candy caned |dom!eddie munson x sub!reader|
prompt: you’re desperate to make eddie’s trailer more festive for the holidays. you bring over decorations, but eddie is only interested in one- a long, plastic candy cane.
apart of the twelve days of dom!eddie's christmas
contains: smut. 18+. dom/sub themes, hints at brat tamer/brat themes. spanking with implements (candy cane lol). role play-ish?? not really established but kinda alluded to it a little. aftercare. minors dni, read at your own discretion.
A cloud of smoke left Eddie’s lips, corners of his mouth pulling up into a half lipped smirk. Your car propelled over the gravel of the trailer park’s makeshift road, a playful beep of your horn. Eddie gave a small laugh, the air in front of him clouding at the contrast. He could hear the droning of George Michael’s Last Christmas, muffled from your car stereo but a reminder of why you were here.
Eddie bummed the cigarette when you turned off the ignition, the radio silencing but that didn’t stop you. ���Last Christmas, I gave you my heeearrrttt.” Your door swung open, voice trilling out into the quiet, rainy park. Eddie grinned, shoving his hands in his utility jacket, starting down the groaning steps of his trailer.
“But the very next day,” You wiggled your brows at Eddie playfully, a toothy grin on your face that made his chest fill with a surge of heat. “C’mon, Ed, you know it!” You pouted playfully.
“Yeah, I do. Everyone on planet fuckin’ Earth knows it.” Eddie snorted, heavy work boots nudging your own Sorels. His hands found your cheek, pressing a soft, full lipped kiss to your warm skin. The nicotine on his breath made your head spin, melting into his touch.
Eddie’s lips quirked, fighting back a smile. “Still not singing it, though.” He muttered, fingers squishing your cheeks together playfully, pivoting towards your trunk.
The huff you gave did make him grin. “Such a Scrooge.” You clicked your tongue in disapproval. “No holiday spirit at all.”
Eddie waited by the trunk, eyes shining in amusement while you unlocked your trunk. His eyes widened, gaping at you in disbelief. “You’re shitting me.”
“What?” You frowned, reaching for the bundle of lights, tangled from the half-hearted place in your apartment’s pitiful storage.
“Baby,” Eddie blinked, positively confounded. When you’d suggested bringing some decorations over, he expected a few knick-knacks, maybe a tiny tree. Not the trunk full of Christmas decor, looking like something straight out of a Macy’s display window he’d pass in the city.
“There’s… This is a lot.” Eddie tried not to sound as horrified as he felt.
You frowned at him over your shoulder, hauling the tote bag with your Zellers Christmas Village in it over your arm. “You said you didn’t have anything.”
“I don’t.” Eddie nodded, scanning over the tubs- tubs, plural- of ornaments. “But-But you didn’t have to bring all of this. What about your place?”
You rolled your eyes lightly. ���I barely stay there.” It was true, you’d slowly migrated into Eddie’s space over the months, staying more and more. “And you have more space. More decorating room.” The smile you gave him was bright, dazzling and excited.
Eddie’s was… less enthusiastic, a mix between a grimace and dread. Still, he grabbed the box of stacked ornaments, the glass rattling as he walked up the stairs, following your giddy steps into the trailer.
“No! Not so close to the edge!” You shrieked, Eddie nearly dropping the snowman figurine in his hand.
He’d been a good sport, he really had. Eddie didn’t complain when you handed him the tangled lights. He kept his snarky comments to himself when you had him fluff out the tree branches to the plastic tree. He’d come close to snapping when you busted out the Elvis Christmas album, but he didn’t- he tuned it out, focused on anything else.
The trailer was transformed, a Christmas wonderland, complete with the final touches of the snowmen and Santas on the window ledge. You pushed the snowman back, tilting it to your satisfaction, nodding with approval.
Eddie let you. The two of you had established a ‘system’- he’d put it out, and you went behind him and fixed it how you wanted it. “What about these, baby?” Eddie hummed, picking up the bundle of plastic, long candy canes. “These go on the tree?”
“No,” You shook your head, placing the last figurine on the window. “They go outside. We can do them when it’s not raining.”
