Tuesday, November 22, 2011
Life in "Perfect": The Things That Money Can NOT Buy. . . .
Life in "Perfect": The Things That Money Can NOT Buy. . . .: Here I sit, in my nice house in Perfect. Here I sit at my computer, typing away. My daughters are safely upstairs watching their individua...
The Things That Money Can NOT Buy. . . .
Here I sit, in my nice house in Perfect. Here I sit at my computer, typing away. My daughters are safely upstairs watching their individual TV's in their individual rooms. They are lying on their big, soft, warm, safe beds; without a care in the world. My (brand new) refrigerator is stocked to the gills with my Thanksgiving Day turkey and all the trimmings. I just got my hair done and went to go see a wonderful movie three times in four days. (Clearly, I LOVE THAT DAMN MOVIE!!) I have clothes in my closet and so do my husband and children. We have shoes on our feet. We have entertainment. Clean drinking water. Heat. Blankets. The whole nine yards. You know. . .pretty much EVERYTHING!! So, what's my problem? You might ask?
The things that money can NOT buy.
Things like family.
I have a strained relationship with most of my family and it hurts me ---- without end. I mean it, people. There is no end to the pain that I feel as a direct result of this one. simple. fact. I feel misplaced in the world. I feel left out. I feel forgotten. I feel unloved. I feel overwhelmed. I feel sad. I feel afraid that I can't be everything to my children, so they must certainly be missing out?!?
I think that last one hurts me the most.
You can't force people to "do the right thing". If y'all have read my blogs before you will recognize this"running theme". You see, I'm a control FREAK (Yes. All caps and bold. That's it.) Yet, even with my "freak" on. . .I have exactly zero control over my family. I can't force those who aren't speaking to me to pick up the phone and reach out. I can't force those who have wronged me to even try, for one FUCKING SECOND TO MAKE IT RIGHT. . .oh. . .sorry. . .I was yelling. I can't make people see that shutting me out is also shutting my children out. I can't open their eyes to the fact that, when you miss something with a child, you've missed it. Forever. There's no unringing that bell, folks. I have no power over them; those who've turned their back on me and my family. And in the end, I don't want it. I want them, of their own volition, to pick up that phone. To humble themselves enough to admit that they are ALSO not perfect and perhaps, even partially to blame for what's happened to this family. I can NOT be the root of all evil in the world. Sorry folks. I don't have that much power or control. (As much as I might WISH that I did. . .)
That's all well and good, right? Right. But, the real, honest, sad truth is this. . . . .they never will. I will. I will keep on reaching out and getting my hand slapped and my heart crushed. I will keep on, "keepin' on". I will make every attempt to love on them, even though they're not here. I will never bad mouth them to my children, even though I cry after my girls have asked me, yet again, where they are and why they don't come over or call anymore? I cry alone. In private. I cry in the shower. I cry in the car. I cry in bed. I cry when they're at school. I cry every time I want to pick up the phone and beg for the love of my family, but can't make that call. I cry when I can't stop myself and I text. . .just one more time. Praying for a response that never comes. I cry when I type long emails that I can't ever send. I cry when I type blogs that are only for my benefit. I cry when I realize that I have to be EVERYTHING to my girls.
Mother.
Father.
Grandmother.
Grandfather.
Aunt.
Uncle.
Cousins.
What am I supposed to do with that? How can I NOT fail? The pressure to be "the village" for my girls is staggering. Crushing. Overwhelming. Yet. . . .I can't stop. I can't relent. I can't just NOT. I love them more than they'll ever know. I possibly love them MORE because. . .in the end. . . .they're the only family I have. We have each other. No more. No less.
