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About a year ago, I made a post on this forum about one of the battles I fought in my quest to find the way into the light. For the first time in my life, I wasn't shunned and hated on as it had been the case so far. Unknown to me, my unconscious was the one doing that writing while I tried to stop myself from posting what I had written. Something was going on that I didn't quite yet understand.
A few months later, the darkness started to pull me into the void. I would be walking on the trail by myself and consciousness would start drifting into another reality altogether, so much so that I would need to pull myself off the trail and excuse myself as my body would involuntarily spasm into states of samadhi that I had never known were accessible to human beings. A few weeks of intense meditation and esoteric kriyas later (that just came to me as 'downloads'), it finally happened.
I was taking a walk that day, while still locking up the 'prana' intensely with a kriya mudra. 'I' saw 'myself' looking. The game was up and the secret was revealed. Time and space split in two continuums. I had never understood those complicated physics and mathematical equations until then. I still did not understand, the understanding had ceased and replaced with knowing. I was back to where I was before I was born and before I had died to be re-born, for 'I' was all there was and there will ever be. Timeless, deathless, madness dancing at a single point of shunyata -- the void. Those years of atheism and of cursing God and those years of mad devotion, climbing mountains barefoot, seeking something had all culminated in the knowing. The seeking had stopped.
First, I thought of renouncing. The Himalayas were calling. Then I thought of becoming a savior. Finally, I had to accept that following a spiritual awakening is a dark night coming. Night after Day, Death after Birth. During this period, I processed my life and finally accepted the fact that the scars on my neck were the result of my mother pouring hot coffee me on me at 5 months old to teach me a lesson. I had to accept that I truly was beaten and tortured and starved for years by my own parents -- people entrusted by God to watch over me. I had to accept that those repressed memories were real. I had to accept that the worn out clothes, the pangs of hunger, the isolation and tortures were a device that abusers use to prevent victims from escaping, to make them give up on any hope of escape and to doubt their own sanity and memory.
I mulled and cried for months alone. I was in a different country yet I couldn't break the chains. And then it happened, through those tears deep within I met a monster. What followed from that were me doing things I never imagined in my wildest dreams I could do. That I could fall to those levels. And feel happy after. And the people involved would all feel happy after. That the monster was acceptable to some.
I had a choice. To accept the truth I knew and save myself OR to die again, perhaps never to wake up before my grave. If I chose truth, I would need to cut off ties with everyone I knew and to walk into the unknown into a world I did not quite understand. Having locked up for years in a room where my only job was to serve my overlords, I knew nothing about the 'normal' world. I had never been to a birthday party or a date. My mother had poisoned what could have been my social circle before it had any hope of coming to life. My sense of self was non-existent. The years of bullying at school were due to me learning to receive regular beatings from one of my overlords. I knew nothing about the 'real' world of the matrix.
Yet, I made the decision to walk away and endure. I fell. I got bruised. People took advantage of me. They laughed at me, spat at me and I took it all as a doormat I was trained to be. Two weeks post this decision, my father was sick. On his last legs. They texted me he was about to die. This was my chance of getting a closure. Of hearing from him he was sorry for making me clean his piss when I was 5. That he was sorry for the being the as*hole he had been. I didn't go back. The motherfu*ker died. Due to covid, they burned him on the street like a stray dog. Karma. I cried my eyes out for weeks and almost jumped off a bridge in grief. I couldn't escape my humanity. I had lost a father and an abuser. Then I got back up. Then I started hitting back. Soon, I was the mad dog earning his fur and tears. But I still didn't understand the world.
The pain has a way of knowing. Another story, 7 years ago, still abused, caged and in great pain, I married a girl in a marriage arranged by the same mother who burnt me as a toddler. The first night of the marriage, I realized I had been sold. It was one of the worst possible marriages a human being could endure. And there was no getting out. My in-laws had the courts, the politicians and the cops in their back pocket. My 'family' of course made a profit off my pain, so hell it was - pre-ordained for me in perpetuity, or so they thought. The gates were closed.
