u/Serious-Pound8175

Funnily enough the people I’ve known with the most dangerous rage - rage that challenges my every ability to stay present and in my body - mock my learned ability to remain present yet calm externally in a volatile situation. Bbecause they want me angry too, and I have realised my strength is in not acting out of character within a storm.

Of course I make mistakes, but I’ve worked really hard at this, and I acknowledge that I’ve hurt people along the way when I acted from my defences.

I read the quote ‘get curious, not furious’ and i often remind myself of this in a storm.

Curious about myself and the other… but mostly curious about my internal responses to what is going on outside. Learning to observe my thoughts without becoming them, particularly in moments that are most uncomfortable.

I’ve really only just realised that was what I’ve been learning to do all along

There’s a fine line between depersonalisation/dissociation and regulation/observation. For me the difference is n feeling everything, but choosing to not become it rather than numbing.

Sometimes there is wisdom in the decision to defer processing the storm until there is enough safety to survive feeling it all. That’s not absence of emotion or numbing, thats regulation.

I’ve been contemplating the recent ‘hate speech’ bill passed by both houses earlier this year. I’ve yet to finish reading and digesting it; but, in what representative democracy is it valid to legislate the expression of ’hatred’ towards the Prime Minister and how could that possibly be enforced? How can perception and intention be measured, how is frustration, dissatisfaction or criticism delineated from ‘hatred’ and how is that determined? Who determines that? For example, would it be considered hate speech to call the writer of this policy out for having a fragile male ego?

Why is the settled white Australian not awarded the same rights as other groups? Why is it that the Australian flag can be burned, but not any other? How can legislation be fair, reasonable and intended to unify when it is not applied to all - legislation such as this fuels division, not unity. It's as simple as that.

In all truth, I resonate deeply with the refugee experience; I arrived here in Australia in late 2002 having been raised in cloistered cult communes in Asia. I could have gone anywhere in the world, I had two siblings here (the only two people I knew), but at the end of the day – I came to Australia because I held an Australian passport, I was apparently a citizen of this country. To survive and set up my life in the easiest way with no external support of any kind, including financial, or employment opportunity elsewhere – there didn’t seem a choice.

Although Australia was invaded by British colonisers and assumed by Terra Nullis; we are all aware that the High Court of Australia recognised native title in the 1992 Mabo v Queensland (No. 2) decision. However, after more than 200 years of official colonisation, what does that mean for the settled Australian holder of a passport? What options were available for them to relocate – none. Nor was anyone granted the right to return to the UK, so essentially we are citizens of this country - in any other country we would be an considered an alien.

One and free, that would be great – but this ain’t it. For generations now, we have impressed upon our children the burden of shame and stigma for choices they did not make, in a political environment that can hardly be contemplated today outside a history lesson – this being an environment where invasion and colonisation was commonplace; and the international legal framework was primitive at best. I’m all for teaching our children about history and what we can learn from it; I’m also happy to teach our children to treat all humans with fairness and kindness – irrespective of race, gender, religion, background or label. Yet I cannot support a system that imposes shame and guilt on future generations for decisions they are not complicit to and actions they did not entertain. Nor do I think it’s fair to continue to fuel this divide through fiscal policy and legislation… perhaps productive support for for our First Nation people and elders in areas they see of benefit (youth support), promotion of community culture that is meaningful for them, and mental health supports. But so much of the ongoing 'management' of our First Nation population fosters division, entitlement (and therefore - resentment); and yet it is also controlling in other ways.

In Germany, as the outcome of the Reparations Agreement of 1952 (the Luxembourg Agreement) the average worker has, and as I understsnd, continues to contribute to a ‘repatriation tax’ paid to the State of Israel. At what point does history serve as a reflection so that we may learn what not to do, and at what point do we continue to require generations of today pay for the mistakes of their ancestors fiscally.

At what point do we consider ways in which (globally) the oppressed have become the oppressor, and why is it unacceptable to speak such truth - seemingly protected by hate speech legislation? At what point do we recognise the cognitive dissonance of teaching unity by promoting division?

Are we really one and free or are we fostering division masked as unity?

It’s always men who say they can’t trust their partner having male friends or male contacts - that’s projection, plain and simple. Men know how they themselves look at women regardless of whether they are single or not. It’s always the men who tell you ‘your male friends are only your friend because they want to fuck you.’
Interesting projection buddy, I hear more than you think, but thanks for letting me in on your mindset… and these men often have a rare male friend (and the crass way some of them speak about women, not even like an object or a toy… literally acting as though their ideal is blind submission ), yet their phone is riddled with female contacts - yes, you guessed it, most of whom (if it’s ever in their interest to be honest) they’ve fucked; but mostly fucked, then fucked over.

