| Subject: |
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Indigo Adult? Is that what I am? |
| Name: |
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Ops |
| Date Posted: |
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Dec 23, 05 - 9:41 PM |
| IP Address: |
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70.69.48.12 |
| Email: |
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bfdea@shaw.ca |
| Message: |
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Okay, here goes nothin' . . .
I'm not comfortable divulgin' sensitive info 'bout myself, but the description of a "first wave indigo adult" actually brought tears to my eyes and a lump in my throat. Silly, huh!?
I dunno, but I've always known I was different at an incredibly early age. At ten I was already plotting my death 'cause I so didn't belong here. It took me seven years to carry out my attempt. It was humiliating but I did it. It opened so many doors--I slowly began my journey to finding myself and am still on that journey.
As a very young child I just knew of things 'bout myself and of others. I knew what was going to happen--they would tell me--mostly, the man in my room--I called him Mr. Spirit. He was always there talkin' to me. I'd find a li'l sanctuary within his healing words among the absolute sadness. I couldn't see him, but knew he was there. He's still with me to this day.
I was mired in extreme Catholic rituals as a child. At twelve I refused to get my conformation--my parents were strict and verbally abusive. I don't blame them, although I did as a child--I couldn't understand why they couldn't understand me.
As an adult--thirty-five--I understand my parents were doin' what they knew best--raisin' me as they were raised. I have completely forgiven them for all they have done to me.
I was bullied throughout my teen years for bein' ugly (to their eyes), small, extremely shy, and different. I learned quickly to endure "silent pain" as I called it. I never showed anyone my emotions--it wasn't 'til I was alone in my room (locked in) I'd cry, sometimes all night long 'til dawn. All the while the energy in my room was always there for comfort--sometimes it didn't seem like enough.
I appreciate all he has done for me. We have an incredible bond--he's there and I'm here. How weird?
Thank you for this site--and thank you for lettin' me feel safe to write what I've always kept secret. No one in my life knows of this--no one living knows who I really am. It's like bein' in disguise all the time.
What I've wrote is but a fraction of what has transpired and what I've endured and tolerated, and learned.
I hope there are others out there who can sincerely relate to what I've wrote.
Let's embrace, for it's about time.
~Ops |
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