My insane head injury, where I do not know what it is I need to know, is forty-four years old this year. Because I do not know, as I have trouble reflecting, my mental connections have went haywire many times. At times, I was convinced I was deteriorating into craziness. I use to even feel my fears were being fulfilled, especially the fear of being violated and overwhelmed, so I would counterattack this fear with my aggression. My rage would explode and I become an intense, like an intense stream of water from a fire hose holding back a crowd, and my mind became overheated into these aggressive impulses. The rage was meant to hold people back and repel people from influencing me. This maintained my isolation and I withdrew into a glowing hateful silence.
My rage became ruthless and mean in 2016, as God and my cancer all became this enormous stumbling block, as more horror and uncertainty. I am also an extremely high-strung individual and my nervous system will tune to a high pitch, mainly because my intense involvement in my perceptions. This thought process is complex, the “ugly-duckling” who felt I need to compensate for my physical and social handicaps. This year I now feel myself being weaned from my rage and aggression. It is like I am being weaned from splitting things into the known and the unknown, the inner world and the outer world, the dangerous and the safe. Being weaned is like there is no framing device to understand the world or myself. Being weaned from the rage makes me realize there is no place to hide.
Being weaned makes my unconscious impulses want to express an inner voice. I want to give this weaning a name and naturally transcending self-consciousness. Naturally it is beyond me. Maybe this weaning is an acceptance into my flaws and irrationalities, even where things are not merely incidental to who I am. It seems this rage is beginning to reflect an inner essence, serenity. The opposites are becoming touching and yet I also feel embarrassed for being the antagonizing individual I can be.
Forty-four years of being obsessed, alienated and depressed, then being weaned from everything is like being okay in my nothingness. Nothing true or valuable in which I can believe in, nothing left, and I am weaned from the meaninglessness. I can just say being obsessed with defending myself from threats from the environment was not worth it. It would have been better if I had put myself on the line and admitted my mental disability, rather than letting my aggression and impulses overpower my mind. And maybe I should feel guilty and shameful for being a misfit in life, sigh deeply, yet the suffering is not worth it anymore.
Being weaned from my rage feels worthwhile, a practical value, and yet can it be given expression? Is this merely my individual consciousness or is it other people’s awareness feeling weaned from existence as an individual? I ask this because I do not understand this acceptance and serenity where I feel weaned from existence, weaned from nothingness, weaned from my rage, and even being weaned from being an eccentric crackpot.
Thank you for allowing me to try to understand and the fullness of your support.