You see, I don’t gauge my male friends on whether or not they’d sleep with me… I gauge them on the basis of respect. So if they did want something more, would they respect my no? That is why I trust them as real friends. As I’ve said before, when I say friend, there is no silent ‘with benefits’ attached - and yes, I see how this could be confusing. To me, if there was a ‘with benefits’ in the past, the burden of proof and character becomes essential should your partner be wary of that friendship, and that requires respect to be shown regardless of current intention. That respect is most likely deleting that number and declining contact as an embodied boundary - and this goes for both men and women. It is not more or less the same for either gender, it is human. I am, quite frankly, over the double standard. If you do not expect it from yourself, it is a double standard, not a boundary.

So… not all men… but enough men that even men are wary because they know themselves?

And yes, women can and do lie and cheat etc. but that isn’t what this is about. No need for whataboutisms.

Women also don’t feel safe… and your ‘not all men’ ain’t gonna fix that. And if you are a man, women not feeling safe around men is going to impact you too.

As women keep saying - this one is on men to fix, it’s on men to heal. I don’t associate with women who treat other people poorly or move through relationships without integrity - not because I don’t value their humanness, but because I don’t value the behaviour. We do get to hold people accountable, even if only by dissociation.

Men are worried women will play in their face even with male friends they’ve been introduced to… because men play in our faces all the time. They mention these women in passing conversation - new names and that look to gauge your emotional response, to see if you believe them (do you guys not know we see all this and clock it? Do you seriously think women are fools?). Nah, we have a mental list of these names because it’ll come up again soon enough. That’s how we know the truth… but guys still think we swallowed their lie while we nod and look straight ahead - clocked and awaiting the fallout.

But if/when we question it, we are gaslighted, called crazy, and women have been taught their safety is in submission - so many have silenced that intuition, with the effect that we no longer trust ourselves… until the evidence is in front of us - what we knew all along. Then we find it incredibly hard to trust again because we lost trust in ourselves and others, and it’s harmed us repeatedly.

To be fair, women play these games too… I’ve seen it. However, it has been less common in more traditional dynamics (low key hate that the word traditional is used to express values like loyalty), and this is tied to centuries of entitlement and male privilege. Regardless of who does it, if it is outside the boundaries of your relationship, it is lying, it is cheating, and it is betrayal. I hope that provides clarity.

Nowadays women leave the first time, and you guys are all ‘she didn’t even give me a chance to explain…’ You’re right - we know how it will go. We trust ourselves, and at this stage we’d rather be wrong about if you did it, or why you did what you did, than harmed by lies, manipulation, and chaos wrapped in plausible deniability.

The reason many men would benefit from therapy is because, due to the systems in place, men have been raised to conflate dominance with protection, control with leadership, and emotional suppression with strength. Most of this learning is assimilated and inculcated through daily life as societal norms. Many men don’t know how to survive in a world where women don’t centre them - and in their defence, most weren’t raised to exist in that world.

Men also generally possess greater physical strength and higher levels of hormones associated with impulsivity and aggression than women , this is exactly why emotional regulation, accountability, and self-awareness matter so much. Strength is not the problem; the inability to take responsibility for one’s natural force is. Real strength is knowing how to regulate power, not impose it on others.

That, combined with poor impulse control and emotional regulation, is part of why men commit more violent acts across the board, not only toward women. Women being taught to be submissive is nowhere near as likely to result in violence that is not reactive.

Shame is one of the leading drivers of suicide.
Not weakness. Not attention seeking - SHAME.

The belief that you are too broken, too much, too difficult, too unwanted, or beyond repair can become unbearable when carried alone in silence.

People don’t just need advice, actually people need a whole lot less advice and a whole lot more presence. We need safety, compassion, accountability without humiliation, and spaces where we can be honest without fear of rejection or abandonment.

Sometimes one moment of genuine understanding can interrupt a lifetime of shame.

What would change if we responded to shame with curiosity, care, and connection instead of silence or judgment - both for ourselves and for others?

Struggle and growth aren’t separate paths - they’re the same journey!

There’s real value in admitting our faults instead of brushing them off in the name of ‘focusing on growth’. When we separate our mistakes from our learning, we strip away the context that gives growth its depth. Sometimes that can slip into spiritual bypassing or toxic positivity. Not because we’re trying to avoid truth, but because it’s easier than sitting with it.

This isn’t about dwelling in the negative. It’s about honouring the full picture: the struggle, the growth, and even the parts that still feel unresolved. When we do that, we create space for others to feel less alone. And sometimes, something that helped us might be exactly what someone else needs. That’s where real camaraderie lives. Not necessarily in words or in action, but in the silence, stillness and sometimes tears that communicate to another - this feels really hard, this is heavy - and I’m still here.

Honest admission is part of accepting our shadow. Without it, growth stays surface level. Real growth is layered, and it becomes fragmented when we avoid truth or hold back vulnerability. We don’t grow in isolation - we refine ourselves through perspective, through being seen, through being challenged.