Eddie turned the candy canes around in his hand, thin and spindly, intertwined plastic red and white that were long. He pulled one out by the hook, shaking it gently- testing it. Eddie brought it down, the swoosh whistling just barely over the music from his boombox.
“Don’t break them.” You frowned, twisting an ornament so it faced forward. “Just put them to the side. We can do them tomorrow if you want.”
Eddie stayed quiet, brows pinched together, tongue rolling over the inside of his cheek. You paused, watching him carefully as he studied the cane.
“You know what?” Eddie hummed, his eyes still on the red and white cane in his hand. “I think I have an idea.”
“What?” You looked at him, scanning the room for any spare place for the decoration.
“I can think of something better to do with this.” Eddie’s lips curled, intriguingly dark. “It would really get me in this whole most wonderful time of the year mood.” His tone animated, dark and mocking the way it was when he played DND with his friends, when they were about to be presented with a dangerous risk of a choice. It made your heart skip.
“What?” You repeated, brow quipping, waving your hand for him to continue.
Eddie’s eyes lit up, twinkling with excitement under the glow of the colorful strands on the tree. He lifted the cane, cutting it through the air with a satisfied swish!, holding your gaze with a darkened look of desire.
Your tummy flipped, heat rushing through your core, thighs pressing together at the insinuation.
Eddie lifted a brow. “Think you need it. Probably on the naughty list. Aren’t ya, baby?” He purred, spinning the cane in his hand. You squirmed under his gaze, fidgeting with the sleeves of your sweater.
“‘M not.” You shuddered, shrinking under Eddie’s greedy gaze. “I’ve been very good this year.”
Eddie sucked in a dramatic breath through his teeth, stalking towards you until he was towering over you. “Hmm, that’s not what I heard, sweetheart.” Eddie muttered, nose nearly touching yours.
Your knees tightened, wobbling with excitement. “Good news is,” Eddie started, letting the candy cane slide through his hands, brushing over your own. “It’s not too late. Can correct you now. Teach you a lesson and make sure you’ll be extra good.”
This wasn’t exactly what you were expecting after decorating. You had hoped the decor would maybe bring some holiday spirit to Eddie, and in a way… it did?
“I want to be a good girl.” You squeaked, tiny and breathy tone that had Eddie’s cock twitching in his jeans.
“Yeah? I can tell.” Eddie nodded, hands clamping around the plastic decoration. “I can make sure you are.” Eddie’s hand reached for your jaw, fingers splaying over your cheeks, pulling your gaze to him. “You just gotta ask me.”
You whimpered behind closed lips, the throb between your legs growing and growing. Eddie tilted his head, curls silhouetted by the tree’s lights. He looked nearly angelic, so pretty- it was so deceiving.
“C’mon,” Eddie rasped, thumb stroking over your cheekbone delicately. “Ask me to help you be a good girl.”
You squirmed in his touch, eyes casting down. His hand caught your jaw quickly, pulling your gaze to him. “Please…” You swallowed, heart thumping from the thrill of anticipation. “Please, help me be a good girl? I wanna be a good girl.”
Eddie smiled, satisfied. A gentle, affectionate squeeze to your cheeks. “Alright, I’ll help you.” He nodded, stepping back from you. His arms crossed over his chest, candy cane in his left hand, dangling loosely in his grasp.
“Strip for me.” Eddie nodded, tongue running down his cheek, taking in your frame. Your red sweater, cropped and positively festive.
Your hands quaked with anticipation, unbuttoning your jeans carefully, shoving them so they pooled at your sock clad feet. Eddie watched you, leaning cooly against the couch, eyes roaming your frame until you were just in a high cut, cotton thong and lacy bra- his favorite. He had helped you pick it out, snuck in the dressing room when the snobby lingerie store manager stepped away so you could model it for him.
You looked at him, arms down by your sides, the way he’d taught you to. Eddie lifted a brow, head bobbing at you. “C’mon, keep going.”
