Self Fulfilling Prophecies

It has been a long time since I have taken the personal time out of my recently hectic schedule to do the thinky written word thing. Bare with me, I am a bit rusty and have my headphones positively cranked so that I can pretend that nothing else exists while I get something accomplished for myself for once.

Today sparked something in me. I read back over some semi-private correspondence that I had with the MC over the course of our unfolding relationship. It was almost 2 years ago that we seriously encountered each other. There were daily musings, thoughts, shares and mutual growth that occurred over the course of the first 8 months. In those communications, we almost instantly realized that we were meant to be. There was an expression of who we were individually and as a pair. The resounding statement was that we were going to be in a long-standing and loving relationship - one that provided appreciation, encouragement, growth and an overall fostering for the betterment of our lives. We wished this. The more we wished it, the more evident it became that it was occurring. Our situation was minor in the grand scheme of the universe. The joining of two people is ordinary enough. Despite what odds we were put up against (there is far more than I will ever relay to any of you, it's not all mine to share, nor would I like to share all of it) we managed to believe ourselves into being. 

When I set out to write today, a mutual friend of ours left a quote on my FB page: Whether you think you can or think you can't, you are usually right - Henry Ford

Yup, that pretty much sums it up. We can either achieve down to or up to what we want to be. We tell ourselves who we are. If we are merely content with existing, then that is all we will do. Who among us is going to seek out more than they desire? That simply doesn't happen. We have to make exception for what we want to be. The goal must be worth the effort. 

How many people have said they were a victim of circumstance? A product of society? Here is where I call bullshit. My impoverished childhood has been lightly chronicled in earlier posts, so I am not going to continue to beat that drum. I will say that no one expected much of me. Why would they? Most children that are homeless, poverty stricken, sent to foster care are not likely to achieve. People are far more willing to hand out pity rather than encouragement. As a race, that is something we need to consider changing, in my opinion. The value of understanding and encouragement is immeasurable. For all intensive purposes, I had been given up on and cast away. Have I mentioned before how stubborn I am? There was no way I was willing to settle for what had been predetermined for me. Mine was a life not lived yet, no reason to sign it away before I had reviewed the contract. 

Pity is disgusting to me. Whenever someone says, "you poor thing" to someone it is like saying that there was nothing they could have done to change the situation, no other choices or actions they could have made. Sure, there are times when that is the appropriate response: the loss of a loved one or other similar situations where we had no direct action other than our reaction. We have to be culpable for our actions and thoughts. We have to learn not play victim to our lives. EVERYONE is handed hardship in someway in their life. It is a matter of how we deal with that hardship. If you say you want more, then really do something about it. Words alone are never enough. Those words must form ideas and move into actions if we are ever to achieve. 

Encouragement and understanding are the greatest gifts I have ever received. Those didn't come about until I was into my 30s. I had to get myself far enough in life to be surrounded by people who believed in me. That is not something that goes without acknowledgement. There isn't enough ways to say thank you for that. Watching someone I care for succeed is a great joy. They don't have to be huge public successes either. Sometimes seeing a friend realize something important in their life is an accomplishment, a child who has been struggling to tie their shoes pull that final loop through, watching someone overcome their stage fright, seeing someone's business grow. Believe in yourself and believe in each other. Nothing is more damning than telling someone they can't - that includes yourself. 

If I was the giving up type, I would have died a dozen years ago when my illness first struck me. I remember doctors telling me with frightened faces that I was dying and they didn't know what else they could do. I wasn't about to give up then when life seemed the most bleak. I sure as hell am not ready to give up now. Sure, I have to live with this bullshit disease that makes things difficult sometimes, but that is no reason to resign myself to dying (I did that once and almost succeeded) Maybe it's too many feel good sports stories that have ingrained into my annals. Maybe I have a problem with seeing the best in people even when cynicism tells me otherwise. Maybe it's this stubbornness. There have been so many people in my life I am proud to have seen succeed in life and I will continue to want a piece of that success for myself, not because I deserve it (we all know how I feel about entitlement) but because I earned it. We can only earn what we work for and desire. Seeing is believing and I can see us far down the road. Stop telling yourself that it is too hard or the choices are too difficult to make. Stagnation gets us nowhere.If you want more, then be more. 

