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love-to-learn · 10 months

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The PIT

EVERY PERSON IN THIS WORLD NEEDS TO BE VULNERABLE.

AS A CHILD WE ARE ALL VULNERABLE

AS A CHILD WE ARE ALL THE MOST ATTUNED AND EVOLVING AND TRAINABLE

THIS IS WHY THE DAMAGE IS PALPABLE AND PERCEPTIBLE AND LONG LASTING

WE ARE TRAINED EARLY ON – THIS TRAINING OR LACK, IS THE STRONGEST WE WILL EVER HAVE

THE DAMAGE IS DONE - WITHHOLDING LOVE

WE ARE TRAINED PURPOSEFULLY TO NOT SHOW EMOTION OR THROUGH CRIPPLING ABUSE ARE PREVENTED FROM MANY REAL HUMAN EMOTIONS

WE ARE STUNTED, NEEDY AND SELF CONSCIOUS, ARROGANT, SELF CENTERED AND TERRIBLY AFRAID, PRIDEFUL WITH LOW SELF ESTEEM

WE DO NOT DESERVE BETTER THAN THE WORST AT ALL TIMES

ANY ATTENTION MAKES US FEEL WANTED, IT IS EASY TO BE LED ASTRAY OR TO BE HARMED BY THOSE WHO PREY ON THE WEAK AND VULNERABLE

WE ARE EMOTIONAL CRIPPLES UNABLE TO MAKE DEEP HUMAN CONNECTIONS

WE NEED HELP

HURT ALONE

DIE ALONE

WHO CAN WE TRUST???

THIS IS THE PIT

Those in the pit must practice much more acceptance, than those outside, on the lip, or having the power to mirage the pit. The poor and wretched amongst us never have the power to abstract a mirage. Their burden is always born in public, on their sleeves and paraded shamefully for all to see, and to cast dispersions upon, because for thee who casts, their pit is better; for it is theirs.

Being in the pit is hard to explain if you have never been in the pit. It is hard to explain even to someone who has been in the pit, as descriptive words fail to evoke the shuddering truth that the pit reveals and resolves to the resident of the pit. The pit exists in the same way that buildings and bridges exist except that those structures of physical state are nebulous and will be gone while the pit still exists as it always has and as it always will. The pit feeds on souls and is full now and getting fuller every day. Desperation and hopelessness are potent fuel. Agony and fear burn white hot to feed the pit

The awful truth is that the pit is reality.

I thought I was in and out of the pit during my relapses but I just changed state and was in the pit but not as deep.

I still desired the pit. I still needed the pit

The pit existed for me until the compulsion to drink was removed.

The pit waits lustily for my return. It expects my return. I do not want to go back into the pit. The pit calls me. I hate the pit. I once loved the pit. I cannot bear the pit

I stood by the door, but the door of the pit was actually a lip, however it parallels the door, and to stand by the door to lead souls is to act as a guide and gateway out of the pit into the free world of the soul. The pit plays dirty and few get out, and many go back in never to attempt to leave. The pit lets no one go, spits no one out and entirely consumes those who stay. The pit also consumes all that was good past and present. The pit is never satisfied and will try to consume those connected to the pit dweller as well. Staying too long even at the edge of the pit can damage the soul. Even if one is staying at the edge to pull someone out. An act of kindness can kill. The pit is hungry.

The pit is reality

The man in the mirror can also reside in the pit; he is there as you are there, the shadow he sees is the ability to get out of the pit. As the man in the mirror sees the shadow fade and shrink he feels the presence of the pit, the pull to the deepest part, the awful reality of the pit, the futility of leaving the pit the totality of the pit and yes the reassurance afforded by the pit. The pit is a known hell. Cozy and comfortable, for it is a hell we know so well and have come to call home. We know nothing of the door; the door was once a possibility now it is a pipe dream, a far distant possibility that would require us to leave the known hell and comfortable hell we reside in. The pit warms us, envelopes us, coddles us.

The pit is reality

At times there are poignant moments of lucidity where we can see a clear path out of the pit. This will hold steady if we can concentrate our depleted resources, and squeeze the hand of god long enough to break the delirium. Far too often we fail. The failures make each next attempt harder to muster and the resources to focus become less coherent and intense while we believe the hand of god is clammy and sweaty and pulls away slowly, painfully, and truculently with seemed indifference to our sorrow and desperation. The imagined slight from god makes us rebel and lose what hope was left. The pit may now consume us without struggle as we have let go of the lifeline that may have saved us. Will the door open and the hand be extended again? Can the man in the mirror muster the resolve to try for the hand again or is the effort too much, has the man accepted the unacceptable and given his soul to the pit.