“All of it?” You whined. “Eddie, can I keep my panties on please? You know I hate the cane-”
“-All of it.” Eddie snapped firmly. “You wanna be good? You’re not acting like you wanna be good. Still acting like a brat. Still acting like a naughty girl.”
Heat rushed to your cheeks, lip jutting out in a pout that had Eddie’s abs clenching at the throb in his cock. You knew what you were doing, giving him your most pitiful, pouty look to drive Eddie wild. It was working.
Eddie’s brow lifted, a final warning that he was done arguing, eyes flicking down to your panties, heart skipping when your fingers hooked around them, pulling them slowly down your legs.
Your hands found your sides again, palms twitching with excitement, smoothing down the top of your bare thighs. Eddie waited until your eyes lifted to his, holding your gaze for just a touch too long- long enough to have you squirming with anticipation.
“Bend over the couch for me. Hands in front.” Eddie nodded, his voice dropping into that dark rasp it always did when he’d step into this domineering role with you.
The faded green carpet lacked it’s usual softness, coated with glitter from the decor and you hadn’t got a chance to vacuum yet. The usual crocheted blanket was folded over the arm of the couch, a reindeer throw pillow next to it. You set the pillow in front of you, so you’d have something to grab onto, bending over the arm of the couch.
Your eyes stayed forward, Eddie’s hum of approval muffled out by his heavy soled footsteps moving closer to you. “Hm, how many strokes does a naughty girl deserve?” Eddie sighed animatedly. He was putting on a show for you, for him too.
“What do you think?” Eddie tapped the side of your hip lightly with the cane, dragging the cool plastic over your ass.
You shuddered, the hook of the candy cane ghosting over the crack of your cheeks. “I don’t know, sir.” You grit, eyes closing, fighting the quake in your voice. “Three?”
“Three?” Eddie scoffed, halting his movements, the hook side of the cane pressed against the fatty flesh under your ass. “Try again, sweetheart.”
“I don’t know.” You whined, toes wiggling into the carpet. You were throbbing, dizzy with the desire for Eddie to touch you, spank you, fuck you- do something to you.
“Hm, better watch it, naughty girl.” Eddie hissed, eyes narrowed in on your ass. He pressed the cane up, lifting your cheek so he could sneak a peek at your puffy lips, already slick with your own arousal. “Can see why you got on the naughty list. Little bratty thing, aren’t ya?”
“‘M not.” You pouted, chin dropping into your outstretched arms.
“Oh, I don’t think that’s true.” Eddie tsked, the cane moving closer and closer to your pussy. “And I think you should get a stroke for every month you were naughty this year. Twelve.”
You squirmed, hips wiggling and rocking in place. Eddie grinned, smoothing a hand over your spine. You jumped, relaxing under the familiar touch. “How’s that sound?” Eddie muttered, tapping your shoulder blade gently.
You turned back, chin hooking on your shoulder to meet his gaze. “Twelve?” Eddie asked, his hand still rubbing over your spine soothingly, like he did every night to lull you to sleep.
It made your heart swell with a warmth that had your cheeks burning with tingly heat. “Yeah.” You whispered, squeaking at the small squeeze Eddie gave your hip.
Eddie’s hand rubbed back down your spine, setting the candy cane on your upturned ass, shedding his sweatshirt slowly. “Think you’ll remember to be good this year after this?” Eddie questioned, tossing his sweatshirt on the chair behind him.
“Yes, sir.”
“You know what happens next year if you’re not good, right? If you’re on the naughty list again?” Eddie grabbed the cane slowly, dragging it over your ass and thighs.
“No, sir, I don’t.” You choked out, clenching the pillow in front of you.
“You get double.” Eddie said surely, bringing the cane down behind you. You felt the air on your skin, knees tightening with expectancy, the lingering threat looming closer and closer. “After that, I’ll just have to come down here every month. Cane you and make sure you get a monthly reminder to be good.”
You whined behind closed lips, hips lifting at the threat. Eddie grinned, lining the candy cane up to your ass. “And believe me, if I have to come down every month, take time outta my schedule to teach you a lesson, I won’t be as nice as this. You better consider yourself lucky this time. Better learn from it.”
