Wednesday, 18 September 2013


Pollyanna Positive was the survival self of the child I used to be. 

It is easy to see the smile. And I was lucky, I met good helpers who also saw the anxiety, loneliness and confusion. These people gave me something very important, silent acceptance, a friendly presence, a safe place where I could put aside my smile and rest for a while. 

I was given silent acceptance and a friendly presence. So I know that they are. And because I know what they are, I now can give silent acceptance and a friendly presence to Thing.

Thing is a part of me. She cannot speak, she has no mouth. And I have been ashamed of her. I have denied her as long as I can remember, so she is almost lifeless. And I recently stopped Action Man, who is another part of me, from killing and burying her. And I am not crazy, I just have very interesting dreams, and I use archetypes and metaphors to find and tell the stories that I otherwise would have no words for.

After many years, Thing has slowly been allowed to emerge. And she wants to write her own story with her own words.

And now, finally, that is OK with Pollyanna and Action Man.

And with me.


About being Thing.
Ingrid thinks she knows, she knows not.
Thing has mouth.
Ingrid sees it not.
Mouth is shut with stitches of shame.

To be Thing.
To be silenced.
And shamed.
Ingrid knows not.

Ingrid did it.

Silenced and shamed me.

Thing has no life.
Thing has no protection.
Thing has no borders.
Thing has no voice.
Thing has no emotions.

Thing has not.

Thing is not.
Thing is for.
Thing is for using.

Cog in the machines of others.
Chip in the games of others.
Statue in the landscape of others.
Doll in the life of others.
Pivot in the dreams of others.
Thing is not.
Thing is for.

Thing is for using.

Thing was needed so that others
could make wheels go round.
Could decorate landscapes.
Could play games.
Could live dreams.

Pollyanna was there.
Pollyanna smiled.
Pollyanna smiled the ABB smile.

Action Man was almost dead.
No room for Action Man in Ingrid.
Ingrid closed the mouth of Thing.

Thing was not.
Thing was for.
Thing was for others.

Does Pollyanna see Thing now?
Does Action Man see Thing without
wanting to kill Thing?

Does Ingrid see thing?

see me see me see me see me see me

see my mouth

see the stitches

take away the stitches


I hold the virtual body in a virtual mother lap. Cut off the virtual stitches that have closed the virtual mouth. I love the silenced, exhausted, harmed little virtual being that is a part of me with an aching heart.

And I say:

Yes, I did this.
I closed your mouth with stitches of shame.
And I thought that I knew that you had no mouth.
I did this.
I own this.

You were my shame.
So I disappeared you from my life.
I shamed you away. 

I did this.

I own this.


And for now the story stops there. The concept of forgiveness is far from the frames of Thing. Is it possible to forgive a life in voiceless isolation?

Forgiveness is also far from my thought frames. In asking for forgiveness, I can only make Thing a cog in a story that makes me feel better.

Be in the situation.

That I can do.

Own what I did.

That gives peace.

"It is like this."
The best words in the world.
The best thing in the world: to see what is.
With no lies.
No tangles.
No filter.

And be.

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