On the other side of change, telling the full story matters. Not just what changed, but why - what we believed, how we reacted, what it cost, and what shifted. Without that context, growth can look clean and linear, when it rarely is.

Sometimes we stay stuck because our triggers aren’t fully conscious. That’s why understanding change, ours or someone else’s, requires honesty about the behaviour, not just the outcome.

Of course, not everyone earns access to our story. But real growth asks us to release the shame attached to it.

So we tell it - carefully, consciously.

Our story doesn’t define us. It reflects what shaped us - our experiences, our patterns, our choices.

Growth almost always carries struggle, and that’s where people feel most alone. But there’s something grounding about being met by someone who’s walked through their own mess - not to fix you, just to stand beside you.

That kind of support isn’t hierarchical.

It’s shared ground.

There’s a difference between wanting reassurance and expecting someone to tolerate being pushed away.

People can care about you deeply and still choose not to chase you when you push them away repeatedly, particularly after communicating its harm. That’s not abandonment - it’s self-respect.

You don’t get to control how someone responds to your behaviour. You only get to choose your own behaviour. And every action has a response, whether you like it or not.

Expecting others to remain unguarded while you treat them with disrespect plays no part in a ‘raw and honest’ love. It leans into a dynamic where one person tests, pushes, and destabilises, while the other is expected to absorb it and prove their love by staying anyway. That’s not depth, that’s a setup for something unhealthy.

Real love does involve patience and reassurance, especially with anxiety. But it also requires accountability. It requires recognising when your words or actions cross a line and taking responsibility for that, rather than framing it as something someone else should endure.

Wanting someone to understand you is human. Expecting them to tolerate repeated hurtful behaviour to prove they won’t abandon you is something else entirely.

We all deserve grace in our worst moments. But when those moments become a pattern without change, they stop being moments, they become choices.

And people are allowed to choose not to stay in that.

I don’t know if you feel it too…

but something about the way everything is right now just feels… off.

Not loud. Not obvious.

Just this constant tension sitting underneath everything.

Like we’re all being pulled into sides we didn’t consciously choose.

I’ve been thinking a lot about division.
Not the obvious kind, not the big, explosive conflicts, but the quiet kind.

The kind that changes how we see each other without us even realising.

The way conversations shut down faster.
The way people get labelled before they’re understood.

The way it’s become so easy to assume the worst in someone who thinks differently.
It’s subtle… but it’s everywhere.

And I keep coming back to this feeling that most people don’t actually want this.

Most people aren’t as extreme as it all makes it seem.

Most people aren’t looking for enemies.

But somehow, that’s what we’re being pushed toward.

And the more it happens, the more normal it starts to feel.

Like it’s just how things are now… but I don’t think it is.

I think we’ve just been slowly conditioned into it.
Into reacting instead of thinking.

Into choosing sides instead of asking questions.
Into seeing people as positions instead of… people.

And I get it, it’s easier that way.

Clear lines. Clear identities.

A sense of certainty in a world that feels pretty uncertain.

But it comes at a cost.

Because the moment we stop seeing each other clearly, we lose something important.
We lose nuance.
We lose curiosity.
We lose the ability to sit in discomfort and actually understand something outside of ourselves.
And without that… everything becomes more divided.

I don’t have some big solution, I just know that I don’t want to keep participating in it blindly.
I don’t want to keep defaulting to “us vs them” without even questioning it.

I want to stay aware of it.

To notice when I’m being pulled into it.

To pause before I react.

And maybe that’s where it starts.

Not by fixing everything out there, but by being a bit more conscious in how we show up within it.
By remembering that the person on the other side of whatever issue… is still a person.

Maybe you’ve felt this too.

Maybe you haven’t had the words for it. Or maybe you have, and just haven’t said it out loud.

Either way… I thought I’d say it, just in case you needed to hear that you’re not the only one questioning it.

I’ve been carrying something quietly.

There’s this pattern I can’t unsee - how easily we reach for grace when we’re overwhelmed. We long to be met with patience, with softness, with understanding, yet how rarely is that same tenderness returned when it’s inconvenient, hard, or asks something of us.

I don’t think it’s always intentional. More often, it feels like limitation, like people giving only what they know how to hold. But knowing that doesn’t make it land any lighter.

Over time, it starts to feel uneven. Like pouring into something that doesn’t pour back. Like being asked to hold space that no one is willing, or able, to hold for you.

And I do understand. I can see where people are, what they’re carrying, why they show up the way they do. But I’m learning that understanding doesn’t mean I have to carry the weight of it.

Grace was never meant to move in only one direction. Growth wasn’t either.