“I will.” You panted, arms shaking from how hard you were clenching them. “I’ll be good from now on. I promise.” You sounded so sweet. Tone so airy and pouty and adorable, that tone that made Eddie’s vision blurry with desire.
“Good.” Eddie nodded, tapping the cane against your ass. “I’ll make sure of it. Count ‘em out for me, baby.”
You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath in through your nose. The cane pulled back, a whoosh! filling the air before it was snapping into your skin, a biting sting from the plastic spreading in a line across your cheeks. Your hips jumped, a tiny huff of a whine leaving your lips at the shock. It wasn’t nearly as unpleasant as the wooden cane Eddie used in the past, but still uncomfortable.
“One,” You breathed out through gritted teeth.
Eddie lined up the cane again, higher this time, before it was pulled back and sailing onto your bare skin, harder. Hard enough to have your head snapping up, toes bouncing off the carpet.
“Two!” You squeaked, Eddie’s hand on the small of your spine to steady you.
He watched you carefully. If this was the normal cane, you’d be crying by now- sniffly in the least. He lined it up lower, where your ass met your thighs. He lifted his hand, bringing the cane down with the type of strength he used with his hard soled slipper, hard and quick, pulling the sound he was looking for right out of you.
The yowl, punched straight out of your core, back arching and hips wiggling away. “Ow! Ow! Three!” You hissed, a white knuckled grip on the pillow. Your nose burned, tears brimming in the corner of your eyes now, the sting was searing now, leaving a sizzling sting that had you bouncing from foot to foot.
Eddie smirked in satisfaction, stilling you again with his hand firm on your lower back. “You learning your lesson?” Eddie grunted, the candy cane falling back down again, that white line imprinting your skin before disappearing, your cry following like clockwork.
“Yes!” You whined, and the petulant, bratty foot stomp that followed had Eddie’s cock lurching. “Four!”
“You’re gonna be really good this year, aren’t ya?” Eddie growled.
Swish!
“Yes! I’ll be good! I’ll be good!” You groaned, a watery, pathetic wail. “Five!” You bounced from toe to toe over the couch, hips shaking like you could possibly shake the sting out that way. The ache between your legs was blinding, rivaling the sting growing furiously on your backside.
Another stroke came before you were ready, quicker than the last time but just as unforgivingly searing. You cried out, a bubbling sob that tore from your throat. “You gonna make me do this again? Gonna be on the naughty list again?”
“Noooo,” You cried out. Your face rubbed against your arms, snotty cries from a burning nose and throat that you tried to soothe.
“What number was that?” Eddie tapped the cane lightly against you.
“Six.” You muttered, so pitifully sweet it made Eddie’s heart burst. The sniffle that followed was even more piteous, wet and snotty and somehow still bratty.
“Hm, ‘s not lookin’ great, baby.” Eddie teased, the cane snapping against your sore skin. “Already forgettin’.”
“Se-even.” You sobbed, head pressed into your arms, slack over the couch.
Eddie was nearly drooling, watching the way your hips rocked onto the arm of the couch for friction, catching glimpses of your pussy.
“You wanna be on the nice list.” Eddie nodded, striping you again right across the middle of your ass.
“Eight.”
“You know what nice girls get?” Eddie pressed, watching your shoulders shudder before he caned you, higher this time.
“No!” You hissed, knees buckling and legs quaking after the hit. “Nine.”
“Good girls who are on the nice list,” Eddie leaned forward, hovering over your squirming frame. “Get their pussies eaten out.” You whimpered, hips grinding down harder on the arm of the couch. “They get my tongue used on them as a reward for being so good.”
“Please, Ed, please.” You babbled, throbbing, needy, and your mind already numbed with the overwhelming sensation of pleasure and pain. “Please.”
“Nuh-uh-uh.” Eddie tsked, shaking his head at you. “You haven’t been good.” His hand rubbed over the hot skin of your ass, tickling just above your hidden pussy, grinning at the whine you gave. You stomped, huffing into the couch. There she was, the little brat he loved to play with.
