Leave the playing field of this drama Easier said than done B | Daniëlle

Leave the playing field of this drama

Easier said than done
But it is possible if you become aware of the different “playing fields” that you can find yourself in.
When you become aware of the exit.

The playing field of drama
The field where you are being pulled and pushed. Where you feel you have to be on your guard, where you can't just say, or do, or expect anything.
Where you have to tiptoe, where you have to show off, where you have to play small, where you have to hold back, where you have to scream to get what you want.
Because you're actually afraid.
Because everywhere there are groups and clubs and cliques with their manners and conditions, judgments and opinions.
If you adapt, if you are like them, act and talk like them, then you belong.
Do you remember it from back in the day on the playground?

It is a playing field from which our society is build around, with political parties, churches, schools; high, low, left, right, for, against, believing,atheists. And now there is also the seperation based on health: vaccinated or unvaccinated.
Well, in the end it remains the same game but with different marbles.
Whoever divides the marbles is in charge.
The boss of the game is who appeals to your obedience and the underlying fear of not being allowed to participate anymore. That boss tells everywhere that everyone participates and that that is the only and best way to be is to play. And in the meantime he stands in front of the exit to hide it from your sight so you feel there is no other way out.

You feel that something is not right, that it is strange that no one else sees it. You seem like the only one on the field who wants to go home, who can't and doesn't want to play like that.
In the past, there was sometimes still a teacher in the square, or if you were lucky a mother at home.
They also seem to have disappeared on this playing field and the fear you feel is slowly closing around you.
Because you feel the field is not guarded with love. That the game on this field may be too difficult or too heavy for you. Because you don't know how to keep up, how to be yourself.

This field feels like a swampy ground that you sometimes sink into. Where you have to do your very best. To be able to participate in the terms and games of the others, that don't feel like yours. Games about the nicest, the sweetest, the strongest, the biggest and the richest. And if you can't, a field with an angle for the naughtiest, the stupidest, the weakest, the smallest and the poorest.
Which you can only participate in if you understand the game and consciously or unconsciously agree to the game.

This field lets you slowly grow crooked and get you used to denying, suppressing and trivializing your own feelings.
In this field the ego rules.
Sometimes as a small and frightened victim who does not see his own strength.
Sometimes like the painted savior who with a cloak of love saves the other and himself from all conflicts by saying or doing nothing.
Sometimes like the frustrated and disappointed prosecutor trying to dump his own fear and pain by blaming some other just to get rid of it.
We play them all on this field.
You can't escape it.
Unless you dare to look for the door.
The exit from this hell.

The door to heaven is there for all of us. Well hidden behind normalized dysfunctional people and systems around you. The drama fair runs on this field all day long in today's society.
Get out of that merry-go-round and create space for yourself to breathe and there you will find the exit.
The door to the next playing field.

The field of harmony

The field where you can be yourself. Where you experience relaxation and challenge. A field that feels open, honest and light and makes you curious. Where you treat yourself with respect and receive that from others and give back.
The field where there is unequal equality, where each can be who he is. Where we can agree to disagree. Where there are always and unconditional views and opportunities to find a way together in life.