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Well. I can contrast what it was like when it was NOT peaceful, to what it is like now.
Before, when I was in the middle of traumatic times, I had a lot of stomach pain. I had a wrinkle between my brows that has now faded away. I carried a lot more tension physically in my body. Before, I had no space to process my inner mind, so much as my mind was occupied with imaginary diatribes against the person causing my trauma. All the things I wish he would have understood, that he never listened to. The things I could not say, because I just didn't want more fighting. Before, I smoked a lot more because hour after hour was spent in a smelly garage, disassociating while being yelled at.
I can remember enough about what that was like, to know that this is relative peace.
I'm not going to completely forget. How do I "put it behind me and leave it there?" If that means never thinking about it, I don't know if I will get there. But my "thinking time" (in the shower for instance, or when I used to have a commute) is no longer full of those imaginary conversations...I don't talk to him in my head anymore. I used to dwell on my problems every day, or fantasize about what life could be if only I were free of my situation. Now I can contemplate something about philosophy, or how to solve a problem at work...something that doesn't put my gut in knots, or make wrinkles on my face. Even talking about things, once I get some space and healing (I guess) from them...I may be reminded of the bad times or traumas sometimes, but my head just doesn't feel so full of that anymore.
I feel a little distance from it even when speaking of it. It is more academic. Clinical. Not laden with stress or anxiety.
Though there is still sadness sometimes. The feeling that things did not have to be the way that they were. I don't really know if that will ever go away. I still feel sadness over things from my childhood at times, and that was so long ago.
But I'm speaking to this in the way that you phrased it...peace does not always mean happiness. It just means calm, freedom from fear and anxiety and violence, those jangly alarm bells that tell us that we're in danger. I think that you can be at peace with a thing and still be sad about it.
Actually, I think this is where I'm trying to be. Sadness for me is at once the most frightening and the most inviting emotion that emerges when I'm dealing with my ****. In other situations, when I've felt sad and settled into that emotion it's been calming. It's brought peace. When sadness is the primary emotion, when I'm clearly dealing with a loss of some kind and I'm sad I don't really fight that. It seems appropriate and I go with it. It plays out healthy and adaptive.
But when I've been afraid or angry or ashamed or guilty, or maybe some of each about some ongoing struggle, sadness seems unwelcome. Those other emotions all call me to act. To hide or fight or make amends. Sadness calls me to not act, to be still and to just feel it. And there's a finality to that. A sense that there's nothing else to do but sit and feel. It's an admission that what's done is done, the season has passed, and a kind of surrender to that reality. Surrender is a problematic concept. A real mother****er.
LilyMae said I seem to be trying to relive parts of my past. I am. Those parts I identify as the beginning. The place/time where it went wrong. I know I can't and there's nothing left to learn anyway. the things that were so overwhelming when I was 15 or 20 and which still caused some stir into my 30s are mostly resolved. If I could function socially at 20 the way I do now I wouldn't have felt overwhelmed then. It feels like I learned the lessons late, and in a real way I did, but there's no changing that. And that's sad.
I time travel though and I experience the fear and anger and shame and guilt all over again, maybe because it gives me the allusion that those activating emotions will spur me on to solve those old issues in the past when solving them would have eased my way. But sci-fi writers have rules about time travel, which pretty much say "don't" because you'll **** things up and poke holes in the present. That somehow Donald Trump will become president as a result of your tinkering. Oh wait.
More than anything I want to surrender to my reality, to sit and be still and to let the inevitable sadness flow. And more than anything I want to fight that.
Actually, I think this is where I'm trying to be. Sadness for me is at once the most frightening and the most inviting emotion that emerges when I'm dealing with my ****. In other situations, when I've felt sad and settled into that emotion it's been calming. It's brought peace. When sadness is the primary emotion, when I'm clearly dealing with a loss of some kind and I'm sad I don't really fight that. It seems appropriate and I go with it. It plays out healthy and adaptive.