“If you were good,” Eddie grunted, swinging the cane back and forward into your burning skin. You wailed, hand slapping into the couch, clawing at the cushion to keep yourself from reaching back. “You’d get eaten out.”
“T-Ten.” You whimpered, a pouty sound. Eddie could practically see your face- brows creased in a frown, lip jutted, tear stained cheeks and a runny nose.
“I’d use my tongue on you,” Eddie purred. You whined, nasally and desperate, hips swiveling down for friction. “I’d make you cum over and over and over.”
You gasped when the cane cut into your ass with an unforgiving snap, an inflamed imprint left in its wake. “Eleven.”
“I’d even let you sit on my face so you could grind down just like that.” Eddie teased, tapping your rocking hips with the cane lightly. “Let you do that on my face instead of on the couch, rubbing your pussy all over my couch like that when you’re getting spanked. Seems awfully naughty, if you ask me.” He tutted.
Your toes curled, his words were cruel, teasing, made your body burn with embarrassed heat- yet you were so close.
“I don’t think you’re gonna be very good this year. Don’t know if I believe you.” Eddie shook his head. “You’re supposed to be getting punished, not enjoying this.”
“I-I’m not.” You panted, shaking your head furiously.
“You’re not?” Eddie scoffed, setting the cane to rest on your ass. His hand dipped between your thighs, fingertips sliding through your sopping folds easily, smirking at the gasp that tore from your throat.
Eddie’s finger sunk into your soaking hole, pumping in and out at an agonizingly slow pace that had your head lifting, eyes pinched in pleasure. You were close, he could feel it, feel it in the way you clenched and strangled around his finger. He pulled away just as quickly as he put them in, your eyes flying open at the loss.
“What-”
“Look at this,” Eddie commanded, his fingers coated with your sticky arousal, pointer and middle finger spreading, webs of your slick forming with ever widening of his fingers. “You think someone not enjoying this would have that? Hm? Look at it.”
Your cheeks were scorching with heat, lifting your gaze shyly to his dangling fingers in front of your face, shaking your head lightly.
Eddie hummed in satisfaction, pulling his hand back, wiping your release over your burning ass. You yelped, jumping at the burn of his touch on your sore skin. Eddie’s lips curled, grabbing the candy cane off your hips.
“Last one.” Eddie muttered, lining the festive decoration up against your skin, tapping gently. “You ready, baby?”
“‘M ready.” You sighed, cheek pressed into your outstretched arms.
Eddie was sure he was about to bust at the sight of you- glassy eyed, sniffling lightly, whimpering with every roll of your hips. Oh, it was too fuckin’ much.
Eddie brought the cane down hard- hard enough he thought it might snap in half. The final blow that had you gasping, a strangled whine huffing out of your chest in a gasping heave before your body tensed, quivering at the sensation the impact left.
“T-Twelve.” You whimpered, cheek pressed against your arm, so spacy in ecstasy you were dribbling out of the corner of your mouth.
Your ass was stinging with that itchy, red-hot irritation that had you desperate to rub it out, only you knew it would only make the ache worse. You were throbbing between the legs, slick and frustrated, desperate for him to touch you.
Eddie’s hand skated in a feather light touch over your ass, passing so delicately over each of your lips, coated with your own slickness. “You learned your lesson?” Eddie hummed, swallowing the spit that filled his mouth at the sight of you, presented so perfectly over the arm of the couch for him- for him to fuck you.
“Ready to be a good girl? Be on the nice list?” His hand didn’t stop, sliding down the inside of your thigh, pushing lightly so you’d spread your legs.
“Yeah,” You sighed, airy and a little pouty, cheek still pressed to the couch pillow.
“Yeah? Look at me, baby.” Eddie patted your thigh gently, hovering over you.
You blinked, looking up at him with sweet, glassy, rounded eyes. “You alright?” Eddie asked, scanning your features carefully, testing the waters of where you were.
“Yeah.” You hummed, lip jutting ever so lightly. “I’ll be good now.”
“I know you will.” Eddie nodded. “Are you alright? You with me, baby?”
