Happy to be Ros

So here we are. Writing for no real reason. I’m doing this during a Tap & Write session with Kate Marillat as part of her Taping Collective group on FB, which uses EFT to release resistance and blockages when you are trying to write.

It’s a great group video session that uses tapping to release emotions that may be preventing us from writing whatever it is we want to. Some people are writing for their websites or for novels they are working on. Others look to create marketing material or blog posts. Today I wasn’t sure what I wanted to work on but I decided to attend the session anyway.

As part of the introduction Kate asked if I was ok being called Ros instead of Rosamund and I replied I was, “happy to be Ros”. This pinged in my head and became my intention for what I wanted to write. Because, well, why not? Because I’ve been working on some self worth shit recently and being “happy to be Ros” is not always the piece of cake you may expect from external appearance.

The question I pose therefore during this writing session is: am I happy to be Ros? In a nominative way, yes, of course, call me what you like, as long as it isn’t Ross, in that instance I may curse you to never ending red lights on all your future travels!

Small interruption here as Smudge, my cat, clambers over my shoulder, down my front and sticks his hairy posterior in my face, in a blatant attempt to derail my typing!

Where was I? Oh yes, I am happy to be Ros from the perspective of it being my name. But existentially… am I happy to be Ros?

The majority of the time the answer to this question is yes. I like me. The me other people see and the me that is actually me, is pretty agreeable. I try to be thoughtful, try to listen to those who need an ear and help those who need a hand, where I can. I love animals, nature and people, in the main. I try to show that love even when said animals are pressing their little furry arse in my little furry face. Note to self: must undertake some prunage.

What I cannot say however, is that I am always happy to be me. There is a small window of time, generally when I’m tired and accidentally hurt myself thus possibly causing a bleed, when I am downright livid with myself. Sometimes I wish I would just bloody buck up when I feel crap. I wish I would manifest energy when I feel lifeless. I wish I could show myself the kindness I automatically feel for others because do you know what? I don’t. I can see myself how others might but I seem unable to treat myself with the respect I give to everyone else. Which is nonsensical, right?

It shocks me how much I hate myself in these moments of fury. It’s an all consuming possession of my sanity. It takes my calm or happy state of mind and attacks it with a ferocity such that I am scared. As if the god of war himself has leapt inside my head and wants to start a fight. I want to literally give myself a damn good smiting! I want to rip myself limb from limb and beat my bloody torso with my own legs. Seriously. It’s a little odd.

And in the time it has taken me to write that description the moment passes. The wave of hate has knocked me off my feet and I sit on the floor gulping for air with my mind in pieces around me. The desire to berate, to harm and to curse myself to kingdom come has left and has been replaced by a vacuum of depression. Of a mental state evacuated and a body limp as if physically battered.

This lasts longer. Often days. And during this time I question why? Why when I’m working so hard to deal with these traumas do I still hate myself so much. Why does a perfectly rational and intelligent person get triggered in such an irrational and ugly way. Why when I know damaging myself causes bleeds do I get so angry if I accidentally damage myself that I want to purposefully damage myself. As a logical person, what confuses me is the lack of logic in this situation. The outright lack of control I have over my emotions and my mental stability and the concluding ramifications of this add to my anxiety.

The rage has roots in the Ribavirin I once had to take for the Hepatitis C from contaminated blood products and is also a symptom of that and the other viruses I’ve been exposed to, however I am working on releasing it. This emotional self destruction. Hence the EFT and the PSYCH-K® work I’m doing. I never want to feel the hate followed by the devastation ever again. Each time, after it passes, I hope that I’ll have done enough to deal with those emotions, to let the wind out of Ares’s sails.

But, thus far, the next time I accidentally stick my finger up my nose whilst washing my face, in what is a ridiculous and inconsequential act, and hurt myself just a little, potentially but not that likely to cause myself a nose bleed, lost I am once again. Swearing, shouting and hitting things. Fucking, fucking, fucking twat!! Steaming with an anger against me, against Ros. Hating myself with such passion and punishment; and hating myself for repeating this destructive pattern.

At these moments, I am not happy to be Ros.

 

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