So, in a couple of days, I'll get up early and start the days meal. We'll play games and I'll cook something delicious for my family. We'll eat until we're sick. We'll sit in our beautiful home in Perfect. I'll strain my ears to listen for the knock on the door that won't ever come. Hell, if you looked though the window, you'd half expect to see Norman Freakin' Rockwell, sitting by me on the sofa watching a movie. I'll feel like something missing; like I've "forgotten something", all day. I'll hold out the hope that they'll come by to the bitter end. Not until I turn out the light and head to bed will I be 100% sure that they're NOT COMING. We'll all sleep in our safe, warm, comfortable beds. I suppose that I'm just hoping that when their head hits the pillow that night they're not thinking, "Gee, I wonder why we're not good enough to have a 'real family' like everybody else?" It's always hard to go outside and take a walk after dinner and see all of the cars parked in the street. All the cars of all the FAMILY that's visiting. Eating together. Playing together. Loving together. Building memories together. I pray that I don't have to dry anymore of THEIR tears because, once they get back to school, they'll get to hear about all the wonderful things people got to do with their grandparents, aunts/uncles and cousins and it will remind them of how "empty" our house was. Again.
So. . . yeah. . . .this isn't The Most Wonderful Time of the Year around here at all. This is the time of year when, we're reminded of what we don't have. What's lacking. The pain and emptiness that is left behind when your family turns their back on you. I tell myself, every year, that this is THE LAST year that I'm going to let this get to me. I pull my chin up off of my chest and remind myself that my life is full. Complete. Happy. My girls are well adjusted, well behaved, smart, beautiful, healthy kids. But, I know. . . .deep down inside. . . .how it feels to be missing a part of yourself. I know what it's like to be that kid who doesn't want to say anything about that missing person, because you don't want to hurt your mom. So, I wonder. Are they REALLY okay with it, in the end? I mean, over and beyond the tears from "not being like everyone else at school'? I mean, the real meat and potatoes of who they are. Will they grow up and blame me for the loss? The emptiness? The time that they'll never be able to get back?
You see. . .the things that money can't buy, the things that I can not control, the 'things' that make me cry aren't really "things" at all.
Take a deep breath. . . . . .it's just another day in Perfect!!!!!!!
The things that money can NOT buy.
Things like family.
I have a strained relationship with most of my family and it hurts me ---- without end. I mean it, people. There is no end to the pain that I feel as a direct result of this one. simple. fact. I feel misplaced in the world. I feel left out. I feel forgotten. I feel unloved. I feel overwhelmed. I feel sad. I feel afraid that I can't be everything to my children, so they must certainly be missing out?!?
I think that last one hurts me the most.
You can't force people to "do the right thing". If y'all have read my blogs before you will recognize this"running theme". You see, I'm a control FREAK (Yes. All caps and bold. That's it.) Yet, even with my "freak" on. . .I have exactly zero control over my family. I can't force those who aren't speaking to me to pick up the phone and reach out. I can't force those who have wronged me to even try, for one FUCKING SECOND TO MAKE IT RIGHT. . .oh. . .sorry. . .I was yelling. I can't make people see that shutting me out is also shutting my children out. I can't open their eyes to the fact that, when you miss something with a child, you've missed it. Forever. There's no unringing that bell, folks. I have no power over them; those who've turned their back on me and my family. And in the end, I don't want it. I want them, of their own volition, to pick up that phone. To humble themselves enough to admit that they are ALSO not perfect and perhaps, even partially to blame for what's happened to this family. I can NOT be the root of all evil in the world. Sorry folks. I don't have that much power or control. (As much as I might WISH that I did. . .)
That's all well and good, right? Right. But, the real, honest, sad truth is this. . . . .they never will. I will. I will keep on reaching out and getting my hand slapped and my heart crushed. I will keep on, "keepin' on". I will make every attempt to love on them, even though they're not here. I will never bad mouth them to my children, even though I cry after my girls have asked me, yet again, where they are and why they don't come over or call anymore? I cry alone. In private. I cry in the shower. I cry in the car. I cry in bed. I cry when they're at school. I cry every time I want to pick up the phone and beg for the love of my family, but can't make that call. I cry when I can't stop myself and I text. . .just one more time. Praying for a response that never comes. I cry when I type long emails that I can't ever send. I cry when I type blogs that are only for my benefit. I cry when I realize that I have to be EVERYTHING to my girls.