“Yeah.” You nodded, shimmying your body so it contorted and angled towards him. “I’m ready to be good, so you can fuck me now.” The bluntness of your words mixed with the light, breathy tone, so deceivingly sweet- it made Eddie’s head spin.
“Yeah?” He grinned, dimples creasing. “I was gettin’ to that, baby.”
“You can get to it now.” You hummed, slipping out of that hazy fog that he always got you in, back into your bratty ways. Eddie’s lips twitched, biting back a smirk. “‘M ready for it. I’ll be really good this year.”
“Alright, you earned it, I guess.” Eddie teased, pulling you by the small of your waist back up the arm of the couch. “How you want me, babe? This good?”
“Yeah, just let me-” You snatched the pillow in front of you, pushing it under your chest. “Ready.”
“You sure are, holy shit.” Eddie muttered, eyes glued to your parted thighs, your sopping cunt making his head reel at the sight. “You gonna be a good girl? Be my good girl?”
“Yes,” You whine, hips wiggling back further to him. “I’ll be good, so good, please.”
Eddie slipped two fingers into your sopping hole, pumping in and out just as slow as before. Your toes curled, body jolting with that euphoric, white hot bolts of pleasure. A small whine, quiet but pathetically desperate slipped from your lips.
Another whine followed, huffier this time, more demanding. “Alright, alright, I gotcha.” Eddie gritted, pumping his shaft slowly, smearing his own pre-leakages over his head, down his shaft. “I gotcha. Relax, baby.”
Your vision blurred at the feeling of him pushing into you, that achingly familiar stretch, your walls tightening with every slow roll of his hips further and further into you. Your ass was raw with the still fresh strokes of the cane, Eddie’s hips and groin snapping into the irritated skin with a purposeful punch of his cock inside of you.
Tears brimmed your eyes, of pleasure or pain or both, you weren’t really sure. The sensation was enough to have you mindless, cheek smushed into the couch cushion, whimpering. “Fuck, you gonna be my good girl? Be my-my nice girl?” Eddie hissed, eyes half-lidded, hypnotized by the sight of your pussy swallowing his cock with every roll of his hips.
“Yeah.” You whined, a ghosting of a whimper tailing on your words.
“Yeah.” Eddie grunted in a mocking tone, fingers sinking into the fat of your hips. “Holy fuck, you feel so fuckin’ good. You know that? ‘Course you know that. This feel good? Am I makin’ you feel good, baby?” His hand fell on your ass, a stinging hand print left in its wake on your already sensitive skin.
You yelped, head snapping up at the impact, red manicured nails curling around the needlepoint pillow, grappling at the loopy stitches while Eddie plowed into you from the back. Fingers bruising your hips and waist from the way Eddie was using your body to fuck himself, until he finally halted, heavy breathing gasps of pleasure. He pulled out, a thick stream of his own release drooling out of you and towards the faded floral upholstery.
Somehow, the lights on the trees and strung along the walls seemed brighter now, with you curled into his neck. Eddie blew the smoke away from you, towards the chilly night air that crept in from the open window.
“I think I kinda get it.” Eddie muttered, a hand rubbing down your back soothingly, pulling you out of your post orgasm hazy state. You hummed, nuzzling into his chest, curling into his body for warmth from the breeze that swept in. “Get why you like all this stuff.”
You lifted your gaze, eyes still glowing with the remnants of emotion, but rounding in the sweetest way. “Yeah? You gettin’ in the spirit, Munson?” You giggled softly.
Eddie snorted lightly, rolling the cigarette between his pointer and thumb over the ashtray. “Maybe.” He shrugged. “You lettin’ me spank you with a candy cane really got me in the spirit, babe.” You laughed, head dropping to his shoulder, eyes batting up at his.
The candy canes lined the path to Eddie’s trailer the next day. You helped him put them out in the freezing cold, occasionally rubbing your tender ass when he’d swish the decoration playfully, eyes dark and dazzling at you. One lone candy cane stayed inside, hanging on Eddie’s bedroom door knob to make it look more festive, or so he said.