Squinting at the Sun

I have been noticing how rapidly I am aging. It started to become evident about 9 months ago. Less than 2 years ago I was regularly guessed for a teenager or a woman in her young 20s. I was 31 at the time, now at barely 33 I look as though I am pushing 40. It is the same face in the mirror, haunting familiar. My playful youth now starkly absent has lead way to a gray and washed out woman. My perky cheeks and smiling jubilant face is now demure and fading. Worry lines around my mouth have crept up where there was once only smile lines in the corners of my eyes (or maybe squinting from looking too long into the sun). Last night I cried myself to sleep after apologizing for my rapid decline - this wasn't who he thought he would be with. I mourned the woman I was.

It hasn't been an easy life, but once upon a time it was as concerning. My worries and cares have begun to show their mark heavily on my face. My eyes that were once a steel blue are now gray, almost lacking life and color. I am not in the public eye nor do I  have excess money, so it's not like I can do anything surgically to turn back the hands of time. I wonder how much of this is my worry and how much is worry that has been carried for others. Have I taken the age for others? Have I swapped my youth to help someone else? The answer is, regrettably yes.

It wasn't just helping one someone else, but most that I come in contact with. You see, there is this overwhelming drive in me to change people's lives for the better. I have become a catalyst for others because that is what I choose. What I didn't know when I accepted this was that it meant more than just helping them, it meant sharing the hurt and suffering if not bearing much of it myself. Seeing things as they are isn't all it is cracked up to be. Overriding logic and a strong sense of consequence don't always make one wise. I was naive, oblivious to what the repercussion to my body and spirit would be. By making others feel better and grow, I have diminished myself.

I sought the warmth and glow of the sun. That radiant light began to show through me and I emanated the same warmth towards others. All that energy was spent healing and growing, feeding the souls of others while I carelessly neglected my own. Then last year, in the month of May, my sun burned out. I am not going to tell any of you why or how, that is my personal loss. There were attempts to rekindle the love that I had with the sun, but they didn't last. Now it is just as dark as it ever was. Since that time, all my youth has disappeared and I shine no longer. Gone is the beauty and whimsy I once had, now it is serious tones and steadfast commitments.

It would be lovely to be free again, like that child of the sun...dancing without hesitance. Alas, these shackles of a sense responsibility to serve will not let me shake them. I can't commit to myself anymore, the time to have fleeting moments of fancy have passed...back to trudging through the mines of life, looking for haul that is worth the work.

Sunday Bathroom Bleach Down

Possibly the strangest title yet. It is about a little ritual that I have. Every Sunday the bathrooms get cleaned and bleached completely. To most who know me, this isn't some sort of earth-shattering revalation. I like things clean, picked up and organized. It's probably pretty maddening to the juniors of the house, but someday they will get it.

I don't believe in the traditional sense of God, so this isn't some cleanness is next to Godliness crap. Lacking further is a Messiah Complex. It is a matter of belief for me though. Cleanliness feels less stressful and encumbering to me than some mess that grimily awaits my begrudging return. It means not having to worry about where something is. Whatever I am looking for is exactly where it is supposed to be. There is also the issue of instant gratification, something immediate that can be marked on the daily list of accomplishments. We all need to feel like we are worthwhile and contributing. For me, it heightens my personal sense of value.

Now for the real reason I embark on this journey of wading into the daily drones of cleaning and housework - control. Yep, I am a human and I like to control. I accept and embrace the theory that we are born into chaos and that is our natural state. That being said, I am utterly defiant by nature, so I want to control somewhere in my life. I do not want to control people, they have free will for a reason. It is so sad and disheartening when someones free will has been broken. They need to travel their own path, not me barking orders at every turn. Not only do I not want to control people, I know I cannot. What is the sense in setting yourself up for failure?

