Dear Peter:

As someone who has struggled with self-doubt for so long, I deeply appreciate moments of absolute confidence—moments when I know something to be 100% true. This is one of those rare moments:

If I have the privilege to communicate with you further—here, or even in real life, if that ever happens—I will never, ever try to change you in any way, shape, or form. Not even the slightest bit, not even disguised as a recommendation for improvement. Nothing.

“By change, I mean a shift in core personality traits or deeply held beliefs about myself. Transcendence as transformation – becoming something other than me.”-

Just yesterday, I wrote in my thread: “I like you, Peter, just the way you are!”

Not that my words have the power to make you like yourself. I am humble.

“The therapy of re-processing issues from the perspective of my younger self has been useful, revealing new information, thoughts, feelings, even a kind of healing. But not change, at least not in… the way I once hoped.”-

Therapy helped you understand yourself better, but it didn’t make you like yourself, did it?

“Hinduism & Advaita Vedanta Core Idea: The true self (Atman) is already perfect… Buddhism… No Need to Change: You don’t need to fix yourself… ‘You are perfect just as you are.’ Kabbalah… No Need to Change: The essence is already divine… Christian Mysticism Core Idea: The divine image (Imago Dei) is within every person… Taoism… No Need to Change… No-thing to change, no-thing to fix.”-

And then, there’s Anita’s-ism: “I like you, Peter, just the way you are! I think you are the bee’s knees 🐝✨ No one like you!” (May 21).

Poem: As You Are

I do not ask the wind to change, nor the river to take a different course.
I do not ask the stars to burn any brighter or darker than they are.

And so, I do not ask you to shift, to mold yourself into something new.
You are not a puzzle to rearrange, not a question needing an answer.

I will listen, I will be here— not to shape you, but to see you, as you are.

That is my promise. I am able to keep this promise.

anita

Hi Peter

I understand what you mean.

For me, my desires related to mental health have varied. From wanting to not feel the pain of the past, trying to unpick the past from the present, wishing to be free of habitual intrusive thoughts. Loving myself, changing myself.

I have achieved some goals, experienced some improvements and lost them, regained them, in the process of regaining them. Some things are achievable, some things aren’t, and some are impermanent and reflect the difficulties in our lives.

True, therapy can reinforce a cycle of attachment to the past (and other things). But I think that it is still helpful to go though it and get to that realisation. Could we get to that realisation without having these experiences?

I recently learned that it is okay to for the past and the present to overlap, for when they do they are both seen as the present. It had never occurred to me before. 😂

I think accepting yourself as you are is a great idea. You are pretty awesome to me! No need to fix what is not broken! I always appreciate your perspective and insights. ❤️

If you would ever like to chat please feel free to email me at [email protected].

Oh and a quick thought about that Krishnamurti quote about desire. I’m learning that all of these undesirable traits discussed in Buddhism and such are simply human nature. Desire is probably one of the strongest drives that people have. It allows us to exist and function. Ultimately, I think that people are just animals trying to kid themselves that we are not animals because we’re capable of complex thought.

It is wild how quickly children develop preferences for unhealthy things that are tailored for their tastes. Children will abandon vegetables entirely given the chance and reach for the sugary treats any chance they get. Bleh! Plain healthy things are boring.🥱

It is like society trains children to go against their natures. Do this, do that. Resist these instincts, behave in this way. Why? Because it is seen as socially acceptable. Because you will need it to function in this world one day.

Dear Peter:

Your words paint such a deep and thoughtful picture of connection and existence. The way you describe love as something beyond time and emotion is really interesting. It makes me wonder—do you ever think about love in a more personal way, beyond the big cosmic view?

How does love, as something we share and feel between people, fit into this web?

I recently realized that my attachment style is Disorganized (I shared more about it in my own thread less than an hour ago, and before you submitted your most recent post). I deeply want love in a personal way, but I also fear it because, from an early age, my brain linked closeness with pain. This led to a push-pull pattern throughout much of my adult life. While I’ve made progress, I still struggle with suspicion and distrust—even toward people who have proven themselves worthy of trust.

I appreciate the way your reflections challenge me to think about love beyond the personal level. Thank you for sharing them—I always find them meaningful. Wishing you well on your journey of reflection and connection.

anita

Dear Peter:

On May 22, I promised you:

“If I have the privilege to communicate with you further—here, or even in real life, if that ever happens—I will never, ever try to change you in any way, shape, or form. Not even the slightest bit, not even disguised as a recommendation for improvement. Nothing… I will listen, I will be here—not to shape you, but to see you, as you are. That is my promise. I am able to keep this promise.”

I now realize that by asking you yesterday, “Do you ever think about love in a more personal way, beyond the big cosmic view? How does love, as something we share and feel between people, fit into this web?”—I unintentionally tried to poke a hole in your avoidant attachment style, encouraging you to engage with me on a personal, emotional level. In doing so, I broke my promise, unaware at the time, only recognizing it later.

I grew up—or, as I prefer to say, grew in, turning inward. I was intensely lonely and isolated for far too long. My mother was emotionally inaccessible. I tried to reach her but never could, and there was no one else to turn to. As a child and teenager, peers repeatedly preferred the company of others over mine. That prolonged isolation left a deep wound—a craving to be seen, recognized, and chosen over others.

This is why you held such a strong appeal for me recently, Peter. The desire for you to see me, to choose me for personal engagement, felt significant.

Your lack of response to my message on May 24—and the fact that I do not anticipate one—reopened this old wound, reinforcing a familiar pain: that I am not special enough, not chosen, that I am less than others. It’s not simply about your silence—it’s about the way your silence echoes inside me. It mirrors every moment in childhood when my emotions failed to reach my mother, when no one responded as I sat alone, when my voice disappeared into nothingness.

I felt a touch of anger toward you. Anger about years of trying to reach people who don’t reach back. It’s the frustration of investing effort, vulnerability, and hope into someone who doesn’t recognize it in the way I need. Beneath the anger, there is grief. Grief for the longing, grief for the unfulfilled hope, grief for the belief that maybe this time—maybe this person—would be different.

When I am recognized these days as someone worthy, it feels very special. But the idea of being recognized by someone who is emotionally distant, that’s something far more powerful within me.

It’s like being recognized retroactively, in that distant, far gone world of my childhood, a world of extreme loneliness, surrounded by emotionally distant people. No one that sees me.

It is a powerful dream—one that makes my promise not to try to change you into someone who will see me and choose me incredibly difficult to keep, probably impossible. Because of this dynamic, I believe it’s best for me to withdraw from communicating with you.

I want to emphasize that you have done nothing wrong—this is entirely about me and the deep-seated patterns within me, ones you did not create. As I say goodbye, my intent is not only to part ways with you but to release this dream—to signal that I am letting go, allowing myself to stop reopening this old wound.

The forums have been very quiet for quite some time. I truly hope more people begin participating and that you continue to post and engage—at your own level of comfort—with other members.

anita