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Quanto siamo connessi con noi stessi e di conseguenza con gli altri? Siamo coscienti di quello che si muove nella mente, nelle emozioni, nel nostro sistema psichico?
Di ciò che muove i nostri comportamenti, e che poi influisce sugli altri? Ecco, la risposta riguarda appunto quanto il nostro mondo interiore influenza il mondo esteriore, attraverso le persone ovviamente, ma non solo, anche attraverso delle energie - perché noi siamo anche campi di energia, che influenzano altri campi di energia.
Ogni persona nasce come corpo; da bambini siamo corpi ed Essenza/Coscienza. Non c'è ancora la personalità, che si forma dai 6-7 anni in poi, e continua a formarsi più o meno per tutta la vita; il periodo più importante (la prima cristallizzazione di personalità) ce l'abbiamo intorno ai 7 anni, poi a 14, poi a 21 e a 28 - che sono le varie fasi evolutive più importanti della personalità.
Però noi siamo Essenza, mentre la personalità è un'acquisizione esteriore; per cui non nasciamo con la personalità, nasciamo con delle caratteristiche essenziali.
Possiamo anche dire che nasciamo già con una sorta di “personalità”, però questa personalità ce la portiamo dietro da infinite vite; oppure, se uno non accetta l'idea di infinite vite, possiamo dire che nasciamo già con delle caratteristiche, con delle potenzialità, con dei semi da poter sviluppare, con delle qualità da portare fuori.
Per cui non è proprio vero che si nasce come delle lavagne bianche, questo può valere per il cervello ma non per la parte interiore, non per la parte spirituale. In realtà siamo degli adulti in un corpo di neonati e tantissime nostre parti, tante nostre qualità (noi le chiamiamo qualità essenziali, vere qualità), richiedono un terreno adatto per potersi manifestare - terreno che dovrebbe essere la famiglia, nella misura in cui la famiglia riconosce chi siamo, cosa siamo e quali sono le nostre qualità.
La famiglia dovrebbe aiutarci a manifestare le nostre qualità e potenzialità essenziali, e a formare una vera personalità.
La personalità che si forma dovrebbe essere strettamente connessa con l'Essenza, con le qualità essenziali.
Questo però accade solo se la famiglia, i genitori o chi ci educa utilizzano un metodo socratico, e quindi aiutano il bambino o la bambina a portare fuori le sue caratteristiche e le sue qualità, aiutando i suoi semi a trovare un terreno buono per poter manifestare le sue caratteristiche reali.
È diverso invece quando la famiglia o chi ci educa non riesce a percepire cosa realmente siamo, le nostre capacità, abilità e potenzialità, ed è fin troppo preoccupato a educarci secondo gli standard familiari e collettivi.
Quindi ti dicono: “Devi essere così, devi fare questo, devi diventare quell'altro, devi essere un po' più così, un po' più cosà, ma non troppo…”, che va bene, ma se non si tiene conto anche delle vere caratteristiche, che cosa succede?
Che formeremo una personalità falsa, non vera, cioè totalmente autocostruita, che viene interamente dal di fuori, che non tiene conto di ciò che siamo dentro; ed ecco che avremo un conflitto tra essenza - ciò che noi siamo nel profondo - e la personalità che abbiamo formato in seno alla famiglia, ai parenti, alla scuola, a fratelli, sorelle, eccetera.
E questo crea un grosso problema, perché genera uno scollegamento tra la personalità esterna, quindi la falsa personalità (che non è noi, non è connessa a noi) e ciò che siamo dentro, la nostra essenza, che dovrebbe invece formare la vera personalità.
Questo è molto importante perché ci permette di capire che, nella misura in cui veniamo “educati” da mamma, da papà, dai nonni, dalla scuola, e nessuno di loro tiene conto di ciò che siamo dentro, ognuna delle persone che ci educa e ci dice delle cose su di noi formerà un io, una parte della falsa personalità, ognuna diversa dall'altra, perché nessuno tiene conto di ciò che siamo; per cui il papà si aspetterà che noi siamo così, così, così… la mamma si aspetterà questo, questo, quello… i fratelli maggiori, i nonni, gli insegnanti, gli educatori o tutte le persone della nostra vita, ognuno ci metterà un'etichetta, si aspetterà qualcosa da noi, vorrà che noi diventiamo più questo e meno quello etc.
