My mask is the mask of the smart ass, always right, college professor, know it all. I use this mask to control others. My primary motivation is to keep others at arm’s length. This is because of the pain that I have felt my entire life which is overwhelm, and yet familiar. If I were to let someone into my heart, then it might do two things: 1. It might reinjure the wound. This is unbearable. I have had this happen many times. It is very painful. 2. It might heal the wound. Since I am the wound, that would be unthinkable. Who would I be without this pain?
So I play the role of the SAARCPKIA in order to keep everyone, you included, at arm’s length, at a safe distance, outside of my emotional space. That keeps things in the mind, away from the heart, things of feelings, things of the spirit. It also keeps folks, yourself included, off center, off balance, and out of control of the conversation. If I can always be the clever, smart one in the conversation, then that way it will be easy for me to keep things from getting too close to the wound.
The way I feel about this is sad. I have spent much of my life as an emotional cripple. I actually tried to avoid emotional intimacy because I thought that was what I needed to survive. How terribly, terribly sad!
The feeling is like when my first dog, Sean, died when I was 12. How I loved that dog! He was a tri-color collie, black, white and gold. Gorgeous! He had an absolutely fantastic personality. Loyal, faithful, calm, loving, a wonderful animal. We lived in Arizona, a terrible place for a dog like that. We should have trimmed off his fur, but my parents didn’t do that for some reason. (They were terribly stupid about things like that.) He could not stay cool, and his kidneys failed and he died. They did not even put him down. I watched him suffer for hours before he finally died. I remember being there with Sean seeing him in pain, realizing how much he was hurting, wanting to help him. Wanting to be there for him. Knowing he had been there for me so many times in my life. But I was simply powerless to do anything about it. To this day, the memory of that wonderful dog can bring me to tears. That is how I feel about my wounded, tortured soul. As well as the people in my life who needed my emotional and spiritual support, yourself included.
The feeling of sadness is definitely a 10. It is very strong. The color is black, light the darkest ink. Like a room so dark you can’t see anything at all. You grope around in total darkness without any idea of where you are.
In terms of a shared memory I suppose the closest I could come to it would be the loss of Jasper. I felt terrible about that too. Jasper was such a wonderful bird in many ways. We did not do right by her. I feel badly about that. I wanted her to be well cared for, but she had so many issues. You and I were not doing well, and the stress of her screeching was definitely not a help. We isolated her down in the basement, and she became dysfunctional and started plucking. I really did love her though. When we buried her I cried like a baby and was terribly depressed for weeks. That is very similar to the way I feel about my wounded, tortured soul, and the way my mask has hurt the people in my life. I am terribly sorry and sad for all of this and wish I could do it all over. Of course, I cannot and must simply go on from here, making the choice to be emotionally and spiritually intimate with you now, and hope that I can make up the time which we lost in the early part of our marriage.
The ego with the pain body is such a bitch! It screws up so many relationships and lives. I hate it! Of course, that is the ego as well. At least now we know how to become truly intimate with each other. I love the way we are now. I know that I still fall back into the old patterns at times. I suppose I always will, a little.
The bell went off so I will join you now.
Love,
Me
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