Mirrors.

What role am I cast in the story you tell? How altered my narrative to fit? Am I cruel for letting go not to be lost in your diminished glow? Devalued, cast aside, still I refute your game of seek and hide. Steadfast, honest I remain, how hard it must be to view me in your name. Pushed against a wall of shame, deny your pain of yesteryear. I know what you do, you see, how once I too was much the same. Woken in reminders of me, I witnessed a part I played. How hard it must have been for the others to be stabbed with my deflecting stake.

Defended, fallen in counterattack, provoked to suit memories too old, yet innocently projected we are opportune, provided a way back. I stand unguarded outside your blockade, ready to end this tirade. I have nowhere left to run, will you open the door, let me to your aid?

The shadow.

Derives from beliefs of shame, embarrassment, fear, that the emotions termed incorrectly negative are denied, repressed then projected onto other people as their shame to carry. The only negativity around emotion is the denial leading to all manner of mental and physical health issues for the sake of attachment.

We learn during childhood to suppress emotions we perceive our caregivers are unable to deal with. This then continues throughout life, emotional maturity only occurring when we take responsibility and understand why we behave and feel the way we do. We live in societies very emotionally immature headed by those who exploit this as their levels of immaturity soar above most people's. In short, a turn of phrase; the lunatics have taken over the asylum!

All in this together.

Nature vs nurture...it's our nature to be shaped by our environment. It's in understanding we reshape our perceptions. It's not you, it's not me...it's us in entangled chaos. With one person we may thrive, with another we crash and burn then beat ourselves with the stick handed to us and taken willingly. In separation and identification, we find ourselves.

In trueness to our own nature, in fertile ground, we welcome the other in acceptance of all they are, have been and will be as we do in responsibility to ourselves.

Just let go.

In the garden of tranquillity where the serpent laid its head, I expected myself to feel at ease.

Social murder.

'When one individual inflicts bodily injury upon another, such injury that death results, we call that deed manslaughter; when the assailant knew in advance that the injury would be fatal, we call this deed murder. But when society places hundreds of proletarians in such a position that they inevitably meet a too early and an unnatural death, one which is quite as much a death by violence as that by the sword or the bullet; when it deprives thousands of the necessaries of life, places them under conditions in which they cannot live - forces them ... to remain in such conditions until that death ensues which is the inevitable consequence - knows that these thousands of victims must perish, and yet permits these conditions to remain, its deed is murder just as surely as the deed of the single individual.' Friedrich Engels The Condition of the Working Class in England 1845

Building from the ground up.

When we are stuck in time, inflexible to the changing world both within and outside as a means of coping, building confidence on sodden ground that can be toppled with the slightest of challenges, no matter how anyone demonstrates their meaning we will only take what we need to mould into our narrowed viewpoint, upholding the fantasy created to keep us safe from perceived harm whether such harm exists or not.

Disconnected from emotions meant to steer our direction, we carry the ever increasing load with heavy hearts, unable to empathise and recognise a fellow traveller when they cross our paths. In loneliness and fear, we quickly latch on to the easiest refuge in the hope that this time we shall be absolved of our burdens, transferring our load onto another which ultimately becomes too weighty for them to bear, in denial of their own search for approval, they break. Alternatively, we can knock down the old house and build anew from solid foundations. Feeling the pain we avoid, ripping to shreds the illusion tearing us apart time after time. The agony of acceptance is rarely as awful as we imagine. With lightened load, we continue through life stong in knowing no storm will evict us but merely have us retreat for a while to shake off the debris in readiness for when the sun shines on us again. We welcome in experiences to expand our world with curious awe.

Stuck in the middle of nowhere.

It's the in between health and ill health that I can never escape. Too unwell to be seen, I'm safe, too well to be regarded unwell, I tread lightly, it can take just one traumatic sentencing for crimes not committed to knock me back to my sickbed. Living with external judgement when not understood is my greatest barrier to recovery no matter how well I treat myself.

Society turns me into a liar when if I tell the truth I shall be condemned with a flick of ignorant assessment. Those who judge on appearances have no idea what strength it takes to live with misled understanding around every corner I turn to heal.