends with anything that I do because of my PTSI?
- Am I bullying myself because I feel guilty for having this illness?
- Do I truly believe that there is hope for me to find at least some degree(s) of healing that will reduce the effects I undergo with this illness?
- Do I really want to try to heal, or am I using my condition to excuse my behavior(s)?
- Am I honest with myself, and telling myself the truth about my condition due to PTSI?
I can’t hide from my own feelings, there are no drugs, no herbs, nothing outside of not being alive that can hide my accessibility to the illness with which I am dealing. When I lie to myself, I, in fact, bully myself. This is the worst of the bully types: the self-bully.
I cannot be this apparition, this ghastly and deathly frightening identity that will leave me cold and on my own, in the middle of a sea of my own turbulent delusions. I can’t allow this to be me; can you allow yourself to be this person, this display of human oppressor who would devolve a person’s self-esteem in order to falsely build up your own? I know when I saw myself in this way, I became sickened and maybe this is one of my injuries, one of the lacerations into my can-shaped emotional package.
I hope for my healing, I work towards it, and I hope for the healing to happen for everyone else as well. Feelings of terror are not all that entertaining when they are so real that they are able to cause someone to consider or worse, to commit suicide.
Whole peace, whole understanding, whole mindfulness.