It was never the same

Since that day at the cranial seminar. Such a difficult period had started even before, but was to carry on and emphasize into enormous proportions.

A disinterest in life, sadness, wondering why, did I really ask for this life?
If I did, surely, there must be a way out of this.

A french trip dreaded, duty to see the family which is a source of downs even from just a thought.
Once there, there seemed to be a protective layer cutting me off from the depressed feelings I had the last few weeks about it, maybe Marc was there indeed.
A last day spent with Robert and hundreds of kms from Condom to Bergerac to Caussade brought a lot of tension, and a lot of guilt. Downs started again....

A psychogeneologist who first met me saw tears come out as this feeling of being in the way and feeling like I was intruding and I wasn't supposed to be there arose at the end. She saw me the next day and it was a very useful experience, a bit like psychotherapy but with an emphasis on the family link and their relation.
For the irst time in my life I saw this list writen:

Yves
Damien
Jean
Claire
Claude
Cecile

I was not the last one. My life would have been so different if she had come to terms. It felt very odd. Realising all that happened.

Back at home with more guilt, looking at my father who now separates himself from the others and is lost in his own world where self directed anger and impatience is omnipresent. I watched him and found so much of his behaviour in myself, particularly lately. It was scary to see.
I asked him about his own anger.
He seemed to think it was quite usual and normal.

A very long talk on the last night when I refused to join the family table with him only, as pain and very low mental states had kept me very 'irrigated' all day. Chasing the very old spiderwebs in the barn and feeling I hadn't done enough to help Claire for the coming party. But the walls in the barn, without their webs, looked very curious and brought me back to the past. Strangely, I coudln't remember the names of the cows that I knew by heart, then.

More guilt. More useless feeling and more "why the fuck am I here, I am sure I never asked for this", happened as I swallowed more dust and more chemicals from the window cleaning products, that my father pointed as "mmmh, this isn't healthy, is it..." He is cool, my Dad. He doesn't like chemical products neither.

A long talk with him after the missed diner when he told me about his past, about the birth of his children (he cant remember the last 2) the tribunal with the neighbour who sued him for breaking his finger after that neighbour had hit my mother when she was trying to protect her husband. This neighbour was a nasty piece of work. The loss of a child was not as important to him, than his broken little finger.

A story about the struggling of educating children and not being present driving them to many mischiefs. His pride. His guilt for not being around and maybe not doing a good enough job of being a father. He shouldn't feel guilty. He did his best.

His story of youth of when he escaped the family to go and find work elsewhere, and nearly went to work in Burgandy but the one who was going to be our mother and a doctor asked him to come back and take over his father's farm; his father having had a brain clot and my grandmother at 60 attempting to pass her driving test to be able to help at the farm. She did it.

Many words which were writen down; I do wonder about my origins as I hear him talk. He sounds like a complete stranger I never knew anything about. Love? Not to mention. Wrong family.
Love can be shown with criticism, bashes in the back, or some sort of play-fighting.
Or by indifference. People who are indifferent actually love a lot. It's what I learned. So I leared to be indifferent and definitely show no love.
But after a while, I get lost in my own game and love vanishes... Indifference remains.

A next day in Condom again, Marc has been his best since October. He 'won't let me self-destruct '. He thinks I have a long life to come and 'I am needed'. He added "you who think you have nothing in your hands..." He seems to believe in something. It's good he does, because I ... (don't)

He was so helpful; a plate in my right stomach felt like a circuit board. He felt it and asked me. I said how it felt, and that it was a bit like a program. A program to self-destruct.
He asked me if I wanted him to nulify it, I said I wasn't sure. It took me a while to reply "Yes". If I am to live long, then I might as well try and be not suffering too too much. I know I love suffering, it is the whole purpose of this life, which is why I don't want this life.

He said it took him years to get over that very same feeling. Suffering is something he doesn't accept in his life. I thought it was necessary. Being brought up catholic, I always looked up at this icon stuck on a cross suffering away for us, and well, I did take it in that we were all meant to suffer too, in his hommage, for we are impure and sinners. It is hard to rub out something which somehow has passed on in the genes of the subconscious.

He said that 'HE' had accepted the fact that it wasn't the right time for his life.

He explained that it wasn't butchery and they wouldn't just suck up all the insides. I though that was what they did. Which is why it bled for so so long.

Marc was a treasure. Brigitte was a treasure too. I do not understand where all those dark moods come from.

Another healer from the Brenman School of healing taught me a lot. She said the self-worth solar plexus was making very funny shapes at the top of the chakra. And it was basically non-functionning. It would explain the strong lack of faith in the self.
She was soothing and coming out of there, I felt more balanced that I have felt in weeks. In a different way that with the others. Her healing was dislodging images from the past, including names of cows I had forgotten and a piece of a building which has been destroyed in teh last 5 years and I had forgotten had existed.
More images of a car crashing out of control towards the right to lead to a terminal event showed up as she contacted the left knee and the left hip. I had noticed those vertigo-death like images before, but not associated them with the body. It is interesting to notice and learn. I am very lucky to be able to do so.

Now, the anxiety has come down, just a bit. I am not so anxious about the course, not as angry towards them anymore, no idea why. HOmework? Yes. Piles and piles of it are waiting. Photoblog has been abandonned so it won't take as much time anymore, which is possibly good. I don't feel the need to express so much, anymore.
It is curious to see how things change.

I was ready to let go and give up. Him. But things also changed within the sickness. An opening conversation showed me the role in the box doesn't always have to be followed.
I can be my Mum a bit later. For now, maybe I can just be myself. Just for 5 minutes.
And let go of our sister.