The words ‘unconditional love’ kept repeating in my ears.
Flashes of this story were showing in front of my eyes.
My stories always have a frame I am writing in.
A thought or a feeling.
Something I see happening.
Either in real life or on social media.
I don’t know exactly that process of why it stays with me.
However, somehow it does.
Whenever this occurs, I wait a bit for it to form in the way it is right for me to write something about.
It is a way of evolution of that story and for me to know what it wants to express.
Because sometimes it has a deeper layer I need to be exploring.
By giving it some time, I know what it is there for me to say.
This goes from a few days up to how long it is necessary.
Mostly it is a few weeks tops.
It is also that I want to be sure that I am putting down all that needs to be said by me.
That it is complete and nothing is missing.
Delicate it is to me.
That is how I am handling it.
The process of writing my stories is an inward journey in itself, is what I am saying.
To understand all the angles and point of views from my side.
That is accumulating to something that I am putting down in this form of a story.
Romantic it sounds to me.
The reason for this story came from flashes I saw before my eyes.
The background of this is that I am recovering from something.
While in this time of healing, I have found that recovery means sometimes to heal underlying and perhaps even unconscious problems.
The healing process is a way for it to open.
Becoming at the same time a platform where it can heal.
To say that a reason to heal on the surface can have a deeper cause.
I hope this makes sense.
For me it is an infection, caused by an incident that is making me have a closer look at myself.
Not to understand where it is coming from, but because I look closer I understand where else I am suffering.
Healing the deeper problem, most of the time heals the problem on the surface.
I have found they are connected.
And it goes even deeper than that.
But I think you get the point.
And that is how this story came to the surface with me.
The flashes I saw before my eyes.
The words ‘unconditonal love’ I kept hearing in my ears.
As a platform to go deeper.
Writing about it, make me understand and process at the same time.
The flashes and words showed me someone that was once in my life that only provided me certain goods if I was behaving a certain way. According to his standards.
I needed to fulfill certain conditions to be able to get what this other person had decided for me.
It was this understanding that these conditions were a burden to me.
That is an understatement.
And I don’t think this has anything to do with unconditionality.
I am not even speaking about love.
And the question even remains what to do with these kinds of conditions.
Even though they are not mine, it is a problem as a whole.
Not only that, I believe love doesn’t mean that you need to do or behave a certain way, to receive something in return.
Most of the time it has nothing to do about meeting these conditions, in the first place.
The root cause for that has a deeper meaning.
To mask insecurities of that person or even to hide who this person really is.
For this person to continue doing what it is doing, so they can walk out free.
This sounds still very innocent.
However, it can go as far as this person thinks they can do whatever they like, because nobody is looking or watching them.
That sounds toxic to me.
And that says something about this person.
The discretion of my words is how I would like to keep it.
For my sanity and wellbeing.
To protect my brain from thinking too much about it.
The realization about all of this is already mind blowing.
It was an experience I experienced.
If it was a human experience, I leave it up for debate.
Painful it was, to me.
This is where I can continue the story.
There was not a way for me to get out of this.
That was the worst part of it.
I didn’t have the tools to say no or to protect myself from this.
Perhaps I was even too young to understand any of this.
However I did understand that something wasn’t right.
Now I understand that there was nothing that could protect me from it.
And that is really bringing tears to my eyes.
That people can get away with certain behavior and make a life miserable.
For reasons nobody knows, not even that person involved.
But I think that person involved does know.
It was for him to show the outside world, he was someone.
Among many things.
That he was rich, that he could buy a child.
Let me put that as an example.
And when that happened, I was a slave to his standards.
Those were the conditions I had to live in.
To me it sounds poor in all forms.
If we are speaking of standards and conditions.
These are surely met.
By him.
Nothing I could do, or prevent that from happening.
Not a slave as we know from the movies or old days, but a contemporary one.
One that needed to fulfill the needs of this person so he could tell the world what kind of a person he was.
Showing me off, like I was some sort of monkey.
And If I didn’t listen I was told I was ungrateful.
Which was something I was even too young to understand.
But somehow it was what I was, before anything else, according to this person.
The problem was there was nowhere for me to go.
And so I was eating the food provided, wearing the clothes he told me to wear, sleeping under that roof, performing the best I could at sports or school.
Making sure to get those grades.
Because if I didn’t make it, for sure they would let me know about that.
Ungrateful was just an example.
Using reversed psychology that they didn’t punish me and that things could be worse.
Then made me realize what also could have happened to me, setting the example with children in India with no parents.
Make me identify with someone I wasn’t.
So, I would not even start to complain.
It paralyzed me and disabled me from the inside.
Perhaps you can fill in that space what more it could have done to me.
It made me participate in these psychological games, because that was the only choice in that world.
A world that wasn’t mine.
I was just caged in.
And so the years passed me by.
To say, it became a platform for me to understand that this isn’t unconditionality.
Whatever that truly means.
Because when it comes to my journey of love.
The way I call it.
I have no recollection of what that is or means, really.
That makes it so interesting I guess.
I don’t speak about love, how it is.
Or how it should be.
Because I just don’t know.
That is the truth.
And that made it also a bit difficult for me to write this story.
Because I don’t know anything.
I only knew already from when I was a child that had this happening to me, that this wasn’t right and it was a problem in my life.
All I want to express is what happened to me and that these conditions I had to live in are not a form of love.
At least, from what I think.
It made me sick.
That is what I know.
Because that is what I am when I am writing down this story.
Medication I am taking, but the root cause of that reason of sickness lies underneath the surface.
I believe the infection that I am facing, among some of the things I am healing from.
The root cause is the understanding of what happened to me.
The acknowledgement of all of this, let me say it like this.
I don’t think it is hard to believe that this kind of behavior that was done to me, can lead to infections later in life.
Where there isn’t specific a pill to take for, a tea to drink or any other form of medical remedy.
However to process can built that kind of resistant, for this infection to get rid of my life.
And all that is connected with that.
With writing all of this down.
I do feel a bit better and the tears that were coming down have stopped rolling.
It is a sadness that I am expressing and a way for me to let go of what happened.
Glad, I have this journal.
Whatever happens from now I don’t know.
And that is also ok I guess.
It is off my chest and that is most important to me.
Perhaps I can call it a form of self love.