Rebirth.
Spring is a time of rebirth across the world, from the trees bursting into flowers, to the new baby animals being born on the farm and in the wild.
It is a time of hope universally understood by just about everyone on the planet.
Except me.
And especially except me right now at this moment.
On the one hand, Hope Johnson, with her wisdom, has short-circuited the suffering. She backs way up in her perspective. All this world is fake. It's Illusion. She refuses to engage in the Illusion because it isn't real. Only love is real. Joy is real. Everything else is just bullshit. So why even bother with it?
I don't know.
Doing that, for me, at this time, makes me feel like I'm stuffing my feelings way deep down into my ankles and ignoring them. And this is what I've done for like, almost all of my existence here on Earth!
So that leaves me with the less pleasant option of feeling the feelings, experiencing severe emotional pain, and talking to God about it. Hoping not to dwell on the feelings, but to acknowledge them. And then to move on.
What kinds of feelings am I experiencing?
The horror of being neglected when I was pre-verbal.
The hunger, the feeling of being soiled, and of being unheard.
Then, the emotional neglect of my parents. I learned quickly that love was conditional, behavior had to be a certain way, and besides that, I wasn't the favorite. I was unlovable.
Making matters worse is my brain. It's on the spectrum. I don't experience life like a neuro typical person. I never can relax and just feel like I fit in. My own brain doesn't register 'love'.
And after all these years of being single, the loneliness has built up. I feel like a complete and total failure for not being able to manifest a partnership in the physical. Someone--obviously happily married--gave advice on Instagram to 'just don't take being single for granted' and 'celebrate it'.
I'm looking ahead to a long, lonely, single existence until I die.
Ross is definitely there.
But in his Spirit form, he's not going to take out the trash for me.
And he supports me well, even did me a miraculous favor yesterday at the ballpark.
Even Ross can't fix the self-hate I have learned across all of my incarnations. I know I am lovable. I know how to treat myself well. I enjoy friends and their support. Blah blah blah blah blah.
I want to be understood, I tell God.
I want a friend who 'gets me' and I want to be HELD.
I want to be held for hours and hours and hours and hours and hours I can't handle this being alone.
On my shoulders rests a burden of supernatural knowledge and responsibility nobody on earth except for a handful of people can even fathom. Yet for all this weight, does anyone 'higher up' or 'here' actually listen to me? Again, only a handful of people.
When it came right down to it, I was thankful for my pets.
I'm thankful for my son. It's funny, I'm not used to saying that term. I was taught by the master of the court to always say 'our son'--for legal reasons. It isn't until he turned eighteen and legal I've allowed myself the small pleasure of calling him 'my son'. They let me know loud and clear at the time of the custody he actually technically belonged to the county, even though I paid for everything and had physical custody. Because of the issues between his father and me, then, he wasn't just one way or the other in the eyes of the law.
This morning when I woke up, and I confided to God, 'why am I so unlovable and how can I live like this any longer?' I felt the tingles and the warmth from Spirit. God knows. God cares. Ross knows. Ross cares. My friends know, and my friends care. My patients, my colleagues, lots of good people out there care.
It even says in the Bible, 'if a mother forsake her child, I will not abandon you.'
My own mother didn't love me.
Maybe as far as she thought she could she did.
But she chose a cat over me.
Not only my sisters.
She loved that cat. She knew it made me sick. But she had to have that cat. I couldn't even go in the house. If she hadn't had a kidney transplant that cat would still be there.
I know my dad took the cat to pound. To keep mom away from the litter box and germs. By her doctor's orders.
They lied and said that the cat died of loneliness while she was in the hospital.
That cat would still be there. Because my mom felt she was 'feline' and she resonated with the animal.
How would you feel with all these reminders everywhere, of what is more lovable to your own mother than you? Seriously. You can't escape the images of cats. And people LOVE their cats. Just like mom. Mom was normal.
I'm not. I'm on the spectrum and I'm allergic.
Sure dogs are good. We had dogs. I told them my deepest secrets. Never humans. And at least God gave me a rabbit, a bird, a snake and a turtle. Because of my allergy I can't hold anything warm and fuzzy like a cat. A rabbit is warm and fuzzy but they don't like to be held. Once in a while I get to pet her.