So I’m trying to find that edge, the place where compassion and boundaries can exist together. Because without that, grace doesn’t stay soft… it drains. And I can’t keep being the place where everything is poured out and nothing returns.

I’m not interested in surface-level arguments anymore. Not when there are bigger structural shifts happening that most people can feel, but aren’t really talking about clearly.

Because beyond the noise, there are patterns.

- Government expanding while public trust declines.
- More regulation, more compliance, more oversight, yet outcomes don’t seem to match the cost.

Look at industries like construction, childcare, and safety.

- More training requirements.
- More paperwork.
- More insurance-driven legislation.

But has that actually improved behaviour in a meaningful, consistent way?
Or has it mostly increased cost and complexity?

Small businesses feel it the most.

Not because they’re unwilling to meet standards, but because the burden keeps growing while the margin for survival keeps shrinking.

That’s not a theory. That’s happening.

At the same time, we’re being moved toward systems framed as “efficient” and “secure.”

Digital identity.
Centralised data.
Expanded surveillance capabilities.

All positioned as progress.
All requiring a level of trust that, if we’re honest, isn’t exactly strong right now.

And that’s where it gets uncomfortable.

Because these aren’t inherently bad ideas,
but they are powerful ones. And power, without transparency and accountability, tends to drift.

Then there’s autonomy.

- Medical decision-making.
- Personal data.
- The ability to opt in, or opt out, without penalty or pressure.

These aren’t fringe concerns. They’re foundational!

And yet, they often get dismissed instead of properly debated.

Meanwhile, corporate influence continues to shape outcomes in ways that aren’t always visible.

Profit-driven systems don’t naturally prioritise long-term social wellbeing.
They prioritise sustainability of revenue.

That doesn’t make them evil, but it does mean they need boundaries. Clear ones!

And right now, a lot of people feel like those boundaries are blurred.

Add to that the breakdown of community structures - family, local support, shared responsibility - and what fills the gap?

Usually more centralised control.

- More intervention.
- More systems managing what used to be handled socially.

Again, sometimes necessary.
But not without trade-offs.

And those trade-offs aren’t always openly discussed.

That’s the pattern I keep coming back to:

Decisions being made for people,
without people feeling like they’re meaningfully part of the process.

Then we wonder why there’s frustration.
Why people feel disconnected.
Why trust keeps eroding.

It’s not just about one issue.

It’s about the accumulation.

And while all of this is happening, we’re pulled into constant smaller conflicts - keeping attention fragmented and reactive.

That’s not an accident, but it’s also not some untouchable force.

Because at the end of the day, these systems still rely on public participation and acceptance.

Which means people do have influence, just not always in obvious ways.

It starts with paying attention.
With asking better questions.
With not immediately dismissing concerns just because they’re uncomfortable or unpopular.

And with being willing to say:

“This doesn’t make sense to me.”
“Where is this actually leading?”
“What are we trading off here?”

Not everything is wrong.
Not everything is corrupt.

But not everything should be accepted without scrutiny either.

If we want better systems,they require better engagement.

Not blind trust.
Not blind rejection.

Actual thought.
Actual accountability.
From both sides.

Because power doesn’t just sit at the top.

It moves - depending on what people are willing to question, accept, or ignore!

There’s so much more going on than what we’re being told.

I read a post saying there is no gender war. That it’s just men being abusive to women on a large scale, and women refusing to participate anymore.

And honestly… that doesn’t sit right.

Yes, harm exists. Yes, accountability matters.
But reducing everything to one narrative like that? It feels like we’re missing the bigger picture.

Because we are in conflict.
Not just men vs women - everywhere.

In governments.
In corporations.
In the way everything is getting more expensive while we have less say.
In how disconnected people feel from each other… and from any real sense of purpose.

Something is off, and everyone feels it.

And underneath it all? Fear.

Fear keeps people reactive. Divided. Distracted.
While we argue over labels and sides, we’re losing connection - to each other and to what actually matters.

That’s the part that gets me.

Everyone I talk to feels it in some way:
frustrated, disconnected, over it.
But at the same time… everyone feels alone in that.

So we stay quiet.
We go along.
We second guess ourselves.

That’s how it holds.

Not because people don’t see it, but because they don’t think anyone else does.

And maybe that’s the lie.

Maybe more people agree than we realise… but no one wants to be the one to say it first.

This isn’t just about gender.
Or politics.
Or any one issue.

It’s about how easy it is to divide people, and how often we play into it without even meaning to.

I’m not saying tear everything down.

But we do need to start questioning things.
The systems.
The trade-offs.
The slow creep of giving up control and calling it normal.

And we need to come back to each other a bit.

Not in a “we all have to agree” way, but in a “we’re not enemies by default” way.

Because right now, it feels like we’ve been pushed into picking sides… instead of actually thinking.

I don’t think the answer is standing alone.

I think it’s realising you’re probably not.