Path of self discovery

I recently finished listening to the Bible. For a while now, I've been listening more than reading — time flows more gently that way, and I don't have to stare at a screen that strains my eyes. Still, paper books remain a delicacy for me, one I always return to if there's a chance. Just not any books — I have a bag full of ones that no longer interest me. But Jonah from the Bible... Jonah stuck with me. Not for holiness. For the story.
Everything was taken from him: family, connections, position, safety. He was left as no one's, nothing's, nowhere. Completely thrown out of what people call a "decent life" — so much so that even the devil couldn't tempt him. He couldn't catch Jonah with excess, bottom, fears, or promises. Jonah knelt, raged, rebelled, argued with God... and still didn't break. It sounds like a person who went through the hell of disorganization and held onto their inner axis. And here, my favorite metaphor emerged:

🟥 **The disorganized type sometimes creates the game themselves to escape reality...
and then participates in it to destroy its meaning.**
Like the "Squid Game" creator who builds the game to control chaos, but steps into it to deny the chaos, and thus becomes the director of their own trauma theater.
This is a person who:
→ flees reality into a structure that destroys them,
→ flees pain into chaos that amplifies it,
→ flees from themselves — and returns to themselves only through destruction.
That's the signature of disorganization:
create a system to protect yourself — and demolish it so you don't go mad.
So there you can find both the game owner and the first eliminated player. Both have the same inner rhythm:
"There is no safety — only safety breaths and longing."

🟦 Why Did Jonah End Up on the Same Shelf as the Squid Game Creator?
At first, it seemed to me that this reflection should go in part 5 (about attachment). But this thought was too alive, too bodily, too human, and now I see why.
Jonah and the Squid Game creator are the same archetype.
One stayed in hell, the other returned from it.
In the story, Jonah experiences absolute polarities:
chaos → emptiness,
emptiness → pain,
pain → control,
control → rebellion,
rebellion → faith.
He was thrown into darkness so deep, as children from dysfunctional families are thrown — where safety is just a mirage, where even love has a price.
That's why Jonah resonates so precisely with disorganization:
when you grow up in hell, even heaven seems like a deception.

Litvinova Julia “Fallen angels with bound wings”, 2016
Children from dysfunctional families grow up in filth and vice. Their wings are bound from birth, there is no opportunity to break out of the vicious circle, and therefore no future. Beatings, chained to radiators to keep them out of the way. And when they grow up, the social bottom awaits them: drug addiction, prostitution and other plagues of modern society. They have never seen anything else and, unfortunately, will never see anything else.

I agree with every word drawn here.
Just not with the last thought.
I believe that even the most wounded part of a person can be accepted, but at the same time, precisely, courageously, calmly — not allowed to destroy the spaces that accept them. Not allowed to smash the doors they themselves want to enter.
​Such a person must learn that their self-made Squid Game won't be accepted where healing happens. Only efforts are accepted, and thus space is gained to breathe from inner cruelty. It's possible. ✊

🟩 And Here's What Jonah Really Teaches: The Hope of Return.
He returned.
And that's the reason this post is called HEALING:
✔ It's possible to return to safety even after total collapse;
✔ The brain can learn peace from chaos;
✔ Darkness can become a foundation, not a curse;
✔ Healing doesn't mean avoiding chaos — it means not repeating it.
Because some people, fleeing chaos, choose connections where there's only... emptiness.
Emptiness looks like peace from the outside. But it's not peace.
It's a mask. Another extreme.
Life ≠ Chaos.
Peace ≠ Emptiness.
​As one movie character said:
"Life always finds a way."
Let's add:
"Peace does too."

🟪 So, Here's What I Leave in This Post
Even if a Squid Game creator lives inside you, and life keeps putting you in the "first eliminated player's" spot, you can still be Jonah.
Not the one who avoided darkness.
But the one who lived through it.
Not the one who was "perfect."
But the one who couldn't be caught by excess or poverty.
And that's the essence of HEALING.
This post is not an addition.
t's a more mature stop.