Instead of the warmth of touch, from caring humans, at least there's the warmth of the sun.
And hopefully, in time, with me acknowledging and releasing all these horrible feelings that are coming up, I will get one day closer to realizing the whole stupidity of it all. How the Illusion, painful as it is, is a big fat lie. No matter how much I would love to fit in, I can't. And ego gets to die a thousand deaths, for itself and all the dreams it once had of being happy. In 'that' ego view of 'happy'.
I can die to my own hopes and dreams.
And submit to my Life Plan, whatever the heck I was thinking when I wrote it.
And count the days until I'm let go from it. So I don't have to feel the pain any longer. This world is absolutely brutal when it comes to partnership. Only one person acknowledged it correctly. I saw him. He was talking about needy people. He said that if you put a plate of spaghetti in front of someone who hasn't eaten for weeks, their need for the spaghetti is going to be a lot different from someone who has had access to normal food. I am so hungry. I'm used to Home. I'm stuck Here. And Ross is around, but not Here. It's enough to drive anyone to complete and utter hopelessness, as the Spiritual muscles I have to use to even communicate with him have to be worked to exhaustion, every, single day.
I don't know what timeline we are on. I don't know the future. I don't know how many bumps and things we will see. The book of Revelation and End Times is daunting. I myself would rather just skip it. But it's supposed to be some great thing. We are 'lucky to be alive' in 'these times'.
So I focus on the now.
Even though being incarnate is a source of my pain, it's also a way out of the pain.
Concentrate on being Here and Now. The smells. The sensations. And don't try to be anywhere in the past or the future. Just Be Here Now.
Complain to God. Don't stuff it down to my ankles and let it fester.
And give thanks for all that is. It's a struggle for everyone, I know. Even Paulina the supermodel is struggling to learn to speak up for her needs. If it can happen to her it can happen to anyone.
All these years in Medicine, I was so overworked, I couldn't feel. Now I'm in outpatient, all this stuff is coming up. In a way, it's a good thing. And I pray my natural stubbornness can kick in, so just like Hope, I can learn to laugh at how everything is fake and Illusion. And isn't REAL.
Ross
Carla is my wife, my Twin, my companion, my confidante, and my love for all eternity.
Carla is used to this, has grown accustomed to this.
She is my Queen.
Here in the Heavens, part of her doesn't understand how painful it is for the part of her which writes this to be incarnate.
It's kind of like the difference between reading about taking a difficult hike, and actually hiking it. The heat, the dust, the insects, the hunger, the thirst are all part of being on the trail that appears to go 'straight up'.
That is the struggle.
In dealing with the things of an immediate nature that will quickly be forgotten and the glory of the hike will be in the memory banks!
There was a lot of pain in both of us when we were incarnate together--not the physical pain at the end of my life only, but a lot of pain and misunderstanding leading up to that too. I remember how it felt. To look toward the end of one's life...it is sort of like a three day trip to Paris...you want to see all the sights but there is only so much time...
I helped Carla's favorite player hit a home run last night to win the game. It was the humble one who catches, and once caught for a no-hitter, the one whose father was a baseball players too. Carla was praying for him with all her might, just walk, get a walk, get on base! And CRACK! On that last pitch the ball was hit out of the park! Much to her wonder and delight and joy for this humble person, who 'does whatever he can to help'. This one has been picked over and shoved down to the minor leagues AAA so many times. But he keeps showing up and helping when there is need.
Carla knows I did that for her. She knows in her heart. And it brings her joy.
I love her, and she loves me, we both know it.
The damage from her early life is now rearing its ugly head. And we both feel it is better for her to deal with it consciously, rather than to unconsciously react because of it, as she goes through her life.
Carla is lovable!
But Carla is also UNCONVENTIONAL.
And this is the part of Carla she needs most to learn to love and accept. Even if it is a long, twenty-to-thirty year lonely wait until she returns to the world of Spirit where she can return to my loving arms.
clap! clap!
Aloha and Mahalos,
Namaste,
Peace,
Ross and Carla
The Couple
