As I continue to think about the sources of my existential angst, I would say that the two following paradigms map my suffering in its most essential form:
1) this is the state of affairs vs. no! this is the state of affairs.
Alternate formulations include:
a) this is the true state of affairs vs. no! this is the true state of affairs.
b) this is the state of affairs vs. no! this is the true state of affairs.
c) this is the true state of affairs vs. no! this is the state of affairs.
2) I want________________ - most specifically, especially something I cannot have.
My raging internal conflict of these are my parents vs. no! these are not my parents falls into the first paradigm.
My desire to go home, my desire for my parents falls into the second paradigm.
Between these two paradigms, my life is a living hell. The circumscribe every aspect of my existence. Every want becomes an unreasonable want for something I cannot have, should not have. Every opinion, assessment, conclusion is subject to constantly second-guessing myself.
I think that this falls neatly into the categories of ignorance and desire. It seems I am suffering because I am in ignorance about the true state of affairs one and because I desire something which is contrary to reality. The trick is to see that it is really not being in ignorance at all or wanting something that is contrary to reality. I do know that the people I grew up with are not my parents. It is simply the training of their arguments which continues to reverbrate within me and gained a life of its own in myself.
What constitutes evidence? What are the forms of evidence? For example, one powerful piece of evidence which really moved me is the truth of the existence of a structure called "parent-child bond". When I saw this in action, acknowledged it is reality, understood its nature, I was shocked by its ramifications to my own life. But it was immediately apparent despite the shock after I had a concept to frame my experience, to label what I was witnessing. It was obvious from this that the woman who claimed to be my mother was not in fact my mother. I don't even know how to talk to her. Other forms of evidence: physical appearance, abilities, tendencies, affinities, tastes, personality, likes, dislikes, proclivities, skin color, skeletal structure, facial structure, tone of voice, comportment, teeth all radically set me as different from the people who claim that I am their child. In addition there are incidents, verbal accusations, verbal allusions and multitude of other exchanged evidence built up over the years I lived with them said in anger, said in hatred, said in frustration. Yet none of these moved me as powerfully as the parent-child bond.
So this argument despite the various pieces of evidence resurfaces in various guises. I see a portion of my problem. Not the entire problem. I don't understand what my problem is, where it stems from, how to address is, how to frame it, how to understand it, how to get my mind around it. The enormity of the evil of abducting a child is one such stumbling block to understanding my situation. Another problem is constantly being told by them that they are my parents. "I'm your mother aren't I...." etc.....
Despite my describing myself as opinionated, I really don't care to force my preferences and opinions on others. I could care less what and how others do things in contrast to me. It does not disturb me or upset me or anger me to see difference from me. So in this regard I am not particular about enforcing my opinions on others. I am not even particular about enforcing my own opinons on myself. But this one issue of the truth of my parents, which is something I haven't really seen, is something which binds me to suffering as every other born being. I don't think this would have been issue for me if I had been left alone to see: ok these people are not my parents; i don't know who my real parents are; i don't know where my real parents are; i don't know where i am from; etc.... It is an artificially created situtation in my body generated through years of hitting, yelling, threats, and other forms of violence and abuse.
The other thing which baffles me and stymies me is my physical and unquenchable longing for my Mother. There is nothing I can do to assuage this constant pressure, this constant want.
I think it is important for me to be clear about what I want: I want to go home; I want my mother.
I think it is also important to be clear about my internal fight: the people I grew up with are my biological parents vs. no! those people are not my biological parents.
This is the source of my existential angst:
What I want: I want to go home. I want my parents.
Internal conflict: the people I grew up with are my biological parents vs. the people I grew up with are not my biological parents.
This is the reality that animates me and drives me. If I go around being unclear about this, I will make the mistake of casting my current wants and confusions into the two core issues that fuel the suffering in my existence. Aside from the two things that fuel my existential angst, everything else is trivial, meaningless, even if they are more relevantly life-and-death issues. One life is a shadowl life. The life that is given all the weight is this other life absorbed in wanting to go home and wanting to establish once and for all the identity of my true biological parents.
It is not just my own day to day desires, problems that need to be resolved it can be larger issues of the social meta-entity of a region, a country, a group of people that I fight out in this way. In this way there is no end to my suffering. I am unable to see clearly what it is that troubles me and stay focused on that. I am drowning in a sea of cares - most of which are not even mine. The only reason for my experiencing it is that my problems are structurally similar to the problems of those around me. If I want to see an end to my suffering I need to keep a firm grip on what it is that ails me and live with this knowledge. It may not relieve me of my ailment but at least it keeps things manageable.
