Introduction to Bridget

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I’m a startup, but more is coming. If I don’t write, I explode and I’m all outta latex gloves. Introvert problem #455.

But I’ll leave you with a peek into my soul until I get going. This man’s collection of elegant composition and prose reflects my essence most flawlessly. My mind. My body. My life breath. I feel his words embrace my ungraceful bones with an unmatched intensity of recognition. I can think of no better way to introduce myself. It goes a little something……

Like This

If anyone asks you
how the perfect satisfaction
of all our sexual wanting
will look, lift your face
and say,

Like this.

When someone mentions the gracefulness
of the nightsky, climb up on the roof
and dance and say,

Like this.

If anyone wants to know what “spirit” is,
or what “God’s fragrance” means,
lean your head toward him or her.
Keep your face there close.

Like this.

When someone quotes the old poetic image
about clouds gradually uncovering the moon,
slowly loosen knot by knot the strings
of your robe.

Like this.

If anyone wonders how Jesus raised the dead,
don’t try to explain the miracle.
Kiss me on the lips.

Like this. Like this.

When someone asks what it means
to “die for love,” point
here.

If someone asks how tall I am, frown
and measure with your fingers the space
between the creases on your forehead.

This tall.

The soul sometimes leaves the body, then returns.
When someone doesn’t believe that,
walk back into my house.

Like this.

When lovers moan,
they’re telling our story.

Like this.

I am a sky where spirits live.
Stare into this deepening blue,
while the breeze says a secret.

Like this.

When someone asks what there is to do,
light the candle in his hand.

Like this.

How did Joseph’s scent come to Jacob?

Huuuuu.

How did Jacob’s sight return?

Huuuu.

A little wind cleans the eyes.

Like this.

When Shams comes back from Tabriz,
he’ll put just his head around the edge
of the door to surprise us

Like this.

-The Essential Rumi

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LEAN INTO THE SHARP POINTS

In life, we think that the point is to pass the test or overcome the problem. The real truth is that things don’t really get solved. They come together for a time, then they fall apart. Then they come together again and fall apart again. It’s just like that.

Personal discovery and growth come from letting there be room for all of this to happen: room for grief, for relief, for misery, for joy.

Suffering comes from wishing things were different. Misery is self inflicted, when we are expecting the “ideal” to overcome the “actual”, or needing things (or people, or places) to be different for us so we can then be happy.

Let the hard things in life break you. Let them effect you. Let them change you. Let these hard moments inform you. Let this pain be your teacher. The experiences of your life are trying to tell you something about yourself. Don’t cop out on that. Don’t run away and hide under your covers. Lean into it.

What is the lesson in the wind? What is this storm trying to tell you? What will you learn if you face it with courage? With full honesty and – lean into it?

On a personal note….
I think every twist and turn of my life has served a distinct purpose. I could’ve chosen a life of ease and did so for my first 27 years. I grew increasingly unsettled and a malignant slumber began to wrap my spirit in an ominous complacency.

Many times, I KNEW my choices would end in disaster but never did I hesitate. I have contemplated this paradox in depth and for many years. 5 years to be exact. I tirelessly struggled to answer one question. Why? Why did I run straight into oncoming traffic repeatedly? I am far from stupid and I certainly didn’t revel in my own destruction. My intuition is extraordinary and I forsaw the conclusion before I took one step into the road. So, why? Dear God, WHY??!

I am and always will be a seeker. I remember the day and even the lighting in the room when the first pangs of restlessness rose in my being. Something was amiss. I lacked adequate understanding, profundity, empathy, and passion. I sought an intensified level of meaning. Typical happiness and comfort did not satisfy my soul. From that day, forward…I desperately pursued those missing pieces. Only in retrospect, can I finally make sense of some of my more outlandish choices. My life may not always reflect happiness in the typical sense but I will always be satisfied and content with the knowledge that every ‘mistake’ is, in actuality, the ideal choice. I will always find meaning.