7 years. I endured everything a man can possibly endure. I cried my eyes out for the first few years. And then, as it happens with most people, I went to sleep in a trance and accepted the pain. But I just could not give up, could I? I got allies when I knew I was weak. A therapist poured months of effort to help me get out. But I made the call. 7 years of hell on earth. Blows after blows. They thought they had me, were sure and cocky and reckless. All this while, I was watching, enduring and aware. But I wept alone. Kept working, kept increasing the probabilities in my favor. Now, as a Permanent resident of another country, with legal immunity and defenses in place, my work was finally done and the time had come. One blow and the war was over. The priceless look on their faces when I announced the decision. That feeling of helplessness. Karma handing you what you meted out when you had the power. The victim becoming the judge who decides the fate.
This decision cost me everyone else I knew. I now start with zero. In the next few months, my soon to be ex-wife leaves and takes the only person I thought that was mine -- my daughter with her. I take an enormous emotional and financial burden on myself and pay her what she managed to squeeze me for. I will wake up to an empty house soon and life will never be the same again. I will cry my eyes out again and perhaps drive to the bridge with the intention of making that jump for the countless time yet again but I know I will come back home. I am crying as I write this. But I will endure.
This is a very special place, MJ. In my years of scouring the internet, I never came across another thing like this one. It saved me from jumping off a bridge when I made my first post here. This is the only place where people cheered for me as I poured my heart out, and lifted me.
Humble warriors thrive here and I could not walk away without sharing this moment with you. I hope you guys who lifted me up the first time around see this.
@MJ DeMarco @Walter Hay @Bekit @TheComebackKid @Ronak @Mike Stoian
@Everyman @Antifragile
I do not have the words to thank you. When my sense of self was so weak that I didn't even know it existed, you cheered for me and helped me save myself from myself. We may not have met in real life, but the effect you have had on my journey is beyond my ability to put in words. Thank You!
Yes, I am in pain right now and I am crying. Yes, its hell down there. And that is why I hear war drums beating and madness dancing in full glory as I weep silently. Once I weather out this storm, I am coming for it. The stage is set for 3 businesses to take off for next year. I don't have a choice. I burnt my ships. I cannot retreat even if I wanted to. And that is how I know I am going to win. I hear the music already.
And just like that, by sharing my pain here, I feel it gone. Thank you MJ for the beautiful place you have curated and for you guys being the wonderful people you are. I will make it to the summit one day and shake your hand. Cheers!
A few months later, the darkness started to pull me into the void. I would be walking on the trail by myself and consciousness would start drifting into another reality altogether, so much so that I would need to pull myself off the trail and excuse myself as my body would involuntarily spasm into states of samadhi that I had never known were accessible to human beings. A few weeks of intense meditation and esoteric kriyas later (that just came to me as 'downloads'), it finally happened.
I was taking a walk that day, while still locking up the 'prana' intensely with a kriya mudra. 'I' saw 'myself' looking. The game was up and the secret was revealed. Time and space split in two continuums. I had never understood those complicated physics and mathematical equations until then. I still did not understand, the understanding had ceased and replaced with knowing. I was back to where I was before I was born and before I had died to be re-born, for 'I' was all there was and there will ever be. Timeless, deathless, madness dancing at a single point of shunyata -- the void. Those years of atheism and of cursing God and those years of mad devotion, climbing mountains barefoot, seeking something had all culminated in the knowing. The seeking had stopped.
First, I thought of renouncing. The Himalayas were calling. Then I thought of becoming a savior. Finally, I had to accept that following a spiritual awakening is a dark night coming. Night after Day, Death after Birth. During this period, I processed my life and finally accepted the fact that the scars on my neck were the result of my mother pouring hot coffee me on me at 5 months old to teach me a lesson. I had to accept that I truly was beaten and tortured and starved for years by my own parents -- people entrusted by God to watch over me. I had to accept that those repressed memories were real. I had to accept that the worn out clothes, the pangs of hunger, the isolation and tortures were a device that abusers use to prevent victims from escaping, to make them give up on any hope of escape and to doubt their own sanity and memory.
I mulled and cried for months alone. I was in a different country yet I couldn't break the chains. And then it happened, through those tears deep within I met a monster. What followed from that were me doing things I never imagined in my wildest dreams I could do. That I could fall to those levels. And feel happy after. And the people involved would all feel happy after. That the monster was acceptable to some.
