shamelessness and Jill

[flamingsword]

Similar to how it's harder to talk to yourself in a crowded room, sometimes it's harder for me to be unflinchingly honest when posting, now that I have a decently-sized friends list. But breaking out of the habit of being uncomfortable displaying my insanity/inanity/etc is a good thing. You can't just be shameless, you really have to work at it. One by one, you have to take the things you repress and perform a little social striptease. You have to make an exhibit of it, make yourself uncomfortable, and do it anyway. Because then you get to take that memory and use it like an aluminum baseball bat against the particleboard walls of your shame. You get to deconstruct the edifice built by fear. And then you have one less thing cluttering up your psychic landscape. You have more space to cultivate something better, more beautiful, more useful, or just plain cooler.

So way back in junior high school (which I actually remember most of) I was violent and had emotional problems. And after an incident where I had almost hurt very badly someone who I was trying to be friends with I took my ability to defend myself offline. We moved out of Grand Prairie and away from everyone I had a history of competition/aggression with so for about a year it wasn't a problem. Then the first time I got into a physical conflict I realized that I hadn't disabled my ability to attack, only to defend. So I was alternately frozen and vicious when something inevitably went wrong and the conflict turned physical. I was broken, and had no idea what I was doing, so the extreme measures I took to fix myself were stop-gap measures, badly done. I wound up chasing someone around a classroom with a chair for being rude to me. That's when they put me in the special classes, and how I came to math tutor someone who'd been kicked in the head by a horse and his friend the autistic idiot-savant. And there I met Jill.

Jillian Sutton: bipolar, undermedicated, raised by a schizophrenic, and as skinny as a pencil that forgets to eat and never stops moving. I can in no way repay you for your ability to reach me and pull me out of my crazy into yours. You saved me. I had forgotten what it was like to be connected to someone, to be able to feel them in your head. Our connection gave me the stability I needed to start a lot of repairs that I couldn't do without being able to tell what was real. Not that everything we agreed on being real was real, but folie a deux is a lot more reliably closer to consensual reality than where I'd been living. I had to go back and fix a lot of stuff later. You really were insane, but without your training in astral projection and energywork and being a person, I might be dead. So you have my thanks, and I've passed the favor along as often as I could, hoping to make the world a better place for you to live in. I owe other people more than I owe you, but you were the first, and I'll never forget it.

Comments

[cluegirl.livejournal.com]

We all get angels when we need them. That's the great thing. Of course there's nothing to say angels are perfect or flawless or human, or even remotely sane -- they're just what we happen to NEED at that very time.

And I personally think it's good practice to name your angels when you spot them in your life.

Good on you!