P.S. I have memories that almost literally echo Litvinova's paintings.
I don't have the resources to fully understand which of them are real, and which are my inner experiences overlaid onto external events.
And I no longer need to.
It's all valid. I don't have to wait for crystal clear truth to trust my experience.
Faith isn't naivety here — faith is rock'n'roll, even if logic remains being "the king." 🕺

Yesterday, my body went through a little hell of survival mode — thanks to a work app whose algorithms sometimes decide that a driver's boundaries and safety are secondary concerns.
Right before the evening bonus, I was sent to a dark, unlit loft settlement where residents wander like NPCs with an alcohol buff. Finding the recipient in those conditions is often like passing one of the "Squid Game" stages.
And, of course, the body switches to "crisis mode" after such an experience: in the evening, I started devouring everything in reach. No brakes, no shame — just primitive survival.
Although I usually fast and strictly limit calories, because my body — maybe due to hormone therapy, genetics, or age — immediately kicks into "store, store, store" mode otherwise.
That evening, the whole regime was just turned off, some piggy moment.
​But it was precisely in this mini agony that one very clear realization happened — about attachment types and "Squid Game" logic. And another insight emerged, but that is for the next blog's post.

The Boredom of the Secure Ones
​No matter if you're into attachment styles or not — the only one that functions healthily is secure attachment. 
All the others, no matter how hard they try to create impressions, horizons, future visions... they eventually hit reality.
To some, they seem like the main "Squid Game" prize — and everyone else is just caterpillars doomed to crawl.
Others demonstrate the ability to connect with every possible person... just not with themselves.
The third ones demolish the system, but when the system doesn't react — they start demolishing themselves.
People burn out, relationships collapse, catastrophes begin, "wow effects" happen, but without inner support.
And the secure ones... they're boring. Peaceful. Simple. Yes, those who got married around their 27-35 and never divorced out of satisfaction, not duty.
Not the cosmic mushrooms, not tundra gods, not golden standards.
Just normal people — like everyone, and completely unique and exceptional like every one, who is walking this Earth. 
​Such the luxury of boring stability. And that's why they win.

"Squid Game" Metaphor for Attachment
⏺️ Avoidant – the game organizers, overseers, those sitting on golden toilets.
Everyone else seems lower to them, because otherwise they'd have to face their own inner world.
They won't let anyone win the game. Including themselves.
🔼 Anxious – the bulk of the players.
Quiet, compliant, fighting to the last drop of blood.
They think they're not worthy of winning — and that's more than enough to never win.
​⏹️ Disorganized -- pure chaos.
From outliers to the invisible.
Sometimes with golden toilets, sometimes — with bloody knees.
They neither demolish the game nor continue it; insecurity never approaches zero.
Here you can find both the game creator (I'll write about him in the next entry too) and the first eliminated player you can't even remember.

The Exit Still Exists
​Each of those badges — ⏺️🔼⏹️ — can become a simple, earthly, normal person who agrees with themselves and others.
The start is always the same:

• Notice what game you're playing in.
• Whether you're dragging someone else into it.
• Or do you just flow with an inner rhythm that repeats because that's what you're used to: neither playing the game yourself nor forcing others to play, but randomly smashing the system or yourself.
  

Noticing is the first sign of healing.
And when you notice, choice appears:

• Don't stay in the game,
• No longer lead the game for others,
• No longer worship the game as opposition to reality.

Then you start to understand that connection — with another or with yourself — is not a danger. It's just connection.
Just intimacy.
​Just being.

Finally: You Realize Everyone Is Talking About Themselves
A person who pushes you away — is telling about themselves.
A person who can't be OK alone — is telling about themselves.
A person who does both: pushes away and fears loneliness — is telling about their inner chaos. Then you start to see how you're destroying your own life out of habit — and that becomes the turning point.