The pit is reality

This does not have to be

I fear the pit. I cannot bear the pit, I hate and love and dread the pit.

This does not have to be

Most people are in the pit. The pit is vast. The pit is most acute to those whose pit is centered on drugs and alcohol. Any addict is in the pit, however, their pit may be less consuming and dark, or so it may seem to me. I don’t know their pit. The pit is highly personal. The pits are unique and the same just like all of us pit dwellers. My pit kills. Perhaps their pit kills as well or may kill slowly and imperceptibly, but make no mistake any pit is bad, most cause harm and discomfort, and a great many exact the ultimate toll, worse than death, they steal the soul. There are so many pits and some do not seem like pits but appear to be mere depressions. These pits that seem to not be pits at all are centered on what may be wrongly termed minor addictions. Those addictions that do not make the pit dweller obviously unable to perform the dance of the hive. Sugar, pharmaceuticals aka legal drugs what a scam, food, caffeine, sex, internet, porn, tobacco, gambling, and the forms of alcohol and drug addiction, that have not progressed to the point of incapacitating the pit dweller during normal business hours, are part of the vast armada of substances that lure then entrap the soul that wanders too near the pit.

My pit kills – sometimes slowly sometimes quickly, but mostly slowly; first killing all that is good in the pit dweller and killing the bonds that the pit dweller needs to escape the pit. Those lifelong bonds built between the connected souls are ripped apart, just trashed, the health depleted and the love pulled thin. In a great many cases, notably most cases, these bonds will never be the same, to go on but lack candor and trust, easy ways we have with each other that truly makes a family, group, or cohort seem to be correct. That ease of a joke or a snip that doesn’t lead to blows or hurt feelings, resentments and petty self pity can easily become the norm. Recriminations, guilt and shame replace laughter smiles and how the hell are yas. Asking if someone wants something to eat becomes a strained dance taking the ultimate pleasure of sustaining another right onto the list of those things my pit debases, lessens and makes cheap. I stole my mother’s coin collection to buy cheap Russian vodka in the middle of the night at a shady store in the heart of Baltimore after driving my 2 ton murder machine blind drunk as I had many times as my pit demanded and I willfully and gladly obeyed. I was evil incarnate and did not fucking care. The pit is stealthy and the pit is hungry and the pit will abide no lack of fealty, the pit is a jealous lover that will not truck with being sundered from the dweller, THE PIT IS REALITY the pit is reality, lest you think otherwise just stop and look around, that is if you can see out of your own pit. Many cannot. God weeps. – it kills with impunity = it kills the mother, the father, the son the daughter, the aunt the uncle, it kills rich and poor old and young, it kills yesterdays and tomorrows galore. It ruptures the timeline of so many people yet it is gleefully advertised as sexy and cool. This pit has an army of souls that work to get other souls into its pit and another army trying to extract them. My pit is rubbed on baby’s gums boy howdy. My pit was given me as a lad as a reward for mowing the lawn in pony form, just right to fit the hand of a youngster; tell me that wasn’t a pit maneuver. My pit is known to me and so many like me.

When I meet a fellow pit dweller we know each other better than I will ever know another soul on this planet at once, we are joined by such a heart rending bond that it seems perverse, utterly without equal. It is almost measurable in its intensity but seems the most natural of things. Get that. God smiles, and suspends his weeping for a bit. Here we have the deliverance from the pit in its perfect state. A power that is without equal and the pit knows it. When we are together in our pain and suffering and share honest love and compassion, the empathy and the most powerful of all, humility beats the shit out of the pit. The pit is reality. So often the bonds we need to defeat the pit are mere delusions and delusions and four aces still lose to the pit. The pit is the boss. The pit has reality on its side. Humility in fits and starts will never do well in battle against the ravenous hordes that are stoked in want and desire. The pit will feed any craving we have. Indoctrination from Madison Avenue and those on high shove pits down the throat of every potential dweller that can be reached via land sea or air, no one is immune the pit is a trap. The trap has been sprung and hell the pit is everywhere. Just open your eyes.

The pit exists in the pit dweller and is not a matter of externals. Perhaps I should have led with that, but bear with me, for we are getting to some good bits. The nice thing about having the pit in you is that it can be used to locate a fellow pit dweller and the effects can be very bad or possibly transcendently good, though mostly bad as we seem to find our foil. Either way it is nice, as we get we want in the end. This is the saddest part of my tale. In the end after the horror of horrors that I will try to wrench free, I found the essence of every pit. Just plain WANT. The simple truth after so many lies is that after it all I still wanted to drink. I cannot in any way relate the madness and the hopelessness and futility, the shear enormity of the revelation that I am the pit. The pit is me. The pit is me, my desire and want, but not my need, not that. That is elemental and I have bastardized my wants to all be needs yet they are mere superfluous desires never attaining the ascendency of need. Yet I want, I want, I want, I want. But do not need. So the crux of the biscuit, as Frank Zappa said, is how do I not want? Riddle me that. I know and I am going to tell you but do not know just yet how to do it.