I’ve leaned, slouched, careened, sunk, twisted, bent, tipped into the sharp points. I am a seeker. This is my journey.

5w4 INFJs! Our Paradoxical Mind. Run.

Perhaps this is a self centered posting, but I truly recommened the journey within….especially after adverse life events. This is how we grow, heal, and even change the world. By knowing ourselves and addressing our weaknesses. Lack of self awareness is catastrophic in relationships and society in general. And I agonizingly yearn for just a little understanding. 5w4 INFJs are a lot left of normal. Comment if you can relate. I’m looking for you!

Go for it! Look inside yourself!! And I hope you like me.

MY BRAIN
Why? Why is my brain a battlefield? I found the answer as I began trying to rebuild my broken ego in an imaginary construct that doesn’t actually exist. Brilliant, yes? Myers Briggs type indicator and enneagram of personality. Myers Briggs is the redheaded step child of Carl Jung and the enneagram is a system derived from ancient esoteric traditions.

Here it is

BRAIN HARDWARE
INFJ – introverted intuitive feeling judger
image I’m wired to be a forward thinking recluse that focuses on creating harmonious social connections by exerting control via planning, organization, and feeling based decision-making. I’m also a wee complex. I don’t think outside the box. I think ABOUT the box. Perspective shifter and social ninja. 😉 Like Ghandi, a prominent Christian figure I won’t name, and Hilter. It’s true. Same hardware. Adam Sandler, too. It’s also the rarest type. I’d really rather not be a bearded lady but it is what it is. It has it’s upsides.

BRAIN SOFTWARE
5w4 – enneagram 5 is my main type, the investigator. I also have components of enneagram type 4, the individualist. They call the lesser influence on your personality a wing. Mash em together and you’ve got yourself a 5 with a 4 wing, the iconoclast and in my case…an awkward and confused iconoclast. 5w4 is also an extreme rarity. Yeah, I REALLY dont belong on this planet.
imageSorry, I couldn’t find a motivational poster for 5w4.

INFJ AND a 5w4? A truly bizarre mix AKA my battlefield. The only famous person that kinda fits is that redhead from Zero Dark Thirty. My psychiatric evaluator mentioned the uncanny resemblance…..except I have an expansive silly injection once you’re in my bubble. Btw, Osama Bin Laden? INFJ gone awry.

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Yep, there’s my bitchy resting face.

So, what does all this mean?
Well, my main software (enneagram 5), is located squarely in the thinking center.  It investigates, analyzes, cherishes logic above all else. Knowledge is king. I research…for fun. I’ve read libraries. It is my inner CIA analyst. My ability to detach and apply objectivity is all 5. It also casts a dirty glance on feeling. Ewww, feeeeeeelings. Get them outta my sight. It begrudgingly runs with my feeling based decisions. Added to this paradox is my 4 wing and its center is, you got it, feeling. It houses my ability to switch to subjectivity from objectivity. 4 characteristics include emotional honesty, vulnerability, authenticity, self-awareness, and creativity. It’s my elegance. My love of literature, art, and music. My spirituality and empathy. My magic. It also enjoys ramping up and intensifying emotions for the hell of it….Molehill. BAM. Mountain. It digs deep and doesn’t recognize your howling screams as displeasure.

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I joke. Kudos, Britney, on rising from the ashes or shall I say stubble. I, too, have sported a metaphorical pink wig.

Meanwhile, the 5 in me is disgusted with the whole display and demands that I cease at once and go spend some time in the wilderness until I’ve learned a thing or two. Famous 5w4’s? Kurt Cobain and Albert Einstein. Lennon, too.