Alla fine, crescendo, saremo sempre più scollegati da ciò che siamo in profondità e sempre più proiettati in una falsa personalità, che è a sua volta suddivisa in tante sub-personalità, ognuna sviluppata per soddisfare le aspettative di chi ci ha educato e ha grandi aspettative su di noi, (che potrebbero essere anche gli insegnanti, fino all'università).
E quindi noi non siamo uno, connessi, non abbiamo una sola personalità, ma abbiamo tante personalità che nel lavoro chiamiamo io divisi.
Questo è un problema che chiamiamo frammentazione: è come avere non un unico io, un'unica personalità e un'unica essenza, ma una multi-personalità che cambia a seconda di chi abbiamo davanti, in base a quello che evoca, e che dipende molto dall'educazione fino ai 28-30 anni.
Tutto questo non è assolutamente connesso con ciò che noi veramente siamo.
ROBERTO POTOCNIAK
Poi aggiungiamo a questo anche tutto il nostro vissuto, la nostra storia personale, le ferite, tutto quello che abbiamo vissuto - piaceri e dolori, abbandoni, tradimenti, problemi di licenziamenti, problemi con il lavoro, problemi di soldi, problemi con la famiglia… ed ecco che abbiamo, nella struttura di adulti, un'essenza totalmente circondata e bloccata da una storia personale spesso molto pesante, e uno spesso strato di personalità, sempre sulla difensiva - perché deve difendere la sofferenza che ci portiamo dietro nella storia personale. Nella storia personale c'è tutto quello che hai vissuto, soprattutto quello che ha creato ferite e sofferenza, dalla prima infanzia in poi. La personalità in qualche maniera tiene a bada la sofferenza e ti dà una facciata, una maschera, una serie di maschere, una serie di io e quindi una serie di maschere, che ti permettono di relazionarti con le persone.
Questo è per dare un accenno, perché in realtà c'è molta altra roba, ma intanto lavoriamo su questo. Quindi: quando entro in relazione con gli altri, devo sapere che ho una personalità frammentata, in cui ogni parte è diversa dall'altra; ho una storia personale molto spesso carica di dolore e sofferenza, e ho la mia piccola essenza, non sviluppata perché non è mai stata finita di sviluppare, che è bloccata all'interno e dalla quale sono praticamente disconnesso.
Quando entriamo in relazione dobbiamo tener conto che portiamo tutta questa roba all'interno della relazione. Qui non ho messo tutte le varie sfumature della storia personale, tutte le altre caratteristiche della personalità e dell'essenza - che non è per nulla sviluppata. Ma è come se fuori sembrassimo un adulto bello, fatto, finito, forte (oppure anche in crisi, non ha importanza), mentre all’interno c'è un mare di sofferenza e di problemi, e dentro, ancora più in profondità, c'è un bambino o bambina in panico, arrabbiato, arrabbiata, carica di paura ma anche piena di potenzialità, mai sviluppata, mai cresciuta, che aspetta di venire fuori.
E tutto questo poi, quando cominciamo a relazionarci con l'altro sesso - crescendo, soprattutto da adulti - tutto questo comincia a spingere, spingere, spingere... Si parte sempre dall'amore, dall'innamoramento, dall'amicizia, e poi nel tempo vengono fuori i disastri, perché ci relazioniamo solo dalla personalità frontale, che è più un insieme di maschere, senza tener conto della frammentazione della storia personale, delle ferite, della sofferenza e della nostra essenza bambina - che al minimo problema piange, scappa, protesta, proprio come un bambino di 5-6 anni anche se ne abbiamo 40, 50, 60.
E questo ci dovrebbe far riflettere sul perché, da dove arrivano tutte queste aspettative della relazione, da dove deriva la rabbia, la frustrazione, la delusione, come mai non riusciamo a ripartire puliti in una nuova relazione.
Roberto Potocniak
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