But when I've been afraid or angry or ashamed or guilty, or maybe some of each about some ongoing struggle, sadness seems unwelcome. Those other emotions all call me to act. To hide or fight or make amends. Sadness calls me to not act, to be still and to just feel it. And there's a finality to that. A sense that there's nothing else to do but sit and feel. It's an admission that what's done is done, the season has passed, and a kind of surrender to that reality. Surrender is a problematic concept. A real mother****er.
LilyMae said I seem to be trying to relive parts of my past. I am. Those parts I identify as the beginning. The place/time where it went wrong. I know I can't and there's nothing left to learn anyway. the things that were so overwhelming when I was 15 or 20 and which still caused some stir into my 30s are mostly resolved. If I could function socially at 20 the way I do now I wouldn't have felt overwhelmed then. It feels like I learned the lessons late, and in a real way I did, but there's no changing that. And that's sad.
I time travel though and I experience the fear and anger and shame and guilt all over again, maybe because it gives me the allusion that those activating emotions will spur me on to solve those old issues in the past when solving them would have eased my way. But sci-fi writers have rules about time travel, which pretty much say "don't" because you'll **** things up and poke holes in the present. That somehow Donald Trump will become president as a result of your tinkering. Oh wait.
More than anything I want to surrender to my reality, to sit and be still and to let the inevitable sadness flow. And more than anything I want to fight that.
It can be hard not to engage in the mental "time travel" exercises. I catch myself doing that sometimes, too. But I also had to acknowledge that there is no way to actually know what the alternative would have really been. I think, "how far back, would I have to go, to truly unmake my mistakes and fix my life?" And I think about choices that were made, and which ones I'd do differently if I were doing it again.
But while I might have unmade some of my suffering, I might have caused bigger disasters, and there are some hardships that I'd have still run face first into. And it's incredible, too, the ripples that my choices sent into the lives of my family members.
My youngest brother is wrestling with a lot of pain over how he grew up. My Mom conceived him with a man who was here from Portugal trying to make his fortune in construction. He was in love with him, even knowing he did not really love her back. He wanted a piece of him to keep and got pregnant on purpose, even knowing that he would leave, and not with an intention to get more of his money or investment, just...wanting to hold onto some part of him forever. So my little brother, before his second birthday, lost his biological Dad for good.
I was heading into my wild teen years, and one night I had the idea that Mom and I should go to a local carnival. What disturbs me now, is that I actually don't recall where my baby brother was at. I know he wasn't with us, but I don't know who was caring for him that night... But we dressed up and went to the carnival. I had this image in my mind that I wanted to be like Star from The Lost Boys, and this was my way of playing that out. I was 15. We ended up drawing the attention of two illegal Mexican immigrant men, and we went to a bar with them (why did they let me into a bar? No idea, but they did) and then back to our home. My Mom went off with one of them, and I was left alone with the other. He had, of course, every expectation about what was going to happen and it was what I expected to do as well, but a point came where I was massively uncomfortable...I had a kind of panic attack, I think. I tried to say no and get away from him, but things played out to a certain inevitable conclusion. I felt pretty disgusted afterwards, as I put it, "like I stepped in dog crap with a bare foot." What tripped my mind into a bad place, I think, was that he was drunk and smelled of beer, and it just...freaked me out. But anyways. I washed myself and then locked myself in my room. He passed out on the couch and was gone in the morning. I am told that I should be traumatized by this. He was 28 and that, I guess, is supposed to mean something. But that has never really seemed like a big trauma to me. I didn't go cry, I didn't feel broken or damaged. Just kind of "ugh, that happened." And I took full responsibility that it was MY choice that we even went and any of it even happened. Others would say that my Mom should have not allowed that to go down, but she wasn't a proper parent, really. I was always the stronger personality.
That part is not where the regret comes in. The man that my Mom hooked up with came back. They formed a relationship. She wound up marrying him. I would go on to live with an Aunt just a few years later in another state, but my little brother grew up with this man as his stepfather. (I never saw him as such and conceded zero authority to him in my life, and he was afraid of me because he thought that I was a witch and would put a curse on him. lol.) But he was horribly abusive to my brother over the years. And my brother was scarred by this. He's never healed from it. And he, in turn, is an abusive man to his own family now.