I’ve come to the conclusion that Myers Briggs and the enneagram are comparable to astrology except for the fact that they are self selecting. Not all that scientific, but who cares? Researching cognitive functions, ego fixations, and Jungian psychology has helped me to make sense of my journey. I used this knowledge to help piece my ego back together after the last of the horses tucked tail. At least they didn’t keep beating me as I often do to them.
imageI favor the enneagram since it’s a more spiritual system and it’s geared towards overcoming ego fixations. My holy ideas are omniscience, transparency and unity (unbrokenness – screw all the king’s horses, I’ll do it myself). My virtues are detachment and equanimity. My vices are avarice (hoarding time, space, and especially knowledge ie feigning naivety/intellectual prude) and melancholy.
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So, if you call me and I have been holed up in my house for 3 weeks straight listening to Death Cab for Cutie while wearing a tin foil loin cloth and memorizing pi to the 549th digit….Help me. Or at least complement my loin coverings.

My mind types everyone I meet almost immediately. I just do it automatically. Everyone’s brain stereotypes. If it didn’t, fuchsia fizz would leak out of your ears from information overload. Typology is just one of the 111 billion different systems at work in my head when forming first impressions. It’s kinda ridiculous and an off switch would be dreamy. It’s just a starting box. Don’t get offended. I’ll tear the box up if you let me borrow your box cutter and send away all witnesses. Sticking with stereotypes…yeah, that’s bad.

Seriously. I do recommend checking out these personality systems. There are free tests all over the internet. You just might discover something new about yourself. I did. I’M the FREAK. But I definitely love freaks.

Check out these links for the tests.
Jungian/Myers Briggs test
Enneagram of personality test

And since those sweet souls over at INTP Central must’ve deleted their amusing thread, “F’ing INFJs….How do they work?”, here’s another cute synopsis. Be afraid if you tread too far into and step on our core values. I’ve put squeakers in mine. Listen closely.

The Many Faces of the INFJ

Soooo…For better or worse, I’ve obviously 5’ed out on Myers-Briggs, enneagram, Jungian psychology, astrology, and the mating habits of Red-lipped Batfish. Ask me anything. What? I’m an enneagram 5. Pointless research is my forte. I KNOW.
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P.S. I totally forgot to mention my enneagram 9 fixation! I’ll save that for later. The theoretical tritype 549(in terms of enneagram) is triple withdrawn especially when ego protection is in play. An investigator, individualist/identity seeker AND a peacekeeper. Those are MY apples. Catch me if you can 😉 Ok, I’ll stop hiding.

CoinMama: Buy Bitcoins with Credit Card

Excerpt #34 Journal 6

#34 The Incredible Shrinking Girl

All odd numbered memories brought lightness to my being. All even numbered memories brought darkness. Together, they form the expression of my spirit in this life. This is number 34.i

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Time. Time had changed somehow. My dreams, perhaps? Sleep had become my refuge. My oasis. My eyelids shielded my mind from further visual imprints, but not endlessly. My heart began to race as consciousness closed in. My spirit felt encased behind an impenetrable wall which rendered any association with my body, void. My blood was replaced by something different. This new fluid was capable of enduring any manner of incursion but its viscosity was more like heavy syrup. Its flow became an insolent lumber. I felt as if it stagnated in my capillaries, refusing to sacrifice any additional effort to push into those terminal passageways. My limbs seemed inept as this internal passivity spread outward from my heart. My eyes slowly registered an unlit room where streaks of sunlight crept through the cracks only to be efficiently swallowed by the ravenous darkness. My soul had somehow shrunk to fit in that one room and I thought that to be a quite astonishing horror.

I could not conceive of a world beyond those four walls. People and children. Coffee. Eating. Music. Laughter. Clouds. The pull of the moon. Kissing. Warm wind. Tears and all the commanding stars. All the ordinary and terrible things that were once familiar…evaporated. My memories even fled in dismay when I called upon their presence. Their trailing threads slipped effortlessly through my desperate fingers. Why did I remain?