Mother.
Father.
Grandmother.
Grandfather.
Aunt.
Uncle.
Cousins.
What am I supposed to do with that? How can I NOT fail? The pressure to be "the village" for my girls is staggering. Crushing. Overwhelming. Yet. . . .I can't stop. I can't relent. I can't just NOT. I love them more than they'll ever know. I possibly love them MORE because. . .in the end. . . .they're the only family I have. We have each other. No more. No less.
So, in a couple of days, I'll get up early and start the days meal. We'll play games and I'll cook something delicious for my family. We'll eat until we're sick. We'll sit in our beautiful home in Perfect. I'll strain my ears to listen for the knock on the door that won't ever come. Hell, if you looked though the window, you'd half expect to see Norman Freakin' Rockwell, sitting by me on the sofa watching a movie. I'll feel like something missing; like I've "forgotten something", all day. I'll hold out the hope that they'll come by to the bitter end. Not until I turn out the light and head to bed will I be 100% sure that they're NOT COMING. We'll all sleep in our safe, warm, comfortable beds. I suppose that I'm just hoping that when their head hits the pillow that night they're not thinking, "Gee, I wonder why we're not good enough to have a 'real family' like everybody else?" It's always hard to go outside and take a walk after dinner and see all of the cars parked in the street. All the cars of all the FAMILY that's visiting. Eating together. Playing together. Loving together. Building memories together. I pray that I don't have to dry anymore of THEIR tears because, once they get back to school, they'll get to hear about all the wonderful things people got to do with their grandparents, aunts/uncles and cousins and it will remind them of how "empty" our house was. Again.
So. . . yeah. . . .this isn't The Most Wonderful Time of the Year around here at all. This is the time of year when, we're reminded of what we don't have. What's lacking. The pain and emptiness that is left behind when your family turns their back on you. I tell myself, every year, that this is THE LAST year that I'm going to let this get to me. I pull my chin up off of my chest and remind myself that my life is full. Complete. Happy. My girls are well adjusted, well behaved, smart, beautiful, healthy kids. But, I know. . . .deep down inside. . . .how it feels to be missing a part of yourself. I know what it's like to be that kid who doesn't want to say anything about that missing person, because you don't want to hurt your mom. So, I wonder. Are they REALLY okay with it, in the end? I mean, over and beyond the tears from "not being like everyone else at school'? I mean, the real meat and potatoes of who they are. Will they grow up and blame me for the loss? The emptiness? The time that they'll never be able to get back?
You see. . .the things that money can't buy, the things that I can not control, the 'things' that make me cry aren't really "things" at all.
Take a deep breath. . . . . .it's just another day in Perfect!!!!!!!
Friday, October 28, 2011
Life in "Perfect": Stay At Home Mom VS. Working Mom---Revisited
Life in "Perfect": Stay At Home Mom VS. Working Mom---Revisited: Perspective. I talk about it a lot. Okay, I'm kind of obsessed with it. I find that it alone, truly is the "cause" of all in the world. ...
Stay At Home Mom VS. Working Mom---Revisited
Perspective. I talk about it a lot. Okay, I'm kind of obsessed with it. I find that it alone, truly is the "cause" of all in the world. Evil and good. Fun and boring. Depressive and elating. It's all about the "perspective".
So, here I sit. Finally, I sit. I've been working at my husband's company since May and I've started working with the police department as a victim's advocate. I'm also the room mom for my youngest's fifth grade class. I'm a substitute crossing guard at the school. I have friends and family who love, need and want me around. I. Am. Blessed. I. Am. Also. Overwhelmed. I also finally have a "day off".