I had a choice. To accept the truth I knew and save myself OR to die again, perhaps never to wake up before my grave. If I chose truth, I would need to cut off ties with everyone I knew and to walk into the unknown into a world I did not quite understand. Having locked up for years in a room where my only job was to serve my overlords, I knew nothing about the 'normal' world. I had never been to a birthday party or a date. My mother had poisoned what could have been my social circle before it had any hope of coming to life. My sense of self was non-existent. The years of bullying at school were due to me learning to receive regular beatings from one of my overlords. I knew nothing about the 'real' world of the matrix.
Yet, I made the decision to walk away and endure. I fell. I got bruised. People took advantage of me. They laughed at me, spat at me and I took it all as a doormat I was trained to be. Two weeks post this decision, my father was sick. On his last legs. They texted me he was about to die. This was my chance of getting a closure. Of hearing from him he was sorry for making me clean his piss when I was 5. That he was sorry for the being the as*hole he had been. I didn't go back. The motherfu*ker died. Due to covid, they burned him on the street like a stray dog. Karma. I cried my eyes out for weeks and almost jumped off a bridge in grief. I couldn't escape my humanity. I had lost a father and an abuser. Then I got back up. Then I started hitting back. Soon, I was the mad dog earning his fur and tears. But I still didn't understand the world.
The pain has a way of knowing. Another story, 7 years ago, still abused, caged and in great pain, I married a girl in a marriage arranged by the same mother who burnt me as a toddler. The first night of the marriage, I realized I had been sold. It was one of the worst possible marriages a human being could endure. And there was no getting out. My in-laws had the courts, the politicians and the cops in their back pocket. My 'family' of course made a profit off my pain, so hell it was - pre-ordained for me in perpetuity, or so they thought. The gates were closed.
7 years. I endured everything a man can possibly endure. I cried my eyes out for the first few years. And then, as it happens with most people, I went to sleep in a trance and accepted the pain. But I just could not give up, could I? I got allies when I knew I was weak. A therapist poured months of effort to help me get out. But I made the call. 7 years of hell on earth. Blows after blows. They thought they had me, were sure and cocky and reckless. All this while, I was watching, enduring and aware. But I wept alone. Kept working, kept increasing the probabilities in my favor. Now, as a Permanent resident of another country, with legal immunity and defenses in place, my work was finally done and the time had come. One blow and the war was over. The priceless look on their faces when I announced the decision. That feeling of helplessness. Karma handing you what you meted out when you had the power. The victim becoming the judge who decides the fate.
This decision cost me everyone else I knew. I now start with zero. In the next few months, my soon to be ex-wife leaves and takes the only person I thought that was mine -- my daughter with her. I take an enormous emotional and financial burden on myself and pay her what she managed to squeeze me for. I will wake up to an empty house soon and life will never be the same again. I will cry my eyes out again and perhaps drive to the bridge with the intention of making that jump for the countless time yet again but I know I will come back home. I am crying as I write this. But I will endure.
This is a very special place, MJ. In my years of scouring the internet, I never came across another thing like this one. It saved me from jumping off a bridge when I made my first post here. This is the only place where people cheered for me as I poured my heart out, and lifted me.
Humble warriors thrive here and I could not walk away without sharing this moment with you. I hope you guys who lifted me up the first time around see this.
@MJ DeMarco @Walter Hay @Bekit @TheComebackKid @Ronak @Mike Stoian
@Everyman @Antifragile
I do not have the words to thank you. When my sense of self was so weak that I didn't even know it existed, you cheered for me and helped me save myself from myself. We may not have met in real life, but the effect you have had on my journey is beyond my ability to put in words. Thank You!
Yes, I am in pain right now and I am crying. Yes, its hell down there. And that is why I hear war drums beating and madness dancing in full glory as I weep silently. Once I weather out this storm, I am coming for it. The stage is set for 3 businesses to take off for next year. I don't have a choice. I burnt my ships. I cannot retreat even if I wanted to. And that is how I know I am going to win. I hear the music already.
And just like that, by sharing my pain here, I feel it gone. Thank you MJ for the beautiful place you have curated and for you guys being the wonderful people you are. I will make it to the summit one day and shake your hand. Cheers!
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