All because when I was 15, I wanted to go to a carnival at night dressed like a character from a movie.
Sure, other people could have done something different at various points, there, but what set it in motion, was that one choice, that one whim of a teenage girl.
But what could have happened, if we had not gone? Well, that guy did financially support our household for the time he was with my Mom. He kept the lights on even despite all of her terrible decisions. That's why she stayed with him, or at least it was one reason. Maybe we would have ended up homeless otherwise, I don't know. Things did not go well, but they could have gone worse...we are all still alive, at least.
And really that's the futility of the "time travel" thinking... In every situation in which we had the power to make a choice, there were other factors over which we had no control at all. We imagine we might have done differently and made things BETTER but in any of those scenarios there are also ways in which it could have gone a whole lot worse. We don't get to know what would have happened if we'd done something differently.
The thing I see over and over in these threads is that people seem to think they can somehow let go of negative emotions by running over and over them in their head. That's the exact opposite of how it works. You get rid of negative emotions around memories by accepting them and putting a positive spin on them. You can actually choose to do that. When you do that a light bulb goes off in your head and you realize you are exactly where you are supposed to be, and all of your experiences brought you here, and everything is just as it should be. When negative thoughts enter my mind I change the tape in my head. That tape is on automatic rewind and will run forever if you let it. So I change the tape. I refuse to let fear or sorrow or anger or guilt or regret exist for any longer than it takes me to recognize it and cut it off. As Shakespeare wrote: Nothing is either good or bad but thinking makes it so.
It can be hard not to engage in the mental "time travel" exercises. I catch myself doing that sometimes, too. But I also had to acknowledge that there is no way to actually know what the alternative would have really been. I think, "how far back, would I have to go, to truly unmake my mistakes and fix my life?" And I think about choices that were made, and which ones I'd do differently if I were doing it again.
But while I might have unmade some of my suffering, I might have caused bigger disasters, and there are some hardships that I'd have still run face first into. And it's incredible, too, the ripples that my choices sent into the lives of my family members.
My youngest brother is wrestling with a lot of pain over how he grew up. My Mom conceived him with a man who was here from Portugal trying to make his fortune in construction. He was in love with him, even knowing he did not really love her back. He wanted a piece of him to keep and got pregnant on purpose, even knowing that he would leave, and not with an intention to get more of his money or investment, just...wanting to hold onto some part of him forever. So my little brother, before his second birthday, lost his biological Dad for good.
I was heading into my wild teen years, and one night I had the idea that Mom and I should go to a local carnival. What disturbs me now, is that I actually don't recall where my baby brother was at. I know he wasn't with us, but I don't know who was caring for him that night... But we dressed up and went to the carnival. I had this image in my mind that I wanted to be like Star from The Lost Boys, and this was my way of playing that out. I was 15. We ended up drawing the attention of two illegal Mexican immigrant men, and we went to a bar with them (why did they let me into a bar? No idea, but they did) and then back to our home. My Mom went off with one of them, and I was left alone with the other. He had, of course, every expectation about what was going to happen and it was what I expected to do as well, but a point came where I was massively uncomfortable...I had a kind of panic attack, I think. I tried to say no and get away from him, but things played out to a certain inevitable conclusion. I felt pretty disgusted afterwards, as I put it, "like I stepped in dog crap with a bare foot." What tripped my mind into a bad place, I think, was that he was drunk and smelled of beer, and it just...freaked me out. But anyways. I washed myself and then locked myself in my room. He passed out on the couch and was gone in the morning. I am told that I should be traumatized by this. He was 28 and that, I guess, is supposed to mean something. But that has never really seemed like a big trauma to me. I didn't go cry, I didn't feel broken or damaged. Just kind of "ugh, that happened." And I took full responsibility that it was MY choice that we even went and any of it even happened. Others would say that my Mom should have not allowed that to go down, but she wasn't a proper parent, really. I was always the stronger personality.