Now, here's where the perspective kicks into high gear, folks. Am I a working mom or a stay at home mom? I "work" for my husbands company two days a week. I'm at the police department another two days a week (give or take a day here and there. . .). I help out at the school as needed. I still clean my whole house, do all the laundry, all the cooking, all the shopping, all the baking, all the party planning, all the helping with homework, all the parent/teacher conferences, all the band-aid applying, all the hair "doing", all the lunch making. . . .you get the idea. I'm here when my girls leave for school and I'm here when they get home (most days). I still find the time to call the people whom matter to me the most. I still reach out to friends in need. I'm still a shoulder for anyone to cry on at any time. I still pay the bills, on time. I still manage to do everything that I did "before I went back to work", even whilst working. Albeit, my house isn't "quite" as clean as it used to be.
Funny thing has happened though. . . .I'm getting many more offers for "help". For example, I'm getting a "pass" from the teacher. . . .for the first time EVER! I was told, by the teacher whom I've been the room mom for the entire school year, "If you need to step back from any of your responsibilities here, I totally understand. You're a working woman now!" Hmmmm. . .what? I have NEVER, in my "stay at home mom" days, been told that I could "step back". It's almost an EXPECTATION that we "stay at home" moms are going to do EVERYTHING at the school. Meanwhile, the working moms are "allowed" to send in store bought cupcakes. They're responsible for "plates and napkins". Are you kidding me? You know what I'm talking about, "working women". This is not a dig. Not in the slightest. It's just. . . .perspective.
Then, when I'm talking to my "working mom" friends, they tend to say things like "Well, at least you're not "really working"!' Excuse ME??? They, of course, see me as a stay at home mom still. They still expect my house to be perfect. Home cooked meals to just "POOF" into existence. I mean --- REALLY? My professional moms still treat me like an impostor. They still "pat me on my head" and say "Wow, I wish that I got to go home right now, too.".
So, here I sit. In limbo. Am I a working mom? Am I a stay at home mom? I suppose that it depends on who you talk to. . .thus, the person's PERSPECTIVE on things. To those single moms out there who've had to work a fully time job since the day their baby was born just to put food on the table, they'd probably say, "Uh, hell no. You are so NOT a working mom!" Can I ignore their perspective? Of course not. I would, however, as them this. . .if you COULD stay home with your child, would you? I mean, really think about it, ladies. Would you? I'm not talking about getting to spend some wonderful "quality time" with your kids; like on a vacation to say Disney World, or around the holiday table with Auntie Rose and Uncle Bob. I'm talking about, sitting at home. Day in and day out. Some weeks not speaking to another adult except for the checker at the grocery store. I'm talking about staring at the same four walls every single day and wondering how many more times you can scrub the same spot? I'm talking about losing yourself entirely to your family. Your house. No affirmations here. No one to give you a pat on the back. No one to tell you what a good job you're doing. Nothing. Just you and your child(ren) and your house. When the highlight of your week becomes running to Wal-Mart. . .how will that feel?
I've had a few of my "once" working moms become stay at home moms in the last few years. What they've all told me is this. . .."I had no idea how hard this was." Can I get a "Hallelujah!!!!"? You're damn right. It IS hard. It's a different kind of hard. But, hard nonetheless.
Now, here I sit. . ..with a day off. A day that seven months ago, would have been like every other damn day of my life, but now. . .now it takes on a different meaning. I have a different perspective on it. Now, I just don't want to leave my house. I want to "chill" inside. Sit on my sofa. Appreciate my four walls. Don't ask me to leave and run a damn errand. Don't ask me to do anything really. Why? Because I just want to scrub some spot on the wall. What? The? Fuck?? Are we really always going to want that grass that's just on the other side of the fence? I made the crucial mistake of saying, out loud, that I was bored. I've equated it with "praying for patience". We all know that you just DON'T DO THAT!! Well, hell. Don't say that you're bored either.