DISEASE OF SELF

To allay want is the mystery of the universe and it has multiple paths and works all around us all of the time. Most people like their pits. Most people are content in their pits. Most people have no idea what the hell I am rambling about and wish I would stop saying pit. The disease of self is the precursor to all pits. To say we suffer from the disease of self is a blinding flash of the obvious. Pain my dear girl, suffering my young boy, fear and anger sweet lass, hopelessness and desperation my dear lad. These are the touchstones to all spiritual progress and growth and with the sharing of these ugly truths hidden reality is discussed in the open and the land brightens and we begin to sing inside and there is hope and damn it can be done now and always and everywhere because it is and it happened to me and many others. Kindness a plenty and time and pain and suffering like I did not want at all, these pulled me screaming from my pit. I had mostly given up deep inside, so much time, I wanted to sleep, just let the pit take me. So tired of fighting so tired of always losing but trying like hell to get out, knowing that perhaps I didn’t really want to get out, being furious but unconcerned terrified and yet resolute. I was comfortable to die in my own shit; Ground hog day of the soul.

Going mad with the struggle, I endeavored to persevere. Something was still on fire deep inside. You see a hopeless person is a wretched thing to behold. There was a glimmer of hope. Pandora saved my ass. Some of the bad is okay, so in essence it is all good in small doses. Moderation is the key. Go easy with that stuff it’s known to kill stronger than you. I needed a little pride and ego to get me to fight. And I had to fight. My brain was so damn big it forced me to struggle to carry it around. Fighting me was the hardest thing I have ever done, how the hell do you know when you win? For me the screaming answer came when I realized that part of me had to die for all of me to live. It is a daily and constant battle, for like the tingler, just one little piece can grow quickly. I heard it scream, it was almost imperceptible. It screamed and went out. It maddened me to be rid of the voices of the pit. My constant cicada hum and drone of disembodied mes from the past present and future gamboled about my brain 24 7 talking whispering cackling and screaming. For years upon years they tortured and teased me and drained my soul and into the pit we went all in all in all in. There were the resentful mes, the expectant mes, the righteous mes and mes infinatum. Their fear hung on me like stink. Then they were gone. My world view must be radically altered to fit this new information as I cannot discount the obvious. I never think about drinking. Let me say that again. I never think about drinking. I never think about drinking. I never think about drinking. Something happened and cannot be explained away or put in a box. I cannot measure it weigh it, or stick my finger up its ass.

I must prune the ego to stay out of the pit. The pit can be a response, the pit is real and is reality but not all reality is the pit, the pit is real but does not define reality.

The ramp up to the pit takes years to climb and we climb it stubbornly by ourselves with little heed to those around us who warn us not to get too close to the pit for it is dangerous and almost always inescapable and deadly. We are young and strong minded; read, unwise and foolish, and pay no heed to the warnings of those around us. Those around us are annoying with their self righteous denunciations of the pit. Soon those around us are pretty much the same as us, gone are the annoyances of those that do not share our love and desire for the pit. Those around us look just like us, keep the same hours, have the same habits and perhaps the same views, we would know their views if we ever spoke about anything other than the pit and its peripheral contents.

Getting close to the pit really is no different than being on the way up the ramp

The pit has no lip

The ramp isn’t real

There is no discernible outer edge of the pit

The edge of the pit is the same for everyone

There is an exact, definable, scientifically measurable and sharp edge to the pit and the ramp is as real as anything that ever existed or will ever be called into existence.

I know the edge but never saw it; it is the same for everyone who has been in the pit.

The edge has to be there, because you are now in the pit, while before you were not, therefore at some point you climbed into or fell into or dove into or slid into the pit.

Holy shit, how do I get out, where is the ladder, the ramp got me in but there is no ramp up and out of the pit for me to climb out alone.

Without HELP you never leave the pit, the saddest thing to ever befall a human being is pride so vast it kills me.