That part is not where the regret comes in. The man that my Mom hooked up with came back. They formed a relationship. She wound up marrying him. I would go on to live with an Aunt just a few years later in another state, but my little brother grew up with this man as his stepfather. (I never saw him as such and conceded zero authority to him in my life, and he was afraid of me because he thought that I was a witch and would put a curse on him. lol.) But he was horribly abusive to my brother over the years. And my brother was scarred by this. He's never healed from it. And he, in turn, is an abusive man to his own family now.
All because when I was 15, I wanted to go to a carnival at night dressed like a character from a movie.
Sure, other people could have done something different at various points, there, but what set it in motion, was that one choice, that one whim of a teenage girl.
But what could have happened, if we had not gone? Well, that guy did financially support our household for the time he was with my Mom. He kept the lights on even despite all of her terrible decisions. That's why she stayed with him, or at least it was one reason. Maybe we would have ended up homeless otherwise, I don't know. Things did not go well, but they could have gone worse...we are all still alive, at least.
And really that's the futility of the "time travel" thinking... In every situation in which we had the power to make a choice, there were other factors over which we had no control at all. We imagine we might have done differently and made things BETTER but in any of those scenarios there are also ways in which it could have gone a whole lot worse. We don't get to know what would have happened if we'd done something differently.
Meh. My negative thoughts come unbidden, it's not on purpose. Nighttime is SHOWTIME!!!
I have to concentrate very hard on stopping the narrative, and kick my brain into another thought process.
I think there has been some serious wisdom on this thread, and I need to sit down during a quiet time and reread some of these posts.
Hats off to the posters, this thread has been profound.
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I'm wondering if the Elizabeth Kubler-Ross "Stages of Grief" play into how a person copes with and resolves past regrets. (denial, anger, bargaining, depression, acceptance)
My "fierce" approach to the tasks associated with my situation tell me that I may well be stuck on anger.. which is pretty early on in the process.
Sonic, perhaps your observation that one can feel sadness as well as peace indicates acceptance.
OP, maybe when you wrote that you want to be sad, but you don't want to be sad indicates that you're between bargaining and depression.. maybe if you "mourn" you'll then be able to move on to an acceptance of sorts.
Bobspez, you have a good point of course. Sometimes, some of us just think too darn much. Tough habit to break. ;-)
Last edited by LilyMae521; 12-17-2021 at 06:49 PM..
It can be hard not to engage in the mental "time travel" exercises. I catch myself doing that sometimes, too. But I also had to acknowledge that there is no way to actually know what the alternative would have really been. I think, "how far back, would I have to go, to truly unmake my mistakes and fix my life?" And I think about choices that were made, and which ones I'd do differently if I were doing it again.
But while I might have unmade some of my suffering, I might have caused bigger disasters, and there are some hardships that I'd have still run face first into. And it's incredible, too, the ripples that my choices sent into the lives of my family members.
My youngest brother is wrestling with a lot of pain over how he grew up. My Mom conceived him with a man who was here from Portugal trying to make his fortune in construction. He was in love with him, even knowing he did not really love her back. He wanted a piece of him to keep and got pregnant on purpose, even knowing that he would leave, and not with an intention to get more of his money or investment, just...wanting to hold onto some part of him forever. So my little brother, before his second birthday, lost his biological Dad for good.