So I work. In the end, I do. I get up and drive across town, come hell or high water and I get a paycheck. I also get up and drive across town, come hell or high water, to help out a total stranger. For this, I do NOT get a paycheck. . .yet. (Fingers crossed here. . . .) I stand out in the rain with a stop sign to make sure that our kiddos can cross the street and get to school in one piece. I organize holiday parties for fifth graders. I clean a large house. I do the laundry of four people. . .well really more like 7. . .I have a teenage daughter. I bring home the bacon and fry it up in the pan. . .and never let you forget your a man. Oh. Wait. I got side tracked. I do that. I'm tired. Why? Because I'm a working stay at home mom. That's what I am. I'm both. It kinda sucks and it's kind of amazing. All at the same time. I'm getting to see the world from a new perspective.
Which one is better. . .a working mom or a stay at home mom? (Come on, that's what you wanna know, right? That's what it all comes down to in the end. After all, we're Americans. We need to "classify" everything, don't we??) Well, I would say that I have respect for all moms. It's hard. The whole damn thing. If you have to leave your sweet ones every single day and pray that someone else will love and keep them as well as you would, if you could. That's hard. Really hard. If you have to stay home each and every day and not feel "appreciated" or "valued". THAT'S hard. Really hard. So, I think what I want to get across here is this. . . .can we all stop competing and just start realizing that neither one is perfect. Neither one is "superior". Neither one has it "worse" or "better". It's all just your perspective.
Take a deep breath. . . . . . .it's just another day in Perfect!!!!!
So, here I sit. Finally, I sit. I've been working at my husband's company since May and I've started working with the police department as a victim's advocate. I'm also the room mom for my youngest's fifth grade class. I'm a substitute crossing guard at the school. I have friends and family who love, need and want me around. I. Am. Blessed. I. Am. Also. Overwhelmed. I also finally have a "day off".
Now, here's where the perspective kicks into high gear, folks. Am I a working mom or a stay at home mom? I "work" for my husbands company two days a week. I'm at the police department another two days a week (give or take a day here and there. . .). I help out at the school as needed. I still clean my whole house, do all the laundry, all the cooking, all the shopping, all the baking, all the party planning, all the helping with homework, all the parent/teacher conferences, all the band-aid applying, all the hair "doing", all the lunch making. . . .you get the idea. I'm here when my girls leave for school and I'm here when they get home (most days). I still find the time to call the people whom matter to me the most. I still reach out to friends in need. I'm still a shoulder for anyone to cry on at any time. I still pay the bills, on time. I still manage to do everything that I did "before I went back to work", even whilst working. Albeit, my house isn't "quite" as clean as it used to be.
Funny thing has happened though. . . .I'm getting many more offers for "help". For example, I'm getting a "pass" from the teacher. . . .for the first time EVER! I was told, by the teacher whom I've been the room mom for the entire school year, "If you need to step back from any of your responsibilities here, I totally understand. You're a working woman now!" Hmmmm. . .what? I have NEVER, in my "stay at home mom" days, been told that I could "step back". It's almost an EXPECTATION that we "stay at home" moms are going to do EVERYTHING at the school. Meanwhile, the working moms are "allowed" to send in store bought cupcakes. They're responsible for "plates and napkins". Are you kidding me? You know what I'm talking about, "working women". This is not a dig. Not in the slightest. It's just. . . .perspective.
Then, when I'm talking to my "working mom" friends, they tend to say things like "Well, at least you're not "really working"!' Excuse ME??? They, of course, see me as a stay at home mom still. They still expect my house to be perfect. Home cooked meals to just "POOF" into existence. I mean --- REALLY? My professional moms still treat me like an impostor. They still "pat me on my head" and say "Wow, I wish that I got to go home right now, too.".
So, here I sit. In limbo. Am I a working mom? Am I a stay at home mom? I suppose that it depends on who you talk to. . .thus, the person's PERSPECTIVE on things. To those single moms out there who've had to work a fully time job since the day their baby was born just to put food on the table, they'd probably say, "Uh, hell no. You are so NOT a working mom!" Can I ignore their perspective? Of course not. I would, however, as them this. . .if you COULD stay home with your child, would you? I mean, really think about it, ladies. Would you? I'm not talking about getting to spend some wonderful "quality time" with your kids; like on a vacation to say Disney World, or around the holiday table with Auntie Rose and Uncle Bob. I'm talking about, sitting at home. Day in and day out. Some weeks not speaking to another adult except for the checker at the grocery store. I'm talking about staring at the same four walls every single day and wondering how many more times you can scrub the same spot? I'm talking about losing yourself entirely to your family. Your house. No affirmations here. No one to give you a pat on the back. No one to tell you what a good job you're doing. Nothing. Just you and your child(ren) and your house. When the highlight of your week becomes running to Wal-Mart. . .how will that feel?