You get in alone, alone you stay, and alone you die

What do I do? What do YOU do? Wrong question ego

You show up, don’t give up and are prepared to BLEED

Anything else you have done got you here

Your thinking is delusional and reality is too painful to deal with alone, you need help

Starve the ego, and you feed the soul

There are people who will do anything to get you out of the pit, will go to any length to help you

IF YOU ASK

Not asking is killing tens of millions of us decade after decade

The disease of self is the number one killer on this planet

The terror of life helped get you into the pit; the only way to get out of the pit is to face the terror.

You have to bleed, for most the bleeding though hard, is not as hard as the initial hurdle that terrorizes the ego and makes the pride going screaming into the night, the selfish inner working of the deluded mind is in horror at this indefensible assault upon them all.

Being VULNERABLE. Please help me I cannot bear this alone

Asking for help and being prepared to say you are sorry and to try to make amends, try not to be a prick in the future, look inside of yourself and try to improve yourself and for the sake of your soul help another human being.

You get in alone, alone you stay, and alone you die

If I had done these simple human things, the pit would have been there hungrily waiting for me as it is for us all, but the on ramp would have been closed, blocked by a healed soul.

The pit doesn't call me anymore and I don't miss it and would not answer the call, I have forsaken the pit.

I have decided reality, with all of its inherent bumps and warts will do for me

Delusion be damned, I am not a rock star, a pro athlete or a world renowned anything, I am another bozo on the bus.

My past will never be any better no matter how much I wish it would.

Acceptance and maturity are giving up all hope of a brighter past.

I am not what I did; my achievements and failures do not define me.

I am now, what I have always wanted to be.

I am just one of us; that is all, nothing shiny or bright, just one of us.

MY HEART SOMETIMES BLEEDS

Addendum

Though your pit may not kill you it may keep you from living. Just ask the over eater who cannot do those things they want or have health issues and then bam the final price is paid. Though once again the dweller is not dying in droves on the news, they are alas dying in droves anyway. Their pit is obvious and is a point of ridicule for other pit dwellers. Who knows the pit? Only those who are in it know anything about it. Suffering is suffering and so many of us stuff our feelings with our desert. My pit manifested itself as a completely different pit when its fuel was exhausted. The hole in my soul had to be filled, and as long as there were pits to wallow in I was game for this pit as well. Eating and shopping replaced the sweet oblivion of drink. The grain gave way to the fudge cake and the cheap POS Ebay camera. This was my pit dealing me to another pit and working to get the drink back in me so I could be once again in its warm embrace back home to the womb. Home to the only mother I wanted, not to feel, not to be, just the pit please. Turn off the lights, I am where I belong, in my pit; naturally. The pit is reality.

The tobacco pit seems innocuous enough to the casual observer. Pity, this pit may be the deadliest of all. It certainly has the largest number of pit dwellers and has for some time. The lost souls are legion in this pit. Yet the addiction itself steals the soul only superficially compared to drugs and alcohol. The soul here is stolen outright and finally. With reckless abandon the smoker smokes at the funeral of a fellow pit dweller, perhaps the pit next door. Or after receiving treatment for the effects of the pit and to keep him in the pit just a little while longer. We pit dwellers may be happy sitting in our shit and steering clear of this pit. This pit is advertised as cartoons, now it is flavored, and was altered at the very first to enslave the pit dweller until it finally exacts its pound of flesh. This pit is completely of our own making and can kill those near the pit. Yet those who escape the final toll can live relatively normal lives and this is a pit that you can leave with your soul intact.

The big Pharma pit is the most harrowing legal death pit there is. It may not yet reap the souls of the tobacco pit or maim like the alcohol pit or depress like the food pit or get your legs broken like the gambling pit, however, this pit is sanctioned by all levers of power and is aimed at each and every one of us like a loaded shotgun. This pit has an army of souls that work to get other souls into its pit and another army trying to extract them. This army gets paid billions kills untold millions and sleeps in its BED OF WHITE FOAM. Murderers in lab coats; oh what sweet irony when they refused to make the serum for lethal injection. God howls with unabated rage and anger. I get to watch first-hand the horror of this pit as it consumes my friends and family. I am impotent; as this pit is government sanctioned murder and enslavement of the masses. It seems religion was not doing a good enough job, so now opium is the opium of the masses. Can you dig that shit? This pit is a very complicated con. The Big Pharma reps convinced congress that opioids were not addictive in much the same way that a slug of high grade heroin is not addictive, and guess what they said okay, that’s good enough for us and all we need to know. That is a recurring theme with those paid to protect us from evil, they seem unable to see evil as evil drops our young, maddens our people, and enslaves all who wonder near a doctor who is in the pit maintenance business. Open your eyes, they are conductors in the pit.

#addiction #recovery #self help #philosophy #gratitude #forgiveness #life

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