When Confronted With Pandora, Just Keep Dancing

“Never be bullied into silence. Never allow yourself to be made a victim. Accept no one’s definition of your life; define yourself.” – Harvey Fierstein

I had a fairly rough time for a while – not because I lost someone particularly meaningful to me, but because I felt like a failure and his words have been harsh, cruel and unkind. It would seem as though he’s on a mission of character assassination.

Character assassination (n): the act of saying false things about a person usually in order to make the public stop liking or trusting that person.

My confession is this: I’m fighting really hard to avoid retaliation. There are plenty of negative things I could say to insult his character or existence as a human being. I won’t do it because that’s not the kind of person I am.

His main point of attack is his claim that I have a severe alcohol problem and should contact him when I’m ‘ready for help’. Initially, this hurt me. It hurt because I told him in confidence about a time in my life when I used alcohol as a poor coping mechanism after an assault that I didn’t know how to even begin processing. I also lost an uncle to massive organ failure because he spent too many years of his life drinking. That’s what hurt me.

From the way he talked, this is where I'd be in 5 years . . . with facial hair, too, because I'd be too sad over the life he could have provided for me.

My friends who know me well find his comments laughable. I’m now counting my blessings that he only met a few of my friends in person. Where I am hurt at his actions, they are angry for me. My lovely guardians, where would I be without you?

Perhaps all disagreements should be settled this way.

The lowest blow came in the form of Pandora’s Box. I remember staring at it on the front porch and thinking to myself, “My therapist would tell me not to open this” and also my good friend would say, “Throw it directly into the garbage bin”. So what do I do? I open the damn thing. I was happy to finally have a couple of things I left in his car back in my possession, but this came with a price. In the box he included a lengthy typed letter and a rock.

I don't know if it was temptation or that I felt I needed more punishment, because nothing good was going to come out of that box.

Once again, the letter pointed to my character flaws, something about the rock amplifying energy and another piece about a hummingbird or something. I threw the rock where the Columbia and Willamette meet. That was one of the most gratifying experiences in my life.

The weeks following the arrival of that box were a little rough. I tend to be hard on myself in any normal setting . . . . it wasn’t long before I started waging war. If it weren’t for those who told me that his words didn’t describe me, I may have actually believed them. I think it shows much more strength in character to be able to analyze your own reflection in the mirror before pointing a finger at others.  

Turn your gaze inward and grapple with your own shortcoming before pointing your finger at the rest of the world for the happiness you lack. This is part of the human experience.

“Things don’t go wrong and break your heart so you can become bitter and give up. They happen to break you down and build you up so you can be all that you were intended to be.”  - Charles Jones

So while I fought the negativity I directed only to myself, I fought equally as hard to find beauty in the world and do things that make me happy. I admit I had help, an amazing guy told me “Don’t be hard on you. Just get angry.” I don’t know why, but it worked. I felt angry for a couple of days and then it was as if the former boyfriend who delights in making me feel bad never existed . . . .and then he started telling my friends that I’m an alcoholic and that they should be looking for the signs.

Oh look! There I am again . . . .making bad decisions and being a horrible, selfish human being in general.

For Pete’s sake! Does he ever stop?! I finally told one person who was consistently relaying information to me that I didn’t want to hear what he was saying, whether it be good or bad. Problem solved. After the breakup between Mr. Finger Pointer and me, a friend told me that I have a tendency to let myself be talked into dating someone. I can see the validity of her point, I really can. However, saying that I’m consistently talked into things suggests that I can’t take responsibility for my own actions. I admit that I’ve been in plenty of relationships that I never cared to be in to begin with – I guess it’s because I didn’t think I deserved anything good in life. I’m beginning to move away from that and am trying to think more positively, particularly in regards to myself. Because I felt like a royal failure at practically everything, I told myself I just wasn't relationship material. Then Fate, the Universe, whatever it may be told me otherwise. I met someone that I can't picture life without. I've learned that these opportunities in life are rare and shouldn't be ignored.

Be on the watch. The gods will offer you chances. Know them. Take them.  - C. Bukowski

Things have been looking up. I have a new job and I met someone who I think is one of the most amazing human beings to enter my life. He has been my rock and if anyone were to ask him, he’d say I’m the most gorgeous, honest and amazing woman to have ever graced this part of the planet. Actually, I wouldn't be surprised if he argued me to be the best thing ever to have graced the earth. 

He reminds of the the qualities I can't see within myself.

Our first outing consisted of karaoke because I wanted to go and as a single female it’s poor judgment to go to a bar alone – even if you are only there to sing karaoke. After I belted out a couple of tunes, I started helping him sift through the list of songs. He tells me he only sings Rage Against the Machine. I found it for him. That’s when he said, “Okay. I don’t really sing karaoke. I just wanted to get you out.” Granted, I’ve been lied to plenty by men trying to get my attention – but I thought that was perhaps the most creative. For the record, I’m glad he did it.

One of my favorite memories: Getting stuck in the down pour with you. There was no where else on earth I'd rather be.