I've had a few of my "once" working moms become stay at home moms in the last few years. What they've all told me is this. . .."I had no idea how hard this was." Can I get a "Hallelujah!!!!"? You're damn right. It IS hard. It's a different kind of hard. But, hard nonetheless.
Now, here I sit. . ..with a day off. A day that seven months ago, would have been like every other damn day of my life, but now. . .now it takes on a different meaning. I have a different perspective on it. Now, I just don't want to leave my house. I want to "chill" inside. Sit on my sofa. Appreciate my four walls. Don't ask me to leave and run a damn errand. Don't ask me to do anything really. Why? Because I just want to scrub some spot on the wall. What? The? Fuck?? Are we really always going to want that grass that's just on the other side of the fence? I made the crucial mistake of saying, out loud, that I was bored. I've equated it with "praying for patience". We all know that you just DON'T DO THAT!! Well, hell. Don't say that you're bored either.
So I work. In the end, I do. I get up and drive across town, come hell or high water and I get a paycheck. I also get up and drive across town, come hell or high water, to help out a total stranger. For this, I do NOT get a paycheck. . .yet. (Fingers crossed here. . . .) I stand out in the rain with a stop sign to make sure that our kiddos can cross the street and get to school in one piece. I organize holiday parties for fifth graders. I clean a large house. I do the laundry of four people. . .well really more like 7. . .I have a teenage daughter. I bring home the bacon and fry it up in the pan. . .and never let you forget your a man. Oh. Wait. I got side tracked. I do that. I'm tired. Why? Because I'm a working stay at home mom. That's what I am. I'm both. It kinda sucks and it's kind of amazing. All at the same time. I'm getting to see the world from a new perspective.
Which one is better. . .a working mom or a stay at home mom? (Come on, that's what you wanna know, right? That's what it all comes down to in the end. After all, we're Americans. We need to "classify" everything, don't we??) Well, I would say that I have respect for all moms. It's hard. The whole damn thing. If you have to leave your sweet ones every single day and pray that someone else will love and keep them as well as you would, if you could. That's hard. Really hard. If you have to stay home each and every day and not feel "appreciated" or "valued". THAT'S hard. Really hard. So, I think what I want to get across here is this. . . .can we all stop competing and just start realizing that neither one is perfect. Neither one is "superior". Neither one has it "worse" or "better". It's all just your perspective.
Take a deep breath. . . . . . .it's just another day in Perfect!!!!!
Tuesday, October 4, 2011
If I Seem (POEM)
If I seem hard,
Perhaps I've never known tenderness.
If I seem weak,
Maybe I trust you enough to be vulnerable.
If I seem bitter,
It might be because I've offered forgiveness, yet never been forgiven.
If I seem faithless,
The cause could be constant disappointment.
If I seem distant,
Maybe I'm too terrified to speak to you.
If I seem cold,
Try reaching out to me with some warmth.
If I seem sad,
My heart just might be shattered.
If I seem overly chipper,
Perhaps I'm hiding a deeper pain.
If I turn my back on you,
Try walking around towards my face.
If I seem aloof,
Maybe I don't know any other way to protect myself.
If I seem wounded,
Why not offer up a bandage of friendship?
If I seem to be too much to handle,
Perhaps that's more about how you seem. . . . .
Perhaps I've never known tenderness.
If I seem weak,
Maybe I trust you enough to be vulnerable.
If I seem bitter,
It might be because I've offered forgiveness, yet never been forgiven.
