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there's a monkey on my back. his hands around my throat. he is a burden to me. i can feel him there, so close to my ear, muttering harsh words. "If you just handled anything perfectly, you wouldn't have problems..."

Scott saw it last night and labeled it. I felt like I was finally shown a mirror out in sunshine and realized i had red hair, not ash-blonde. I had just never seen it in the right light before.

Wings of Desire, scott said. Of course! To drop the golden armour, descend to earth, cut up your lip, and burn your tongue on the bitter and sweet coffee. "What's the point of doing it perfectly?" Scott asked. I thought about this as he continued to talk. And then the answer came to me in a simple, obvious sentence. "'Cause if you're perfect, you'll be loved."

hmmm. neither of us had an answer for that. when a child that small makes that sort of decision, she has good reason. and then the adult wears that until she can finally see it and release it. peel the monkey's fingers back one by one. and at last, cast him off.

just to note it:
my illness was not a punishment. it happened for reasons, most of which i probably don't understand. in the overcoming of it i receive gifts and freedoms i never thought possible for my life. i get the chance to do what i came here to do, without as many obstacles and as much ignorance (avidya).
i do not need to have handled my illness "perfectly," whatever that means anymore.
i do not need to be perfect in order to be loved or happy or close to god. there is a whole other language out there for navigating this life, my body, my spirit, nature, god, and other people other than right/wrong, good/bad, white/black, you've got your "shit together" or you're a "fuck-up," etc. (thanks, heather, for that last descriptive phrase. i never really could relate to that one--sorry.)
and what it means to be weak or strong is something totally different from any of my previous conditioning.

monkey on my back [2007-01-09]
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