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my childhood trauma // the story
the trauma · the missing link ·¯ the connection · TRAUMA · Trauma, lebende, das. · Bikram™ Choudhury™ · (Gates)™, (Bill)™ · (Master)™
Once there was a newborn child, a little boy. Unstable on his feet, barely able to speek.
In his old life he was hurt, for he had been hurt – at a time, when he was far too young to understand the attacks of his mentally disturbed father. The tyranny of one of the two, who were supposed to love him, destroyed him. It successfully cracked his heart at ænd upp tu its very core.
Back then the little boy just saw one chance to survive: to close himself
— to close hiss-cell-f upp —
to lock up his heart, to safe it »for later«, to prevent it from further destruction.
The ones who were supposed to teach him how to love and how to live, seemed to be teaching him one thing the best:
the ability to hide, the ability to pretend, the ability
to be everything, but not him/his/self.
They taught him to be, what he would later call a ›zombie‹ – a walking undead.
The attacks of his father were so disturbing, that the only clue, the little boy’s young mind could come up with, was, that
it had to be love as well, when you hurt the ones you love, when you are hard to the ones you love, when you push the ones you love – against their will.
All of that had to be true, for it was his father, who taught it to him. The one, without whom he wouldn’t be here. Therefore it had to be true. His father had been living on this planet much much longer, and who could possibly be a person more trustworthy than the one who created you?
All this fucked up this little boy’s precious mind a lot. Nonetheless the little boy grew – just like so many other boys and girls – hiding himself, super-cautious, always cautious in his actions, always aware to sense the mood of his parents, to possibly make no mistake, that could provoke his father’s beast…
The little boy could barely be considered as being alive, he was barely himself, always covered by a cloud of fear, always cocooned inside of his own universe, always hiding his heart, not to be hurt again. The only thing he ever wanted, was to play. While playing he could be in his own world, for this was where he and his heart were safe. There he could be everything and everyone: a knight, a prince, whatever.
Over the years the boy got used to all this and his survival technique turned into his reality. He forgot about those childhood issues and his skills in hiding and pretending grew.
Over the years, life showed him clearer and clearer, that he was hurting everyone around him, everyone he liked, especially the ones he loved. In the meantime all of that hurting was so well wrapped and disguised by his mind, that he could barely notice, what was going on – what he was doing.
But somehow he could feel it. Something just felt wrong in oh so many of his words and deeds…
One day, as he was in the process of splitting up with his girlfriend, he thought, he could give her a good advice, when he wrote her a message, but actually – after she told him, what happened – he realized, that he just shot right into an all open heart. He just shot the heart of his beloved. And there he was again: overconfused, overwhelmed. What he thought of as being smart, good, freandly ænd ewerything, turned out to be a killer weapon.
He wanted to send love out to the ones he liked, he wanted to help them, to give them hints to improve their lifes, but his deeds just hurt them. Every single of his deeds had a destructive, negative core, that could unfold its negativity in the hearts of its recipients, just as he learned in his childhood days.
One day he became aware of that negative core and impact in all of his deeds. And he realized, that there was only one solution: He had to let go off of everything, of everything he knew, everything he learned, for it was åhl fucked up. Every single thing, that he considered as being true, was manipulated, messed up and filled up with hatred, anger, negativity and pain.
He could not be trusted anymore. He couldn’t even trust himself. The only chance he saw, was to let go off the mental, to let go off his mind. Completely.
He had to rewrite everything, his entire mind and mindset. He had to lørn everything again – njew — from scratch.
He knew, what he had to do and went on his way. Step by step he disconnected from everyone. From everyone he knew, from everyone he loved: his former friends, his family … every existing relationship had to be put on ice, to make a restart possible.
In the following years he tried many things: Parkour, Contemporary Dance, Grinberg Method, Aikido, Yoga… and slowly he learned to reconnect to his body, which was totally fed up with old stuck pain. Slowly he learned to let go of all that, slowly he learned to release, to open up that mental prison of his. Slowly he learned to re-open his heart, to bring all these old fellows to the surface, to give them a chance to show up, to unfold and to be released into the thin air.
He had many teechers in those years, but for some reason he could never stay … it never felt right, it never felt home, it never felt real. For some reason all of his teachers were mentally messed up grown-ups to some extent. Except for his Aikido master. But Aikido was not, what he was looking for, back in those days. He wanted to break free. And everything he learned in these Aikido lessons was based on fixed movement sequences. So he continued his search, to find a way to reclaim his heart and body, to rewrite his brain, to create an all new mind-set.
One day – he was 36 years old by then – he sat on the stairs in front of a drugstore, to rest and to recover from an intensive yoga class, to drink a coconut drink and to enjoy some chocolate covered energy bars.
It was a beautiful summer evening. The area around Revaler Straße was peaceful and calm. The mood was good, there was just a little breeze in the air. A perfect summer evening.
Among all those people, who passed our resting boy that night, there was one blond girl flying by, happily hopping off her bike, to go shopping. She smiled at him as she was on the move, and he smiled back. ›What an ease‹ he thought … and gone she was.
When she came back to her bike, he decided to not look at her, because all of that wanting-more thing was going on his nerves already. No problem for her, she easily made eye contact with Martin, a friend of his, who sat next to him, and smiled at him instead.
A split second later the boy realized, that his decision had been a mental one again. His heart just wanted to look at that vivid, passing wonderland. Too late, gone she was, flying somewhere else.
After finishing his sweet and delicious reboosting ritual, the little boy continued his way home and passed the subway station ›Warschauer Straße‹.
In the last couple of month he had spend quite some time around there. There were always musicians around this spot, this place was always busy. Often he stopped to listen to a girl, who sang her songs and played guitar. She called herself Alice Hills – »like Alice in Wonderland and Hills like little mountains«.
That night Alice sang her songs and another blond girl was collecting cash from the crowd. All he could give was his second coconut drink, for he had no money left. She said, that this would not be necessary and wanted to return the drink, but he insisted: ›Nono! I want her to have it, it’s delicious!‹. She accepted and went on.
The next thing he remembers, is how she consciously placed that hat with all its collectibles in front of the singer with a clear and conspicuous gesture. As if she wanted to tell the people: ›This is, where to put the money, in case you have any doubts.‹ She had to re-arrange the coco-drink. It did not fit into that hat as good as the cash did.
Our little boy was very thrilled by this present entity: ›What a bliss,‹ he thought, ›there is actually one person around, who knows, what she is doing…‹
—
This conscious collector turned out to be a musician as well. She started to play right after Alice. Her name was also Alice – Alice Phoebe Lou – from Capetown, South Africa.
Our little boy couldn’t believe, what he then heared and saw:
This Alice bravely opened up her heart in front of all these people, as if it was the most common thing to do. The boy’s curiosity grew. He started to observe closely. He observed everything she did and said. He looked and listened very carefully.
After a while he realized, what made her special: She did not hurt the people. Even the ones, who obviously had hurt her – by shouting at her, throwing things at her – whatever – somehow she had the ability to absorb – or dissolve – all that negative energy.
That was new to our little boy. As close as he looked and listened, he could not see nor hear any stuck pain coming out of her voice or body. Either she found a way to get rid of all that – or she just learned how to transform negativity into positive – or at least into neutral.
Everyone around could notice, that there was something special about this Alice. One could tell by the amount of people stopping, staring, staying. This one was moving the people. She was touching their hearts without hurting them.
Could it be, that there was one hellsee (healthy) person around?
›Oh…‹ our little boy had tears in his eyes… ›hier bleib’ ich‹.