If I seem faithless,
The cause could be constant disappointment.
If I seem distant,
Maybe I'm too terrified to speak to you.
If I seem cold,
Try reaching out to me with some warmth.
If I seem sad,
My heart just might be shattered.
If I seem overly chipper,
Perhaps I'm hiding a deeper pain.
If I turn my back on you,
Try walking around towards my face.
If I seem aloof,
Maybe I don't know any other way to protect myself.
If I seem wounded,
Why not offer up a bandage of friendship?
If I seem to be too much to handle,
Perhaps that's more about how you seem. . . . .
At That Particular Time. . . .
Impressions. Ideas. Interpretations. All of these are subjective. They are also all false, contrived, pretend and constantly in flux. One thing I know for sure is, what your impression is of someone has more to do with who YOU are and who you perceive them to be at the particular time that you both meet.
For example, the people who went to high school with me have a very different idea about "who I am" than the stay at home moms who have met me in the last decade or so. I've been "left behind" shall we say by several of my old high school friends. I think, partially, because of who they believe me to be now; with little to no validity. Am I angry at them? No. I understand that they're basing their opinion on several things. First and foremost, at that particular time, I was a train wreck of a person. Hollow. Empty. Suffering. Lonely. Depressed. Sad. Pathetic. Now, would you want to be my friend? Of course not. Then, as we all go older, I moved out of that place but still had some lingering "issues" (shall we say. . .) and clearly, I did NOT live up to their expectations about where I should be at THAT particular time. Again, it's all a matter of timing, isn't it?
Now, fast forward to today and I've been shocked to find out from some of my more "recent" friends that they see me as: Strong. Independent. Intelligent. Articulate. Kind. Generous. Out spoken. Loyal. Hm? Are they wrong? Are they seeing something that my "old" (perhaps the word "previous" might be better here) friends aren't? Are they better equipped to see the "real" me? The authentic person I am? Perhaps. Strangely though, I find their assessment of me somehow unsettling. Although, I've heard it time and time again recently, I can't seem to wrap my head or heart around it. In so many ways, I still see myself through the lens of "that particular time", too. Even though I know that now, I am strong. I am independent. I am smart. I am well spoken. I am kind. I am generous. I am loyal, to a fault. I. AM. Why is it always so much easier to believe the "bad" things about oneself than the good? I feel as if, I'm telling all of my new friends some grand lie, just by being myself. Don't they know that I suck? Don't they know that I'm scared? Don't they know that I'm anxious? Don't they know that I'm broken? Don't they know that I'm fragile? Don't they know that I have horrible "baggage"? Don't they know I can't find a reason to be loved? Possibly. And possibly, they see who I am. . .at this particular time, more clearly than I do. Maybe, I can't let go of the desire to be accepted by the very ones who don't accept me.
Think of someone that you've known for a long, long time, but, haven't seen in years. How do you picture them? Probably very close to the way they were when you last saw them, right? Is that wrong? No. It's just how they are stored in your brain. Are they that same person? Perhaps. Perhaps not. I believe that there will always be a "piece" of who we "were" in the whole of who we now "are", but in truth that piece can be quite small. Does that mean that we will always get along with the people that we got along with at one particular time in our life? Of course not. We each grow. Evolve. Change our perspective on the world. See things through older, wiser, more mature eyes.
I do wonder though. . . . .what would happen if we were to meet again. . . .at THIS particular time? Would we be friends? Would I perceive you to be who you really are now? Would I see what you want me to see? Would you even give me the chance to be who I am now or will I spend an eternity having to defend myself and "make up for" some wrong from the past? Whether real or only perceived by you, to be legitimate. Can we ever really move forward in time? Or are we all eternally stuck, in that particular time? Doomed by fate and happenstance. Serendipity.