In a small sense, cleaning fulfills a need for me. I need to feel successful. The more that is upset in my life, the more I will delve deep into cleaning. I can scrub something until it is sparkling and perfect. It gives me something to concentrate on when I don't want to think about what else is going on in my life. So the next time I am really excited about everything I got done on my list, instead of thinking I am bragging or beating yourself up about what you didn't do...wonder or ask what is going on. By the way, the toilets look amazing tonight!

Love and the Karmic Whipping Boy

Love is not the end all be all that it is made out to be. It is supposed to be this ideal and perfect enveloping emotion that solves everything....um, no. It's not like I can speak for all us on what love is, but I can tell you for certain what it is made up of according to me.

Love means doing what we need to for those we care about. This is often an unpleasant and draining task. There is no joy in watching someone else suffer. Anyone who does cannot claim love. There are far too many times that one finds folly in someone else's falter. This isn't to say that we should pick others up when they make a mistake, but it damn sure doesn't mean you laugh when they fall, or worse...kick them while they are down. This brings me to the stream of conscious thinking that I unbearably write with. It brings me to "tough love". That is the act of letting someone learn from their mistake instead of fixing it for them. Intervening is easy for most of us, after all, we are terribly nosy creatures. It is much harder to sit back and let them have claim to the lesson learned.

Barring spilling my entire personal life on the interwebz, I will provide some detail to inspiration for tonight's entry - tonight I got confirmation that something I feared has come to be. My ex walked a trecherous path that seemed pretty alluring - fast and easy money. That fast and easy money spent just as quickly as it came, now he is damn near destitute and in financial trouble in a big way. Two of my children live with the MC and me full time. This was at the request of my ex (he has a particular fondness of the youngest and an obvious showing of favoritism). We are now looking at her joining us relatively soon as well because of his financial faux paus. There was something in his voice tonight that frightened me for him and for my children, desperation. He is prideful and wants to pass the illusion that he is doing not only fine, but well. For him to ask us for help was scary. Enter tough love. We will take my youngest and give her the same love and opportunity that we have given the others. What we won't do is financially bail him out. He is going to have to learn his lesson to be a better man for himself and most of all for his children.

On to the second part of the post: a term I have coined as "Karmic Whipping Boy". This to me means that you pay penance for someone else to learn the lesson from them and for them. There is nothing like watching someone else suffer for what you have done to cut as deep as possible. For quite some time, I have been a Karmic Whipping Boy. Others do damage and I pay the price, almost akin to a martyr, but not self-inflicted. It comes down to a problem that I have with choosing people in my life that are still selfish and immature in their emotional and spiritual development. I like to be the catalyst for development and growth, so being the teacher means that you learn the lesson with the student. I can handle it, that is why i have this role. My spiritual fortitude is enough to carry me through it. Now it is a matter of
making sure that my children do not fall into the same situation. The goal is to make them prepared enough to be self-assured and thoughtful.

The tie-in...at this time, my children are the KWB for my ex. He is worried about their suffering for his lousy decisions (not to say that he isn't worried about his own). Back to tough love, we are going to take care of them and shelter them from as much of this as possible. He is not going to get the awful benefit of a KWB to learn his lessons. It is time to take the lashes for his own behavior. For all the lies he told about me, he is being questioned and judged. He made me out to seem unfit, so how could he ask me to care for them. He made me out to be a party-hardy fool that lived fast and free. It isn't me who is seen in the bars regulary, I am too busy going to sleep at a decent hour and caring for my household. He claimed I was out blowing my money and not taking care of my children, but it wasn't me shucking out thousands of dollars on booze and tattoos. It took some time, but the truth is finally coming out. That whip swings both directions and it is lashing back. I don't want him to suffer unduly, I don't take relief or joy in his suffering. I want the same thing that anybody who loves their children wants - two stable and loving parents doing their best to raise their children. Hopefully he stops cracking the karmic whip soon and starts his healing.