I remember rising, my knees threatening to betray me. Was I walking? I must’ve been. Gravity shifted. My body struggled for old recognition. White flooded my vision. My eyes, enraged at the assault, recorded only a few flashes. Water. Porcelain. A distorted reflection of someone unrecognizable. I slowly lowered my pale and fragile body into water. My skin was insensitive to the scented warmth which had callously promised to wrap my delicate form in its soothing comfort. I twisted the knob to H in retaliation for its indifference. My ivory skin transformed into an angry red. I curiously watched as the crimson made its creeping advance towards my shoulders. I drew my knees up to my chest and hugged them tightly. My head was lowered and resting upon my knees. I rocked very gently, taking care to not disturb the safety of the silence. Without a sound, these pleas issued forth from my fractured being.

Where are you? Help me please. Help me. Please? Please? Help me. Help me. Help me. Where have you gone? Help me. Help me!! Please don’t abandon me. Help me. Help me. I need you! Help me. Help me!!! I can’t feel you. Please come back. Why have you left? Why? Why?!!? What have I done?!! I’m sorry!! Forgive me?! I’m so sorry! Please?!? So very sorry. Why??! Why? Please come back. PLEASE!!! Please!       Please?                                                                   please?

p l      e       a                  s                                     e….

White retreated into a muted gray as the air absorbed the heat from the water. I released the drain and became momentarily mesmerized by the movement of the water…..circling faster and faster as the water’s fate and reality collided. Gray slid effortlessly into black as I lowered my head back to rest where it had been before. A single shiver traveled down my spine but my body made no further attempts to warm itself. I continued to gently rock and implore silently. For hours. For days. For years. For a lifetime.

Fairy Tale Monster

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And just like that…while no one was watching…on a un-extraordinary day without any book or prayer or instruction of any kind, she let go. And it was a bit sad at first, but the dream was too extravagant, too reckless and greedy; for she’d already lived this dream once…but most importantly…it was never her true dream to begin with and that is why it took so much from her to keep it alive.

This hope was not hope and it had grown into a monster that kept  taking and taking. It wore a quite sleek and cunning disguise with no detail neglected. And since she was naive in all monster matters, she unwittingly stepped into its realm. Hand in hand they would wander through so many years.  Each road borne a lesson only a monster could teach.

But one day the disguise faltered and she remembered her truth. So, after all these years, she released her grip and it wasnt so hard after all. The monster did not protest and looked a bit relieved, in spite of its nature.

She smiled as she quietly laid her monster to rest and gave it a soft kiss as it took its final breath.  And so begins the story of her real childhood dream made richer by the memory of her bittersweet monster.

Underbellies Are Cool

Stop Objectification
www.stopobjectification.com

In part, I created this blog in order to come to terms with a few dark chapters in the history of Bridget and perhaps to connect with others who have endured a similar script. These chapters…I thought the solution entailed simply ripping them out of my book. Tearing them into little shreds. Setting them on fire. Locating some sort of ash eating creature and forcing the remains down it’s throat. Turns out, no such animal exists and even if it did, it would likely only serve to redeposit my ashes in front of a mass of gaping onlookers. And tearing out chapters is apparently “against the flow” because I am, after all, the sum of all my experiences. Maybe a little greater. I’d be left without a blueprint for my future. Static. Looking dumbly up at my crooked abode, it’s yard strewn with toilet paper and used Q-tips but maybe that’s because I’m hiding out in the lady’s room right now.

The solution to those chapters is exposure. My cards are on the table because the price of hiding those memories from myself and others has become unbearable. Every relationship in my life has borne this unnecessary and selfish weight. I lost my connection to other people due to my intractable shame, inability to forgive myself, and loss of trust in my own intuition. Intuition is my lifeblood. Without it, I’m reduced to following the rules. Death to a redhead. I began to contemplate the benefits of joining a neighborhood association. That’s how serious it had become. So, I stand before the internet without my hard shell. Much like a highly imperiled turtle, my external appearance is pathetically endearing but my countenance is proudly lifted beyond the clouds and into the heavens. Although, a turtle would be freaking out. Nevermind, you get my point.

I AM A CHEMICAL ENGINEER, SINGLE MOM, AND SURVIVOR OF DOMESTIC ABUSE. (I love chocolate, too)
Please visit this site to post your own story and photo.

http://www.stopobjectification.com