I don't blame people for the choices that they make. Truly, I don't. What does bother me is the manner in which people can cast each other aside and never even glance back. As if, looking over your shoulder shows weakness. I find it sad that our pride gets in the way of real long lasting relationships, in some cases, because we can't humble ourselves enough to even acknowledge that we might be wrong about someone. That we don't know who they are now. That sense that giving someone a second chance just takes too damn much energy. Well. Shame. On. You. Shame on all of us, who've walked away, moved on, let go and never looked back. What does that behavior say about who you are. . ..at this particular time? Volumes.
Take a deep breath. . . .it's just another day in Perfect!!!!!!!!!!!
For example, the people who went to high school with me have a very different idea about "who I am" than the stay at home moms who have met me in the last decade or so. I've been "left behind" shall we say by several of my old high school friends. I think, partially, because of who they believe me to be now; with little to no validity. Am I angry at them? No. I understand that they're basing their opinion on several things. First and foremost, at that particular time, I was a train wreck of a person. Hollow. Empty. Suffering. Lonely. Depressed. Sad. Pathetic. Now, would you want to be my friend? Of course not. Then, as we all go older, I moved out of that place but still had some lingering "issues" (shall we say. . .) and clearly, I did NOT live up to their expectations about where I should be at THAT particular time. Again, it's all a matter of timing, isn't it?
Now, fast forward to today and I've been shocked to find out from some of my more "recent" friends that they see me as: Strong. Independent. Intelligent. Articulate. Kind. Generous. Out spoken. Loyal. Hm? Are they wrong? Are they seeing something that my "old" (perhaps the word "previous" might be better here) friends aren't? Are they better equipped to see the "real" me? The authentic person I am? Perhaps. Strangely though, I find their assessment of me somehow unsettling. Although, I've heard it time and time again recently, I can't seem to wrap my head or heart around it. In so many ways, I still see myself through the lens of "that particular time", too. Even though I know that now, I am strong. I am independent. I am smart. I am well spoken. I am kind. I am generous. I am loyal, to a fault. I. AM. Why is it always so much easier to believe the "bad" things about oneself than the good? I feel as if, I'm telling all of my new friends some grand lie, just by being myself. Don't they know that I suck? Don't they know that I'm scared? Don't they know that I'm anxious? Don't they know that I'm broken? Don't they know that I'm fragile? Don't they know that I have horrible "baggage"? Don't they know I can't find a reason to be loved? Possibly. And possibly, they see who I am. . .at this particular time, more clearly than I do. Maybe, I can't let go of the desire to be accepted by the very ones who don't accept me.
Think of someone that you've known for a long, long time, but, haven't seen in years. How do you picture them? Probably very close to the way they were when you last saw them, right? Is that wrong? No. It's just how they are stored in your brain. Are they that same person? Perhaps. Perhaps not. I believe that there will always be a "piece" of who we "were" in the whole of who we now "are", but in truth that piece can be quite small. Does that mean that we will always get along with the people that we got along with at one particular time in our life? Of course not. We each grow. Evolve. Change our perspective on the world. See things through older, wiser, more mature eyes.
I do wonder though. . . . .what would happen if we were to meet again. . . .at THIS particular time? Would we be friends? Would I perceive you to be who you really are now? Would I see what you want me to see? Would you even give me the chance to be who I am now or will I spend an eternity having to defend myself and "make up for" some wrong from the past? Whether real or only perceived by you, to be legitimate. Can we ever really move forward in time? Or are we all eternally stuck, in that particular time? Doomed by fate and happenstance. Serendipity.
I don't blame people for the choices that they make. Truly, I don't. What does bother me is the manner in which people can cast each other aside and never even glance back. As if, looking over your shoulder shows weakness. I find it sad that our pride gets in the way of real long lasting relationships, in some cases, because we can't humble ourselves enough to even acknowledge that we might be wrong about someone. That we don't know who they are now. That sense that giving someone a second chance just takes too damn much energy. Well. Shame. On. You. Shame on all of us, who've walked away, moved on, let go and never looked back. What does that behavior say about who you are. . ..at this particular time? Volumes.
Take a deep breath. . . .it's just another day in Perfect!!!!!!!!!!!
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