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Originally Posted by carenkh  I used to try to stop being me, too - and I found the key to change was complete self-acceptance. Acceptance of me in this moment, warts and all. At several points, severe depression and all. I'm finding I'm exactly who I'm supposed to be -- and I suspect the same is true of you, too!
I second Erin's suggestion to help out others, in any way you're drawn to. It will help "get you out of yourself". Take frequent walks in nature - at first, it might not feel like it makes a difference, but it will, just keep it up. I'm feeling it would help you to open your eyes and look around - it's like you've been facing inward such a long time, you forgot there's a whole world out here. Find five things that don't have anything to do with you to be grateful for -- flowers, a beautiful tree, a dog. Whatever you're drawn to, those are my things, your things might be *completely* different.
You are perfect just as you are, completely perfect. I promise this will pass.
Gassho ~ |
Carenkh, I think I should have been clearer. I know and understand that the key to change is self-acceptance. I know that. I know God is to be found in the soul by subtraction, not addition.
What I meant was that I needed self-destruction, because for me, self-improvement would just be mental masturbation. For me, the stripping away of the rotten outer layers of bark to find the untouched heartwood center would necessitate the destruction of the whole tree. I am Shame. I am pain and misery and despair and unworthiness.
I know I am perfect. But I also know that this perfection is the real me. And what I am now is not. I am not trying to change myself out of shame, at least I don't think so, that is. I am simply trying to become who I feel I am. Inside.
You need to understand something very well, its not pain or misery or depression that's my problem. It's shame. I am not trapped in a self-conjured blackhole of despair. And even if I was, I wouldn't be too worried because I am used to that. My problem is the shame I feel that permeates my every fibre and pollutes my every breath. It is the shame that is causing my misery. I can handle pain. But I cannot stand shame. I cannot live with shame.
I am not a slave of fugue, with a heart in need of lightening. What I need is someway to raise my level of consciousness.