I was heading into my wild teen years, and one night I had the idea that Mom and I should go to a local carnival. What disturbs me now, is that I actually don't recall where my baby brother was at. I know he wasn't with us, but I don't know who was caring for him that night... But we dressed up and went to the carnival. I had this image in my mind that I wanted to be like Star from The Lost Boys, and this was my way of playing that out. I was 15. We ended up drawing the attention of two illegal Mexican immigrant men, and we went to a bar with them (why did they let me into a bar? No idea, but they did) and then back to our home. My Mom went off with one of them, and I was left alone with the other. He had, of course, every expectation about what was going to happen and it was what I expected to do as well, but a point came where I was massively uncomfortable...I had a kind of panic attack, I think. I tried to say no and get away from him, but things played out to a certain inevitable conclusion. I felt pretty disgusted afterwards, as I put it, "like I stepped in dog crap with a bare foot." What tripped my mind into a bad place, I think, was that he was drunk and smelled of beer, and it just...freaked me out. But anyways. I washed myself and then locked myself in my room. He passed out on the couch and was gone in the morning. I am told that I should be traumatized by this. He was 28 and that, I guess, is supposed to mean something. But that has never really seemed like a big trauma to me. I didn't go cry, I didn't feel broken or damaged. Just kind of "ugh, that happened." And I took full responsibility that it was MY choice that we even went and any of it even happened. Others would say that my Mom should have not allowed that to go down, but she wasn't a proper parent, really. I was always the stronger personality.
That part is not where the regret comes in. The man that my Mom hooked up with came back. They formed a relationship. She wound up marrying him. I would go on to live with an Aunt just a few years later in another state, but my little brother grew up with this man as his stepfather. (I never saw him as such and conceded zero authority to him in my life, and he was afraid of me because he thought that I was a witch and would put a curse on him. lol.) But he was horribly abusive to my brother over the years. And my brother was scarred by this. He's never healed from it. And he, in turn, is an abusive man to his own family now.
All because when I was 15, I wanted to go to a carnival at night dressed like a character from a movie.
Sure, other people could have done something different at various points, there, but what set it in motion, was that one choice, that one whim of a teenage girl.
But what could have happened, if we had not gone? Well, that guy did financially support our household for the time he was with my Mom. He kept the lights on even despite all of her terrible decisions. That's why she stayed with him, or at least it was one reason. Maybe we would have ended up homeless otherwise, I don't know. Things did not go well, but they could have gone worse...we are all still alive, at least.
And really that's the futility of the "time travel" thinking... In every situation in which we had the power to make a choice, there were other factors over which we had no control at all. We imagine we might have done differently and made things BETTER but in any of those scenarios there are also ways in which it could have gone a whole lot worse. We don't get to know what would have happened if we'd done something differently.
Thank you for your post. I think your insight about choices we made in previous years is good. We might regard our bad or stupid choices as being on a continuum, instead of either all bad or all good. There is a thing called luck, which enters in to our lives for good or bad.
The thing I see over and over in these threads is that people seem to think they can somehow let go of negative emotions by running over and over them in their head. That's the exact opposite of how it works. You get rid of negative emotions around memories by accepting them and putting a positive spin on them. You can actually choose to do that. When you do that a light bulb goes off in your head and you realize you are exactly where you are supposed to be, and all of your experiences brought you here, and everything is just as it should be. When negative thoughts enter my mind I change the tape in my head. That tape is on automatic rewind and will run forever if you let it. So I change the tape. I refuse to let fear or sorrow or anger or guilt or regret exist for any longer than it takes me to recognize it and cut it off. As Shakespeare wrote: Nothing is either good or bad but thinking makes it so.
Yes! You are correct.
The Shakespeare quote is perfect.
Some people hang onto negativity, hugging it to themselves like a talisman, allowing it to influence their attitude and actions. I like your metaphor of changing the tape in our heads.
Meh. My negative thoughts come unbidden, it's not on purpose. Nighttime is SHOWTIME!!!
I have to concentrate very hard on stopping the narrative, and kick my brain into another thought process.
I think there has been some serious wisdom on this thread, and I need to sit down during a quiet time and reread some of these posts.
Hats off to the posters, this thread has been profound.
Here is my trick for night time. I am “writing” a story about characters I created in my head. I give them action in my mind almost every night before sleep. The current story has been unspooling for quite a few years. I escape to the story mentally, which allows me not to dwell on me.
I agree that there is much wisdom in this thread. I appreciate all of the insightful posts, and the original OP.
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