I wouldn’t say that we’re inseparable, but I can hardly stand to be away from him. He described what’s taking place between us as a whirlwind. I suppose it is. We both feel it – some inexplicable and very strong attraction that matches the connection we share. I’ve attempted to put into words what’s taken place the past couple of weeks and I still come up empty. All I can say is this, “Wow.”

 He challenges me to be a better person and recognize my own self worth. He calls me his muse. I’m honored. I was beginning to think I would never see this side of myself again . . . the capacity to feel so deeply was lost on me for a while. If one is counting the span of time, the conclusion would be that I barely know him, yet I feel as if I’ve known him my entire life. I feel as if he and I have spent thousands of lifetimes together.

"The minute I heard my first love story, I started looking for you, not knowing how blind that was. Lover's don't finally meet somewhere. They're in each other all along." - Rumi

My tendency is to hold my breath and expect the worst: the goodness will come crashing down on me, fade away and I will have ruined yet another beautiful thing in my life. For now, I’m breathing in each moment. I’m not afraid.

“Do not dwell in the past, do not dream of the future, concentrate the mind on the present moment.” -Buddha

The Blessings We Don't See

“When we lose one blessing, another is often unexpectedly giving in its place” – C.S. Lewis

For every traumatic thing that I’ve had in my life, I’ve had an extremely profound, beautiful and miraculous story to match it. I only realized this in the wee hours of the morning when I stayed up talking with someone that is very dear to me. He was amazed at some of the life experiences I was sharing with him, particularly the one about me abandoned in Georgia.

I've felt pretty lost since I was left there. I'm still trying to find my way.

I wound up in Georgia just after my father died. My mother left me there with people who were strangers to me. My time there wasn’t bad, I was just heart broken, scared and longing for my family. I talked to the woman who cared for me about them. I remember her going through one phone book after another until she found my grandmother. That is arguably the most profound miracle of my life so far and if that’s not proof of some form of a divine plan from the universe or some form of higher power, I have no idea what is.

Something somewhere, someone somewhere, or Fate in my petty understanding of the Universe was looking out for me. 

I won’t do her justice with the words that follow, but I’ll try to describe my caregiver in Georgia. I haven’t seen her since she flew to California with me and brought me back into the arms of my grandmother. Her name is Myrna and she was a woman with a constant smile on her face. She had a closet that had an endless supply of bright blue muumuus. She lived and breathed in these muumuus. In fact, she worked out to Sweatin’ to the Oldies in the mornings in her muumuu. She was always in one of those bright blue things.

THIS guy. See that blue? Now I know where she got her fashion trend tips. 

Myrna was an endless giver. She made sandwiches to hand out to the construction workers who volunteered to repair the home of a community member after it was ripped to shreds by a tornado. She did this every day. Myrna was a lover of cats. If I remember correctly, she had around 18 of them. When it was feeding time and the herd of cats swarmed on the porch, she would count them and say out loud, “Sammy is missing.” To this day, that still amazes me.

For Pete's sake! I do well to remember my own pin code and this woman could remember the names of each of these cats.            

The determination and moral compass of one woman granted me another year with my grandmother and I’m eternally grateful for that. It’s hard for me to recognize these miraculous events in my life when I’m too consumed with telling myself what I failure and horrible human being I am. Some people know how to throw some knock out punches with their words. It was a mistake to even acknowledge those words because they came from a bad place – someone angry and bitter.

Myrna took me to visit a farm once. The farmhouse was a light shade of blue set on a backdrop of a sea of waving green grass that danced in the morning breeze. I could hear the long, lowing sounds of cows in the distance. The interior of the farmhouse was warm, an  inviting contrast from the brisk morning air. The aroma of cookies baking in the oven beckoned visitors to come inside. It seemed as if everything inside of the farmhouse was blue: the carpets which enveloped my bare feet, the flowered pattern on the yellow wallpaper, the dishes, the tablecloth, even the coffee pot.

I walked outside and stepped into the tall grass. I ran the stalks through my fingers as I trudged through it, the morning dew clinging to the palm of my hand. I felt lost in the middle of the emerald, pastured, sea; I wanted to be lost. I made my way over to the cows, reaching my small hand through the barbed wire fence. Cautiously, one approached, lowering her head to sniff my outstretched fingers. She let me brush her nose and I laughed with contentment. I heard my name called in the distance, and slowly made my way back to the blue farmhouse.

Driving home that evening, I was dazzled by the sight of fireflies leaping and glowing in the field. Because this was a new experience for me, Myrna pulled over and let me chase after fireflies for a few minutes. I caught one. It looked like fairy dust in my hands. I closed my eyes and made a wish. I had no knowledge of the validity of wishes, only that it gave me something to hold and hope for. I held the firefly in my hands, letting it illuminate my path back to the car. The memory of the firefly has stayed with me over the years and has served to remind me that a ray of light can be found even in the darkest of times, no matter how small it may be.   

Sometimes we need another perspective on our life experiences to make us realize how blessed we have been. For that, Mr. Object of My Affection Always Running 5 hours late – I thank you. You are an amazing human being. You are a rock even though you don't see it. Have you found me yet?

I'd say several lifetimes. 

“Reflect on your present blessings – of which every man has many – not on your past misfortunes, of which all men have some.” – Charles Dickens