Changing pain

I am going to keep this short and simple.

I am healing as a person. When trauma happens and keeps accumulating for years, perception is bound to be changed. No matter what records you keep or what you know. We have emotions. I believe everything is emotions even logic. Emotion is the deep part of the mind and on the surface. Logic is the refinement and structure of emotion placed in a framework. The refinement of emotion. The process of changing. It is biology. It is spiritual. It is the intersection of chemicals and truth. They are intertwined. Bound together as one. And the spirit is the most refined part of matter. True. Pure. 

Intelligence is the light that travels in the cosmos. Our star sits there. Light is the boundary of time. It is the universal metric of space. And how we see time is various. Yet at that edge. At the cone of light. It sits there. Between past and present. What is perception?

There is objective reality. This does exist. Like light being a constant force. No matter how you see space, or your velocity or the gravity pulls, the barrier of light is there. A constant. That sits at the definition. And when you sit far enough for light to repeat once, the past happens. Like a snapshot. The observer effect happens. Who is when, and when is there. I can be younger but seem older.  Sit at one year and experience thousands to the eyes of another. Light carries the past as well as the present. Light brings transformation.

I find it beautiful that there is this effect. We can bend reality. Create art. Express individuality. Our pain can matter when we are very small in the grand scheme of the world. Even less significant with the universe breathing cycles of cosmic dust and hydrogen bonds. Subjective is the means to have our own bubble. Our realm. It is also where choice is. What we wish to learn says a lot about ourselves. What we fight for. The way we treat people.

Perception is subjective. And that can be powerful in many ways. Yet emotions sit below everything. And as they, emotions, change slowly and gradually through experience, has finally hit a threshold and change the bonds that underpin our lives. Facts become fiction. Morality and laws are meaningless. Relationships that were happy and deep have now been broken. What was once binding seems as strong as grabbing sand. It slides out. Leaks.

I made a mistake.

Last year, in August, I wrote a post. It was called, "The Lonely King." It was an expression of me and my Dad. It was the pain of being misunderstood by him. I was becoming what he feared because the way he handle my unknown neurodiversity. We had no clue I had autism until five years ago. I was diagnosed with ADHD shortly before. He thought my emotional intensity was the result of uncontrolled rage. Or the way I tracked others as judgmental. In fact, my adamance of understanding myself came to be because of the simmering growing conflict between us. I wanted to figure out myself. His fear of my anger was a self-fulfilling prophecy. By trying to prevent a future he was instead creating it. I often joke our relationship is the Goofy movie from Disney. Or the father son duo in Finding Nemo.

In me saying the post, "The Lonely King," was about me and my Dad I want to clarify something. There was no violence. That was an metaphor and expression of the story to explain the pain of our arguments. And there has never been or never will be violence.

Now. Back to the reason I made a mistake.

My Dad is a caring, loving father. He would bend over backwards to take care of his children. All of us. Not just me, or another son. All three of us. When I wrote that I dreamed of being worthy to be a father, to take care of my children, its because of my Dad's example that I want to be worthy. I don't want to sire children then just stay at that. A sire. I want to be a father. A devoted parent. I am not going spawn little ones like a fish. This is not some animal procreation tale. This is my tale of fighting and one day teaching my children what I learned in that fight. The fight of mastering one's self. The tale of forgiveness and compassion.

Acceptance. There is a interconnectedness here. To accept myself, I needed to accept my father. Not just say, "you pass". No. To not let his mistakes overshadow the brilliance that he is. He truly is a one of a million man. And in the tale of forgiveness I can forgive myself. For I have not been an angel. There are vices that I have that have hurt him in our relationship. This is a tale of imperfection. We can have joy in each other, while mourning the hurt. We can take time. And have hundreds of back and forth communication. Before finally, we just sit. Taking off our armor. Having an intense talk. One that balances between love and the past. As the past gets in the way then. And now love wants a future. We want to forgive. To finally tune together. And be together. Where the hurt settles and we heal. The process begins.

I thought about deleting the post. And I realized something. Let the world see my mistake. Let it see the anger taking genuine hurt and doing one step further. I have a history. I have a journey that is still here. And will be until my last day. I don't want ever stop my journey. It is mine.

To tell you the kind of man my father is. I told him about the post, "The Lonely King," three days after I posted, and the purpose of the expression. He just took it.

I was too upset and caught up in my pain to see the pain I was reflecting back. Hurting. Distancing. A mirror. A reflection of my hurt sending signals back to another. And instead of hiding I am going to own what I did.

I love my father. Together.